The old Kentucky rifle lays in my arms as I prepare to serve some southern justice in her sullied name.
The wind sweeps across the river, causing tall blades of grass around me to sway from side to side.
My sights are focused on the doors as people begin to exit the train. Men with big beards and women wearing colorful hats step off first; then I see her killer – the highwayman.
The afternoon sun shines brightly, and a glare reflects off of his wheel gun.
“Just breathe,” I whisper, then pull the trigger – once.
“This is for you, ma!”