Prologue
February 19, 1890

Twenty-one-year-old Andrew Miller sat atop his iron wagon, while his mentor, Cripps, followed behind in a much larger wagon. They were both outlaws, briefly escaping the law after a failed bank robbery. Andrew questioned his capabilities and wondered if he was truly about the outlaw life, while Cripps had been awaiting his time, for he had been nearing sixty years of age.

“What’s the move, kid?” the old man asked, nearly shouting.

“You might want to head east, towards that old reservation, maybe set up camp somewhere secluded,” Andrew replied.

“For now, I’m gonna go to Colter, might be something of use there.”

Cripps veered off towards the east. Andrew had a deep voice, commanding, yet soft enough to prevent the locals from batting an eye. Though his voice was memorable, the law never found out about his true identity. Just then, they saw the town of Colter, abandoned and forgotten. Most of the buildings had caved through, but there were still a couple that were held up, such as a stable and a few houses. While this had been a good hiding spot, Andrew still considered other options. He parked his wagon in a convenient spot, and hopped off of it.

“I’m gonna have a look around.”

He held his hand by his .45 caliber, six-rounded Smith & Wesson Schofield revolver as he walked towards the biggest house of the town. His shooting irons had been two of a kind, both with all black metals and golden engravings throughout them. His tools were efficient as well as his skill, Andrew had a particular talent in the art of gun-fighting. For now, his exceptional talent had no match, and those who dared to duel him, never saw the light of day again. He opened the door to the house, and exclaimed, for he saw a figure, sitting upon a chair, to which he drew his revolver within the blink of an eye.

“Shoot me for all I care, if that’s what you want,” the figure spoke.

The figure had a young voice, presumably no older or younger than sixteen.

“Who are you? How did you get here?” Andrew asked him.

The figure slowly stood up and showed himself. He was young indeed, though the look in his eyes showed Andrew he had seen some things in his life.

“I ran away up here, from everything…” the boy responded.