A telegraph line ran straight as a marksman’s shot through the valley. Each pole served as a nail in the coffin of a west run by outlaws. In their stead came men of industry, carried by freshly-laid rail. Campfires gave way to the glow of gas-lit towns. Fences carved the once open landscape into neat little parcels.

High above, a man sat beneath a tree along the ridge. A bitter smile crossed his lips as he watched civilization’s encroachment. No matter where he went, he could not outrun it. A train whistle echoed through the valley. He turned his gaze to a small creek below, watching its clear water run south.

A hand gripped his shoulder and shattered his reverie. He turned to find Charles Earle.

“Well, well,” Charles said with a grin. “The great philosopher Thurman Abbott, lost in thought.” Charles sat down with a sigh and removed his hat. “Everything okay?”

Thurman nodded slowly and ran a hand through his hair. “Just getting a lay of the land.” He turned his face away from Charles. “You know how it goes.”

“Bullshit.” Charles raised a hand and swept it side to side. “You’re wondering what all of this means for a man like you.”

“A man like me?”

“Yes, a man like you. And me. Hell, all of us.” Charles pulled out a kerchief and ran it across his brow. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

Thurman issued a weak chuckle and drew in a deep breath. “It’s more than that.”

Charles held up his hands and shrugged. “Well? Do tell.”

Thurman picked his hat up and turned it in his hands. He looked down at the sweat stains and dust as a breeze blew in from the east. “You remember when we met?”

“Course I do. That old shopkeep had you up against the wall by your collar. Why?”

“Back then, stealing was just survival. I was hungry, and I didn’t have any money. Hell, I didn’t have anything.” Thurman placed his hat on his head and dropped his eyes toward the ground. “I thought for sure that old man was going to beat me to death, all because of one apple.”

Charles sat back and studied his friend.

“Truth be told,” Thurman said. “In that moment, I wished he had.”

Charles leaned forward. “I trust you don’t feel that way anymore.”

Thurman turned toward his friend and smiled. “No. Once you showed up, I knew I’d found a brother.”

“Two of a kind,” Charles added.

“And we’ve never pulled a job for anything more than survival, just taking what we need to get from one place to another.”

Charles laughed. “Robbing the rich to pay our bar tab.”

“But this job is different, isn’t it? This one isn’t about survival.”

Charles stood up with a grunt. “Then what is it about, Thurman?”

“C’mon, Charles. Don’t get sore at me. You’re talking about robbing Everett Rathbone. A man like that won’t let it slide.”

Charles swiped his kerchief across his face. “You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get?”

“It’s not just you and me anymore. I have to think about Lucille, Karl, Bill, Bart, and Henry. They’re all here because of me, and it’s my responsibility to make sure they’re taken care of.”

Thurman nodded slowly and dropped his chin. “You honestly think I don’t understand that? We’ve been riding together for years, all except Bart and Henry. We’ve never gone hungry. Now, I appreciate the ambition, but is going after a man like Rathbone a smart idea?”

“Don’t you trust me anymore, Thurman?”

Thurman stood up and paced next to the tree. His eyes fixed on the ground, he placed a hand on the back of his neck and squeezed. “It ain’t that I don’t trust you, Charles, and you know that.” He looked past Charles. His gaze settled on a well-dressed man with a neatly groomed mustache.

Charles turned and followed Thurman’s gaze. “So, it’s Bart you don’t trust.” He chuckled, though the sound carried no mirth. “I’m the one that brought Bart in, so if you don’t trust him, you don’t trust me.”

Thurman’s lips drew tight against his teeth. He took a breath before he responded. “I don’t have any interest in discussing him. That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is it?”

Thurman tipped his hat back and scratched his forehead. “Look around, Charles. There’s less open space out here than there was six months ago. Six months from now, there’ll be even less.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, Thurman.”

Thurman raised a hand and pointed east. A mile beyond the tip of his finger sat the town of Stillwater. “Towns are springing up everywhere. More towns means more sheriffs, more bounty hunters, more Pinkertons.”

“And more marks,” Charles added.

“Jesus Christ, Charles, I’m not worried about marks. I’m worried about you and Lucille and Karl and Bill. Robbing means running, and we ain’t got many places left to run to. Pretty soon, we’ll have our backs to the ocean. There’s no room left for men like us.”

Charles dragged his thumbnail against the bridge of his nose. “So, that’s it? You’re thinking about leaving again, aren’t you?”

Thurman kicked a small rock and watched it throw up tiny clouds of dust as it skipped along. “No, I’m not thinking about it. Thinking has kept my ass in a sling. I’m doing it.”

Charles ran a hand along his jaw. His eyes moved from the ground to the valley below. “What about the rest of us?” He locked eyes with Thurman. “Are you just turning your back on us? I’ll be honest, Thurman. That’s exactly what it feels like.”

Thurman shook his head. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t put that on me. I want a life away from stealing, and I want that for all of us. We pull this job off, and there’s nothing to stop us from buying a patch of land and building it into whatever we want. There’ll be room for all of us.”

Charles’ lips turned up at the corners. “Even Bart?”

Thurman guffawed. “Hell no!”

They laughed together, the sound echoing across the ridge before fading.

Charles dabbed his eyes on his sleeve. “So, you’re in on the Rathbone job?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I? I can’t let you jackasses go in without me, you won’t stand a chance.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Hey, I’ve kept you alive this long, haven’t I?”

Charles smiled. “Any hope in you changing your mind?”

“Any hope in you changing yours?”

“No.” Charles’ smile faded. “I don’t suppose there is.”

Thurman took two steps and stopped. “There’s a lot out there, Charles. There’s a life beyond this, a life that doesn’t involve running.”

“Is there?”

Thurman dropped his head and let out a soft sigh. He turned to walk away when Charles held out a hand to stop him.

“It’s just… you’re family, Thurman. That’s hard to let go of. But, if that’s what you want, I’ll make my peace with it. Just don’t get yourself killed trying to be respectable.”

“You can walk away too, Charles. I wish you could see that.”

“I don’t think that’s in the cards,” Bart said. “This life is in his blood, Thurman. If only you could see that.”

Thurman’s lips drew tight against his teeth. “I’ll head into town and get what we need.” He rested a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Think about what I said.” As he walked away, his shoulder bumped into Bart’s chest.

“Don’t take it personal,” Charles said. “Thurman’s a stubborn bastard.”

Bart used his thumb and forefinger to smooth out his mustache. “My concerns are far deeper than personal animosity.”

Charles let the words linger for a moment. “Well, are you going to tell me what those concerns are?”

Bart dropped his gaze to the ground and cleared his throat. “The man’s got one foot out the door. In my experience, that means he’s distracted. I know I don’t have to tell you, but, in this business, a distracted man is a dangerous man.”

Charles scratched his brow. “Spit it out.”

“I didn’t want to be blunt, but I will. I don’t think we can trust him, and—”

“I’m going to go ahead and stop you right there.” Patches of red rose up along Charles’ cheeks. “I’ve known that man for thirty years, spent every damned day with him, and he’s saved my hide more times than I care to admit. The last man I’m worried about is Thurman Abbott.”

“I didn’t mean to offend, I’m just airing a concern, that’s all.”

Charles looked him dead in the eyes. He pressed a finger into Bart’s chest, hard enough to make him take a step back. “I know you have aspirations, but there’s one thing you need to remember, and that’s that I run this gang, not you. If the way I do things doesn’t suit you, then you’re welcome to move on.” He turned his back to Bart and walked toward camp.