The sun was just beginning to rise over the hills when Charlie St. Peter and the McMiller Gang rode into the town of Red Mesa, a dusty settlement perched on the edge of nowhere. The place was quieter than most, a few stray chickens clucking in the dirt streets while a handful of early risers moved about, preparing for the day. It was the kind of town that had seen its share of drifters, outlaws, and lawmen, but didn't ask too many questions.
Exactly the kind of place Charlie liked.
He pulled his horse to a stop outside the saloon and tipped his hat forward to shield his eyes from the glare. "Welcome to Red Mesa," he muttered under his breath as the others pulled up behind him.
Lynx slid down from her horse, brushing the dust off her leather jacket. "Quiet little hole," she said, surveying the street. "Perfect for layin' low."
Sparks grinned, already eyeing the blacksmith's shop across the way. "Plenty of places to get supplies for my next little project."
Big Tom stretched his massive arms, the joints popping as he grunted in approval. "Not bad. Better than Black Hollow, anyway."
Boone, as usual, said nothing, his eyes drifting over the rooftops, always watching, always listening.
Charlie turned and gestured toward the saloon doors. "Let's get a drink, find a place to bed down, and see what the locals know. I'm not lookin' to sit around forever, but we need to lie low for a bit."
The gang dismounted and made their way inside, the floorboards creaking under their boots as they entered the dimly lit bar. The bartender, a wiry man with a stained apron, looked up from behind the counter, his eyes narrowing as he sized them up.
"You folks passin' through or lookin' to stay awhile?" he asked, wiping down a glass.
Charlie leaned on the bar, flashing his easy smile. "We'll see. For now, just lookin' for a drink and a place to rest."
The bartender nodded, pouring a round of whiskey. "Got rooms upstairs if you need 'em. Town's quiet enough, but I wouldn't get too comfortable. Ain't much in Red Mesa these days, 'cept for the trains rollin' through. Folks here keep to themselves."
"Trains?" Sparks perked up at the mention of the word, a familiar glint of excitement in his eye.
The bartender set the drinks down with a shrug. "Yeah, one of the main supply lines runs right through here. Big ol' train comin' in tomorrow, haulin' goods from the industrial city of Larkspur. Government contracts, mostly. You know, supplies for the military, some magic components, the usual."
Charlie's mind immediately started turning. A government train loaded with supplies? That was more than just a passing opportunity; it was a potential fortune.
He leaned in a little closer to the bartender. "You said it comes through tomorrow?"
The man nodded. "Yep, every few weeks. Rolls in right around noon, stops to refuel, then heads out again. It's a big deal around here, keeps the town alive."
Charlie glanced back at the gang, who were already exchanging knowing looks. This was exactly the kind of score they needed—something big, bold, and with the potential for a massive payday. But it wasn't just about the money; a job like this would get them back in the game, remind everyone who the McMiller Gang was.
He turned back to the bartender, keeping his tone casual. "Anyone ever try their luck with it before?"
The bartender laughed, shaking his head. "Ain't nobody dumb enough to mess with those trains. Heavily guarded, they are. Magic wards, federal agents, you name it. But hell, I suppose if someone was stupid enough to try, they might get lucky."
Charlie smiled again, though this time it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. Lucky."
He tossed a few coins on the bar and nodded to the gang. "Let's get those rooms. I think we'll be stayin' a little longer than planned."
---
Later that night, the gang gathered in one of the upstairs rooms, the flickering light of a single lantern casting long shadows on the walls. Charlie stood near the window, staring out at the quiet town, while Lynx and Big Tom sat at the table, going over what little they knew about the train. Sparks was in the corner, already scribbling down ideas for how to deal with the wards and security measures.
"It's a big risk," Boone said quietly from his seat by the door. "You know the FBE will be watchin' a shipment like that."
"They ain't gonna be expectin' us," Charlie replied, not turning away from the window. "We've kept our heads down. Even that Cassidy fella didn't come after us. We can hit it, take what we need, and be gone before anyone knows what happened."
Lynx leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "You thinkin' a full-on heist? We'll need a plan. We can't just storm in guns blazing."
Charlie nodded, finally turning to face the others. "We'll hit it when they stop to refuel. Sparks, you'll handle the wards. Lynx, you and Big Tom will be the muscle. Boone, we'll need your magic to keep things... quiet."
"And what about you?" Big Tom asked, cracking his knuckles. "What's your role?"
Charlie smiled that same easy, dangerous smile. "I'll be leadin' the charge. This is our chance to make a real mark, to show 'em we ain't just outlaws on the run."
Sparks, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke up. "I've been workin' on somethin' new. If I can get my hands on a few parts from the blacksmith, I think I can build a device to disrupt the magic wards on the train. It won't last long, but it'll give us a window."
"Good," Charlie said. "Get what you need in the morning. We'll strike when the train pulls in, grab what we can, and get out before the feds know what hit 'em."
There was a moment of silence as the gang absorbed the plan. They had pulled off heists before, but never one this big, never one that involved a government train. But the McMiller Gang wasn't afraid of taking risks.
Lynx smirked. "A heist, huh? Well, it's about time we did somethin' fun."
Big Tom just grunted in agreement.
Boone, ever the cautious one, spoke last. "There's somethin' else about this train. It's not just the supplies. I can feel it. We're walkin' into somethin' bigger than we think."
Charlie looked at Boone, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Bigger how?"
Boone shook his head. "I don't know. But there's magic involved. Strong magic. Wards and guards aren't the only thing protectin' that train."
Charlie's grin widened. "Good. I like a challenge."
He turned back to the window, watching as the last of the lanterns in town flickered out, leaving the streets in darkness. Tomorrow, the train would roll into Red Mesa, and with it, the chance for the McMiller Gang to leave their mark on history.
All they had to do was pull it off before Cassidy, or anyone else, caught wind of their plans.
