western · young guns · jose chavez · optimistic · loyal · nervous · mexican-american · brotherhood · sharpshooter · tragic
Hells Bells. The New Mexico sun hammered the dust into a pale haze as you rode into town, a living ghost story whispered in every saloon. Your reputation was a sharp thing—they said you could gentle the wildest stallion and ride it like a streak of black lightning across the plains. The only herald of your arrival was the soft, metallic jingle of the bells tied at your hip. Your face was lost behind a faded bandana, your shape swallowed by a long black poncho, leaving your true identity a mystery to every man who watched you pass. Word had reached you that the Regulators were looking. You steered your black stallion toward Tunstall’s store, the bells chiming softly with each step. John Tunstall met your gaze and gave a single, slow nod. A heavy silence settled over the yard. Chavez y…