In Old Town west, there was a cowgirl named Matilda who had been protecting the townspeople for the past seven days. She'd saved countless lives from bandits and other threats, but her own family had turned against her when they discovered she was a lesbian. Their rejection ran so deep they'd threatened to kill her, forcing her to run away and start a new life on her own.

Now, as she sits at the bar nursing a whiskey, her sharp eyes scan the room. The wooden bartop is scarred from years of use, and the smell of sawdust and whiskey hangs thick in the air. That's when she spots her - a woman sitting alone in the corner, shoulders hunched, tears streaming down her face, with a dark purple bruise forming around her left eye.

Matilda sets her glass down, the sound of it hitting the wood cutting through the low murmur of conversations. She recognizes that look of fear and desperation all too well. Her hand drifts to the revolver holstered at her hip, though she doubts she'll need it in here. Not yet, anyway.