The first sliver of sunlight awoke me in the morning. Years of running from authority taught me to be an early riser, escape the desert heat before the sun rose high in the sky. The fiery temperature of the air could be just as deadly as the shotguns the police carried, and dehydration snuck up on you all too quickly. I packed up my limited possessions in my burlap knapsack; my old canteen, a few cans of beans, my shotgun, the stack of money from the town before, a compass, a few treasures from my previous explorations and my red journal. After giving the horse I had stolen a few nights ago some roots for some energy, I hopped on the saddle and headed North.
The clacking of the horseshoes echoed in my head as I thought. My heart ached for one last hurrah before retirement, one last adrenaline filled adventure, one last moment of glory. Plans whirled through my brain, and I wondered which unlucky bank was destined for my last robbery. Suddenly, I knew what I wanted to do. I kicked the hind of the horse, racing towards Copper Creek, my hometown. I was ending it where it all began.
The speedy horse, which I had impromptly named Caboose, had carried me all the way to Copper Creek before dinner. Just before, reaching town, I jumped off Caboose, wincing as pain shot up my ancient legs, and took a rest by a lone tree. I rewarded Caboose for his speediness with a snack and leaned against the scratchy bark of the tree. Stretching out the uncomfortableness built up in my back, I pondered seeing my hometown again after all these years. My parents were long dead, but my older brother Kenny was probably still living out his humdrum life in town. Unlike me, he wanted nothing more than to settle down and live “comfortably” with a family. Despite my ache for adventure and my need to roam, my only regret is leaving Kenny. But he was a family man, not suited for the melodramatic and dangerous life of a criminal. I wondered what he would think of me now.
Two hours later I was wrapped in a woven shawl, disguised as old woman and limping into town. Well, I supposed I was actually an old woman now anyway, but I didn’t want anyone to recognize me. No time for friend or family reunions now. I approached the town, scouting out an escape route in my head. After a few minutes of trekking and avoided the eye contact of the townspeople, I reached the Copper Creek Bank. I cracked the wooden swinging doors open and ambled in. Looking like a local hag, I was able to survey the setup of the bank and structure a plan. I observed the habits and mannerisms of the people in the building.
A young girl in a frilly blue dress, as blue as the sky, was dragged into the bank. Her perfectly curled hair was pulled back in a ponytail, revealing the disgusted look on her face. She was obviously uncomfortable in the dress, itching to run and play with the rest of the children. She was a trapped bird lusting for freedom.  I imagined the happiness she would feel from riding free on a horse, or wandering the world as she pleased. I ached for the little girl’s restlessness as I walked back to my camp and Caboose. This town was surfacing old memories that I had buried long ago. As I settled down for the night, with the stars and the glittering sky above me, I remember my childhood days. The struggle to be myself, my hunger for adventure, all suffocated by the expectations of being the perfect western woman.

I awoke just before dawn to prepare for the adventure of the day. Scarfing down the breakfast I had bought the day before when I was undercover, my thoughts drifted to the robbery plans. I had already tied Caboose to a post near the bank, prepared to aid in my getaway. My fingertips still tingled at the thought of the adrenaline soaked moments of a bank robbery. My heart began to pound as I prepared myself for my last heist. I tied up my snarly hair and placed my brown, dust-covered hat on top. Slowly, I put on my baggy checkered shirt and red bandana that covered the bottom half of my face. I strapped on my gun, and I was ready to go.
As I walked back into town, my old boots kicking up dirt and dust, I wondered what I was going to do with myself after this last robbery. The future was unknown, and the uncertainty gave me a thrill that I craved. I tried to blend in as much as possible, striding down mainstreet with confidence, but not so much to attract attention. I finally reached the doors of “Copper Creek Bank” and my palms were already sweating. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the doors and sauntered in.
Quicker than a desert fox, I whipped out my gun and scanned the room. Two women, one in her 20s and one in her 60s; one man, a rough looking 40-something and a teenage boy, lanky and awkward. Plus the banker at the desk, an old wrinkled man. I pointed the gun at the young woman, excitement rushing through my veins. My heart dropped to my stomach, but I kept my expression hard and my stance strong. In a deep, cracked voice that I had perfected over the years, I growled,
“Nobody move, or the pretty lady gets shot.”

The panicked look on their faces convinced me they would oblige to anything I ordered.

“Alright, here’s what’s gonna happen. Mr.Banker over here is gonna run to the to the back room as fast as can and unlock the safe. He gonna grab as much money as he can and bring it back to me. No one else pulls any funny business, or I start shooting.”

The older woman began to whimper and the other people cowered in the corner. I was too high on adrenaline to care about their fear. The banker did what he was told and scampered to the safe. As I waited for him to come back with my prize, I tried to take in every last moment of the heist. I couldn’t believe this was the final adventure. The old man came running back with money overflowing in his arms, his crinkled eyes rimmed with fear. I yelled at him to shove it in my knapsack, screaming to go faster. Only a matter of time before someone walked in or called for the town sheriff; I needed to leave as quickly as possible.

Suddenly, my attention was drawn to the corner of the room. The older woman had fallen to the ground, her eyes rolled back in her head and her arms flailing about. The man with the furry mustache ran to her, desperately trying to calm her seizing movements. I was taken aback. This woman was having a heart attack… Because of me…
In all my years as a criminal, I have not once had to resort to a kill shot. Sure, I was forced to fire a few warning shots when I was younger, but I had drawn the line at murder. I promised myself I wouldn’t let the power do that to me. But it seemed I wouldn’t even need my gun to cross that line. If this woman died, it would have been all my fault.

The thrill of the heist had been replaced with complete fear, and my blood turned cold at the sight of the now motionless woman. God had finally gotten back at me for my crimes with the punishment of guilt.

“Martha! Come back to us! Martha! Wake up!” the man howled at the heap on the floor. The name “Martha” echoed in my ears. Why did it sound so familiar?

My heart stopped.

It was at this moment that I realized I knew this woman.

Kenny, being around ten years older than me, had married when I was still in school. He was smitten with a beautiful girl named Martha, and started a family with her as soon as he could. I remember liking her kind green eyes and the gracefulness in her strides. I was filled with panic as I realized that the cold body lying on the floor right now had to be her. The ages matched up, she had to be around 60 now, and her facial features, although wrinkled, looked all too familiar. My breathing grew ragged and my hands were shaking violently. The image of her lifeless body was permanently etched into my brain, and I had to get out of here. Now.
The banker had finished stuffing my bag with money by now, and was staring fearfully up at me. Without saying another word, worried that my voice would be trembling, I snatched the money bag and darted out the door. I ran as fast as my old legs could carry, my heart pounding in my ears. I untied Caboose’s rope and swung my foot over his muscular back. It was time to make my getaway. My breathing still raspy, I whispered a command to the horse and took off. Racing down the main street of town, I brushed passed the townspeople that didn’t get out of the way quickly enough. By now, I was making quite a scene, and women began to scream, wearing alarmed expressions on their faces. Usually an entertaining scene to watch, all I saw in the women’s eyes was the reflection of Martha’s dead body.
I didn’t have much time now before the police realized what was happening. But, much to my surprise, inside of heading out of town like I had planned, my hands guided Caboose down a road that I haven’t seen in decades. I had unintentionally led him to my childhood home, a little wooden shack with blue shutters and a rickety porch. I don’t know why I felt the need to go there at a time like this, maybe guilt, maybe nostalgia, maybe my conscience; but no matter what the reason, I was here now. As the little house came into view, I knew exactly what I had to do with the money I had just stolen. The house had obviously been taken care of over the years, its roof had been redone and the porch seemed to be freshly painted. I realized Kenny must have moved in after my parents died, just like he said he would. He could never let our parents’ treasured home rot.
We trotted up to the porch and I hopped off Caboose with agility quite impressive for an old woman. I dashed to the front door and left the entire backpack of dollars. Stacks of money from my previous robbery and the one I had just fled, just sitting on the wooden boards. I knew I couldn’t rid myself of this overwhelming guilt on my shoulders, but at least I had given Kenny something. No amount of good deeds could take away the pain, but I had to try to lessen the blow. Before anyone would realize where I was, I jumped back on Caboose and galloped away. We ran back to my original escape route, the warm desert wind stinging our faces. The excitement I had expected to feel after my last robbery was instead a mixture of stigma and nostalgia.
Caboose and I raced into the depth of the desert, riding off into the unknown.