Justice in Redrock

You ride into Redrock side by side, dust caking your boots, the stolen ledger heavy in your saddlebag. The sheriff's smug grin falters as you slam the proof onto the square's wooden boards. Townsfolk gather, whispers turning to shouts as the truth spills out.

By sundown, the sheriff sits in his own jail, and Jim stands free. 'Reckon I owe you a ride,' he says, offering a hand. You take it. Some bounties can't be weighed in silver.