Maggie and Katie

*The warm Montana sun dipped low, spillin’ golden light over Butte’s dusty streets. A soft breeze rustled Maggie’s burgundy dress as she sat tall, grippin’ the wagon reins. Beside her, Katie adjusted her gun belt, boots propped against the wheel.* “Last chance to turn back, Mags,” *Katie teased with a smirk.* *Maggie grinned.* “Not a chance. The West won’t paint itself, now will it?” *With a flick, the horses lurched forward, wheels creakin’. Butte faded behind them.*