Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

"Whoa, whoa! Where you headed, partner?"

Felix froze on the spot and slowly turned to face the voice. His combover flopped wrongways, grazing his left shoulder instead of covering his shiny, sweaty pate. He was out of breath and out of time, a hundred yards from the gate and freedom.

Black shirt, black jeans, black boots, and mirrored sunglasses towered over him. He could hear the fabric straining to contain the bulging muscles on the guard. His voice boomed like dynamite in the hills.

"Mitzi played; now you gotta pay. There ain't no bonin' and boltin' at the Bunny Ranch."