A few hours after sunset, a small, shady figure creeps towards the wooden chicken coop. He holds a torch, really more of a stick, in his left hand, and a lighter in his right. The unsuspecting farmers sleep peacefully, and, after a quick double-take, the bandit lights his torch, tossing it through the window. As the coop goes up in flames, the man disappears into the darkness.
Within a few minutes, one of the farmers notices the conflagration, and wakes the others. Soon, they've organized a bucket brigade from the river, throwing water onto the burning shack. After watching the display for a few moments, amused, you and your men slowly rise out of the long grass. Rockwell shouts, "Hands in the air!"
One man, a burly, "settler" type, reaches for his belt. The shotgun shell nearly takes his head off. "Anyone else?" There's a shriek from one of the women as the body hits the ground, but you ignore it. Rockwell herds them into the big barn, and throws one of your marauders a coil of rope. "Tie their hands, so they don't try anything."
You glance around the barn as your men set to work. Two rifles are leaning against the wall, next to the door, and a bunch of bedrolls are in the corner. Most of their foodstuffs are probably in the granary out back, but, except for a few coins on the table, you don't see anything particularly valuable.