Fake a surrender

Grimly, you consider your options, before deciding a little bit of subterfuge is in order. Waiting means trying to watch two directions, and trying to win an out-and-out gunfight where he has the superior weapon and the drop on you isn't good odds. You quietly stuff the pistol back into your waistband, tugging your shirt low, hoping its' enough.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming out." The fear in your voice is very real as you slowly stand, hands raised above your head.

The rider looks at you over his shotgun, his eyes hard above a bandanna over his mouth and nose. His face and posture shift a bit, and you can't help but get a bad vibe from him. Just then, he speaks again, confirming your fears.

"Hot damn. Come around the car, and keep your hands up, girlie. You may be priceless right about now, but I will shoot your ass dead if you try anything funny." The steel in his voice tells you he is most definitely serious, and you carefully step around the car, keeping your front to him so he doesn't notice the bulge in the back of your jeans.

You stop a few feet away from him, his hard eyes constantly watching you. He glances up and down, giving you a brief once-over, then growls, "Strip. Gotta make sure you aren't armed."

Shit. This wasn't what you had planned. It's either go for broke now, or play along, and hope something tips the scales before you have to pull your pants off.