Season Two Episode Fourteen

He's a cowboy. The six gun at his side contains only one bullet, that is all that he needs. The open country lies before him; mountains built up at his right, prairie fields laid out to his left. His steed remains faithful and proving, helping him get out of a tight spot. The hat upon his head was handed down to him from his pa, saying it's been in the family for generations. That, and the rifle.

He's a cowboy. When he heads into town, his face can't help but wear a sneer, thinking about the kinds of folk that reside there. To his opinion, towns tend to muddle one's vision, conveniences aside. Besides, he would say a life based on conveniences makes one lazy and dulls the wits. A hushing wind precedes him as he enters the town's saloon. He's not looking for a fight, but he'll find one anyway. Ordering a water doesn't help either. The next round is on him, and then everybody sings.

He's a cowboy. Sleeping beneath the stars, a rock for his pillow, he can hear the coyote's cry. Leaving one eye open, he's ready for anything that might come his way. The fire's just enough to keep him warm and to have coals in the morning so the next fire, the one for breakfast, is quick to make up. Coffee and bacon, with some cheese and stale bread.

He's a cowboy. On all accounts he's an outlaw, which he takes pride in; a loner and a rambler, but he ain't the cheating kind. There's nothing up his sleeve. He'll lay down the law where it concerns him or when he comes upon a situation that he deems it necessary, otherwise he is the law. Riding his horse to his next destination, whichever direction that may be, in no particular hurry until he finds reason. Giddyup, giddyup hey!