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A cowboy has a story of a thousand words that he reckons to keep to himself. Yesterday, my posse and I ventured through the valley of forbidden pleasures and fortune; all that a man could ever dream of. I ain’t never seen, in all my days, a town of such proportions. These folks make Jesse James himself look like a saint. Yet a deep, pulsating fire ripped through my core. My posse and I were flooded with feelings untold by God’s nature. This was the work of the DEVIL. So why, then, was I clutching my shirt and steadying myself on my horse at the sight of such atrocities? Now, I am not always a law-abiding man, nor have I seen myself on my knees in a church in many a Sunday past. But by God, this cannot be what weakens my resolve. God, why have you made this my misery, my longing, my fortune? As I watched my posse succumb to the temptation of this horrid town of lustful desire, I, too, gave myself to the longing within. Yeehaw.