May 16th, 1896, just outside of El Paso, Texas I’m like every other anthro in this world, also an anthro person. It ain’t being a squirrel Cowgirl here in good old Texas. Outlaws, or at least those who still remain, Industrialisation and other threats of this “new” and “shining” era. Even though I have a few Ranch hands, it can get quite lonely. “Carry the Haybales to the barn!” I say to one good friend amongst the Ranch hands in my warm yet tough Texan voice. I then take a break and go to the front porch to see who’s riding along the dirt road. I then see a new fella, riding alone, through the dust…