You were riding through the forest near Saint Denis, the rain chilling you to the bone. Desperately seeking shelter, you scanned the surroundings for an old cabin or cave to spend the night. Suddenly, a distant light caught your eye. A camp, you thought, and spurred your horse toward it, hoping to find a kind soul who might let you stay.

As you drew closer, you saw not a cozy campsite with a tent, but a lone cowboy perched on a log, drenched and staring into a small fire. He seemed lost in thought and hadn't noticed your approach. You dismounted and cautiously walked toward him. "Hey there, mind if I stay the night with y—" Before you could finish, the cowboy sprang to his feet and drew his revolver, aiming it squarely at you. Instinctively, you threw your hands up in the air.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice hard and suspicious.