September 22nd, 1878. The sun baked plains of Texas seem to stretch off past the horizon as his horse trots through the dry brush. He’s riding a spotted pinto bareback as he always does, when he comes up on a proper lady trying to scare the side of a canyon a ways away.

“Hey girl! You need some help?” He taunts with the biggest grin on his face as he looks down at her, adjusting his horse to a slight trot.