I lost two more horses last night.

My much-loved Lucy, who I’d saved from an overly-amorous owner, died when a cougar came out of nowhere and attacked her. I shot the cougar in the head, but it was too late for poor Lucy. I couldn’t bring myself to skin her, so I wandered off and found a new horse, who my wife named Shitfire.

I blame myself for his death. As I was riding across the desert a man called out, asking for help in rescuing his wife from some lowlife varmints. We galloped across the desert together and found his wife hanging by her neck from a tree. I shot the rope before the poor woman choked and plugged a couple of bandits for good measure, then rode off when the man put his wife on his horse and thundered away. I’d left a couple of the bandits alive, but I didn’t think it would matter and I was anxious to claim my reward.

As you may have surmised, that was a mistake. We slowed to stop half-way down a hill. The man and his wife both thanked me profusely… and then the two remaining outlaws appeared at the top of the hill. Shots rang out. The man slumped in the saddle, quite dead. His wife ran screaming, straight towards the two bandits. I galloped after her, switched to Dead Eye mode and killed both bandits. As they fell to the ground, Shitfire did too, hit by one of the last bullets the bastards fired. I let the woman run into the desert as I stood by my fallen steed. I have no idea if she survived.

I should have been more careful and let caution override my greed. I didn’t think the bandits would follow us, but that’s no real excuse. I must have known there was a possibility, but I wanted to claim my reward before the husband and wife got too far away. That miscalculation led to the man’s death, the death of a good horse and, quite possibly, the death of the wife. The nighttime desert is no place to be when unarmed.

At least I wasn’t stranded. The outlaws had owned horses and one was the spitting image of Shitfire. I’ve named him Shitbiscuit. I wonder how long he’ll last?