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COWGIRL The west is wide open as far as you can see. Just emptiness waiting to be filled and there’s room for each and everyone and all your kin to ride in an’ stake a little piece for yourselves. I like in the morning how the prairie grass tickles my boots when I horse it to the local saloon for a bite or a whiskey drink. It’s wild here—I won’t pretend it ain’t, but it’s a damn sight better than the wet ass teritory I come from and anyways, it may be wild but we all got us some instruments of taming from mister Smith and mister Wesson. And we use ‘em, liberally. Cause even the prairie dogs’ll bite ‘round here. And the gunslingers is worse. They spit and bite and kick and shoot. You got to watch out for the shootin’ mostly. Now then, don’t fall behind. Try to keep up with the rest of the group and try to keep alive if you can. And in case I didn’t say it already, welcome to town.