So I’m riding through the prairie around sunset, and a guy runs up to me, hysterical.  “They’s gonna hang my buddy, and he ain’t done nothing!”

Feeling kinda down about failing to stop a guy knifing a prostitute in town, I figured gunning down some scofflaws might just cheer me up.  So I gallop toward where the guy was running.

I see a guy sitting on a horse looking very tall and officious like, and facing away from me.  “Excellent,” I think, “I’ll get the drop on these hooligans.”. So I draw my Winchester carbine, and took aim straight at the brim of his hat.  Before anyone sees me, I let a round fly.  Bits of blood, brain, and face spray all over the… Pistol packing lynch mob that I didn’t see because they were standing on the ground on the other side of the horse.

Startled but pissed they returned fire, and a shoot out commenced.  “That’s odd,” I thought between reloads, “why would their leader sit on horseback while they all… Ahw, shit.”

“The victim has died.”