There is a place in the Wilderlands, the state of Kansas to be exact, called Colby’s Ridge. In the small, quiet town of Colby’s Ridge is the Silver Horseshoe Saloon. There is a man in this Saloon. He sits in the corner, his mud-caked boots up on the table; his sun-bleached black hat pulled low over his stubble covered face. A mane of black hair is pushed behind his ears. His brown duster, tossed carelessly over a chair. His white shirt, stained a light brown from dust and sweat. On his hip, a six-gun; clad in a worn brown leather holster. A cigarette tucked between his lips. A thin wisp of smoke rising from underneath the brim. On the table sits a half empty bottle of whisky, and an empty glass. No one knows his true name; everyone just calls him, Mr. Jones. There is a gunshot that disrupts the quietness. The man jolts awake. He lifts his hat. Cold eyes stare out across the room. A woman screams. He stands slowly, slings his coat over his shoulder and as he walks towards the door he tosses a silver coin onto the bar. He steps outside, and squints in the sun. A horse bolts past him with a woman slung over the back of the saddle. The cigarette drops to the wooden planks and his boot stamps it out. He walks calmly over to his horse. He tosses his coat onto the saddle before swinging his leg over the saddle. He backed the horse up, and then urged the horse after the one that just bolted out into town. As he rode off the people of the town watched him. He would be back, bringing the the kidnapped woman back to her family. He always comes back.
Picture Source: http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2012/219/6/e/john_marston_by_fonteart-d5a6tx3.jpg
