We must all face life on our own terms. That no matter the odds if we start a game we finish it. We don’t run, we don’t hide. We stand our ground… and die on our feet. Well thought of. Respected and admired in the wild west like Frank Beauregard.

Four shots; one hole. Just like the good old days. — Nobody

Written up in all the history books. While we’re down here reading them the man is up stairs playing on a harp. Everyone else sees the blaze of glory but him. So we face the facts one way or the other. Ugly, dirty, painful memories. Your name cut on thin wood in a lonely town with pistol belt decorating the cross. There were no good old days. The reality is almost never as great as the fantasy and there are few old men in the old west.

However, sometimes… once in a while... on rare occasion… when the circumstances are just right there’s an adversary so impressive the very act of facing it cements your place in history. When you’re already a hero you just need a special act to make you a legend. The last stand. In every shadow a gun waiting to trigger. Whoever gets the kill brags the rest of their short life. Winner take all.

If the risk is little; the reward is little. — Jack Beauregard

People waste days, and years, and lives… next thing you know there’s only 30 seconds left. Happens to everyone sooner or later. Wisdom for the ages. Make the most of what you have because Nobody wakes up in the morning ready to die. He’s a fast son of a bitch with air flowin’ through holes in his wide rim. A reminder that boys need heroes and men need purpose.

My grandfather told me a story. There was once this little chick who’d fallen out of its nest in the middle of a cold winter. It shivered and chirped until a cow walked up. The cow could tell it was cold so it lifted its tail and dropped a steaming cow paddy on the bird. Though warm the bird was still unhappy so it chirped and chirped. Then a coyote, having heard the noise walks over and sees the little chick covered up to its neck. Carefully pulling it out of the cow paddy it lifts it into the air to brush off the dirt. Then places it in his mouth before swallowing the little chick whole. Grandfather said you have to figure out the moral for yourself.

Jack: How come you know so much about me?

Nobody: Everyone knows about Jack Beauregard. The only hope for law and order in the west.

Jack: Son, let me give you a little advice. Instead of admiring someone pretty soon you’re envious so you start showin’ off takin’ chances. Before ya know it you’re dead.

Nobody: Well, it ain’t good for some folks to live too long.

In … how many did you get that time? 6… no 7 counting that fella that tried to gun ya down when your back was turned. But you never got 150 all at once. You know since I was a boy I always dreamed of you like that. An immense open plain. 150 pure bread sons of bitches on horse back and you facing them… alone.

Jack: Why only 150?

Nobody: The wild bunch! They are only 150 that’s why.

Jack: Ya 150 riding and shootin’ like they’re thousands. Who are you, anyway?

Nobody: Who me? Nobody.

Jack: Tell you what. First you get to be somebody then you and me will surround ‘em.

Nobody: Oh hey that’s no good! You have to face them alone. Them on one side and you on the other. You’ll be written up in all the history books.

Jack: And you’ll be here on on earth reading ‘em while I’m down wondering in the grave.