A cowboy

A cowboy rode into a windy, dusty, tumble weed strewn Nevada town, reined up outside the saloon, went in and ordered a double bourbon.

The saloon was full of locals but what this cowboy did not know was that this town was a haven for thieves and rouges.

Having finished his drink he exited only to find that his horse had been stolen.

He returned inside to the bar and ordered another double bourbon.

With the speed of greased lightning he drew his gun and sent it spinning into the air above his head, caught it effortlessly without looking up and fired a single shot into the ceiling.

The saloon fell deathly silent.

He announce to all and sundry that if his horse was not returned in the next three minutes then he would have to do what he had done down there in Texas.

He added, “I really do not want to do what I had had to do down there in Texas, no sir, I do not want to have to do that, no sir, I do not!”

He finished his drink; checked his gun; then his time piece.

The three minutes were up.

He exited again and there was his horse back where he had left it.

He mounted up, turned and started to move off when the bartender came running up to him and asked, “Hey partner tell me, tell me, what was it that you had to do down there in Texas? What was it that you didn’t want to have to do here? What was it? Tell me please.”

The cowboy stared at him with a long withering look and then said- “I had to walk home!”