A cowboy rode into town and stopped at a saloon for a drink. Unfortunately, the locals had a habit of picking on strangers, and when the cowboy finished his drink, he found his horse had been stolen. He went back into the bar, whipped out his gun and without even looking and fired a shot into the ceiling. “Which one of you sidewinders stole my horse?” he bellowed, making the glasses on the bar shake. No-one answered. The cowboy squinted around the room then, without looking, shot the tops off three bottles of whisky on the bar. “Alright,” he snarled at the room. “I’m gonna have another beer, and if my horse ain’t back outside by the time I finish, I’m gonna have to do what I done in Texas.”
The locals shifted uneasily in their seats, as the cowboy swivelled around suddenly. “And let me tell you – I really don’t want to do what I done in Texas.” Chairs creaked restlessly. The cowboy sat at the bar again, and quickly downed another beer. The locals watched as he got up, paid the bill and walked outside – to find his horse back where he’d left it.
As he saddled-up and started to ride out of town, the bartender came out of the bar. Unable to contain his curiosity, he approached the lone wanderer. “Say partner, before you go, tell me – what happened in Texas?” The cowboy turned back, with a long face: “I had to walk home.”