The Cowgirl met the mysterious W. Carrington when he rambled innto Ghosttown. He was already an old man, deadset on dying young. “Them days is overr,” The Cowgirl thought to hersself: “Longgone.” The Cowgirl && Carrington often sat inn Silverrors Saloon at the end of days, talk’N. Truth be told, Carrington always did most the talk’N. Like a summerr rain. Scattered showerrs. She sat & listened. Asked him a question err two err’now’N then. Just like when he rambled inn to town, he rambled now through his thoughts. “Many precious gems, I have” he said wit no remorse. Repeating himself. “Many a precious gems.” Straightfaced for poker, but they were just passing time. At the bar, drink’N drinks, not playing games. Err so she thought. Mayhaps he thought otherrwise. Who can say? Who knows what folks are think’N. The same. Err’ different.