It would be an understatement to say it was dry. There hasn't been rain for weeks now and the crops and cattle were beginning to die. Everything now is filled with dust. Dust in the stage coaches, dust in the buildings, dust in my eyes, dust in every god damn nook and cranny of my clothing and person. Constantly I find myself having to clean my 44, keeping it nice and in working condition in case the law comes to find me. In the evenings, I find my way to the local cantina, where I drink to my heart's content. It's a nice place, much better than any other saloon back in Kansas, or any of the states for that matter of fact. It's been a while since I shaved, but then again, nobody shaves. When water is as scarce as it is, even a small amount is like finding a gold mine. It didn't used to be this way, back in Kansas, I had a life. Now, if I go back, I'm a dead man. God how I miss Rose. We would be married now, if it weren't for my temper. Now, I'm worthless. Nobody wants to be even associated with a man of my kind. Some day though, I will go back. This pain I feel, for Rose, will bring me back.
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