I just saddled Old Paint and rode out of Facebook. I’d hung around that place for nearly five years and liked it well enough, made some good friends there, told my share of tall tales in the Silver Status Saloon — made a fool of myself there, too, from time to time but no one seemed to care too much.
Can’t say why I took a notion to ride off from the place — just an idea, I guess, that there might be better country further west, and that I might profit from some time on the move with less company around me. I felt good seeing the trail up ahead wind off into the distance, like a weight had been lifted off me, and bad thinking of sleeping out in the rain under a slicker on stormy nights, with none of the old crowd at the Silver Status around to stand me a glass.
If anybody asks about me back in town, someone is sure to say, “Oh, he was last seen heading off in the general direction of Montana.” I might go there, or I might go somewhere else.