"I am a curious man, Mr. Mantle, and ever since this all began I have been curious. I have been wondering why you were following me. If you don't mind, it did seem rather pointless."

Ike Mantle was puzzled, and he was curious, also. This man was different, somehow. He was a tenderfoot—everybody knew that—but he was different.

"Ain't so hard to figger," he said conversationally, "we wanted your gold."

"Gold?" Duncan McKaskel was startled. "But I have no gold. Lord, man, if I had gold do you suppose I'd ever leave all that back east and come out here? I don't know if you've been east—"

"I ain't."

"What I mean is there's a dozen ways to enjoy money back there for every one out here. If I had any gold I'd of stayed there until I spent it." He paused. "In fact, that's just what I did, I am afraid. I never had much but what I had just seemed to dribble away.
—Louis L'Amour, The Quick and the Dead

Shenendoah considered the sage maverick a fortunate find, her cherub-cheeked ass certainly didn't match her disposition. Shenendoah's womanly fire burned the old western map.

"Those bastards 'l never find that ol' ghost town."

The sage maverick and Shenendoah's pillow talk about how they were bein' tracked by the lawless pricks over Tin Cup Pass. These women had no intention of switching tracks. Shenendoah f***ed her, then tattooed the Old Western map on the firebrand's cherub-cheeked ass, the gold nugget stamped in the sage maverick's left cheek, hiding the assayer's precise location in her crack, the only woman to autograph her name on her piece of art, the sage maverick.

Shenendoah would have to defend the sage maverick, for she started the train down the track long ago, their kisses as hot as Wells Fargo. Moaning with desire loud enough not to hear the train robbers jump aboard, just before the conductor pulled the bell cord to stop, the sage maverick's orgasm halted the train.

"Cover your ass!"—

—Sage Sweetwater, Night of the Foal, The New Riders of the Purple Sage