A cowboy rode into town and decided to stop in the local saloon for a drink.
As it often went on this parts, the locals had a habit of giving a strangers a hard time. When he finished his drink, he stepped outside to find his horse missing.
Without a second thought, he strode back into the saloon, twirled his gun in the air, caught it and fired a shot into the ceiling.
“Alright, which one of you low-down varmints took my horse?” He bellowed, his voice calm, but carrying a dangerous edge. The room fell silent and no one said a word.
He took a slow sip from his beer, then looked around the room with a steely gaze, “ I’m gonna have one more drink,” and if my horse ain’t back out there by the time i finish, i’m gonna do what i had to do in Texas. And believe me, i don’t like doing what i had to do in Texas.”
The locals shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting between each other. The cowboy finished his beer in silence, then strolled out of the bar.
To his surprise, his horse was waiting for him by the hitching post. He saddled up, gave the crowd one last look.
As he was about to leave, the bartender ran towards the cowboy, “hey partner, before you head out, what exactly did you have to do in Texas?” The cowboy turned in his saddle with a slight grin,
“ I had to walk home,” he said with a wink.