At dusk in ACville, the sun is still hot from the day, and dust blows on the wind through the quiet town. In the distance, a long shadow approaches the town square; a new face. A black horse, dusty and sweaty, slowly carries its rider, who appears practically asleep from the day's ride but is ever wary of his surroundings. Two things are immediately evident about this newcomer, to the neighbors who peer through their blinds: His slow, deliberate motions that indicate many day spent in saddle, and the .45 strapped to the cowboy's belt. He walks his horse to the front grass of a newly purchased house, drops the reins to let him graze for a bit, and wearily lays down under the shade of a tree and drops off to sleep, thinking about the many eyes watching him from behind shrouded windows.