It's getting late out here in Mississippi. The weather is cold, and a Cowboy's boots are soaked. I started writing a diary for my lady Agnes back home. She likes poetry from time to time. In a few hours, I'm going to find a camp, or cabin and tuck in. Haven't drunk any scotch whiskey from my canteen in a few days. Unlike this Cowboy to wet his whistle during the evenings. Unfortunately, these days have been extremely rough traveling around. I just can't wait to get back to Missouri. Not sure how long it's going to take. Luckily, I have plenty of beef jerky and bread to last me. The rain is pounding bullets right now. Yes, I have a flannel mouth, but hey, not going to put too much mustard on these words. Autumn is coming to a end. Thank you Jesus. As long as this varmint begin me doesn't try nothing foolish. My Colt Walker my daddy gave me is still hot from dinner. Go ahead and try me ten-cent man.

I dare you.