Riding her trusty horse from Amarillo to Dallas, a weary cowgirl named Jessie decided to take a break at a saloon she stumbled upon in a small town along the way. The locals eyed her with suspicion as she dismounted and entered the establishment.
Thirsty from the long journey, Jessie ordered a cold sarsaparilla at the bar. The atmosphere was tense, and the unfriendly glares from the locals made it clear she wasn’t exactly welcome.
After finishing her drink, Jessie stepped outside only to find her horse missing. Fuming with anger, she stormed back into the saloon, a determined look on her face. She unholstered her revolver, skillfully twirled it around her finger, and fired a shot that shattered a bottle at the far end of the bar.
The saloon fell silent, and Jessie declared, “Alright, which one of you sidewinders rustled my horse?”
A pin could be heard dropping in the quiet room, but nobody confessed.
Undeterred, Jessie raised her voice, “Listen up, folks! I’m gonna have another sarsaparilla, and if my horse ain’t back where it belongs by the time I finish, I’ll do what I did in Amarillo. And trust me, you don’t want me to do what I did in Amarillo.”
The locals exchanged uneasy glances. Nobody wanted trouble.
As Jessie enjoyed her second drink, she peered outside and spotted her horse patiently tied up. Satisfied, she calmly saddled up and headed towards the exit.
The bartender, who had been nervously observing the situation, couldn’t resist asking, “Hey there, partner. What did you do in Amarillo, anyway?”
Jessie flashed a mischievous grin and replied, “I had to teach a rattlesnake how to two-step. Now, I reckon I better hit the trail before anyone else gets any wild ideas.” And with that, she rode off into the sunset, leaving the puzzled locals scratching their heads.
