Texas Ranger Dusty Nichols took the fixings from his shirt pocket and rolled a quirley. He stuck it in his mouth and searched his pocket for a match. He flicked the match with his thumbnail, lit the quirley and threw the match to the ground. He took a long drag on the quirley and looked over at his partner, Billy Collier, his chin against his chest, bobbing rhythmically with the gait of his horse. Dusty glanced up to see his dog, Toby, scamper back and forth in front of them. Movement from Billy regained his attention. “Have a good sleep?” Dusty asked his bleary eyed partner and offered him the rest of his cigarette. Billy sucked on the quirley. “I must have dozed a little,” he said, leaking smoke as he replied. “How far are we from Sweetwater?”