When I think about Breakenridge relating his experience with John Ringo reeling in the saddle after miles in the hot desert sun and offering him a swig of his bottle which was too hot to swallow...well, I can tell you if you are not used to seeing a cowboy that wasted under those conditions...it might SEEM to suggest a mystery to you.

But not to me! After a Fall round-up, I have seen my brother-in-law, Ramon, go on a three week bender that started with the good stuff and ended with Tokay, which compares to swallowing gasoline! When trying to get his boots on he couldn't find his leg, let alone a foot. Then he would just fall over for a while until something vague registered again. His idea of resuscitation was to fill a quart jar with as many raw whole eggs it would hold, drink down in one gulp...and sleep it off, mumbling about ???

So I have no problem visualizing Ringo's drunken stupor or his sudden decision to say "To Hell with it" and put a gun to his head! No mystery.

I also offer the possibility that the shocking loss of his father due to a shotgun accident, the immediate responsibility of having to continue on as a family head at a young age getting the rest to their destination, and then add the HooDoo range war and all that entails...I think PTSD contributed to one bad day with a horse wandering off.

I always go in another direction, as you all know.