In West Texas they still wear boots, spurs and hats. They dip, spit and hold the door for any woman. The prairie is their church, and rodeo is their second religion, because among the mesquite bushes and oil jacks, a man is judged by his buckle and by the way he shapes his hat. A story about Shawn, Hawkins, Quentin and all the other 21st century cowboys I’ve come along in the past 5 years.