You may have heard of me, John Jacob McKenna. I had quite a reputation as a fast gun back in the early part of the 1870's. I killed Red Wade and Curly Jack Turner, and a score of other men whose names and faces I can't recall. Some folks wonder how I sleep nights, what with all those dead men on my conscience, but none of them ever caused me a moment's regret. Red Wade was nothing but a greedy s.o.b. who wanted to own all of Southern Arizona, and Curly Jack Turner was just plain no good. As for the others, most were just ambitious kids out to make a name for themselves. Only I got the big name, and all they got was dead. Of course, that's all behind me now, and I'm back where I began. Sitting here, watching the sun rise above Mo'ohta-vo'honaaeva, the sacred Black Hills of the Cheyenne, my mind goes back in time, back to the beginning....
