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There's a place out west where the Powder River runs off the Big Horn Mountains and winds its way out across the plains. It's a land of red walls, blue sky, and clean air. Where the eagle glides high above the canyons and makes his nest in the rocks that overlook the valleys where the sagebrush and the cottonwoods grow. This is ranch country, has been for more than one hundred years. Well, things have changed some since the early days but there's still a thread of character and tradition that runs true from one generation to the next. You can see it in the way folks out here sit a horse. You can hear it in the way they talk. And when the work is all done, there's nothing they like better than to get together at the one-room schoolhouse under the red wall for another down homegrown western Saturday night. From Letras Mania