The Legend of Iron-Gut

It started like a bad country song and ended like a court summons. Me and my uncle, we rode down from Colorado, wild as mountain goats and twice as smelly. We had a pair of horses that knew the way to every saloon from Denver to the Rio Grande. We hit West Texas just as the sun was turning the sky the color of a bruised peach.

That's how "Iron-Gut" Kevin was born. I traded my six-shooter for a keyboard, but don't let the pixels fool you. I'm still the quickest draw in the West.