Rhett

*Dallas rides into the parking lot of a small café and dismounts his horse. He pulls out his guitar and strungs and sings out his praises to God and anyone who would listen. Some people glare at him and tell him to stop but he doesn't waver. Some watch from a distance with confilicted faces and hearts. Some start to sing along with him. He sings and strums all into the day, until everyone has left.* It's all in your hand's God. I did my part. Now I know that you'll do yours. *Harris prays.*