The other day, a man walked into the winery. I had never met him, yet I felt I somehow knew him. He wore a white stetson and a shirt with snaps instead of buttons. The man looked to be in his sixties, with a slightly weathered face, a warm smile and sparkly blue eyes. When he approached the bar with his party, I made some sort of joke to which he responded, "Yer kind of a smart alec , aren't ya?" "Yep," I smiled. He winked and grinned back at me. We'd never met before and yet, I knew him. He was a rancher from Montana, but he might just as well have been from Wyoming or Utah or Nevada or Colorado. This man was an honest to goodness cowboy. Not the George Bush variety, mind you, but the real deal. Here was an honorable, chivalrous, hardworking cattleman. The Code of the West is real. These guys live it. It was nice to hang with the fellow and his family for while. It was a little like being home. I also enjoyed a couple that came in yesterday. ...