BS! Vile bulldyke walked into that bar with an agenda.
I had the fortune to live in Wyoming for five years. My first place was in Jelm, in the foothills of the Snowy Range about 25 miles SW of Laramie. I rented an isolated cabin on the Little Laramie R., abutting the national forest, where at night you couldn't see another man-made light except for those at the UW observatory on top Mt. Jelm. You could easily count more than 100 head of pronghorn on each morning's commute into Laramie.
I remember visiting a bar in Jelm one afternoon with my lovely first wife--she was knock-dead gorgeous. In walked a cowboy and I couldn't keep my eyes off him. I thought, "Damn, this is the real Marlboro Man!" He was the real thing--full garb (the real deal, dirtied by cows and hard work) and skin weathered like leather by the climatic extremes encountered by ranching a lifetime above 7,000 feet.
I haven't spent much time in Sheridan, but I suspect much of the populace there is mostly very colorful and genuine. Something to be observed and admired while it's still here. Nothing homophilic about it.
An old cowboy sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. As he sat sipping his drink, a young woman sat down next to him. She turned to the cowboy and asked, "Are you a real cowboy?"
He replied, "Well, I've spent my whole life, breaking colts, working cows, going to rodeos, fixing fences, pulling calves, bailing hay, doctoring calves, cleaning my barn, fixing flats, working on tractors, and feeding my dogs, so I guess I am a cowboy."
She said, "I'm a lesbian. I spend my whole day thinking about women. As soon as I get up in the morning, I think about women. When I shower, I think about women. When I watch TV, I think about women. I even think about women when I eat. It seems that everything makes me think of women."
The two sat sipping in silence.
A little while later, a man sat down on the other side of the old cowboy and asked, "Are you a real cowboy?"
He replied, "I always thought I was, but I just found out I'm a lesbian."