Someone has poisoned the watering hole. It's a mystery that only you can figure out. Here on the Indian reservation-- with nothing but blue skies above-- the hot sun beats down upon your shoulders. You loosen your turquoise studded Bolo Tie. Who would do such a thing and jeopardize an entire Native American civilization?
You run your fingers over the cold silver of your Bolo . . . seems to be the only thing keeping cool on a day like today. You remember the day you got it from a Navajo Chief. He asked you to remove your 10 gallon cowboy hat, and as he placed the Bolo Tie over your head, you could feel the weight of the silver and turquoise around your neck. The braided leather was worn from generations past. You were just a youngin' then . . . what would that Chief think of you now? You straighten your Bolo Tie, tightening it up around your neck and begin moving North.
As you ride your broken-in bronco towards town, you hear a cry for help. The hair on your arms raises as you and your horse make a dash for the small settlement. As you get nearer, you hear an all-too-familiar ruckus of a bank robbery. Unsatisfied with their loot, the robbers begin to snatch pieces of jewelry from the innocent civilians standing by. Men at gunpoint were forced to hand over their ornate turquoise Bolos-- Bolo Ties that had been passed on to them from their deceased relatives; their only physical memory of loved ones stolen.
As you and your trusty steed barrel into town, the thieves take to their own horses. You're hot on their trail when the first shots are fired. Several shots whiz past you, but nothing will deter you from seeking justice. Your heart races, and with each gallop your Bolo Tie thumps against your chest like a second heartbeat. Another shot is fired. It knocks you off your horse and you hit the ground hard.
As the initial shock of being shot begins to fade, you hesitantly feel your throbbing chest preparing for the worst-- but there is no wound. You look down. Maybe my hands deceive me, you think. No, your hands were right; no blood, no wound. How can this be? As you run your hands down your face, then to your neck, you feel it. A new addition has been added to your trusty Bolo Tie; it is the bullet that was aimed for your chest. The Bolo Tie has saved your life.
Will these rowdy robbers get away, or will justice be served? Stay tuned for the next installment. And while you're waiting, click HERE to shop our Native American Bolo Ties like the one that saved our hero's life.
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Yeah, we know.. that’s a real picture. Bill Murray himself, in a Bolo Tie, in some graffiti-ridden basement, hanging out with a glasses wearing banana, a beer drinking part man-part gorilla . . . and some guy.