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It has been a long time since Darrell Winfield dismounted and quit being the Marlboro man, settling on his Wyoming horse ranch. He is now trying to come to terms with his cancer and the only treatment he would ever accept is the regular sweat lodge sessioning with a medicine man from the Wind River reservation.
Winfield secured the cigarette deal in 1968, when the wannabes from Hollywood were replaced by the real thing, and he has since been in more films and commercials than any other Marlboro man. Now that he is too old to drive cattle he still needs the snorting of horses around him; the smell, the body heat. It is not even a choice: you either like them or you don’t.
The northbound road to the country town of Riverton loses itself in a hazy semi-desert. Behind every curve lies a new sensation of astonishing cliff formations. Touching the outskirts of Wind River we lose our car radio signal.