The man kicked the saloon door with his leather boots and drew his pistol. He shot the candle glass hanging from the ceiling. He narrowed his eyes and spit out tobacco while twirling the pistol around his index finger.  I remember this scene from the western movies I used to watch every Sunday morning when I was a child. I adored the lace-up boots worn by the women in these movies. I bought a pair in Istanbul a few years before my arrival in Canada, where I had a better chance to learn about the Wild West. Now I know the story is not black and white as it was on my television screen.