Legend has it that on the dustiest, loneliest nights in the old West, phantom cowboys would rise from their eternal rest for one last ride. These skeletons were just too stubborn to let a little thing like death keep them from the range. They went from six feet under to goin on midnight rides, shootin at Lord knows what and roundin up the ghostly cattle. Yippie-yi-oh, Yippie-yi-aye! Ghost riders they say.