For we know that Shepard rarely settles problems in his work. The woman then expounds on her love for the western landscape, which she developed through her appreciation of American movies. He then counters with the possibility that it is not the landscape that she craves but the heroic men she believes inhabit the land. What that is precisely she cannot say, but he, or the author, seems to have himself in mind when he needles her for more. It's very Western.
Women love that.
You're making me blush. The seduction continues with the man pressing her to explain whether it is the man or the landscape to which she responds more. That it's primordial. Perhaps the fake and the placebo are the only options readily available to our culture or to the author. For Shepard as for Blake, Wordsworth, or Shelley, authenticity is a subjective, though problematic, concern.