Posted March 22, 2022

His daughter had run him off to have time with her newly minted fiancé, and a man that Amos admired from days gone by, as well as what he had become in the years since those of blue and gray, shot and shell. True, they had not seen one another since his visit after the war, but between men that mattered not at all. And now, here they were in Kalispell, Montana embarking on a new adventure together that could, in fact and in time, make them all rich. Very rich! Copper, they said, was as valuable as gold and silver, well, so some said. But it's discovery had started a rush of sorts. Not many knew it's value, and that for the time being was good, because it wouldn't last long.

First it had been a job of work, hunting minerals, timber rights, and such, and because of his two finds, now it was an equal partnership, which included the Pikes, who he barely knew, well Pronto, not his wife so much, but that mattered little. If the wife was anything akin to the man, then she'd be one to ride the river with. Most women on the frontier were hardy souls, because they had to be, what with nature and hostiles, both red and white.

He strolled across the near desolate street, a breath of air kicking up a small dust devil which quickly faltered and died. He stepped up on the boardwalk and pushed through the bat-wing doors when he reached them. The place was well lit, had a crowd of folks already, as he made his way to the bar, looking over those present as one will, taking stock of the situation. It was what a man hunter did out of hand. Caution kept him alive.

He looked to the bartender, "Evenin'."

An old man, looking a bit on the bedraggled side had just come thru the batwing doors as Ralph glanced over from behind his usual spot behind the bar. It didn't matter what a man looked like though long as he had enough money to buy a drink or preferably even more than one. So this fellow was just another prospective customer to Ralph.

The man sidled up to the bar, "Evenin' "

"Evenin' yerself, can I get ya somethin'?" Ralph asked that same question he had asked folk thousands of times in his life.

That was the job.

"Wouldn't mind a beer." Amos said, and laid a coin on the bar top. If there was one thing that Amos understood it was that he didn't look like much of a success, but how he looked had worked to his advantage over the years. Putting up his money first was his habit, and it seemed to put the bartender, or merchant at ease.

"Nice place ya got here. An' no real competition that I can see. Makes fer a more profitable bid'ness." He said, just making idle conversation, though it was essentially true, there wasn't another saloon in town. Maybe another place or two to get a drink, but not another saloon. "Fact is, this here's a right nice town when ya git right down too it."

"Sure," Ralph nodded and poured a glass of beer from the tap then set it in front of the newcomer, scraping the coin off the bartop and into a box behind the bar.

"Nice place ya got here. An' no real competition that I can see. Makes fer a more profitable bid'ness."

"We do well, yep. Now I heard there was once another saloon...on the other side of the street a bit down the way. But it burnt down, seemed the owner tended to drink a little too much of his own stuff and they say he had an accident with a lantern. But that was before I arrived so don't know how much to the whole story," Ralph offered.

"Fact is, this here's a right nice town when ya git right down too it," the old gent opined.

"I like it here. But probably no different than any other town. Most folks are good people and then you got a few rotten apples," Ralph shrugged.

"Well, hell, every burg I ever been in has it's fair share'a them." Amos said with a laugh, because it was true. No place was all good, but there had been a few places he had ventured to that were all bad. "But yer right on thet account, it's no differ'nt than most any other town."

Amos always liked a saloon, a man could learn a lot about things like range conditions, in some instances mining topics, timber resources, as Montana has lots of trees. Even water rights.

"Another'un, shame then thet she burnt, but ya know, things happen, benefit some, not others. But I've found thet the older, well established bid'ness, whatever it might be, usually comes out on top. Amos offered. "I'd heard tell a man could get a drink at the White Rose, then too I heard they're makin' a theater outta it."

Amos paused, beer glass at his lip when the girl spoke, well, she could be a woman, but didn't look the part to him. "'scuse me, Miss?" He asked. He hardly fit the description of any Santa Clause he had ever heard of, but perhaps she was just being cute. Which fell flat.

He set the beer on the bar, "Reckon you got me confused with the Father Christmas of yer childhood, which don't appear to be thet far back. No, ma'am, I ain't not Santy Clause, thet's fer shore." He grined. "Not hardly, but yer free ta think what ya will." He picked up the glass and took a long swallow.

"I don't take any time to get pretty, I just come that way." she explained to the old man, not that he seemed particularly interested, she was just chatty that way.

"Got yerself a couple wimmen workin, that'll bring 'em in fer shore." He noted, as was the case anywhere there were females in the saloons. "I'm Amos, Amos Conroy, you'd be? Figger I oughtt get ta know folks here since I'll be around a spell. Got a place out east o' here. Workin' for Wood an' Guyer Minin' concern, two doors down." He glanced down and smiled at the young one cleaning the floor. "Looks ta be a good 'un ya got there."