Chapter 27

A Story of the Old West

A cowboy moved from Texas to Montanna. One day he walked into a saloon and ordered three draft beers and sat at a quiet table in the corner. He sips from each of the glasses until they are empty. He returns to the bar and orders three more.

The bartender commented; “You know, draft beer tends to go flat after a bit. You can always order them one at a time.”

The cowboy smiles and answers; “Well, you see I have two brothers. One in Arizona and one in Colorado. When we all left home in Texas, we made a promise to each other to drink this way, to remember the times that we drank together. So, I’m drinking one beer for myself, and one beer for each of my brothers.”

The bartender nods, says it’s a nice custom and pulls another round for the cowboy. Soon, he is a regular and everyone is aware of his custom to remember his brothers.

One day, he comes in and only orders two beers. Everyone in the saloon grows quiet. When he goes back to the bar to order two more beers, the bartender says; “I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I want to offer my condolences on your loss.”

The cowboy pauses, then smiles. “It’s not what you think. My wife made me join a church and give up drinking.”

He winked at the bartender.

“Hasn’t affected my brothers, though.”