Saturday Night Fun

by jfclover

No one walks into a saloon on Saturday night with the intention of starting a fight or inciting a brawl between miners and cowboys or any outsiders who have ridden into our fair city.  No one in their right mind plans something that stupid for their Saturday night entertainment, but my assumption doesn’t always hit the mark.   

I’m instructed early in life by a father who abhors violence, a father who thinks that a man’s words should be used instead of his fists.  A father who educates his three sons to believe that civilized men should have enough brains to realize the obvious.

So, when Hoss and Adam and I stroll into the Silver Dollar Saloon on a fine spring evening, we don’t ride into Virginia City with the intention of coming home battered and bruised.  A few beers and a few hands of cards is the purpose for our visit, but there are times when good intentions are overridden by men who were never taught how to maintain control from a man like Ben Cartwright.

We only plan to stay in town for a couple of hours, and we leave our mounts tied at the hitching rail in front of the saloon.  Hoss tried to coax Pa into enjoying a night on the town, but our father is recovering from a head cold and wants to call it an early night.  I can’t blame him.  Celebrating the end of the week if you’re feeling poorly doesn’t sit well with anyone, so after Hop Sing’s Saturday night supper, which is always a bit more casual than the rest of the week, the three of us ride out and are eager to belly up to the bar. 

“Three beers, Sam.” 

Hoss doesn’t waste any time ordering.  There’s something exciting about getting away from the ranch, seeing friends who work as hard as we do all week, and are ready to sit back and enjoy the same thing my brothers and I are after—a night of rest and relaxation.

When I spot a table, I nudge my brothers, and after picking up our beers, we head to the back of the saloon and the three empty chairs.  We spent all day long in the saddle, rounding up steers and hauling them down to a meadow of rich, green grass, and we’re ready for some fun. 

Fat and sassy.  If we expect a good price at market, that’s how we want our cattle before the drive.  Fat and sassy. They’ll lose weight on the trip to Sacramento, so keeping them well-fed is a high priority.

Hoss jams his elbow into my ribs.  “Hey, Joe.”

I ignore the initial stage of a painful bruise.  “What?”

“Looks like there’s a new little gal in town.”

“I ain’t blind, Big Brother.”

“She’s been eyeing you, Joseph.”

“You think so?”

I notice her the minute we arrive, but I keep my thoughts to myself.  She’s the kind of girl men stare at.  She knows all eyes are on her, including mine, Hoss’s, and Adam’s, and she flaunts the fact that she is a natural beauty.  She doesn’t need all the paint that whores tend to wear, and she makes sure that her soft, white bosom is pushed higher than most of the other girls.

My brothers and I are no different than any other men.  We can’t help but stare at her obvious assets, and we can’t help but notice the mountain of blonde hair she’s piled on top of her head or the way she swings her arms when she crosses the room.  She’s one lovely lady, and Hoss thinks she’s staring at me.  Could I be so lucky?

“Look at her go.”

I chuckle at Hoss’s words.  The lady crosses the room, and I know what he means, but he doesn’t have to say things out loud.  His voice tends to be overloud, and I sure don’t want anyone else to hear his comments.  I don’t want anyone else to know she might be interested in me.  I want her all to myself.

“Wonder what her name is.”

“Why?  That beer kicking in, Little Brother?”

“What’s that mean?”

“You drinking up some bravado?  You gonna go talk to her?”

“Maybe.”

I don’t want to make a fool of myself, but I have an idea, and when I catch her eye, I raise three fingers.  Our glasses are nearly empty, which gives me an excuse to order three more beers.  I’m proud of my idea.  It’s the perfect way to meet the beautiful barmaid.

But that’s when my plan goes all to hell.

*~*~*

Since Pa is under the weather, we hope he’s had an early night, and we can slip into the house without any unnecessary fanfare, but that isn’t the case.  Wearing his nightshirt and dressing gown and sitting in his chair by the fire, he has an open book lying on his lap when the three of us walk through the front door.  Nothing prepares us for the look on my father’s face.  Isn’t he happy that we came home early, and isn’t he interested in the night’s events? 

My brothers and I didn’t start the fight.  In fact, we tried our best to avoid the entire mess.  The only goal that interested me was meeting the beautiful barmaid with hair piled atop her head.  All night long, I planned to use my lips—not my fists—but when the entire saloon erupted into a shower of fisticuffs, we did our best to escape through the batwings and stay out of Roy’s jail. 

I’m quite proud of my brothers and me.  Not only did we take off in time to avoid a ruckus, but we ran into the sheriff outside rather than inside the saloon, and we aren’t expected to pay the damages.  We did quite well this time around.

After a night on the town, hearing good things isn’t always the case, and Pa stares at us like we did something wrong.  Although a bruise or two marred our pretty faces, we escaped before any real damage was done.

“Hey, Pa.  Do we have a story to tell!”

The End – 1 – 2026