“Yeah, Toph,” Dave said, taking one of the last three sips from his glass. “I’m ready too.”

As soon as Topher walked away, Chad turned to Dave.

“So,” he started, as cheerfully as he could make himself sound with nearly a six-pack of beer in him. “Henry is up in Wild Basin, eh?”

“Yeah.” Dave took the second of three sips. “He’ll be up there till after calving, then we’ll go up and help him bring the pairs in for branding.”

“Wild Basin…that’s south of here, isn’t it?” Chad was fishing for information, but Dave didn’t pick up on it.

“No, you’re thinking of Wind River.” Dave took the last sip, then pointed at an old yellowed topographical map of the area that was framed and hung on the wall next to the back bar. “Wild Basin is to the east, see there. He’s way out there by Frasier’s Canyon. As the crow flies, it’s only about five miles off the main road, but it’s near impossible to get to it goin’ that way. So we always cut through the ranch, which is longer, but a whole lot flatter and easier to travel, both horseback and with a truck.”

“So he’s out there by himself?”

“Yeah,” Dave shrugged. “But he don’t seem to mind it.”

“And your buddy, there…Topper, he takes supplies out to him?”

“Topher,” Dave corrected him. “Yeah, he goes out there around the fifteenth of every month. Stays for a day or two to help out with whatever Henry needs, then comes back.”

“I suppose he drives the supplies out.”

“Topher?” Dave chuckled. “Are you kiddin’? If Toph can’t do it a horseback, he’d rather not do it at all. No, he packs everything out on mules and horses. He’s only got two more trips, I think.”

“Two more trips?”

“Yeah.” Dave wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “He’ll go out there mid March, then again mid April and then we’ll all go up and bring the pairs down for branding around the first of May.”

“Dave!” Topher shouted as he walked from the men’s room to the front door. “Come on, goddammit. I ain’t waitin’ on you all night.”

“I gotta go,” Dave said, shaking Chad’s hand. “Nice talkin’ with ya.” He started for the door. “I’ll tell Henry I seen ya, next time I see him.”

“Thanks,” Chad smiled coldly. “Hopefully I’ll get a chance to do that myself before long.”

As Dave and Topher disappeared through the door and into the cold February night, Chad picked up his beer and walked over to the old topographical map. He stared at the Frasier Canyon area in Wild Basin and took another pull from his bottle. The jukebox belched out “Whipping Post” by The Allman Brothers Band, and Chad silently mouthed along with the words as he studied the map. When Gregg Allman came to the last line, Chad found himself quietly singing along, Good Lord—I feel like I’m dy-in’. He set the bottle on the bar, and smiled.