Shelly stood a spectator as the chaotic chase for the Hennessey fugitive finally ended with Rose winning it all. He not only lost the thousand dollars initially offered, or the potential ten grands, he not only lost the money he stole from Archie's or even Marlett either dead or escaped in the midst of the shooting. Shelly also damaged his Indian made mask, and he damaged his since of dignity and purpose. He decided to sober up his spirit and quit distractions, his quest for the hidden artifact in the mountains still a priority afterall. 

When he came into Sand Flats, he was already worn out from the previous job, he expected a cheap glass of wine and a bed. A whore for bonus, but never this clusterfuckbomb of Wild West drama. Shelly ripped his mask off and tugged it into his pocket. He brought his hat down to cover his face, an extremely scarred one, and walked inside trying not to cause anymore problems. 

"You still owe me that fucking expensive vintage wine Madame." He yelled without looking at the already preoccupied Rose. He walked inside and hoping to find any trace for Marlett, he didn't. Instead Archie was sitting across him in the distance, Shelly gave him a scarlet glare, a subtle grudge and snarled away to pick up a bottle of beer that wasn't harmed in the shootout. 

There were few people left in the Saloon, the piano was fortunately intact save a few nails and sand. Shelly grabbed his bottle and walked over to the piano, being careful not to walk to close to Archie.

He set the bottle side on a nearby stool and started playing some sweet honky tonk tunes.