Phineas felt good about himself in this strange land. This was the first time since he’d arrived in Texas that he felt comfortable about who he was. He was ready for whatever adventure lay ahead of him. He walked over to the bar next to the Cree man and tossed the shot of whiskey back. “Ahh! That was smooth. Gotta love a sharp bourbon. Good stuff.” He looked up at  the man upstairs, “Thanks Mr. Grainger, lifting the empty shot glass with a smile.”

Billy Kingsley had picked himself up off the floor and listened to what was going on. He saw the Cree man put his weapons away and the others take their shots of the whiskey. He smiled, figuring it was his turn to take a shot. As he approached the bar, he looked up at the saloon owner, “Thanks Mr. Grainger!” Billy smiled up as the man as he retrieved the shot glass. He didn’t always receive polite or congenial treatment from white man and appreciated the gesture immensely. Like the others, Billy tossed the shot back and put the glass on the bar. HE looked at Finney, “You got that right. That whiskey is smooth.”