Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses.

Beer for My Horses by Scott Emerich/Toby Keith

Adam sat with a boot propped up on the edge of the nearest chair and took another sip of the lukewarm beer. It was flat as well, but at least it was wet. It was the only positive thing he could say about it as he took another mouthful. He’d flipped with Joe as to who was going to stable the horses and who would order the cold beers, but it seemed they had both lost. He knew that Joe should be coming along soon enough and Adam had a fair idea what his little brother was going to say about the sad state of the town’s only saloon and its even sadder excuse for a beer.

Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers and the next watering hole was well over forty miles away. Neither of them had had the energy to press on and a cold beer and a soft bed had sounded good. Adam took another sip of beer as he glanced up the stairs. Hopefully, the beds might be a better deal than the beer, but he wasn’t going to bet on that one either.

He looked towards the batwing doors and wondered what was taking Joe so long. It had been a blistering hot day and the horses were both looking the worse for wear. Adam smiled to himself as he could see Joe giving instructions to the livery owner about what his horse needed. Sometimes he wondered who was more spoiled – Joe or Cochise?

Finally his younger brother wandered through the door, hat in hand and wiping at his reddened face with a dusty bandana. Adam waved him over and Joe pushed around a couple of drunken patrons to slide into the chair opposite. He grasped at the beer his brother had waiting for him and took a long gulp. Adam almost laughed at the sour face his brother pulled as he raised his own half-empty glass.

“It’s wet.”

Joe licked at his lips and frowned at the glass.

“About all I can say for it.”

Before Adam could comment further, three men pushed through the doors and one of them pounded on the bar. The barkeep came sauntering over towards them.

“Whiskey for my men, beer for my horses.”

Joe looked at Adam as the trio leaned on the bar.

“Say what?” The barkeep held a glass in one hand and the cloth he’d been using to wipe it was now motionless in the other.

“Well I’ve tasted your beer and it ain’t fit for people to drink. Maybe our horses would like it instead.”

The barkeep stared at the obvious leader of the group before slowly cracking a grin. He draped the towel over his shoulder as he reached under the bar and grasped a bottle of whiskey.

Joe snickered at the comment as his brother just smiled at him.

Adam nodded and took another gulp of his beer.

“Can’t argue with that, I guess.”

“Sure you can. Everybody knows that horses prefer coffee!”