Patting his breast pocket, for the umpteenth time, John Bell assured himself that his life savings and deed to his land were secure before venturing into the gayety of Portland's finest saloon. A wave of voices and music swept over him, instantly welcoming him back to a world he hadn't visited in over six years. He tipped his wide brim hat further back on his head and walked to the polished mahogany bar with thumbs hooked into the pockets of his silk brocade vest.

Leaning over the bar, he asked the bartender for a table and a bottle of Kentucky bourbon. He waited for the bartender to come from behind the bar with a bottle and brace of shot glasses. The man led the way to a table near an etched glass inner door leading to the gaming parlor. It was quieter away from the main hall of the saloon.

"John! John Bell, you old dog, when did you get into town? Where in hell have you been anyway? Get your ass in here and help me out, would you?” A boisterous man with two scantily clad young women at his sides shouted from the smaller bar within the gaming parlor.

Bell looked through the doors and acknowledged the man with a glass of the fine bourbon whiskey lifted in toast. Smiling, he grabbed his bottle by its neck and walked into the gaming room bar.

"Clive, I see you haven't changed. You still take on more than you can handle." Bell set his bottle on the bar and shook hands with the red-faced Irishman.

Clive Shannon pushed the petite blonde away and into the arms of his long time friend, keeping a dark-eyed beauty in his arms for himself.

"And why would I change? I have been this way all my humble life. Besides, the sun only shines on those that seek it! This is Bridget. Bridget, say hello to John Bell. He's the fastest man with a gun west of the Mississippi. Now, answer my questions, lad, where have you been? It must be over three years since we lifted a glass together."

"Humble? You? Well, that's true enough. Clive, I can tell you where I haven't been easier. I like your taste in women by the way." Bell looked down at the soft morsel his friend had gifted him with and smiled broadly. "I've been wandering all over the west, my friend. Had to hunt down witnesses to clear title to my land." He reached into his coat and pulled out a bound packet. "This is my new start, Clive. I sat in a courtroom all afternoon waiting for the judge to review statements, affidavits and testimony to release this deed in my name. I've waited a long time and worked damned hard for this, and now it's mine."

"You mean to really do it then? Become a farmer? Lad, tell me you're joking." Shannon's look was one of bewilderment.

"Farmer, rancher, does it really matter? I want a clean start. I told you I was tired of looking over my shoulder all the time. Never knowing when someone would call me out to add a notch to his gun. And, when I do defend myself, it's the law that's making my life hell. Going from poker game to poker game, I can earn a year’s wages if the cards are hot and in my favor. If not, well, that just forces me to take chances in places where my gun is the only protection I have. That isn't living, Clive." Bell paused to take a sip of his whiskey and reflect. "I want a place of my own, as far away from this life as I can get. I guess I'm looking for a way the gunfighter J. R. Bell can disappear. This is my chance and I'm taking it."

The men led the two amiable, smiling young ladies into the main room and seated themselves at the table Bell had vacated. John raised his hand and motioned to the bartender for more glasses. Pouring drinks for his friend and the ladies, he continued his explanation.

"Clive, I spent two years in that hellhole of a prison after winning this deed and I'll be damned if I let this opportunity pass. I'm tired and just want to settle down."

"Yes, I know lad. But why settle so far from the excitement of the city, and your friends? You could trade that parcel for land on the coast and you could still follow your heart and be a gentleman farmer, or open an Inn and take in custom, selling libation and comfort to those unfortunates that I fleece to earn my respectable wage. I could live like royalty and have my dear friend as my landlord."

"Royalty? Clive you would fritter all your gains away on good whiskey and better women, and as your landlord, it would fall to me to put a friend on the street. No, my life has taken a turn and I need a clean break. My poker days are over, and I don't have the patience for a business. I’ve spent too many long nights with nothing to show for them and I'm not getting any younger. It's time I look to a future, if I can make one." Bell took a drink and refilled his glass.

"So you'll just find you a big-boned farm girl to sire children and scratch in the dirt the rest of your years; is that it? Lad, I for one think you have lost your mind. But, if that's what you want, then I pray you get it. Now lad, let's, you and I, fritter away some of my gains from last night. Cheers, old friend!" Clive Shannon lifted his glass.

"If that's what it takes; yes. But trust me, I won't ever forget my friends, you hard-headed Irishman. So, we'll lift a glass and let life do what it will. Cheers," Bell repeated and touched his glass to Shannon's. "Now, you're absolutely right; we should turn our attention to the ladies. I fear we have ignored them far too long."

John Bell relaxed and enjoyed the evening with his friend and his smiling companion. With the dawn, and a little luck, he would be on his way to a new life.