Chance and Brack had finished at the general store. Their next stop was at the saloon up the street where they were intent on partaking of some much needed liquid refreshment. "I didn't realize how thirsty I was," Chance commented as they ambled toward their destination. "In my previous circumstances I learned to get used to doing without, and not to think about it."
     "Ah yes, your 'War Between the State'. Ill conceived, but inevitable; it was costly, with great hardships and losses on both sides. I think the outcome was the right one, though."
     Chance's hackles began to rise. "Are you deliberately trying to vex me!? My side lost that war!"
     "Yes, you lost. You lost militarily. But, in the long run, socially, politically, in the grand scheme of things, both sides won. Your nation, both North and South, will recover, and will become stronger than ever. Trust me. Everyone will benefit."
     Chance thought for a long moment. "I know you're right," he said. "It just galls me that I fought for the losing side."
     "Why did you," Brack asked, curious.
     "I'm from Virginia. If I'd been born in Pennsylvania, I'd've fought for the North."
     "You're a good man, a patriot, a man of honor."
     "I like to think so," Chance said, thoughtfully.
     They soon arrived at the saloon. Before entering, they peered inside. There were several round tables. Most were empty. Three men sat at one table in a poorly lit corner, talking quietly. One was shuffling a deck of cards, seemingly out of habit. Two men were drinking at opposite ends of the bar. The bartender was wiping a glass with a white rag. "I noticed that fellow in the general store: the one with the cards," Brack said.
     "I saw 'im too." A brief pause, then, "C'mon. Let's go in."
     They went straight to the bar. Chance ordered two beers. He placed a few coins on the bar. The bartender picked up two nickels.
     Brack took a sip of his beer; Chance took a gulp. Then, "Hey Reb!" The bark came from the man with the cards. "How 'bout joinin' mah two friends 'n me fer a frien'ly game o' cards?"
     "I don't gamble, Yank."
     "My frien's here 'n me been lookin' fer a fourth man ta join us."
     "No thanks!" Chance was firm.
     "Ain't very neighborly of ya," He said, goading. His hand was now resting on the butt of his gun. "Surely you can set with us fer a spell and play a few friendly hands o' poker."
     Chance, knew what was coming. He whirled, drew his colt lightning quick, and fired. He put a bullet, dead center, through the top of the Yank's hat. "First, you're not just looking for a fourth man! You're looking for a fool to fleece. Second, I'm no fool. And third, your ogling of my money pouch at the general store was a dead give-away. Now, my friend and I are going to finish our beers and go on about our business! You three are going to mind your own!" The three were silent after that.
     Chance and Brack drank up. Then Chance tipped the bartender a five-dollar gold piece, and they left.
     The livery stable was next...where a surprise awaited.