The Old Saloon in Emigrant, Montana owes its legendary status to its longevity (1902) and its prime location nestling in the heart of Paradise Valley. It’s a watering hole anchored in a picture postcard setting that is all big skies, big mountains and big Marlboro Men.

Whilst the bar has an outdoor agenda with a stage and music concerts, its inside has the character you would expect from a project that began in 1900. In particular, I was drawn to the wallpaper that wraps the main area.

Whilst there is no immediate evidence, I feel safe with my assertion that over the years blood has been sponged off these walls - it is faded and discolored and in these loosely governed parts of the wild west, I can’t imagine that there hasn’t been the odd showdown. It is the sort of bar that the Coen Brothers are drawn to in their giddy western revisionism. It is basic and most certainly marooned on the final frontier. The nearest sheriff is a long way away and that can be a problem.

It was with these thoughts that I composed this scene. My leaning is always towards parody and, given the number of bison in and around both Paradise Valley and the nearby Yellowstone National Park, it seemed entirely reasonable that one of these enormous mammals would have been curious enough to check out The Old Saloon.

Had such an occasion indeed ocurred, I sensed that the battle-weary clientele would be entirely unfazed; it would just be another night in a saloon that serves a nihilistic community. In my story, I sensed that this has been a place where it has paid to be tough and where bad intentions were not unusual. The bison would be left free to drink as the patrons went about their business.