The intrepid individuals who set up business in the out of the way edge of nowhere knew very well who their clientele were going to be.  Their customers were men working ranches or other lonesome jobs on the same edges of the map.  No piano or dancing girls here.  No Champagnes neither.  A plank bar, a couple of tables and plenty of the vilest rot-gut licker available.  Just what the doctored ordered for warm lonely nights a million miles from nowhere.  I did three versions of this theme.  It has sort of a warm connection in my heart for some reason.  Reminds me of my old log gallery at Obsidian, Idaho.