Durant, Absaroka County
"Good Chuck, motels are expensive around here." Dean griped as they walked down the block to food and company.
Sam couldn't argue. "Its because of that new casino. Pretty soon everything will be priced like its Vegas."
Dean scoffed. "For one casino. Please, what a waste."
The brothers stepped out of the bright Wyoming summer and into the cool interior of the local watering hole.
"It is another beautiful day at the Red Pony and continual soiree. What can I get for you gentlemen?" The bartender greeted them. The big Cheyenne could look Sam and Dean in the eye, and with his severe features should have been intimidating, but the formidable physique was softened by the gentle smile and welcoming expression.
"Two beers on tap. You got nachos with everything?" Dean asked.
"We do, indeed." The bartender affirmed. "Please, have a seat."
Dean elbowed his brother and nodded at the wall. Amid the clutter of flyers and bar patron snapshots you could still see a few old photos of young men in military uniforms. They took the table nearest to the clutter for a better look. Their bartender was the easiest to pick out, for he was one of two central figures in most of the Vietnam era photos. The other was a white man, barely twenty, with awkward height that he hadn't grown into yet and something of a baby face about him. He filled his marine corps uniform well, but one could see that he still had some filling out to do.
Sam reached out an arm and lay a finger on a full unit lineup. Specifically, a certain black haired white man off to the side: John Winchester. The Winchester family didn't have many family photos, most of them either burned in the fire or got left behind when the family fled town after it. Even after saving the family that now lives in their old home and receiving the box of family mementos from the attic, there weren't that many pictures of their parents. Mostly the box held baby pictures of Dean. So it was unusual to find a snapshot of their father that they hadn't seen before.
When the bartender brought them their beers, he could not help but notice where their attention lay. "That seems like a lifetime ago."
"So that is you." Sam accepted the longnecks. "I don't suppose you have a few minutes to talk about-"
The man cut him off. "Like many veterans of that war, I do not often discuss what happened then."
Dean nodded. "Fair enough. But can we borrow that one to have a copy made," he pointed to the line-up. "The guy, third from the right…"
"John Winchester." The bartender supplied.
"That's our dad."
He blinked. That was all the surprise that showed on his face. "You did not wander in here by accident. Nor are you here for the gambling."
"Nope," Dean agreed. "We were hoping to catch a Walt Longmire from Dad's old unit. You know him?"
.o0o.
"Yes, Ruby, would you please patch me through to Walt's radio." Henry Standing Bear asked politely with an internal sigh.
After a few minutes, a staticky voice crackled in the receiver. "Yeah, Henry?"
"Walt, if Cady and I bought you a cellular phone and paid the bill, would you keep it with you and remember to keep it charged?"
"Probably not."
This time the sigh was audible. "It would make it easier and faster to call you and tell you that there are two strange men in the bar asking questions about Echo Company 2/1. Perhaps then you would be able to arrive here before they have finished their beers."
Momentary silence met Henry's admonishment. "You're thinking these guys have something to do with Steve, Jonesy, Deke, and Maxwell."
"Let us just say that I would be happier if some sort of law enforcement were to answer their war time questions. Perhaps one with a deputy to back him up. Or two." Henry knew he didn't have to say anything else out loud, Walt would hear the subtext. These men were big enough, Henry didn't want a confrontation alone, and something about them concerned the old Indian beyond the suspicious timing of their arrival. Something about the way they moved and held themselves.
Static again as Walt asked, "What can you tell me?"
"They claim to be John Winchester's sons."
"Johnny's boys?" Static, particularly loud static, making Henry pull the phone back an inch. "Didn't he…"
"Indeed." Henry agreed, knowing exactly what his old friend was thinking.
"I am on my way. Buy those two another round; keep 'em there."