Cresting the ridge south of town, Jackson's eyes see the sweet relief of Silver City laying out below him.  The oil burning lights of the various saloons lighting the main road giving him an inviting call.  The week trip from Carson was uneventful given the fact that he traveled through some of the most savage territory in the west.  If you manage to avoid the wolves and the cougars you still have to keep a wary eye out for the blood thirsty Indians that are waring over the land.  Sleeping with one eye open makes for exhausting travel and takes it's toll on his mental sharpness.  Not generally how Jackson likes to be when getting into town, but he knows that he can get all the refuge he needs at Lola's.  A smile crosses his lips at the thought of getting a weeks worth of trail dust off of him and possibly a little rub and tug before bed to assist in a long nights sleep.<br/><br/><em>The rough and rowdies are at it tonight</em>, he thinks to himself as he winds his way to the livery stable.  A fresh faced kid comes running from the door and immediately takes the reins into control.  "Put your horse up for you mister?"<br/><br/>Swinging his leg off the side of the horse, Jackson winks at the boy, "Yeah and give ol' Blue here a good rub down, and easy on the oats, don't want you spoiling him."  Once standing on the ground he shakes the ride out of his legs and stretches his six foot two frame.  Reaching into his vest pocket he flips a gold coin to the young lad and says, "Take my bed roll and saddle bags over to Lola's when you get a chance."<br/><br/>The boys face lights up, "THANKS, Mister!"<br/><br/>Jackson turns and heads for Lola's and some much need grub and drink.  His boots make a sharp thump on the wooden walkways as he walks with a steady gait.  Passing a window he catches a glimpse of himself and turns to make sure his jacket is square and his black hat with silver buckles is set just right.  He pats some of the dust off of him before returning to his mission.  Last check is to make sure that his trusted pearl handle six shooters are secure on his hips.<br/><br/>The roar of the crowd nearly knocks him over when he walks through the swinging doors to Lola's.<em>She has them revved up tonight,</em>he smirks to himself.  He makes his way to the bar and gets the keeps attention, "Three fingers of whiskey," he commands as he flips another gold coin on the bar top.  Turning to take in the crowd he sees all of Lola's beauties working the floor, dressed impeccably in all the plumage.<br/>Returning his attention to the bartender when he delivers the drink, he drops a couple more coins on the bar and asks, "Think you could rustle me up a steak and a plate of beans?  Also gonna need a room for a couple of nights.  Give me one with a tub and an assistant," he says with a parting wink.<br/><br/>"Sure thing mister West," he hears over his shoulder as he makes his way to a corner booth that was surprisingly unoccupied.  Sliding into the seat he postions himself where he can see the door and most of the patrons milling about, drinking and dancing.  A habit that has kept him alive many a time.  Jackson never looked for trouble, but somehow it always managed to find him.  Part of the understanding why Lola allowed him to keep the six shooters at his side.  Usually all guns were checked at the bar, but events from the past have proved it necessary for him to keep his on.