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This is the story—correct that—legend, of a man named Les Webber who ranched and caroused in and around the town of Plains, Montana. When you are leaving Plains, headed to

Les Webber is a champion. Of what no one is certain, but his memory seems eternally preserved in a sign near Plains, Montana, writes columnist Jim Elliott.

Jim Elliot writes, When it (the truck) was parked in front of the Mint it was an advertisement for free beers on Les. Or maybe not, because sometimes he would head out to the men’s room to “go wet” and keep on going out the back door without paying the tab.

Eddie Mulick was the first person I met when I moved to Trout Creek, and that was largely because he owned, what his matchbooks proclaimed was, “The Wayside Bar--finest bar in Trout Creek”. It was also the only bar. Those days I did custom haying in the summer and I had been working George Casteel’s field right across the river. George was a story in himself, an old single-jack gold miner whose cabin floor was liberally littered with rocks of ore and cases of dynamite. if you asked George how it was going, he would tell you, “Showin’ a little color, showin’ a lit...