When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.
The bartender tells him, "You know, a mug goes flat after I draw it. It would taste better if you bought one at a time."
The cowboy replies, "I know. But that's OK. I have two brothers. One is in Billings, the other in Helena. I'm in Great Falls. When we left home, we promised that we'd drink this way to remember the days we drank together. I drink one for each of my brothers and one for myself."
The bartender tells him it is a nice custom. The cowboy becomes a regular, and always orders three mugs and drinks them in turn.
One day he comes in and orders two mugs. All the regulars take notice and fall silent. When he comes back to the bar for the second round, the bartender says, "We don't want to intrude on your grief, but we wanted to offer our condolences on your loss."
The cowboy looks quite puzzled for a moment, then a light dawns and he laughs. "Oh, no, everybody's just fine," he explains.
"It's just that my wife has made me give up drinking. Hasn't affected my brothers though."
