Driving west from Cheyenne on Happy Jack Road, one begins to see the scar of the Horse Creek Fire north of that big gaggle of windmills near the dump.
The prairie fire got within a mile or so of the Bunkhouse Bar & Grill, and hearts are glad all over the Big Empty that it was stopped in time.
Had the Bunkhouse caught fire a couple of weeks ago, it would have been the third time that the venerable watering hole burned down. A trifecta of fire. A hat trick of disaster.
But the Bunkhouse still stands as the epicenter of rural life in the environs of the Greater Gilchrist Metroplex, halfway between Laramie and Cheyenne.
I first wandered into the Bunkhouse twenty years or so ago, when I was living and working on the Remount. It quickly became my remote office and sanctuary.
It's a spacious place, with enough room for serious whistle-wetting, as well as great dining and dancing.
On weekend nights, the Bunkhouse Band cranks out dancin’ tunes while families from the area gather over supper and discuss the weighty matters of the day.
After dessert, kids take the floor to dance with Mom and Dad and it's a throwback to a more innocent, more groovy time.
Those same kids will get up at the crack of dawn next day to do their chores on the surrounding ranches while the old folks sleep in.
Speaking of music, every Sunday afternoon local musicians have a jam session.
I don’t think the “band” has a name, but I sure like ‘em. You can slip them a couple bucks when you walk through the door and they’ll refrain from playing “Wagon Wheel” while you are in the house.
Rod Miller deciding which bull ball (Rocky Mountain Oyster) to tackle first. (Jimmy Orr) 
Rod Miller with the owners of The Bunkhouse, Eldon and Terry Hongo (Jimmy Orr) 
The dance floor attracts a crowd on Friday and Saturday nights. (Renée Jean, Cowboy State Daily) 
The bar is full Friday and Saturday nights. (Renée Jean, Cowboy State Daily) 
The table fare in the Bunkhouse tends toward the simple and delicious. Their renowned rocky mountain oysters are hearty and nutritious.
Their prime rib sandwich is as good a reason I can think of for a cow to die. If you leave the Bunkhouse still hungry, it's your own damn fault.
I always get the Bunkhouse signature cocktail – a shot of Jim Beam and a bottle of Bud.
I suppose you could order something fancier, say a crème de menthe frappe’ or a fruity drink with a little umbrella in it, but the clientele will likely invite you drink to it on the porch.
The vibe in the Bunkhouse is as laid back and friendly as you’ll find anywhere. I’ve never seen a fight in that place.
Even during Harley season, when the parking lot is full of shiny new bikes, there isn’t a springer front end or a suicide shift greasy ol’ bobber to be seen.
Cowboys and bikers seem to get along just fine. The bikers these days tend to wear the colors and patches of the Front Range Barbarian Pediatricians or the Hell’s Accountants, so they’re a pretty well-behaved horde.
Eldon and Terry Hongo have owned the place since 2020, and they’ve done an admirable job maintaining the ambiance that draws folks out to the Bunkhouse.
Eldon is an interesting cat. His brother was a finalist for a Pulitzer Prize in poetry, and Eldon raises and trains champion bird dogs.
He’ll take the stage with the band from time to time, shredding on lead guitar.
Now you know where Elvis has been hiding all these years — at the Bunkhouse. (Renée Jean, Cowboy State Daily) 
More kitch at the Bunkhouse Bar and Grill. (Renée Jean, Cowboy State Daily) 
The Bunkhouse has lots of memorabilia — a mixture of things owned by previous owners and items added by the current owners. (Renée Jean, Cowboy State Daily) 
There's so much memorabilia it fills every nook and cranny at the Bunkhouse. (Renée Jean, Cowboy State Daily) 
Prime rib with a side of potato skins. (Renée Jean, Cowboy State Daily)
The décor is rustic and old taxidermy. There are 77 horseshoes sprinkled throughout, so if your horse throws a shoe on the ride out Happy Jack, you’re in luck.
And old photograph of Hyde Merritt and Bob Weber graces the wall above the bar in respectful homage to a couple cowboys who cut a wide swath in those parts.
The bartop is one of those clear epoxy thingies with photos of parties back in the day and weird money to set your beer down on. One of the great things about the Bunkhouse is I can write about it and end the sentence with a preposition.
The Bunkhouse is open every day except Monday and Tuesday for obvious reasons. The parking lot is almost a museum with old wagons and equipment.
Oreo the horse is often tethered to the hitchin’ rail out front waiting for Richard. A life-sized Elvis serves as the silent doorman.
And a tip o’ the Stetson to all those hard-workin’ rural firefighters for saving a culinary icon and one of the power centers in my universe, the Bunkhouse Bar & Grill!
Rod Miller can be reached at: rodsmillerwyo@yahoo.com
