But now Browning was a wasteland of asphalt and grime, garbage, plastic bags, and empty liquor bottles. An old town, a thin town – drab, empty, store fronts and muddy streets, trashy, weed-filled medians next to cracked, concrete curbs, junk and cars in peoples’ yards, completed the scene. There was a flatness to the town that contrasted with the souring, snow-tipped peaks you could see off in the distance. If anything, the distant mountains on the horizon in Glacier just made Browning all the more depressing. Even the name “Browning” was gloomy. I could see why Alia would want to come to my quaint and homey store at Two Med, it was like being on a different planet than Browning – a planet just 15 miles away. Bars and “cigarette outlets” were plentiful in Browning because the tribe had tax-free situations that brought a lot of profit through those avenues. This was before casinos became legal, however. Greg and I parked in front of the address I had found online where the council met once a week, but as we got out of the car I thought we had gotten the wrong address because the building’s sign read “VFW – Veterans of Foreign Wars – Post 364”
