Chapter 1
POV: Abby
This is not how I imagined what graduating college would be. Packing up my bags, locking my dorm, waving goodbye to the campus I lived on for four years and returning back to the hometown I swore I would leave behind.
I’ve been on the road for 2 hours now.
Nothing but winding roads, cornfields, ranches, and mountains.
Then I saw it.
The Wyoming state line.
Back home.
My home state.
The place I wanted to escape, so I left it behind when I was 18 years old.
Now, I’m 22 years old and returning, with a college degree now, one I always dreamed of having, as a vet tech but still returning back to my past: back to Cody, Wyoming, population of 10,457, on the steady rise of 152 people in a year.
It screams small town and beyond just screaming that, it screams boredom—where the town is small enough that at least 50% of the population knows who you are and the other 50% are vacationers or owners of ranches.
It’s not what most people imagined of the Wild West, or what it used to be.
There’s no gunfights, at least not town-sactioned ones and there’s no stolen cattle, and if cattle does get stolen, you know who took it and there’s cowboys, but most of them are just ranch hands that drift around either for seasonal help or have no real land of their own. Nomad’s.
And I guess, that’s how I sort of felt as I drove through Wyoming, back towards my hometown, and back towards a place I didn’t feel like I belonged any longer.
After hours of driving across concrete paved highways, I finally saw the ’Welcome to Cody!” sign.
10 minutes later after a few more turns, I saw it.
The city center.
And my father’s bar.
‘The Saddle’.
It was just like I remembered. A glowing neon brown sign with the words ‘The Saddle’ and a glowing brown colored boot next to it. The same brown colored brick building weathered from many seasons, and the same faded sign hanging on the door ’Beware. Cowboy’s territory.”
The tourists loved it, in fact they ate it up. And because of that, business at the bar wasn’t lacking. And that’s why my dad lured me back. He needed help running the bar and he knew I didn’t score a job as a vet tech right after graduating. And maybe that’s partially because, even though I claimed to hate Cody, Wyoming, a part of my heart still lived there—with its animals, its farm animals.
So, maybe, just maybe I was driven back to Wyoming because I didn’t want to care for dogs, cats, bunnies in Colorado—I wanted to care for horses, cows, even cattle dogs. And the perfect place to care for those types of animals was my home—in the good ol’ state of Wyoming.
I shifted the car into park and stared at the glowing bar sign for a second longer.
Now or never, Abs.
By the time I swung the door open, my dad nearly ran at me full speed, a smile on his weathered face as he wrapped me into a bear hug. “There’s my Abs! How was the drive sweetheart?”
“I thought about turning back like 8 times,” I joked.
Dad, being his usual self, gave me a look that screamed ‘no you didn’t.’
“You’re right, just joking!” I lied.
Dad never wanted to accept the truth—that I wasn’t as attached to Wyoming, especially Cody, and this bar as much as he was. And it’s been just me and him, ever since we lost my mother.
And being the only child, it left me obligated, because in the west, legacy means something. And this is his legacy to me.
“What do you think?” he replied, waving his hand over the bar, like it had been miraculously remodeled in the last 4 years.
“Looks…” I began, scanning my gaze over the newly upholstered booths, brand new varnished wood bartop, new wooden stools, new televisions hanging on the walls, and even at the new built-in beer tap. “You’ve done some remodeling I see!”
“Glad you noticed Abs. We’ve been at it for the last two years, here and there. Business has been good so I figured why not, and guess what, after remodeling a bit, business even got better!”
“I’m happy for you dad,” I offered a smile.
“Well, I’m just happy you’re here, Abs,” he placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Not for long,” I told him, hoping that would set in.
But dad had the illusion this is where I should be—Cody, Wyoming. “You’ve been saying that since you were a kid, but this is home, Abs, and I’m glad you’re back, even if it is temporary.”
“Temporary,” I reminded him, walking behind the bar and setting down my purse. “But I’m here to work so put me to it, old man!”
“There’s always plenty of work here,” he slapped his hand on the bar and started pouring two shots of whiskey then slid me one over.
“What’s this for?” I raised an eyebrow.
He held the shot glass high in celebration. “You’re back and that calls for a shot!”
“Cheers,” I replied, bringing the glass to my lips and slugging the shot.
The liquor went down hot—the taste of it reminded me exactly of home—-this bar—this place but it also reminded me of the future somehow, because I wasn’t just a girl from Cody, Wyoming now, I was a girl with a college degree, helping my dad run his bar, his legacy, and beginning mine, too.
As I tried to stop myself from practically regurgitating it on the freshly cleaned bar countertop, a figure walked through the door.
I was on the verge of gasping and swallowing room temperature whiskey when he started walking towards bar seating.
6’4” tall.
God, he practically looked like a giant.
Broad shoulders, muscles that rippled even under his worn brown carhartt jacket.
Dark brown hair, cutting off right before his ears and a full beard—not even one bare spot in his beard.
And cold brown eyes that were looking right at me.
I could feel my pulse in my throat as our gazes connected.
