prologue
Forest
The sun was setting and the sign read Sterling Ridge, twenty miles. I was beat; the drive from Missouri had been rough. I had hoped to be out of Colorado by this time, but it looked like I was going to have to stay the night.
A large sign for the Boozy Bandit caught my eye and I put my turn signal on to turn into the parking lot. I needed a cold beer and some food after that long drive; I deserved it. It was a little busier than I was expecting for a Wednesday in January, but hopefully that meant the food and drink were good.
I stretched as I got out of the truck, cracking my back and neck as I admired my surroundings. The fresh coat of snow was beautiful on the land as I admired the last few rays of sunshine. It was quiet, other than the noise from the bar, and I took a moment to revel in the calm.
A shiver racked my body as I grabbed my jean jacket, throwing it over my plain gray tee. It was a lot colder here than in Missouri and I had missed the cold. I slid my hands in my pockets as I walked towards the bar. The warm air was welcoming as I opened the door, walking inside. It looked like most bars in a small town, with cowboys, tradesmen, prettywaitresses and a country— no wait, that's Taylor Swift in the background.
“Hey, gorgeous, you can sit anywhere,” a tall, leggy woman shouted at me.
I nodded at her as I looked for a quiet corner, but decided to hit the bar. As soon as I sat down a menu was pushed in front of me.
“I’ll be right with ya.” A beautiful blonde woman smiled at me as she passed me with two beers in her hand.
I looked over the typical bar food and decided on a safe choice of a burger and fries.
“What can I get started for ya?” she asked.
“I’ll have the original with fries and an IPA,” I said, handing her the menu.
“Want those fries loaded?” she asked.
“Sure," I shrugged.
“Great.” She walked away, put my order in and handed me my IPA a moment later.
My food came out quickly and I ate as I observed the bar get a little more crowded.
“Another IPA, Suga?”
I nodded my head as I wiped my mouth. The burger and the loaded fries were actually really good.
She slid another beer in front of me.
“You passing through, or ya looking for work?” she asked, leaning on the bar.
“Could be both.” I took a sip of my beer wondering what she was going to offer me.
You’d be surprised by how often small towns needed workers.
“We got construction up in Monroe looking for people, an apple farmer out west needs help, and a local ranch needs a ranch hand,” she said, like she was a LinkedIn bulletin board.
“How far out west?” I asked.
Never worked for an orchard before, that might be interesting.
“About forty-five minutes to an hour from here,” she said, looking around the bar. “There’s also work down south.”
I was just supposed to be passing through. Montana had a good work lead, and I had never been to Montana.
“I’ll let you think about it,” she said, as another patron sat at the bar.
“Thanks,” I said, taking another sip of my beer.
“Is this seat taken?” a voice asked.
