8. Denton
DENTON
After a few hours on the road, the boys are restless.
We stopped for coffee at a quaint little coffee truck, but they needed something stronger.
They’ve been busy arguing over who forgot the cooler the last half hour, so it was time to find the bar in this town.
I type bars near me into the maps on my phone.
The closest one to the ranch is called the Wagon Wheel, and it looks like it’s the only one in town.
We park the bus down a back street and walk to the bar. I take in the small cowboy town. There are a few shops, a diner, and the local bar, all surrounded by spectacular mountain ranges.
God, it’s pretty here.
We follow behind Johnny through the old saloon-style doors into the bar.
The place is dim and hazy. The bar is lined with stools that are made out of saddles.
On the walls are pictures of old cowboys and cowgirls doing various western activities.
It’s the kind of joint where stories get louder and the night stretches longer.
They have a badass stage that’s calling my name. I love playing in cowboy bars.
Parker makes his way to the jukebox, and Johnny, Ray, and Grady get a high-top table near the entrance of the bar. I order enough long necks for each of us from the bartender.
As we settle into the worn-out stools, the doors swing open, and a rowdy-looking group of cowboys stalk in. The bartender starts pouring whiskeys and the group makes their way to the pool tables in the corner of the room. A tall familiar-looking cowboy is standing at the bar.
Johnny nudges me, nodding toward the bar where the familiar guy stands. It’s Huck Kenzington and he’s flirting with the sultry bartender.
“That’s the guy you was jawing with last night over Sorrel, ain’t it?” he mutters.
Parker, half-listening to the jukebox, catches the tension too. I nod, feeling the weight of the other night settle heavy in the air.
Things are about to get interesting as Huck cranes his neck, eyes raking over me.
Sorrel isn’t anywhere to be seen, but the air still crackles with tension.
Huck Kenzington strides over, dark eyes and nostrils flaring, locked on me like a bull sizing up its rider.
Which of us is going to last eight seconds?
“Got some nerve showing your face around here after the other night,” Huck growls.
I stand to meet his height. He’s maybe an inch taller than me but his size doesn’t intimidate me. I’ve taken on worse.
My grin tightens into a low smirk as I tell him, “She’s nobody’s girl, Huck. You’re the one who’s got a problem.”
The room seems to shrink around us as we square off.
Two men tangled up over a woman neither can claim, each carrying the weight of the fight like a loaded gun.
Johnny and Parker exchange looks, knowing full well this isn’t about to end with just words.
Huck takes a step closer to me, and I take one too, filling the space in between us.
He puffs his chest out like a male rooster, ready to tear my eyes out with his claws.
My muscles coil like spring traps. I won’t be the one to throw the first punch just like last time.
Sorrel was the only reason I didn't throw a punch back—out of respect for her—but this time out of respect for myself, that shit ain’t flying.
If he swings on me, I’ll be returning the favor.
The bar goes quiet; even the jukebox seems to lower its volume in respect of the brewing storm.
Before fists can fly, Johnny shoves a hand between us. “All right, all right, let’s all just take a breath here. We’re here for a good time, not a hospital visit.”
Huck snarls but backs off, still glaring at me. “Better not see you around here again, Reed.” Then he turns and shoves his palm into the swinging saloon door. It swings hard back and forth; the soft creaking is the only noise in the bar as we all watch it.
Parker shakes his head, breaking the silence. “That was close. You okay, man?”
I run a hand through my hair, adrenaline still coursing through my body.
Letting out a shaky laugh, I say, “Yeah. I’m not sure this gal is worth this kind of heat. I’m not here to start fights.”
I sure want to find out though. Is she worth it?
Johnny smirks. “Maybe next time, tell that to Huck before you open your mouth.”
I turn to see his buddies are back to playing their game of pool. No one chases after or coddles him. Maybe they’re tired of his antics too.
I’m itching to get the hell out of here and get to the ranch. I down the rest of my beer, the liquid cooling down my fired-up body. I slam the bottle on the table when I finish.
“Let’s get outta here, boys,” I say to the crew.
They all start chugging their beers. I sit back, letting the buzz hit me and hope it will calm my wild nerves.
We load up into the bus, the boys all whooping and hollering. They’re in better spirits now and the stop did them good. We’ll be to the ranch soon, where they can all let loose.
We climb the ridge that leads to the Saxxon Ranch. I stare out the window, overlooking the valley, and my mouth goes dry. I’ve never seen anything like it. The magnificence of it all, the lush green grass, and the small creek that runs through. It’s like a work of art.
“What a beaut!” Johnny calls out from the back of the bus.
Ray pulls the bus through the large open gate, SAXXON RANCH on the overhead beam we drive under.
“You ready for this?” Ray asks.
I swallow, the taste of beer in my mouth sour now. Man, I could really use another.
I put on a face of ease and confidence and pat him on the shoulder. “Sure am, let’s do it!”