Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
“I’ll get the bags,” Gage Remington told his grandpa Buck as he pulled into the last available parking spot. On any other occasion Gage would never drive his expensive car over gravel and dirt, but he’d spent the past thirty minutes trying his best to find parking in town and he was at his wits’ end. Gravel would have to do.
“Don’t be treating me like I’m an invalid,” Buck said, as he swung open the passenger door on the black Mercedes. “Just ’cause you ain’t seen me for the past five years, don’t mean I deteriorated into some feeble old man. There might be snow on my roof, but there’s still a fire burning inside. I can roll a dang suitcase up the sidewalk.”
“It’s your call, Grandpa. I was just offering.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine.”
It had been a stressful drive into Durango from Albuquerque, New Mexico, the closest town with a major airport, where they’d met to drive in together. It had taken four long hours and Gage was already second-guessing his decision to spend some quality time with his grandfather.
Gage had worshiped his grandfather when he was a kid, and had spent three weeks every summer with his grandparents on their ranch just outside of Briggs, Idaho, a quirky little town that Gage had loved. It had been the single event he’d looked forward to all year long. His grandma always said they were like two peas in a pod. That Gage was simply a younger version of his gramps. Gage had loved the comparison and tried his best to imitate his gramps.
Not only had his grandfather taught him how to saddle up and ride a horse, but he would spend hours teaching him how to do a chore the proper way, how to be patient with a bucking horse, how to listen to someone’s complaint with an open heart and how to suck it up when something unfortunate happened. He shared his beliefs that the common folks had the ability to change a society for the good, that the rising tide lifted all boats, and that you never asked a cowboy to ride a horse you wouldn’t ride yourself. But the one truth Gage remembered most was how “sometimes it takes something bad to happen to a person before that person can bring out his best.”
When Gage was a kid, his grandfather’s wisdom hadn’t always meant much, but now, after everything he’d gone through in recent months, Gage wasn’t so sure his best would be good enough.
He wished he had spent more summers on the ranch, but once he’d gotten into college and later graduated, he landed a high-paying job on Wall Street. Soon after, he’d gotten married and begun moving up the corporate ladder. There wasn’t any time to visit his grandparents. Even when his sweet grandmother passed away two years ago, he hadn’t been able to make the funeral due to all his obligations, a decision that still haunted him.
He had been all set to go, even bought the plane tickets for himself and his wife, but then at the last minute his boss had offered him his weekly spot with Tricia Massey, dispensing Wall Street Wisdom to her millions of fans. His boss had had a conflicting obligation and was depending on him to step in with Ms. Massey on her TV show. Gage had talked it over with his wife and concluded it was the chance of a lifetime to take his career to the next level, so he simply couldn’t pass it up.
His grandfather never quite forgave him.
Now Gage was trying his best to rekindle that shredded bond and make it up to him. So far, it didn’t seem to be working. Ever since his grandma had passed, his grandfather had turned into a recluse with attitude. Gage knew this trip would be difficult.
He never imagined it would be impossible.
Gage slipped out of the car, and popped open the trunk. Before he could say another word Buck had pulled out his suitcase, tugged up the handle and was headed for the Strater Hotel a block away, leaving Gage in his dust...literally.
Not only were his black jeans now covered in white powder, but a pickup truck had sped through the lot, shooting up stones and dust that now covered Gage from head to toe. Even his new cowboy hat, which he’d carefully placed on top of the suitcases in the trunk, showed a fine sprinkling of white.
“You go on ahead, Gramps. I’ll be right behind you,” Gage yelled to the spunky older man who had somehow managed to get to the sidewalk before the pickup had roared through the lot.
His grandfather never turned around or acknowledged Gage. He just kept walking toward the hotel.
“Fine,” Gage mumbled to himself, then slammed the trunk closed without taking out his bags. No way did he want to go up to the room with Gramps to get settled in. “Oh, yeah, this was a good idea. What the heck was I thinking?”
He locked the doors and headed down the street, some twenty-five feet behind his grandfather, grateful they were no longer stuck together in the car. For the past four hours they’d barely spoken, and when they had, Gramps disagreed with just about everything, even the type of gas Gage should use in his own car.
What he needed now was some time away from him at a bar—preferably a crowded bar—to make him forget that he was spending the next two weeks with the man.
In the same hotel.
In the same room.
Attending the same convention.
Thankfully the convention only lasted a few days. After that, instead of “seeing the sights,” they could each return home if they so chose. And if Gage had anything to say about it, they would leave tonight.
Gage walked toward the Strater Hotel, which happened to be located in the historic section of downtown Durango, Colorado. Fortunately, right there on the bottom floor of the grand old red Victorian brick hotel and seemingly not connected to the lobby where his grandfather was no doubt dutifully checking in, was a noisy old-time saloon named The Diamond Belle.
As soon as Gage approached the entrance, the sound of honky-tonk piano filled his ears. He opened the screen door to discover a large crowded room with agreeable-looking people enjoying a late afternoon fermented beverage.
Gage had stopped drinking alcohol six months ago, right after his wife had asked him for a divorce. He still longed to partake, but knew he would merely enjoy the atmosphere of a tavern and save the hard liquor for some other time.
The mix of familiar sounds and smells put a smile on Gage’s otherwise
