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I chuckled, recalling the many summers we'd spent together, hanging out at grandma's house, and enjoying the local haunts like this bar. "It's a tradition I'm glad we've kept alive. This place and the memories we've made here are something special. Plus, they knew we were underage, they just didn’t care as long as we behaved.” We laughed.
"Two beers, Hal," I smiled and held up two fingers to the smart, elderly old man behind the row of alcohol bottles. He always had good advice. Probably from years of dealing with drunk people.
As Brett and I reminisced about our summers in Moab, our laughter and conversation filled the cozy corner of the bar. The atmosphere was charged, and we felt like we were reliving all those precious moments.
Just as we were lost in our conversation, the two girls who had waved at me earlier made their way over. One of them, a brunette, leaned against the bar next to me and flashed a playful smile.
"Hey there," she purred, her eyes twinkling as she looked at me. "I couldn't help but notice you outside. You looked like a rugged cowboy lost in thought."
I couldn't help but chuckle at her remark. "Well, I reckon I was just taking in the view," I replied, a touch of flirtatiousness in my voice. It had always been easy to flirt with women. It was in my nature.
Brett, charismatic as ever, engaged the other girl in conversation. "And what brings you ladies to our little slice heaven tonight?"
The second girl, a fiery redhead, gave a teasing smile. "We heard this place was where the fun's at. Plus, we couldn't resist saying hi to a couple of handsome gentlemen like yourselves."
As our banter with the two girls continued, the atmosphere in the bar remained vibrant and inviting.
However, the fun ambiance took an unexpected turn when an inebriated patron, reeking of alcohol and with a pronounced slur in his speech, stumbled his way to the counter. He tried to engage the girls, his persistence showing no regard for their polite attempts to ignore him.
“H-hey there.” He said.
The brunette, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted, cast an apologetic glance in our direction. "Sorry about this, guys," she murmured, her tone strained as the drunk patron persisted in his attempts to join our conversation.
"What's your name?" He winked at the redhead.
Brett and I exchanged a knowing look. We could see that the situation was escalating, and the girls were becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
With a polite but firm tone, Brett addressed the drunk patron, "Hey, buddy, I think you've had enough for tonight. How about you take a break and give the ladies some space?"
"Hey, m-man. I'm just ha-having some fun." He said.
Brett couldn't stand by any longer. He rose from his seat and approached the man, his voice taking on a stern but measured tone. "Look, buddy, the ladies aren't interested. How about you give it a rest?"
However, the inebriated stranger's belligerence was beyond reason. With a sudden shove, he sent Brett stumbling backward, narrowly avoiding a collision with a nearby table.
My protective instincts flared, and I reacted swiftly, jumping to my feet and grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt. The confrontation hung in the balance as tense seconds passed, the threat of violence simmering beneath the surface.
Hal, who had been silently monitoring the situation, knew me well. He knew my troubled past and potential for explosive anger. He shouted in a stern tone, "Remember your training, Christian!"
It had a calming technique I learned in jail to manage my temper, a reminder of my commitment to changing my ways. That was then, and this is now. I did a short stint for a minor offense when I was a teenager, but long enough to make enemies. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, taking a deep breath as I counted to five.
With newfound composure, I released the drunk patron and shoved him away gently but firmly, causing the man to stumble and fall to the ground. It was a clear demonstration of restraint and control, a far cry from my impulsive reactions of the past.
Hal sighed with relief, ordering the unruly patron to leave the establishment. The man, now humbled, staggered to his feet. The man hesitated for a moment, the alcohol-induced haze clouding his judgment. But after a brief exchange of glances with the bartender he eventually relented and stumbled away.
The girls offered their thanks, relieved to be free of the unwelcome intrusion. Realizing the importance of avoiding any relapse into my former behavior, I trashed the last of my beer, bid a polite farewell to the two grateful girls, and walked out of the bar alongside Brett.
Funny enough, at the end of the night, I caught myself thinking of Casey.
I returned to the ranch house, my boots making a muted echo on the freshly cleaned floor. The transformation of the once-neglected space was already well underway. Collected pieces of furniture, their former grime and wear now meticulously cleaned, were thoughtfully arranged in the living room. A threadbare sofa, rescued from obscurity, faced the large windows, which framed the breathtaking wilderness. The sight of the progress was immensely gratifying, a testament to my unwavering determination and the sweat of my brow.
My gaze drifted to a small, framed photo resting on the mantel. In it, my father, my cherished grandmother, and I stood side by side, our smiles echoing the love we held for each other. It was a precious memory, one that never failed to warm my heart.
My father had been my anchor during the tumultuous years of my childhood, guiding me with his unwavering presence. We had shared countless moments working together, moments I would forever hold dear. But all of that was taken away abruptly when he passed away when I was just fifteen, leaving a profound void in my life.
My grandmother had been the unwavering source of support and countless stories about the ranch's glory days. Her sudden loss to a heart attack a year ago had been a harsh reality, but it had also become a driving force behind my unwavering commitment to restore the ranch.
My eyes flicked toward the set of keys resting on the table, a poignant reminder of the heavy responsibilities and the weight of consequences that rested upon my shoulders. They hadn't been moved since that night a few months ago. But with a deep, determined breath, I passed by the keys and made my way upstairs for bed.
