In the early light of the morn, among the dusty winds, the saloon doors creaked open.

The darkened bar was nearly empty at this hour. The mournful tune of a mysterious fiddler, playing alone on the stage. A hopeless romantic slouched on the end of the bar counter, hungover from the night before.

A tall man stood behind a bar counter; the shot glass in his hand squeaked as he wiped it clean. He turned around, meeting the newcomer with a gentle smile behind a bushy mustache and with a sweet caramel colored eye.

“Say… I ain’t so sure you’ve been ‘round these parts, have you? Come on now, take a seat. Have a drink, don’t be shy,” he called with a buttery smooth voice,

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