The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set by Ernest Dempsey (non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

He was, but more than that, Dak's mind ran through potential approach points in case somehow Billy brought the fight to him.

It was unlikely, but Dak always prepared for any contingency.

He turned, sweeping the powdery snow from the rail, and returned inside.

After locking the doors and securing his rucksack in the upstairs bedroom closet, he went back out to the Isuzu Trooper he'd purchased in Denver, and headed back down the mountain.

He had to drive slowly along the twisting, winding road. Though the snow was still thin in most spots, it could still be slick. After ten minutes, he was back on the main road. The clear asphalt was a welcome relief to a guy from the southeast who'd grown up almost never having to drive on snow of any kind—save for that once-a-year winter storm that sprinkled two or three meager inches of accumulation.

From the mountain road, the drive into the little town of Cuchara only took another seven minutes.

Dak slowed down as he passed a welcome sign where one of the local police cars sat partially hidden behind it. A speed trap.

He rolled his eyes and continued into the little town.

Calling it a town was generous. It looked more like a village with only a few buildings on the left and right, most appearing like structures that were built during the times of the Wild West when outlaws roamed the land. A liquor store, gift shop, general store, and a few other wooden buildings stood on the right. Up ahead, he noted the bar and grill he'd spotted on the list at the cabin and steered into the parking lot off to the left in front of a wooden rail.

Five other vehicles occupied spots outside the bar. It was getting late in the afternoon, and Dak expected more people to show up in the next hour or so. The more the merrier as far as he was concerned, so long as none of them was Billy.

He walked up the clean-swept wooden steps to the wraparound deck and pulled open the door. Inside, the bar looked pretty much exactly as he'd expected. Rough-hewn, dark-stained panels covered the walls. A litany of various beer-brand neon lights hung sporadically around the room. The U-shaped bar occupied the center, directly across from the entrance. A female bartender and a male bar back worked next to each other, one pouring drinks, the other wiping down the counter and carrying beverages to the patrons scattered across the room.

The bartender tipped her head up at him the way she must have greeted every person who walked through the door.

"Seating's open," she said. "If you want a table, Merrick will take care of you."

"Thanks," Dak said. He spotted a table in the back corner of the room that would give him a full view of everything and ambled over to it.

Merrick, who was apparently both a server and the bar back, hustled over to him with a glass of water and a laminated one-page menu. The young man was skinny with a thin, black mustache under his nose that matched the dense clump of hair on his head.

The bartender—probably in her mid-twenties—was an attractive, outdoorsy type with a black tank top that revealed a collection of tattoos that adorned her arms and one at the top of her chest just below the neck. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail that whipped around as she worked feverishly to keep the drinks coming.

Dak didn't know what her hurry was with so few patrons in the building. He guessed she was trying to stay ahead before the afternoon rush, if there was one.

"Can I get you anything stronger than water?" Merrick asked.

"A local lager would be good," Dak said.

"We have a few of those as well as some good IPAs if that's your thing," the young man offered.

"Nah, the lager is fine," Dak said. "If I wanted to taste a pine tree, I'd go outside and lick one."

The server snorted a laugh at the unexpected comment. "Haven't heard it put like that before. And now I don't know if I can ever drink another IPA." He laughed as he started to turn away. "Oh, did you want something to eat?"

"How are the burgers here?" Dak asked, perusing the menu with analytical eyes.

"They're really good, though we have an excellent bison burger."

"Let's do that with fries," Dak said.

"You got it. I'll be right back with your drink." Merrick didn't even bother writing down the order as he scurried over to a computer panel affixed to the bar and began tapping on the screen.

Dak leaned back against the seat and scanned the room, taking note of each of the customers. Most of them were unremarkable. There were at least two sets of visitors, men and women probably in their forties. One of the couples had a kid with them, a little boy in an orange coat. The bar was toasty warm and seeing the kid unnecessarily clad in the outerwear reminded Dak that he still had his on. He slipped out of it and hung the coat on the back of the chair, watching as the bartender filled up a glass from one of the beer taps.

A female server burst out of a light blue kitchen door to Dak's immediate left. She carried a food-laden tray in her right hand—the plates cradling burgers, fries, onion rings, and a grilled chicken breast.

Dak watched the woman carry the food over to the table with the small family of three and expertly unload the burden onto the table before giving them a pleasant smile and asking if they needed anything else.

The people declined and the waitress spun on her heels and returned through the blue door with a whoosh.

Dak managed to catch sigh of her name tag as she passed. "Tanya," he said unemotionally under his breath.

Merrick returned a minute later with the lager and set the brimming pint glass down on the table atop a coaster he slid across the surface at the