First of all, I moved to Prudhoe Bay from Anchorage when oil was discovered up here. I was lucky enough to get in on the first wave of workers, which means we got a tiny house with two bedrooms for four women—sadly that’s more than the shacks most people are living in. I’ve been working in a bar/restaurant 70 hours a week. It is crazy up here. The ratio of men to women is like 200 to 1. There’s not enough housing, food is more expensive here than in New York City, vehicles have to run 24 hours a day or they’ll freeze up, and there’s no sun at all from November to mid-January. So it’s dark, crowded, and cold as a witch’s tit in a brass bra. There’s rumors of a new pipeline that’s gonna be built straight down the center of the state, which means more guys moving up here hoping to strike it rich. The money is out of this world. That’s the only reason I’m staying. But I ain’t gonna lie. I don’t know how much longer I’ll stick around.
Just to clear things up, you haven’t heard from me because there was a screw up with the mail. I swear the Pony Express had better service! I found out nothing got transferred to my new address in Prudhoe Bay from my old address in Anchorage for the last eight months. So I didn’t even get this letter, and the three others you sent before that, until last week. So I understand why you think I was avoiding you. I wasn’t. And when I hadn’t heard from you, I thought maybe you were done with me. But I didn’t have the guts to ask my sister if you were seeing someone. Oh, and I wasn’t screwing around with Santa’s elves either, and I’m sure you’re making a crack about how I’m short enough that I’d fit right in with them.
What happened to you saying that you’ll wait for me? And your claim that we are meant to be together? I oughta come down there and kick your butt for having so little faith in me, Cal.
Kimi
Two weeks later…
Kimberly Jo,
A little bitty thing like you kicking my butt? Not gonna happen, sweetheart.
But you’re welcome to try.
Cal
One week later…
Cal,
I don’t wanna fight with you. I miss you too much.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
Kimi
Five days later…a wire via Western Union…
Kimi looked at the message from Cal.
COME HOME NOW
Well, he couldn’t have made it any clearer than that.
And it was clear enough to her that it was time to go home.
Chapter Ten
It’d taken Kimi a month to get everything settled in Alaska and return to Wyoming.
She hadn’t told her sister or any of her family she was coming back.
Not even Cal knew. She wanted to surprise him.
Her stomach had butterflies from the time she’d left Seattle heading east on I-90 until the moment she pulled into Sundance.
She’d never been great with directions, but she managed to find his house, even in the dark.
But there wasn’t a light on and his truck wasn’t in the drive.
Disappointment flooded her that he wasn’t home.
On a whim, she drove by Carolyn and Carson’s trailer. Her gut clenched at seeing her mom’s car sitting there, as well as a pickup. The absence of another pickup meant Cal wasn’t here either.
As much as Kimi wanted to knock on the door and meet her nephews, and see her sister for the first time in years, she didn’t pull in. There’d be time for a reunion after she’d reunited with Cal. They might not come up for air for days.
She drove back into Sundance to look for a place to eat.
During her slow perusal of the four blocks that made up the main drag, she counted two bars and two restaurants. Both the restaurants were closed. Maybe one of the bars served food.
She parked in the middle of town and walked to the first bar, The Golden Boot. But loud, bad country western music blared from inside and it looked like there was a cover charge to get in.
Skip that one.
The next bar was The Silver Spur. It looked equally busy. After spending the last year working in a bar, the last place she expected to find herself on a Saturday night was in a smoky honky-tonk. She hoped the cowboys’ manners were better than the roughnecks’ she was used to dealing with.
Kimi ducked into the bathroom first. She took a moment to check her makeup. After living in the backwoods and dressing for warmth and comfort—in that order—she feared she looked like a lumberjack. She peeled off the flannel shirt and shoved it in her purse. That left her in a sleeveless T-shirt. At least it was low cut so she didn’t look like a guy.
She removed the band from her hair and fluffed it up. It fell nearly to the middle of her back. Most days she just pulled it back into a ponytail to be done with it.