Colters' Daughter

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The Mountain Pass Bar and Grill was hopping like frogs during mating season. It was early summer and past ski season, but the little town of Clyde still managed to pull tourists from the larger neighboring towns. Not to mention, Friday was local’s night when all the residents of Clyde decided to let their hair down and imbibe a little.

Callie Colter slid another drink down the bar to a waiting customer then loaded up her waitress’s tray with a round of draft beers and sent her back into the crowd.

Taking advantage of the momentary lull in the action, Callie leaned back against the counter and surveyed the mass of people packed into The Mountain Pass. The live band pounded out a raucous country song that had the dance floor filled to capacity with people line dancing. A skill Callie had never felt it necessary to learn. Nor had she the ability. She had the rhythm of a slug.

And really, the whole line-dancing thing? She was still scarred from having to watch a really hokey George Strait movie—courtesy of her brothers.

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