Welcome to Choteau, Montana, in 2018. What was once only a small city focused on fossils, has now started to turn into an equestrian mecca. Everyone still knows everyone, so the question remains, what will you become?
06/04 - Site opened 18/04 - Update log #01 including new features! 27/04 - A New skin has been released!
ollar domestics called for a prime Friday night as people filtered to and from the bar Owen had claimed a place at nearly half an hour ago, watching various sports being covered on the handful of flat screens hung between glowing shelves of liquor bottles, content that he had nothing to do and all night to do it.
His attire reflected his mood, relaxed. A plain dark grey long-sleeve hidden under a faded jean jacket with blue jeans and boots. Not so ragged to appear homeless, but desperate enough to prove he was approachable, seeing as he was there alone. A step up for a guy who lived the more lax life of dusty jeans and boots with some graphic tee sporting a hole rubbed under the armpit. Owen had given up on keeping the majority of his wardrobe Gain fresh since the first smear of horse shit he earned mucking stalls as a kid. Yet now that his new job issued bundles of uniforms tied by a bow finely stitched with regulations, he was beginning to learn what oxy-clean was. He was growing up. Mama'd be proud.
But the fact Owen was sitting there pondering over the effects of laundry detergent persuaded the twenty-six-year-old to suck his beer dry and order another bottle. Leaning back in his seat, Owen drug a thumb and forefinger down his five o'clock shadow. Dark blue eyes glanced around the establishment, quietly observing an ongoing game of pool beside a small crowd on the dance floor until his order was filled and a chilled bottle sat on the bar top before him. Extending a nod to the bartender, Owen brought the rising frost to his lips and mended his thirst before returning his attention to the televisions.
[attr="class","box2"]Dance lessons really paid off. Especially while not so sober. Cheyenne was able to spin around the dance floor quite fluently. She had a partner, but she couldn't remember his name. She figured it was fine, considering she didn't plan on pursuing him any further. In fact, she had her eye on a guy sitting at the bar, but hadn't gotten the nerve to talk to him. Besides, while she was dancing with another man, he probably didn't look at her twice. If he had even looked at her once, honestly. She spun a few more circles with her current partner, and then the song ended. She gave him a gracious smile, kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for the dance. He was cute, but not really her type. He was, however, good at dancing. So if the guy she had her eyes on didn't work out...
Cheyenne wandered off of the dance floor to the bar for another drink. And to try to talk to the guy who seemed more interested in the television than anything. But boy, was he attractive. "A double shot of tequila," she ordered from the bartender, scooting closer to the guy. The bartender brought her the shot, and she downed it. It was going to be that kind of night. In reality, she shouldn't have been drinking at all, due to her medications. But tonight, she didn't care one bit. She was going to get drunk, and someone was going to have to carry her out of the bar. Or at least, that was how she hoped the night would go.
"So, are you going to watch that tv all night, or you up for a dance?" Cheyenne questioned the man. She bit her lip, hoping for a decent response. She wasn't drunk yet, but buzzed enough to have built up some confidence. She pulled her lip from her teeth and smiled flirtatiously at him.
er profile caught the corner of his eye mid-drink when she approached the bar by his side. For a moment he remained virtually focused on the game, stealing a glance at her as she gave an order to the bartender. The request rose a brow as he sat his bottle back down in front of him. It was a bold order, tequila.
Owen only imagined what kind of night she was trying to invest in. Surely a woman like her wasn't here alone. No girlfriend at her side taking a shot with her, that Owen observed. Must've meant a guy wasn't straying too far, especially from a girl like this. With her smile, that body. Owen would've been there next to her, opposite of the stranger sitting in the bar stool watching sports, an arm around her waist. There was a curious thought to turn and learn her name. She didn't glance at him, from what he could tell. But she became the first to make a move.
Her question turned his attention solely on the woman, her boldness again lifting a brow. His eyes turned down to her teeth as they grazed her lip. A lazy grin spread across his features. "Haven't found a pretty girl to dance with 'til now." He replied in a fluid southern accent, boots setting on the ground as the man rose from his seat. "Now that I've found her, you up for a dance?" Owen inquired, offering his hand to lead her to the dance floor.
[attr="class","box2"]Tequila was her go to drink. She wasn't sure why. It was bad for her. And she knew it. But honestly, she didn't seem to care. Just meant she'd get drunk faster. She thought about it for a second. Maybe she should slow it down. She shrugged it off. Her conscious was gonna have to settle for the night. She wasn't sure what her plans were for the night. Hell, she had came to the bar by herself. Not always a good idea, but she didn't mind. Chey knew she was going to drink and hit on this guy at the bar. But she hadn't figured out her game plan from there.
Cheyenne raised her eyebrow at the guy. "Hard to find a pretty girl while staring at the tv," she said, teasing. This guy was charming, though. She wasn't sure what that meant for her night, but she was happy that she had approached him. She smiled at the guy. "Absolutely," she said. She was always up for a dance. Especially with a guy as cute and smooth as he was. She took his hand, and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.
ruthfully, Owen hadn't forced himself to get out of his apartment to sink into the "local" label yet for fear of disappointment in a hope that the town he'd come to start over in wouldn't be worth it in the end. He didn't blame his lack of socialization on that, though, just the new job. Owen was an extrovert, easy to come by and frankly fairly easy to leave as of late. Freshly divorced, he didn't feel too inclined to put a lot of effort in a new relationship. Fate was going to decide for him, if it ever felt the need to send a strong enough sign. Like one that slapped him in the face or screamed 'don't screw this one up, Barrow' loud enough.
All things aside, he just wanted to dance with this beautiful woman. "Who says I've only been staring at the TV?" Owen chuckled, eyeing her raised brow. Taking her hand in his, Owen led the woman toward the designated dance floor where a considerable crowd currently danced to the house DJ's wide selection, now partially through an upbeat pop-country song. Turning toward his dance partner, Owen set his free hand to her waist and raised their clasped palms to shoulder height. A two-step, something simple to start with. He led into the steps fluently. "How much time do you spend out here?" He spoke through the music, referring to the dance floor.
[attr="class","box2"]Cheyenne wasn't out on the dance floor looking for love. She just wanted a good time. Someone who would dance with her and drink with her. She wasn't sure if she wanted anyone to take her home with them, but whatever happened happened. She probably did need an larger dose of her medication. It was more of this type of reckless behavior that her psychiatrist warned her about. But when Cheyenne was on her high days, she'd never know she was acting impulsive. It wouldn't be until she hit her low that she'd realize what she had done. On her high days, she was good. She was really good. She felt like she was on top of the world. But she didn't care about anything other than what helped her to be happy. And that meant sleeping with guys she shouldn't. Or spending money she needed for bills. Sometimes, it wasn't as bad. But most of the time, it didn't turn out to be good.
"What else have you been watching? Since I noticed you, you've had your focus on that damned thing," she teased. She bit her lip and sucked on it for a second, before following him out to the dance floor. She placed one hand on his shoulder, and kept his other hand in hers. She followed his lead. At least the man could actually dance. She wasn't thinking she was up to just grinding out on the dance floor. Real dancing was much better. "On the dance floor? Not enough," she said. It was actually quite rare that she went to the bar. She knew it was trouble for her with her medications. But again, her medication regime wasn't quite right tonight. "I've been in Choteau long enough to know that you're not from around here, though," she said. Small towns were good that way. "So are you just passing through, or here to stay?" she asked.
wen's expression turned up in a comical 'oh really' fashion. "Been admiring from afar, have we?" He teased, his tone light and playfully flattered, "Well, I apologize for any jealousy caused between you and the television." Chuckling, Owen continued leading her across the colorfully illuminated hardwood floor, appreciating the ease of flow between them.
It was alright to step back and take the classic route that was a two-step now and again, it reflected Owen's laid-back, genuine nature. Easy movements, the ability to fluctuate from happily uncharted to intimate all in the same dance. Then, and more importantly to Owen, it came with enough simplicity to focus on a trait not many people seemed to possess these days-communication. Just enough to break the ice, see if things could move back to the bar or off to another dance partner, no hard feelings given. Of course Owen wasn't prude toward grinding, or any other genre for that matter, he went with the flow as easily as anyone else did.
As she noted his unfamiliar face, Owen nodded in agreement. "You're not wrong." he affirmed before tilting his head in a shrug motion, answering her question, "Haven't been here long enough for the locals to know my name. Might make it easier to leave, if I end up deciding on it." He hinted on the detail that they had yet to introduce themselves, though they had only just met a minute ago. But it was true, Owen was on the fence and planned to be for a while, in relation to staying in town a while. It would take some force to rock the teeter in either direction, a force he wasn't in too much of a hurry to find.
[attr="class","box2"]Cheyenne shook her head. "How else was I supposed to know if you were with anyone or not?" she asked. She decided to ignore the jealousy comment. Cheyenne wasn't a jealous person. In fact, she was quite the opposite. More of a do-what-you-want kind of person. If a person wanted to cheat on her, so be it. She just wouldn't be with them anymore. No reason to get jealous over it. What good did it do, other than make her look stupid?
She loved dancing. And him dancing with her seemed so elegant. Classy. Not like the normal types of dancing she was used to. She didn't mind the sexy, sultry dances either. But to keep the class was hard these days. She enjoyed the change-up. It showed how much of a gentleman the guy she was with was. She slid easily across the dance floor with him, following his lead. She knew the basic two-step dance quite well. She had been doing it since she was a child, dancing with her grandfather across the basement floor to his favorite songs. Cheyenne had started out learning by stepping on his feet as he walked around. As she got older, she was able to follow his lead with no problems.
"Being secretive, now are we?" she teased. She hadn't asked for his name, though he hadn't asked for hers either. She shrugged it off. What was one little detail? She could call him by whatever name she wanted to at the moment, and it probably wouldn't matter. If she called him by the wrong name, maybe he'd give her his real one. "This is a good little town. I'm happy here," she said. She did realize the small town wasn't for everyone. But she didn't have a problem staying. "I hope you enjoy your stay," she said, smiling up at him. [newclass=.box2]margin:0px auto; width:300px; height:425px; background: transparent; overflow:auto; padding:8px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box2::-webkit-scrollbar]width:5px;[/newclass] [newclass=.box2::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]background: #bd0000;[/newclass]
wen gave a genuine smile. "Was the bright neon 'single guy' sign above my head not turned on?" He joked, chuckling. It might as well have not been, though. Coming to a bar and being completely oblivious to a beautiful woman hanging around not too far away from him, eyeing the back of his head all night while she stared at the tv.
Might as well have stayed home sucking on a six pack that cost as much as one tall glass out the tap if he ended up doing that. And that's where it was obviously going until someone had to pull him from his bar stool. It made Owen wonder if he was still hung up on his past, even with the new surroundings. He claimed he was single because he was. Claimed to be over his divorce, so why didn't he care to get out and live like it? And why all of a sudden was he debating on introducing himself?
Well, he didn't have to. Not yet. Right now, he wasn't divorced Owen. No baggage, just a face. Holy hell you sound like a sob story, Barrow, Owen thought, scolding himself. He shrugged, "Just careful, is all." Sob story. Not a conversation fit for the moment. Hearing her compliment on the town lightened some hope. "Thank you, I'm enjoying it so far." Owen smiled down to her, pausing to hold her gaze a moment like his enjoyment referenced their interaction. "Show me how the locals have fun around here?" He asked, motioning to spin her around under his hand.
[attr="class","box2"]Cheyenne shook her head, laughing. "I think you forgot to plug it in," she teased. She really hadn't been sure if he was with someone or not. Generally, the single guys paid more attention to the girls on the dance floor than they did the tv. The tv was usually just there for the occasional glance to see the score of a game, or a certain play. Not to sit there and actually watch at the bar. Might as well stay home if that's all someone was going to do. Waste of money being at the bar. Unless the person didn't like to drink alone, but still. Sitting at the bar watching tv by yourself was still considered drinking alone.
"Why so careful? Afraid to get hurt, or something?" she asked. Now she was pushing for some information. She still wasn't going for his name, but she was going to try to get something out of him. Sometimes people were more open to talking to strangers than they were their best friend. She wasn't sure if he was one of those people, but it never hurt to try.
"I'm glad," she commented. She really did love Choteau. It was a peaceful town. And a small town. She knew quite a few of the townsfolk, but not quite everyone. Mostly everyone who was at the Rusty Bucket Ranch, for sure. Or any of the regulars who came in for some coffee. The coffee shop was how she met most of the people she knew. Cheyenne took his cue, and spun around on the dance floor. She had a wide smile on her face. She loved dancing, and being spun around. "Well, of course," she said. "Honestly, most of the town is equestrian. So as long as you like horses, you'll be set."
e took a moment to think on it, but shook his head. "More afraid of hurting others, I guess. I'd rather be the passing stranger than the friend who bailed." Owen shrugged, trying to give the most convincing yet truthful answer without going too in depth. "It's only if the job and what all doesn't turn out like I thought. Don't wanna get too familiar yet." He added onto the answer, hoping she understood where he came from. He didn't mean anything by it if she were to take offense, but the whole worry wouldn't last long if things did turn out in his favor. Really and truly, Owen was more concerned for others than himself with this.
An equestrian town. Something Owen couldn't agree more with. It was surprising to find himself in a community like this unknowingly. The only thing Owen knew about Choteau was they had a police department, nothing more. So having left his horse training career behind to pursue a new venture, only to wind up back in a place so encompassed by horses was kinda humorous. "Ah yeah, that I've seen so far. I assume you're apart of that community, liking this town so much and all?" He asked.
[attr="class","box2"]Cheyenne shrugged. Well, as much as she could while following his two-step pattern. She half-smiled up at him. "I guess I see your point," she said. At least he cared enough to know his potential. Or maybe, he just overestimated himself. "Well, I don't even know your name. So you'll definitely be a passing stranger for me," she smiled. "Unless of course, you decide to stay. Then I'm sure I'll see you around." This town was definitely small enough.
Choteau was definitely an equestrian town. There were horses everywhere. If someone didn't own a horse, they were generally leasing one or looking to own one. She wasn't sure how she had ended up in such a horsey town, but she loved it. She had been here for a bit now, and knew her way around fairly well. She was even looking into getting a second horse. One less for show, and more for trail riding. Not that her current horse couldn't be a good trail horse - she was a great one. But it'd be nice to have a second horse, just for the hell of it. "That I am, she said. "I ride western. I have a Rocky Mountain Horse. What about you? What brought you to Choteau?"
Wouldn't mind it." Owen grinned, regarding seeing the woman around town. He could say more often, but that was presumptuous considering he had yet to even give his name let alone end this first dance of theirs. Keep it slow, Owen reminded himself. Stick to the comfort zone. No need to go diving in headfirst again. Not yet.
Pitiful mess this guy was. He'd be back to normal eventually, Owen hoped. Believed so confidentially. At one end, Owen felt like he was more than capable of throwing his divorce into a shredder and completely forgetting everything about it, but on the other, was he supposed to sulk like he had been? Was that just the norm? Or was he just finding excuses to wallow in self-pity. Owen put money on excuses.
His brows gave a slight rise. "Ah, western, good deal. Same here. Just brought a draft cross up here from Colorado for work, actually." As Owen answered, part of the dancers began to split for the bar as the rest readied for a quicker beat that was taking over the mellow country song. As he noticed, Owen slowed to a stop and leaned in to speak over the rising volume. "Is that tequila keepin' you happy or do you wanna go sit for a minute?" He asked Cheyenne, game for either staying on the floor or buying her a drink. Whichever she decided.
[attr="class","box2"]Cheyenne smiled. He at least wouldn't mind seeing her again. That was always a plus. Though, he hadn't known her for very long. He could easily change his mind. Or just skip town all together, and she'd never see him again. She'd be slightly disappointed if she never saw him again, but she couldn't expect him to stay in one place if he wasn't meant for it. "Me either," she said, agreeing with him. Seeing him again would be a pleasure. At least, she thought, it would be from what she knew of him, so far.
"I love drafts," she said. She knew he had said a cross, but anything of that sort stole her heart. She had a special place for them. Cheyenne had always hoped to own one, but the one horse she did own put a strain on her financial life. Being a barista only got a person so far in life. Eventually, she knew she'd have to get back to school and learn more. But she wasn't even sure what she wanted to do with her life. At 28, she was becoming more and more stressed out about her career as time went on. Which is why she ended up in the bar dancing all night, drowning away her problems. Perks of being bipolar, she guessed. Avoiding her problems had seemed to work thus far.
"We can sit," she said. "Thank you for the dance. It was fun." She led him off of the dance floor and found a bar stool to sit at. She ordered a margarita this time, deciding to slow it down just a bit. No more shots for the time being. She really didn't need the alcohol to mix with her medications too much.
Welcome to Choteau, Montana, in 2018. What was once only a small city focused on fossils, has now started to turn into an equestrian mecca. Everyone still knows everyone, so the question remains, what will you become? 
