[b]GRAND JUNCTION, COLORADO 
MARCH 26TH 07:21 AM[/b]

Coffee. Somewhat decent, [i]real[/i] coffee. Greg Saunders cherished every sip. His wife had thrown out the old coffee maker years ago. They had started drinking different ‘blends’ instead, coffee you didn’t filter but got out of a pad. The lady behind the counter had tried to sell it to him, but Greg had been insistent. “Plain, regular old coffee will do me just fine.”

The elder cowboy looked over to Miguel, who was scarfing down his third plate of pancakes. Greg had barely been able to finish his eggs, toast and bacon.

While Greg looked at Miguel, Maria looked at Greg. She couldn’t figure him out. What he did for them on the bus, what he was doing now. A man in his seventies, dressed up like a cowboy with no luggage, travelling straight across the States. “What are you in town for Mr. Saunders?” she asked, one hand on her cup of coffee, the other gently stroking Miguel’s hair.
“An old friend asked for my help,” Greg replied and for a second, his hand went up to the letter, still resting in his shirt’s pocket.
“Your help?” Maria enquired further, but Greg just gave her a wry smile. He turned to Miguel, who all through breakfast had never actually looked down at what he was he eating. No, the kid sat transfixed, looking at the hat Greg had worn and which was now sitting on the table.

“You like that, don’t ya, kid?” Miguel nodded.

Greg handed him the hat and immediately, the young boy dropped everything to hold it. Setting the hat on his head, he was quickly lost in his imagination, fighting with and shooting at imaginary bad guys.

“My friend’s granddaughter disappeared a few days ago,” Greg said as he turned back to Maria. “She might be in trouble.”
She was about to express her concern when a waitress came up with a pot of coffee. “Refill?”
“Please,” Greg replied as he held out his cup.
“Do you know what happened?” Maria asked.
Greg thanked the waitress, who moved on to the next booth. “I’m afraid I haven’t a clue. From what her family has told me, she was fine one day, gone the next.” The waitress stopped moving and made some hasty small talk with the other patrons. “They haven’t heard from her in two weeks.”
Greg took a sip from his coffee and in the corner from her eyes, could see the waitress was still hovering. “Miss?” he asked.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop,” she replied as she returned to the table, “but you wouldn’t happen to be talking about Tina Leong, would you?”
“And if we were?” Greg asked.
“Oh, no, I mean,” the waitress was startled, “Tina’s a friend of mine and I’ve been worried sick. I didn’t think much of it at first, but nobody has seen or talked to her in a while. My boyfriend says maybe she’s down in the valley, camping by herself – y'know she likes biking there, but she never goes without telling anyone.”
Greg looked the waitress over – her nametag read Bonnie – and judged her to be sincere. “Miss, you wouldn’t happen to know where she lives, would you?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.”
“Would you mind giving me some directions?”
“Of course,” Bonnie replied and immediately started scribbling on her notepad.

Greg got up and noticing, Miguel offered him back his hat.

“Keep it, kid.”
“Won’t you need it?”

Bonnie handed Greg the directions, which he tucked into his jeans’ back pocket. In doing so, he grazed his revolver, still nestled snugly against his back, under his shirt.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got everything I need.”