Grady Hart: Homecoming (Episode 7)

The room above Sadie’s saloon was small but warm, the sunlight filtering through thin curtains. Grady Hart sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his boots. His shirt hung on a chair across the room. The scars on his chest and back—remnants of the war he never talked about, caught the light as he moved with quiet efficiency. Sadie stirred behind him, her dark hair spread across the pillow, a lazy smile curling her lips.

“You don’t have to rush out, you know,” she said, her voice still thick with sleep.

Grady paused, his hat in his hands. “Ain’t rushin’. Just got things to do.”

Sadie sat up, wrapping the sheet around her. “Mornings don’t have to start with boots and dust. You could stay, have breakfast. Maybe talk a bit.”

Grady glanced at her, his face softening slightly. “What would we talk about?”

Sadie leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe about what’s got you wound up tighter than a barbed-wire fence?” She tilted her head. “Maybe whether you plan to see your mother while you’re here.”

Grady’s hand stilled on his hat.