Just a guy who runs a saloon.
And I will not be controlled
And I will not let my future go on
Without the help of my soul.
Howdy. Name's Jo Harvelle, owner of Harvelle's Roadhouse here in Nebraska. Come on in, have a drink, and tell me your woes.
It’d been a while since the old man had dropped in at the Roadhouse, and Jo couldn’t help the bright smile that crossed his face when Bobby strolled through his door. “If I didn’t know any better,” he began, tossing his cleaning rag onto the counter and crossing over to the man. “I’d think you forgot about this place.” There was a teasing quality to his voice, but a small truth was hidden underneath. He’d missed the old codger.
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