Where is Wynonna?

 This is my submission for the #WhereisWynonna challenge. I am not adept at making videos, and I really dislike recordings of my voice, so I thought that I would write a short story to describe my search for Wynonna. 

I am not a professional writer or storyteller. All grammatical and phrasing mistakes are my own, as are any inaccuracies in information about Wynonna Earp locations or lore.

-Bre M. in Boise, Idaho, USA

I tugged my jacket closer around myself as I stepped out of my car and into the chill air. Despite the promise of spring, the early morning air still held the bitter reminders of winter. There was something else in the air. Something colder than the breeze that cut through my jacket. It was something that seemed to seep into my bones. To be honest, I'd felt a chill since I first saw the town sign, "Purgatory". Understandably, it made me curious. It's a little like Hell. You just wonder what sort of people would live in a place with such connotations. I got my answer pretty quick. It turns out, no one lived in Purgatory. It was like a ghost town. A ghost town trapped in 2021. Walking down the cracked pavement, I saw the remnants of people's lives, cars, trash, even a smashed cell phone. But all other signs of life were absent. There weren't even any birds. Up ahead, the doors of a local bar slammed shut in a massive gust of wind, making me jump. Whatever that bar, "Shorty's", had been, it was abandoned like the rest of the town now. The only sign of life now was a single, stubborn flyer—a missing person. Again, curiosity got the best of me, and I went to take a look. The darkened bar was foreboding, made more so by the broken latch and flyer. Carefully I took the paper down. “Missing” was written in large black print along the top. There was a faded black and white photo of a woman under the word. Even though it was faded, you could tell her eyes were haunted. Her name was Wynonna Earp and, according to the flyer, she was last seen at the Homestead.

There was a number to call at the bottom of the page. On impulse, I dialed it. Predictably, it went straight to voicemail. I guess whoever the number belonged to was missing too. There was something that nagged me as I looked at the woman on the poster. Her name, Earp. I wondered if she was related to Wyatt Earp, the gunslinger. This was Wyatt Earp's legendary hometown, after all; at least that's what the road sign had said. No. That was too much of a coincidence. Then again, it wasn’t that common of a name. If even half of the rumors were true, it really did beg the question: where was Wynonna? At this point, I had a million other questions as well. If there was a missing poster, Wynonna must have disappeared before the rest of the town. Where did she go? Where did they go? The Homestead. That was the last place she was seen; maybe I could find some answers there. Problem was, there were tons of small farms and ranches surrounding the town. How would I find the right one? I looked down at the faded picture of Wynonna again, drawn by her haunted eyes. Well, I had set out on this road to have an adventure. A mystery is a type of adventure, I suppose. Sighing, I carefully folded the missing poster and walked back down the deserted road of Purgatory. There were secrets left to find here, I was sure of it, but the mystery of Wynonna had gotten into my brain and I couldn’t let her go. I got into my car and decided to check out the ranches around town; one of them had to be the Homestead. I had checked out three ranches before I found the right property. And if it hadn’t been for the weathered mailbox with “Earp” painted on the side, I probably would have kept driving. Instead, I drove up to the house. Getting out of the car, the first thing I noticed was the view. There was something about the area that touched some primal part of me. Besides, looking at this land, you could feel the history of generations. I wonder how long Wynonna’s family had lived here. Maybe she was related to the famous Wyatt Earp after all. The buildings were simple; a few sheds were scattered about, a large wooden barn, and a small ranch with an inviting front porch. I decided to check out the barn first since it seemed less like trespassing than entering the home. Inside I found discarded tools and empty bottles of whiskey. Someone here really liked whisky. There was a twin bed set up in one corner, with clothes spread haphazardly around. Gingerly, I picked up a pair of discarded pants; they were made of leather. Actually, looking around, whoever had lived out here, really liked her leather apparel. I stroked the only item not thrown about: a leather jacket. Curious, I pulled out the poster again. It was the same jacket. This is where Wynonna had slept… or at least where she stored her clothes. Interestingly, it looked as if she had just left this morning, not long enough to have missing person’s flyers posted around a deserted town. So where was she? Finding nothing else of interest in the barn, I walked over to the house. Much like Shorty’s, the door was open. It was dark inside, so I pulled out my phone to see better. Inside, the house was surprisingly big; what had looked like a two-room ranch outside turned out to be quite a quaint little home. A quaint deserted home. In the kitchen on the fridge were a number of photos, one in particular caught my eye, Wynonna laughing with her arms around a brown-haired girl. Underneath that photo, there was a save the date notice for a wedding on April 9, 2021. I read the names. Nicole Haught and Waverly Earp. I wonder if they had made it? Earp. They must be sisters. Wandering through the house, nothing looked amiss, although I did find it odd that someone had carved “Valdez” on the stairs. With a furrowed brow, as I pondered the meaning of that, I went up the stairs. Upstairs was a single bedroom, well decorated and neat. Sitting on the dresser was a tan Stetson. I don't know why, but it seemed to have a place of honor, sitting there. I almost reached out to put it on, barely restraining myself. Unfortunately, here we're no clues up here either. I spent all day searching the Homestead land. I found nothing to tell me what had happened to the people who lived here. As the sun began to set, I started back to my car, taking one last look at the farmhouse and barn. There was a mystery here still, and I knew in my heart I would be back. As I drove away from Purgatory, one question still lingered in my mind: where is Wynonna?