Chapter 9
*~* Jamie *~*
I’ve just put all my laundry in the dryer when Tim arrives.
I know he has a key so he can let himself in, but I’m happy that he still knocks when he knows I’m home.
I’m still calling out to ask who’s there before opening the door, and that’s something I might carry on doing once all this nasty business is concluded.
It doesn’t hurt to be a little cautious in this day and age.
Tim wastes no time getting us both a coffee while I finish my laundry chores and leave the dryer running. Once we’re sitting at the table he asks me about my new vehicle, and I just look at him blankly.
“I don’t know what it is, I never thought to ask Smoker about it. He didn’t stay on the phone long enough for me to even think to ask. Darn bikers are never on the phone long enough to ask them anything.”
“I’m lucky I suppose, as I don’t have to interact with them at that level. I know Breaker drives Molly to distraction sometimes when she tries to talk to him on the phone.” Tim shakes his head and grins as he remembers something.
Another knock at the door and I’m off again, calling out as I approach. Hearing Smoker reply, I open the door and rush out to see what he’s brought me.
The pickup parked on the driveway is bigger than my last one. Part of the reason for that, I think, is that this has a double cab, where my last was just a single cab. This looks higher than my old one, too. I like the look of this one.
Grinning at Smoker, he laughs. “I take it from that look that this passes first inspection?” He looks pleased that I’m pleased.
“Oh, Smoker. She looks awesome. I love that she is gleaming black without the rust patches, too.” Walking around her, I can see my smile reflected in the paintwork, and it just keeps getting wider and brighter. “Give me the keys. I want to see what she sounds like.”
“Hell, Jamie. She sounds as good as she looks. There are no half-measures with this baby.” Smoker drops the keys into my open palm and I rush to climb in. The door is heavy and I feel the effort pull on my ribs.
Sitting here, I can’t reach the pedals, and I’m fortunate that the seats adjust electrically.
I doubt I could manually move these giants in my current state.
Getting everything adjusted, I start the engine.
Oh…My…God! With the door open, I can feel the noise of the exhaust rumble through my chest. Giving the gas a tweak, she goes from a rumble to a roar.
I am not going to want to stay in the office from now on, that’s for sure. I’ll be wanting to do house calls only from now on.
Looking over at Smoker, I see him high-fiving Tim. He’s obviously pleased with my reaction to his choice of a replacement for my old girl. I’m amazed that the insurance was so fast at paying out, and this can’t have been cheap. I bet Smoker pulled some strings, or maybe Bank dealt with that side.
Getting carefully out of the truck, I almost skip to the men. I toss the keys to Tim. “You can drive to the gun range. I’ll just sit back and enjoy the ride. She might be a bit heavy for me right now.”
“Right then, Jamie. If you give me the keys to that rental, I’ll get it off your driveway and back to the rental company. You can take your new girl for a spin with Tim and get the feel of her.”
Grabbing two sets of keys from the house, I hand the rental keys over to Smoker and lock the house with the others. Tim and I head off to the gun range and wave at Smoker as he takes off in the other direction with the rental.
Asking Tim to take the long route to the range, I sit back and thoroughly enjoy the ride.
This truck is so much more in every way than my old one.
The old girl was exactly that, a much older vehicle.
When she was new and bought for the business, she was top of the range.
In just a few years, though, what were optional extras then are now old-hat features.
This is a Cadillac in relation to luxury and features as far as I’m concerned.
“You know what you should have in here, Jamie?” Tim side-eyes me and I’m wondering what he’s going to come out with.
“Surprise me with something she doesn’t already have.” Looking over at him, I wait for his pearl of wisdom.
“A gun rack in the back window, and perhaps a little something in the glove box, or under the seat. In the current climate, I don’t think either would hurt.”
“That’s not a bad idea, Tim. I could get a shotgun and a rifle in the back on a rack and a nice handgun for the front. I could be a real-life Calamity Jane.” Grinning, I’m surprised by the shocked look he gives me. “What? What’s wrong with that?”
“I think you need to revise your choice of heroine to be associated with.” Tim laughs and I think I need to go on the internet when I get home and see what he’s talking about. “I see you more as an Annie Oakley than a Calamity Jane, if I’m honest.”
“Hmm. I’ll take that under advisement.”
Arriving at the gun range, I almost don’t want to get out of the truck.
Almost, but the call of a new rifle wins me over.
Entering the building, I have a sudden rush of memories.
Dad used to love wandering around the old gun club we frequented.
I swear half of what he bought in that place he never needed or used.
The guy at the counter looks at us with a wary eye.
I think all gun club or range owners are naturally suspicious.
I suppose in their line of business and with the merchandise they have around them, it pays to be vigilant.
Tim gives him a slight nod, and he seems to relax a little, in terms of Tim, anyway.
He is watching me every time I glance up.
The place is clean and well-maintained, better than Dad's old club. It was rundown, to say the least. There was never any money spent on aesthetics, let's say.
I notice a wall dedicated to bows and wander over to take a look.
I’m no archery expert, but there are a wide range of different bows on display.
Luckily, they have descriptive labels on them.
English longbow, American longbow, recurve bow, horsebow, compound bow.
Then there’s a section for crossbows. Damn, there’s even one with two triggers that fires two bolts.
Making my way to the counter, I see the reason I’m here on the back wall.
Hunting rifles. Two catch my eye right off the bat.
One I recognize as a Remington and the other I think is a Winchester.
They both look fantastic to me and though there are some way fancier rifles on that wall, those two have all my attention.
“Good morning. Can I get a look at the Remington, and is that one a Winchester?” I ask pointing at my second choice. Without asking which Remington he takes one down and lays it on the counter.
“I’m sure that’s a very nice rifle, but that’s not the Remington I was referring to. I was looking at the 700-bolt action.” Grunting, he puts the rifle he chose back on the wall and places the 700 series in front of me.
“May I?” I gesture at the rifle, and again, all I get is a grunt.
Picking it up gingerly, so as not to hurt my ribs, I give it a thorough inspection.
I like everything about this, and it reminds me of my old rifle.
As I’m checking it out, he grabs the Winchester and lays it on the counter, but close to him.
I guess I’m not getting my hands on that until I relinquish the Remington.
Trying to lift it to my shoulder is a stretch too far, so I place it carefully back onto the counter.
“That feels good, and it has been cared for by previous owners. It’s not showing much wear and tear.”
“It’s just about twenty years old and one careful owner. He didn’t use it much. Never really took to hunting, so he fired it at the targets out back, mostly. Even then, it weren’t fired much.” Wow. He can use words then, I think to myself.
“You knew the previous owner?” I ask him and he gives me more words.
“Usually do know your own kin. Bought it for my son for his birthday. Couldn’t stand the sight of blood, and the thought of skinning his kill was too much for him. I thought I could get him to man up about it, but I was wrong.”
“Some people, man or woman, just don’t take to it,” Tim speaks from behind me, and I hadn’t heard him join us. “Guess he just gave it up, did he?”
“Gave up everything. Got himself killed in a car wreck.” I gasp and clutch my chest at the talk of a car wreck.
The man's voice sounds harsh and uncaring, but I can see the pain in the eyes. I’ve seen that look before.
“What’s wrong. Lady? You been in a car wreck, too? I see you favoring them ribs some.”
“Yes, just a couple of weeks ago. It was a head-on collision. The other driver ran off.”
“The driver who killed my boy wasn’t in no fit state to run.
He was still out cold when some other driver found the accident and called it in.
Police let slip later that if the EMTs had got there sooner, they probably would’ve saved my boy.
As you can tell, I’m still bitter about it.
It came out in court that he was a serial offender, so the judge gave him 20 years.
I won’t ever get to see my boy again, so twenty years don’t sound like much. ”
“You have my condolences, sir. I can’t begin to imagine how terrible that must feel.” I’m beginning to wish we hadn’t come now.
“Well, anyways. You know your rifles. The Winchester is a good choice, too, but it isn’t in as good condition as that Remington 700.
The 700 will be a mite lighter for you, too.
I can see you’d care for it, so I’ll do you a good deal on it.
It would be good to know it’s finally going to someone who’ll appreciate it.
A couple of guys have tried to buy it, but they weren’t right for it. ”
“I won’t haggle for your son’s rifle. I’ll pay whatever you were asking for it.”
“You can’t haggle ‘cause there’s never been a price on it. I was likely never going to sell it. I got the case for it in the back, but it’s got his initials on it. If that doesn’t worry you, I’ll throw it in? Be a shame to split them up.”
“I would be honored to keep them together, sir. Thank you.” I can feel my eyes watering, so need to change the subject quickly. “I need a shotgun, pump-action preferably, and a handgun, too. One for my glove box. A small SIG with a good-sized caliber would be good if you have one. I like my SIGs.”
“Pump-action shotgun, what length of barrel? Twenty-inch or thirty-inch?”
“Oh, a shorter one I think,” Tim slips in, and I’m not too sure of the relevance other than accuracy at a distance.
“Humph. You’re expecting your hit and run to try again?” The man looks closely at Tim and me. “What makes you think that?” I ask him, watching him closely.
“A handgun that you’re familiar with in the glove box, for a start, and a short-barreled shotgun is a defensive weapon better than a long-barreled which would be a good bird-hunting weapon.
Your friend here was looking at gun racks for the rear of a truck earlier, plus I’ve been in this game for forty years, miss. I don’t miss much.”
Disappearing into a back room, after putting the Winchester back on the wall without me looking at it, we hear him muttering and stuff being moved around.
When he reappears, he has a satisfied smirk on his face. “Here you go. A Remington 870 shotgun and it only has a sixteen-inch barrel, so you’ll be able to wave it about in the cab of a truck without too much trouble. A lovely SIG that should keep you safe, too.”
Picking up the Remington 700, he slips it into the case he brought out too. As he does, I nudge Tim and eye the initials on the bottom of the case. There is a beautifully embroidered JG on the case.
“If you don’t mind my asking, what was your son’s name?”
Catching him off guard, he stops and looks at me questioningly. “My son was Jacob, Jacob Gardner. Why do you ask?”
“My name, Mr. Gardner, is Jamie Grant.”
“Oh. You’re a JG too, then. It couldn’t be more perfect, could it?”
After paying for everything, including a rack for the rear of the truck cab, we say our goodbyes and load everything into the truck. We travel back in silence, and we’re more than halfway home before Tim speaks. “You know he never charged you for the rifle, don’t you?”
“What? Of course he did. I paid on my card.”
“No. he didn’t. He never charged you for the rifle. He gave it to you as a gift.”
Grabbing my receipt, I run my eyes down it and see that Tim is correct. There is nothing on there in relation to the Remington 700 rifle. “Turn around. We need to go back. It must be a mistake. Turn around.”
“Jamie. The man has honored you with his dead son’s rifle and case. I don’t think he ever had any intention of you paying for it, but the initials were the confirmation for him you were the right person to have that rifle. You can’t go back and throw that in his face. You just can’t.”
Sitting there, I take in what Tim is telling me, and I’m sure he is right.
I just didn’t see it coming. “Well, you need to get that rack in the back of this cab pretty damn fast. I want it on display for the world to see. We need to find a way to mount the case in here too. When it’s done, we’ll go back and show him. ”