Seventeen
Bart
I stepped out of his truck and looked around the area.
It was a street I hadn’t been on before, which wasn’t saying much since I’d never driven around the whole town.
There was a row of three houses on this side of the street, all close to the same size but each was different.
Across the street looked about the same.
“Hey, Keith, I saw you pull in. Are you going to be working on anything tonight?” an older man wearing a big hopeful grin asked as he hurried over to us from one of the houses.
“Hank, this is Bart Martin,” Keith said and the two of us both nodded in greeting.
“Are you related to Asa?” he asked.
“Yes, he’s my uncle.”
“He’s a good old guy. Been running the dairy by himself for as long as I can remember.”
“He’s training me so I can help him. Well, he’s trying to. He’s a very patient man,” I said and tried not to think of all the ways I’d fucked up that past week.
He chuckled before patting my back. “That’s okay, son, when I started driving trucks I had more than one incident that I will never mention again.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s a lot more than one incident,” Keith said. “I was going to show Bart how we pound metal. I’m sure he won’t mind if you hang out.”
“Not at all. Keith told me you’re the expert,” I said, and tried not to laugh as I thought about our earlier conversation. Keith’s eyes met mine with a slightly crazed look before he cleared his throat.
“Just give me a minute to go change and get the forge heated. Come on, Bart, I’ll show you where the bathroom is.” Hank wandered over in the direction of the small shed while I followed Keith inside. As soon as I pulled the door shut, he spun me around and lowered me onto the couch.
“I thought you were going to show Hank how to po—” was all I got out before he pressed me down and his lips were on mine.
“Enough about pounding. Believe me when I say we are going to make up for lost time later. I’d really like you to stay.”
“I’ll stay, but there is never enough talk about pounding, being pounded, getting pounded.”
“Okay okay, just not so much around Hank. I don’t want to shock him too much.”
After another quick kiss he showed me where his bathroom was even though I hadn’t asked.
When I walked out, I was alone and could hear him and Hank talking outside.
His house was small but neat, and definitely had a western theme, with lots of cow décor and more than one small figurine.
It was cute, and I found myself smiling before deciding if I stayed inside much longer, he’d suspect I really needed to use the bathroom.
“There he is,” Hank said as soon as I walked out. “I was worried you’d fallen in.”
“Uh, nope, I survived,” I said and ignored Keith’s snicker.
Country people had a way of talking that they found hilarious, but I was still getting used to it.
It included lots of references to things I’d never heard of and didn’t understand, and humor that was just on the edge of raunchy and not for public consumption.
And none of it stopped them from saying it.
Especially the older ones. It was like they’d already given all their fucks and had no more to give.
And jesusfuckingchrist now I was doing the same thing!
“Good to know,” Keith said, and covered his smile with his thumb. “Come on, I’ve got an apron you can wear so you don’t get burned by flying bits of hot metal.”
My eyes widened in shock. “There’s going to be flying bits of hot metal?”
“Oh, they’re little. It only hurts for a second,” Hank said, not reassuring me at all.
“You’ll be fine,” Keith said and hung a heavy apron over my head.
Hank wandered over to a small refrigerator and took a beer out. “It’s Friday. It’s the only day he allows me to drink in here,” he explained and the two of us watched Keith light his forge.
“How long does it take to heat up?”
“Not long, five or ten minutes, but the interior takes about twenty to be at a good heat.” Keith shoved in a few pieces of metal. “I know we discussed trying to make a knife, but I want to talk to Dante first. He’s doing classes in knife making and I could use some advice.”
“Who’s Dante?” I asked.
“Local knife maker. What are you going to make?” Hank asked.
“I think the two of you should get to swing the hammer and get a feel for it.” Keith handed me a hammer and showed me how to use blacksmith’s tongs to hold the end of one of the pieces of metal he’d put into the fire.
“You’re going to pull this onto the anvil and just hit it a few times.
You’ll feel the metal start to give and when it becomes harder to work then put it back in and heat it up. ”
“What am I making?” I asked.
“Nothing. Just play with the metal for now.”
I took hold of the tongs and carefully moved the red-hot piece of metal to the anvil before picking up the hammer and swinging it. It landed with a thunk and I felt the metal give just like he described. “Wow, that is pretty cool.”
“Yeah, it’s a great stress release,” Keith said and watched as I took another swing.
“I might need to stop by more often,” I said without looking away and decided I needed to heat the metal again. I shoved it back into the fire and turned to hand the tongs to Hank. “Your turn.”
His eyes lit up like I’d given him a block of gold, and I ignored the eye roll from Keith. “I’ve wanted to try this for a while.”
“I’ve tried to get you to do it for months,” Keith said.
“Yeah, but you’re a little intimidating,” Hank said with no heat and a lot of honesty.
A laugh escaped me and Keith met my eyes with the same look he had that day at the hardware store.
His huge arms folded across his chest showing them off and hitting me way differently than seeing him that day had.
Now I knew he wasn’t really a big muscular menace.
He was hot and a really nice guy. “I try to be, but apparently it’s not working so much anymore,” he finally said.
Hank looked between the two of us still holding the tongs. “Okay to go?” he asked.
Keith shook his head and relaxed his arms. “Go ahead, Hank,” Keith said, and watched as Hank carefully took out a different piece of metal and proceeded to pound the hell out of it.