Page 52 of The Lucky Heart (Jamison Valley 3)
“He lied to all of us, Lis.”
I stepped past Silas and turned back to Wes’s grave. “He left me a voicemail about a month before he was killed. He said that if I came home, he’d get help. I didn’t even call him back, Silas. Do you think if I had, he would still be alive?”
He stepped up by my side. “I don’t think it would have made a difference. Toward the end, he was high all the time. No one could have convinced him to get help. Not even you. He never thought he had a problem.”
I hoped he was right but I hated that I’d never know.
We stood silently for a while, side by side, as I let everything sink in. Shock. Sorrow. Anger. I didn’t know which emotion to start with first.
Anger. Anger and I were old friends.
“I’m so mad at him.” I kicked at a rock by my shoe. “Grrr! I feel like punching something.”
Silas took a large step away. “Well, before you decide that something is me, let’s get out of here.” He jerked his head back toward the Drummonds’ house. “Come on. I think I’ve got something that could help.”
“What is this place?” I asked Silas as he flipped through his keys for the right one to unlock a padlock.
“It’s our Quonset.”
“Huh.” I muttered, never having heard that word before.
The Quonset was a windowless, semicircular building made of corrugated steel. It looked like a giant can of vegetables, sans label, had been buried halfway in the dirt. The sliding doors on the front had to be at least twelve feet tall, and the peak of the arch had to be nearly twenty.
After we’d left the Drummond farm, I had followed Silas back to the ranch, but instead of stopping at the barn as I’d expected, we’d kept driving down a gravel road to the Quonset. I had no idea why Silas would bring me here, but my curiosity was piqued.
With the correct key in hand, Silas unlocked the padlock on the doors and slid one open so we could step inside.
“Hang here,” he said as I stepped into the dark room. “I’ll hit the lights.”
The smell of oil and dirt filled my nose as Silas walked along the front wall to a light panel. With each switch, a row of hanging florescent lights above us flickered on. After six rows, the building was as bright as if we were in broad daylight.
“As you can see, this is where we keep all of our tractors and equipment.”
“Yes, I see that.” I followed Silas as he weaved past a plethora of machines. Some were big, others small, but all were green. “Do you guys have stock in John Deere?”
Silas laughed and kept walking, leading me to our destination at the back of the building. A corner had been cleared except for a black, heavy bag hanging by a thick chain from the ceiling.
“Here you go,” he said. “You want to punch something? Punch away.”
“Cool.” I smiled and walked up to the bag, pushing it gently so it swung. “I’ve never hit one of these before.”
“Well, now’s your chance.”
I had been so angry and hurt at Wes’s grave but the long drive out to the ranch had given me a chance to settle. I was in a better mental place now, but still, I wanted to give this punching bag thing a try, if for no other reason than to see what it was like. “What do I do?”
Silas stepped up to the bag and nodded me over. “Stand like me. With your left leg forward.”
“Like this?” I said, mirroring his stance.
“Yep. Now hands up.” In a flash, he threw a left jab into the bag. It hit with a light pop and the bag swayed. “Make tight fists, otherwise it will hurt.”
“Okay.” I clenched my fists hard.
He reached out with both hands and stopped the bag from swinging. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I smiled nervously then let my hand fly. My knuckles didn’t sink more than a centimeter into the black leather and the bag didn’t move. “Ouch.” I shook out my fist. “That’s a lot harder than it looks. And really heavy.”
Silas smiled, standing back and crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for me to start again.
