Solar Storm: Homeward Bound

by Vincent Keith

  Jack followed Denny to the kitchen where he found half the guys from the motorcycle club. A few of the women from the quilting club were sitting at the big table. Most of the guys were at the counter and leaning against walls. Judy lifted a little girl off her lap and whispered in her ear. The little girl nodded and ran across the room to a man who, to Jack’s surprise, looked a great deal like Judy herself. Judy hurried over to where Jack stood and wrapped him in a hug.

  “Jack darling, I’m glad you made it.”

  She showed him to a leather wing back next to the fireplace. “You sit here and warm up and dry out, I’ll get you a coffee.”

  Jack wasn’t surprised that Judy seemed to be coping. She’d always struck him as a strong woman who would keep the family moving forward no matter what. She returned with coffee.

  “Take it slow with that—it’s about a quarter Irish whiskey.”

  Jack acted as a pallbearer with Denny, his son Brian, and one Park Ranger Jack had only met a few nights ago. The service was brief and sad. It was the first time he had seen Judy cry since he’d arrived, and it hurt to see her looking so lost. They returned to the Inn, and Denny took over as host while Judy puttered in the kitchen, setting out plates of food. The crowd was smaller than the night Jack had arrived, but the feeling of celebrating a life well lived remained. Jack spent most of the evening sitting with Brian, who was home on compassionate leave and had to return in the morning.

  He returned to school three days after the funeral. Having lost more than a week, Jack spent every spare minute getting caught up. It was hard to stay motivated, but he knew Rebecca would be pissed if he let things slide at this point.

  By the end of the fourth week since his return, he’d caught up and was back to a normal schedule for the rest of the course. Jack poured himself into his work to take his mind off his loss during the week, but by the weekend, he found himself thinking about Rebecca again. Jack talked with Judy or Denny on the phone almost every weekend. Despite the painful reminder, he always felt better after he’d talked with them.

  SUMMER BREAK WAS NEAR, and Jack was once again busting his butt to finish his projects between work and classes. At the end of class, Mr. Ryan handed Jack a large box.

  “The 1911 parts you ordered came in. Are you going to finish them up over the summer?”

  “Great! Thanks,” he said taking the box. “I’ll be working at a custom cycle shop over the summer, so I should have plenty of time to work on these in the evenings.”

  “Well, your work on the 1911 was superb, but more practice is always a good thing. You’re going to hand fit everything?”

  “Yes, Denny has a new milling machine. I’ll help him get it set up and programmed. Once it’s working, I’ll use it to mill the slide for the sights. I’ve got my jig for the trigger job and all the tools I need to fit everything. I need to figure out how to get the parts coated when I’m done.”

  “I can help with that. I’ll be doing more coating work over the summer. Swing by and you can give me a hand, and we’ll toss yours in while we’re at it.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be up in Southern Oregon, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it back down much before classes start. Will you be doing anything just before the new term starts?”

  “Sure, do you think you can come back a little early then?”

  “That would be much easier, maybe come down a week or two before classes start. I was thinking I might hold a couple frames out for Satin Nickel to make them two-tone unless you’re doing nickel plating too?”

  “No, but you can just send those out to get done. I’ll get you the contact information for the place I use. Why don’t you come by tomorrow? That’ll give me a chance to make some calls and check my schedule for the coating equipment? I think we can schedule your parts in when you get back. If you’re going to be available, you can give me a hand and get some experience with the whole process.”

  “Great, thanks, Mr. Ryan.”

  JACK PACKED the motorcycle and headed north. It was a good summer, hotter than he’d have liked, but he enjoyed working with Denny at the shop. He spent weekends either helping Judy with the yard or out riding with the club. The rest of his spare time was spent hand fitting parts for the six 1911 pistols.

  It was odd. He’d gained a family, but lost the only woman he’d ever loved. He was pretty sure Judy knew he’d been planning to propose as soon as school ended. Jack hadn’t told Rebecca, but their conversations had danced around the topic often enough that there was no doubt—until the accident.

  The end of summer break came, Jack said his goodbyes and headed back to his little trailer. He had almost two full weeks before the new term started, and he put it to good use by spending it with Mr. Ryan in the coatings shop. They did his pistols, one in a chocolate brown, two in Desert Tan, and the others in basic black. Jack helped with dozens of others. Some were student projects, some were for the instructors, and about half were outside jobs that helped pay for the equipment. Besides the pistols, they did a couple dozen rifles in desert camouflage.

  By the time classes started again, Jack was only thinking about Rebecca occasionally during the day, and the grief was much more bearable.

  19

  A WHOLE NEW LIFE

  After graduation, Jack had the trailer, tools, one rifle, and all but one of the pistols shipped to Henry. He kept one 1911 pistol and one bolt-action rifle with him. He said his goodbyes to the folks at the grocery store and the coffee shop. Alice gave him a small bonus of four pounds of his favorite blend, and a promise to write. Jack gave her Henry’s address and asked her to send a pound of coffee every two weeks and put it on his credit card.

  “Thanks for everything Alice. I’ll call you when I get settled in.”

  “Okay, be safe Jack,” she blinked back a tear and gave him a hug.

  Jack loaded up the bike for the last time and hit the road. Three years of nonstop work left him in need of a break. He spent the next two months’ couch surfing and helping friends with various projects.

  Jack had missed the chance to hang out with Marty and Annie on his way to school, and he’d spent his vacation in Oregon with Rebecca. Annie’s job and family kept them close to home, so this was the first time in almost five years they’d had a chance to get together.

  Annie wasn’t much of a shooter, but Marty was. Even so, they were both excited to try out the guns that Jack had invested so much time in creating. Marty arranged to have a couple of friends meet them at the range. When they arrived Al and Paul were having a competition. They’d set up two racks each holding eight 6-inch steel plates. Jack was impressed by how fast the two men knocked the plates down.

  Jack racked up three sure sales. A possible fourth sale would depend on scaling his existing design up for the bigger .338 Lapua cartridge or buying an existing action. Fortunately, Al Thompson didn’t care if Jack used his own or bought one as long as it was as smooth and accurate as the .308. Jack was stunned, he’d sold three or four guns, and he didn’t even have a business yet.

  He and Marty spent time in Marty’s shop, reloading ammo, melting down lead, casting bullets, and messing about. Marty would spend three or four hours a day working on small how-to books he sold on-line and made a decent living with. The rest of his time was devoted to his network security consulting business.

  Marty did most of the cooking at home. Annie taught cooking at one of the upscale yuppie markets, wrote books on cooking, and was head chef at a very expensive little restaurant. In-between she designed kitchens for a local builder. More cooking at home wasn’t something she looked forward too, except for weekend breakfasts.

  They spent quite a bit of time talking about Jack’s new career and plans for finding a spot out of the city. He was confident that Marty liked the idea. Annie preferred small upscale towns with good bookstores, so he was less sure about her feelings. At least they didn’t think he was off his rocker. To Jack’s surprise, neither seemed surprised at the changes.

 
JACK TOOK US-40 West from Steamboat Springs and turned north to catch I-80 West. He spent a couple days in Reno catching up on laundry and working on the bike. With the oil changed and new tires mounted, Jack continued over Donner Pass and down through Sacramento. From there, he retraced his earlier route to Steve’s place. The three of them went shooting with two of Steve’s racing buddies. Jack ended up with three orders for custom 1911 pistols after Steve, Ashley and their friend Rob shot his school project gun. Jack had even tried to talk them out of it, recommending they save their money and get a Springfield or a Glock.

  “No way dude,” said Steve. “I want an early edition before you get famous, and they get stupid expensive. Besides, we’ve got XDs in 9mm, and I want a .45 because everyone should own one.”

  Rob, it turned out was a hardcore 1911 fan and owned a dozen already. Ashley said she liked the thinner grip and said the bobtail fit her hand better than her XD. Unconvinced by their protests, Jack still appreciated the support for his new business.

  His final stop was to visit with Denny and Judy. He headed east toward I-5 with classical playing on the headphones to help reduce the stress caused by the traffic. He took I-5 north to Chico sticking with the classical playlist, which helped take his mind off the heat and long straight highway.

  After a couple of days in Chico, he headed up CA-32, through Lassen National Park. It was a beautiful twisty mountain road and much cooler than the steaming heat of the San Joaquin Valley. There was little traffic mid-week, and Jack was enjoying the fresh air and the smell of the pines. He’d settled on a soundtrack of ‘70s and ‘80s rock to keep the energy up during the long ride ahead.

  Jack spent a day in the park taking pictures then headed north and east to meet up with CA-139 North, which would take him up past Goose Lake. Jack called Curly Lewis and they met in Adin for lunch. Curly talked him into staying for an extra couple of days, so he could come out to the ranch and see the changes.

  On the road once again, he headed north passing the campground where he’d met Rebecca. It was a good deal more painful than he thought it would be. A year wasn’t long enough to dull the feelings. It still hurt, but it was getting easier to remember those good times. The pain faded a little quicker each time. Less than an hour later he was at the Goose Down Inn. It was a pleasant reunion with Denny and Judy if a bit melancholy.

  Between Denny and the guys in the motorcycle club, Jack had orders for another seven pistols and two rifles. It was a good way to start a business. He had enough work to keep him going for months before he even got his shop opened.

  He suspected a few of the orders were more for the sake of friendship than actual need or desire. Although, shooting a custom 1911 could turn a man’s head about as fast as a beautiful girl. Either way, Jack’s worries about getting his business off the ground had vanished before he’d even opened the doors.

  After two months of visiting friends and exploring, Jack finally pointed the bike north toward Henry’s. The leaves were changing early this year, it was barely mid-October, and the colors were enough to make him want to stop and dig out the camera. He kept moving, knowing he needed to get home and find some place to set up shop. He would stay with Henry and help around the property while he searched for a spot for his new business.

  Henry’s home was east of a little town just north of Omak. Okanogan County was the largest county in the state, with over 5,000 square miles, but fewer than 40,000 people. The county was all hills, valleys, rivers, lakes, and what would pass for mountains in most states. With Canada to the north, and the Cascade Mountains to the west, it was warm and dry in the summers but got a fair amount of snow in the winters.

  Before the environmental crusaders had killed the forestry business, the primary industry was forestry and agriculture. Most of the sawmills had shut down by the mid-’90s, and the growth in the area had all but stopped. Agriculture was still the primary industry, along with tourism.

  During the winter, the area had some of the most beautiful cross-country skiing in the state. The summer brought the Omak Stampede Rodeo, hiking, mountain biking and camping. There were several rivers for rafters, kayakers, and fishermen. The largest city was just over 4,000 people, with most towns being between 250 and 1,500 people. It was exactly what Jack wanted.

  Over the past three years, he’d filled hundreds of pages of notes on the laptop with information, ideas, and plans for setting up his new business and home. This time around, he decided he would build according to his plans rather than buy or rent something.

  The hard part would be finding the right place. Jack needed to be close enough to a city to get equipment, and hopefully customers. But far enough away so that if everything went to hell, he’d be out of the major trouble spots. He knew he could get enough business from Eugene’s old customers to keep him busy for a while but after that, he’d need a bigger market.

  Jack wanted to find a place where Ashley and Steve would feel comfortable. He’d have liked to get Marty and Annie to join them, and Marty had mentioned the possibility of moving. So one of Jack’s criteria in his search was the availability of adjacent properties.

  THE SUN FILTERED through the big cottonwood tree leaving the gravel dappled with light. Gravel crunched under the wheels of his bike as he pulled into Henry’s driveway. It was warm today, and the shade of the big cottonwood was a cool relief as Jack shut the bike down and stretched. He pulled off the gloves, helmet, and jacket and hung them on the handlebars with a sigh. A slight breeze, cooled by the nearby river, was a welcome relief to the last three hours of riding in the heat. Henry ambled out the front door with a couple bottles of homebrew.

  “Jack, nice to see you back.”

  Jack took a long sip from the bottle and smiled. “Henry you are a man of many wonderful and useful talents.”

  Henry chuckled. “Sure and free beer will give that impression to even the most jaded of folk.”

  “Oh, it’s more than just the beer, although that comes pretty high on the list. So what’s new since I’ve been gone?”

  “The bees are in so I’ll be trying my hand at mead in a few weeks,” said Henry with a wistful smile.

  “Excellent. What’s mead? And what does that have to do with bees?”

  “Fermented honey, although some folks also use grain mash like beer. I’m shooting for sparkling, semi-sweet, and light, but we’ll experiment. That’s almost as much fun as the final product.”

  Jack took another long sip. “Hmm, more hops than the last batch I tried, different grain too?”

  “Yep, hard red winter wheat. I’m also just about finished with the still. I think we’ll try our hand at whiskey and maybe rum from sugar beets since they’re so cheap around here. We might end up with a decent rum, but it’ll take a while to figure out.”

  “For a man who doesn’t drink much, you sure have a knack for making the stuff.”

  “It’s the experimentation I really enjoy, but the final product is ideal for the barter economy. I don’t have to worry too much about the feds poking their long noses in if I keep it to the underground economy. So, your stuff showed up right on schedule. Eugene, Nate and I took your rifle to the range a couple weeks ago. You’ll be happy to know you have seven orders waiting for you to get started.”

  “Yikes, I don’t even have a shop yet, and I’ve sold eleven custom rifles and eight custom pistols? Guess I’d better get busy finding a spot.”

  “As a matter of fact, I think I hear Ray coming up the drive. I called him when I saw it was you in the driveway. I believe he has a proposition for you.”

  “Another gun?”

  “Nope, although I wouldn’t rule that out. No, he’s parceled out some of his property. He got a variance from the county for five ten-acre parcels. But I’ll let him tell you the deal.”

  “Have I met Ray?”

  “Yep, just the one time when you came out for the magazine shoot. That’s him now.”

  “Henry,” Ray called in greeting. He was average in size but
looked to be a few years older than Henry, maybe early sixties. He stepped out of the big pickup and moved with a noticeable hitch in his step.

  “Jack, I’m Ray, we met a few years back, you might remember.”

  “I do,” said Jack. “You lent us the old Ferguson tractor for the photographs.”

  “Yessir, that was me. Henry here was telling me you were going to be looking for a small piece of land to build on. I thought we might work a deal if you like the piece that butts up against Henry’s over there.”

  “Wow, seriously, we’d be neighbors?” Jack asked, looking at Henry.

  “Well, might be that we would, depends on you. If you don’t buy it, I will. It’ll give me a buffer between me and whoever Ray finds to buy the other pieces.”

  “Ray, does it go all the way down to the river?”

  “Actually goes across the river about fifty feet or so, right where the river bends. Can’t build on any of that, you need a one-hundred-foot setback from the water. As it stands, that piece is about four hundred feet wide at the road and goes back thirteen hundred and twenty feet. It’s only three hundred feet at the back on the other side of the river. Everything beyond that is mine for the next couple of miles then it’s all state land. Making that one shaped funny like that let me make the rest of them three thirty by thirteen twenty rectangles.”

  “So what kind of deal are you thinking?”

  “Why don’t we take it to the back porch, and I’ll grab a couple more beers,” said Henry

  Ray nodded. “Works.”

  “Look, give me a few to unload the bike and take a shower. Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes?”

  “Oh, sorry Jack, guess I should’a figured you’d be in need of a little rest, but Ray’s heading out of town tomorrow for about a month.”