CHAPTER
ONE
Quinn
I stand up and stretch my back.
I’ve been bent over this tillage attachment on a chisel plow for the better part of an hour, welding new tines into place to replace the broken ones. It’s a tedious job, but one I love, even if the hours are long. Planting season is right around the corner, which means I’m busier than an ant at a picnic. Now is the time farmers are checking over their equipment and making necessary fixes.
Of course, that doesn’t mean shit won’t hit the fan in the middle of planting or harvest. As much as you prepare, things still break. That’s why spring and fall are as hectic as they are for me. I’m the only mobile welder in the area, so my phone rings nonstop.
Ever since I was a young boy, I knew I wanted to find a job where I could use my hands. I’ve always loved building things—building blocks, Lego, whatever I could get my hands on—so when I enrolled in the welding program through the local career center in high school, I knew I had found my calling. I soaked up everything I could on the trade and took every course offered.By the time I was done, I was certified at high school graduation and joining the workforce at the age of eighteen.
I started at a local factory, welding lockers and other metalworks, but I had a hard time adjusting to second and third shifts. I moved to an auto repair shop with daytime hours, welding and fabricating vehicle rebuilds, but the owner had a hard time keeping me busy. So, when I met an older gentleman farmer, who specialized on welding farm machinery, I was all ears. He was looking to retire and wanted to be able to refer his clients to someone.
The initial investment was steep. I took out a business loan I thought I’d never be able to repay, but as word spread and my abilities in the craft grew, I watched that business increase. And increase some more. Now, I work from sunup to sundown, and sometimes that’s not enough.
But I love it and wouldn’t change it for the world.
By the time all the tines are replaced, I’m sweating like a dog. Even though it’s only mid-April, it’s already unseasonably warm. I pray this isn’t a look at what the summer and fall are going to be like. Usually, April is on the wet side, but we haven’t seen the amount of rain we usually see by this point in the season.
When I get everything complete, I take my tools back to my work truck. I found a gently used Chevy 3500HD truck with a service bed, and besides my welder, it’s one of the main keys to my business. It keeps me mobile and has enough box storage space to haul what I need.
“How’d it go?” Ernie asks, joining me at my truck as I finish loading my welder.
“Good. Got ya all fixed up,” I tell him.
“I knew you would,” he replies, leaning on the side of my truck and propping his foot on the tire. “How much do I owe ya?”
“Right at the estimate,” I tell him. “I’ll send you a bill.”
He nods. “Perfect. I’ll have the missus watch for it and get you paid.”
“Appreciate it,” I reply, closing the bed.
“Off to another job?”
“Actually, I’m all done for the night,” I tell him, a little anxious to get home and relax.
“Good deal. No reason to work yourself into an early grave. You gotta lot of life left to live.”
I flash him a smile. “That I do.”
He taps the side of my truck. “Well, I won’t keep ya. Thanks for helping me out, Quinn.”
“You’re welcome, Ernie. Let me know if you have any issues with those tines,” I insist.
“I’m sure I won’t, but if I do, I’ll call ya,” he replies, stepping back so I can get to the driver’s door. Before I get inside, he adds, “Damn glad to have you continuing on Martin’s business. I’m not sure what we’d do if we didn’t have someone who could come out to the farm and help us out.”
“Happy to help,” I reply, sliding into the driver’s seat. “This sure as heck beats working in a factory for eight hours a day.”
He chuckles and nods. “Nothing better than working with your hands, right?” He turns and looks out at the vast flat land he farms. “I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
“I hear ya,” I reply, turning over the ignition.
“Thanks, Quinn,” he states, stepping back and heading for his equipment shed.
I roll down the window and head for the road, thankful to be done for the day. My back is killing me, as it does often when I spend hours bending over to work. As I approach the city limits, my phone rings. My oldest friend’s name pops up on the screen, much to my relief. Not that I would have turned down a customer, but I’m really looking forward to a little downtime.
