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“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.”