Two hours later, just minutes from their destination, the right front tire blew, pulling the pickup off the road. Johnny lost the battle with the steering wheel, and with sheets of snow flying, the Ford came to a sudden stop on the dense snow filling the ditch.
Jason looked across, laughing as Johnny turned on the windshield wipers, clearing the snow that had blown up from the bumper. Johnny joined him. “And we were so close!”
“Yeah, and what’s Pete always saying about not putting good tires on the shop trucks!” Jason, relaxed by the slow ride for the last few hours, reached behind the seat for his high boots and pulled them on.
“No problem, we’re almost there. Let’s pull your sled off, and I’ll go get us some help.”
Johnny nodded and reached back for his snow pants. He mentally ordered a new set of winter tires. Pete knew what he was talking about.
Johnny watched the tail-light of his snow machine as Jason headed up the road, then reached in the pickup box for the snow shovel he had tossed in for an occasion such as this.
He then spent fifteen sweaty minutes clearing the snow away from the front of the Ford, peeling off layers until he was working in his T-shirt, steam rising from his wet clothes. The snow had lightened, and then stopped falling altogether, and Johnny could see stars in one corner of the sky. Good news for tomorrow.
When Jason returned, he was in a lifted 4x4 with a snowmobile deck on the back. He introduced Johnny to his brother, who said little, tossing a tow-rope toward the Ford before turning his vehicle around to hook up to the hefty drop hitch. The rope stretched, loaded up, and the Ford popped out onto the road.
Jason’s brother backed his pickup close to the Ford and Jason came around and held a flashlight. The tire change was a quick one as Jerry was equipped with an impact driver and a good jack, and kept them laughing with a few quiet jokes.
Chapter 43
There were clumps of vehicles and trailers parked around the perimeter of a large area cleared of snow, and Johnny followed and parked near an ancient camper trailer. A fire was blazing in a metal fire ring and several people were sitting around it on lawn chairs. Several old snowmobiles were parked nearby, one missing a windshield, another’s seat so torn the damage was visible through a blanket of snow.
Johnny pulled on his sweatshirt and jacket and joined the group at the fire. More introductions followed, and Johnny soon felt comfortable with Jason’s brothers Jerry and Max, and their father Bill. Jason’s brothers pelted him with good-natured abuse, telling stories that had the “baby of the family” laughing helplessly and dealing out some effective punches to his older brothers.
Johnny was wet and a little cold from shoveling in the deep snow, and Jerry invited him to change clothes in the trailer. There was a bare mattress at each end, and Johnny guessed the table made into another bed. He didn’t plan to stay overnight there, as it looked pretty crowded.
Although it was long past suppertime, sausage was soon roasting over the fire. They loaded soft rolls with sauerkraut, onions and mustard, and when the skin started popping on the steaming bratwurst, grease hissing on the coals, they wolfed down tasty sandwiches.
When they were finished eating, Jason’s dad poured each a shot of cinnamon whiskey.
“Well, Jason, it looks like you’re on camera tomorrow.” The gray-haired man grinned, raising his drink. “To the Drone on the drone!”
Jason’s face fell while his brothers cheered and held their plastic cups for another round.
“Ah, come on, you guys! I haven’t even ridden this winter! Give me a break! Run your own cameras!” He accepted a refill, shaking his head sadly at Johnny.
“Now you see why I live up in Vanderhoof. Nothing but abuse from these guys, and even my own father.” He looked woefully at his dad. “Even my own father picks on me.”
They all laughed, but Johnny was confused.
“I don’t know what the heck you all are talking about. What’s this about a drone?” He looked at the group. “Are you photographers?”
All eyes turned to Jason, who shrugged. Shaking his head, Bill laughed. “Let’s go watch some video. Let’s show Johnny what we do.”
Johnny turned toward the small trailer, but Jason motioned for him to follow. They walked past the decrepit little trailer into the dark. Johnny had assumed the little trailer near the fire was Jason’s family’s camp. He was mistaken.
Bill led the way to a gigantic triple-axle fifth-wheel trailer and opening the door, flipped on the light. Johnny’s mouth dropped open as the four guys went up the steps into the warm interior of a luxurious motorhome.
They left their boots on the welcome mat inside the door and looked back at Johnny.
“Come on in, dude!” Jason said. “You’re letting the warm air out! Where are you sleeping, Dad?” Jason tossed his bag up on a bunk above the kitchen. Johnny just stood and gaped, turning this way and that. He had seen big toy-haulers before, but never from the inside. This one had slide-outs on each side, making the living area at least fourteen feet wide. The furniture was leather, the appliances shiny.
Without thinking, he blurted out a few expressive words. Johnny stopped himself, cursing was not as much a part of his life anymore. He reverted to one of Isaac’s favorite expressions, earning a laugh from Jason.
Bill showed Johnny his bunk, and then they joined the three young men who were looking at a drone at the table.
“Sweet! This is really cool, guys!” Jason was grinning. “You could have told me you got the new one.” Jason switched the machine on, and Johnny stepped back quickly as the apprentice picked up the controller and with confident movements, lifted the machine off the table and swivelled it around in its own axis.
“What the heck?” They all looked at Johnny, whose eyes were still wide, uncharacteristic for the big man. “I thought you couldn’t fly those inside?”
“You can’t, or shouldn’t, unless you are Jason.” Max grinned. “The kid here’s pretty much the best there is.” Rising from the table, he slapped Johnny on the shoulder. “Come to the garage and see the way we haul this baby.”
They crowded down a short hallway, and Bill led them into a heated garage where four gleaming snowmobiles were parked.
Johnny turned to Jason. “What the heck, man, I didn’t know you were a sledder. I thought you were driving your dad’s old machine, you said…” He stopped talking, looking at the men who were all smiling at him.
“Wow, Jason, Mom always said you were better than me at communicating.” Jerry shoved his brother. “Looks like she was wrong about that.”
Johnny started moving around the machines. “These are all brand new!” He stopped. “This one hasn’t even been released yet… who are you guys?”
They enjoyed his confusion, but Max explained.
“Dad used to race years ago, then got us into it when we were little. We liked it so much we all started sledding. Then we got hooked on the mountains, hill-climbing, making our own videos, ya know. Then, well,” he paused modestly, “then we got sponsored, and then, well here we are.”
Johnny shook his head. “And here I thought Jason was going to be riding an old piece of junk. I thought I would have to babysit him in the hills.”
Jason interrupted. “Ha! You saw the old sleds by Jerry’s crappy trailer… oh, that’s funny!” He looked at his dad and brothers. “Why are the oldies out here, are we doing something crazy?”
He gauged their grins and turned to Johnny. “Dude, you’d better get some sleep, tomorrow’s gonna be a lot of fun!”
Warm from a hot shower, Johnny stretched out in a comfortable bed, unable to stop grinning. What a jackass he had been. His uncles had always said, “Never assume,” and he wished he could share this situation with them. They would have enjoyed the humor of it very much indeed. He shifted in the bed - the mattress was long enough for him; never before had he slept comfortably in a camper. He thought of the mouse-chewed foamy on the cold cabin floor where he had planned to stay the n
ight, and grinned ruefully in the darkness, the white noise from the furnace fan a welcome companion. His last conscious thoughts before falling asleep were worried. These guys were sponsored riders, what if he couldn’t keep up?
As the noisy group of sleds neared the riding area Sunday morning, Johnny’s fears proved to be true; he couldn’t keep up with Jason and his family. These guys were ridiculous, confident and daring, never seeming to miss a trick and there was a lot of trick riding going on. Johnny’s five-year-old Ski-Doo, with its custom sticker, was christened by Jerry the “Kitty-Doo-doo” and was no match for the special-order machines, tuned from the factory for professional riding. He spent much of the day parked, watching Jason set up shots while barking orders into his microphone, his brothers and father respecting his direction.
Johnny listened to the professionals’ instructions through his newly installed headset. A few hours later Jason wedged his snowmobile firmly into a sidehill and directed Johnny through his intercom, filming some flattering footage, the zoom lens making Johnny more skilled than he was. As they wolfed down protein bars and energy drinks at around one o’clock, Johnny realized how tired he was and how much energy these guys were expending. Bill, who had to be in his fifties, showed no signs of slowing.
During the quick lunch there was more good-natured teasing about the sticker on Johnny’s windshield and some bawdy names suggested for the video clip Jason promised to edit for Johnny. Johnny just grinned. These guys were the real deal. He had even watched some of their previous video releases without knowing who they were.
The topic turned to the plans for Monday, which involved towing the vintage machines high up into the hills, where they would try to stage some never-before-seen footage of forty-year-old machines doing what the engineers who built them would have never dreamed possible. Bill didn’t seem sure the plan would work but was willing to help the younger guys try. He was chosen as the star rider, for, as Max quipped, “his gray beard would provide the crusty, vintage look we’re going for, and there’s no way I’m wearing that scabby seventies helmet.”
At three o’clock, Jason said it was time to go, and they raced back to the vehicles, Johnny far behind even Jason, who was slowed by the expensive drone and other equipment mounted on the extended tunnel behind his seat. Back at camp, they annihilated several pans of lasagna, commenting constantly while they watched Jason edit some of the footage.
At 5:15pm, Jason stood up and said he and Johnny had to leave. Johnny felt like a little kid. He just wanted to keep watching the tape, enjoying the arguing and brotherly criticism that Jason ignored as he worked on a laptop connected to a wall-mounted screen.
The trip home on well-sanded roads went quickly, with Jason continuing to work over his laptop, absorbed in his work, occasionally leaning over to take the wheel so Johnny could watch a short clip.
Jason drove an hour, and Johnny took the time to check his messages and respond to several questions. Even though she was out of town, Mary was making the time to coordinate the Banks Mountain schedules for the coming week. He sent her a few still shots of himself from the day’s ride, and she texted back some ego-friendly responses.
As he checked the horses and fed the cat in the dark while the house warmed, wood stove glowing in the basement, Johnny evaluated his trip. He had only been gone thirty hours. He found himself grinning – had he ever misjudged Jason! He was also glad he had kept his mouth shut and not made any patronizing comments on the trip down.
The weekend was over, like the closing of a door; hours of activity and travel and then suddenly sitting alone in a quiet house. It was empty without Mary. Johnny chuckled, breaking his momentary melancholy. What a great weekend, and Mary would be home soon.
Chapter 44
Joseph was near his breaking point. He was a social person and had completely cut himself off from friends and the business associates with whom he had enjoyed spending time. The hours alone in the room and proximity to his dead brother’s family were making him crazy. They were ruining his mind, he could tell. He couldn’t stay locked up anymore, even if it was self-imposed.
After the first hockey game he had attended several more, once even using his “Joseph” identification. Nothing happened. He had skillfully stalked the social media sites of his recent employer in Alberta, as well as anyone else he had connections to, and may have missed him or been contacted by the RCMP. Nothing. There were no comments, no search bulletins, nothing that he could find. The only thing out there was a description and names of his two associates, and he knew for a fact they would remain missing for several more months and wouldn’t be talking then.
He quit studying French and spent more time out at night, choosing to sleep when the family was home. He was leery of returning to the West and enjoyed the city life as much as possible under the circumstances, but he wanted to get back in the action and had information that would provide the leverage to do so. He knew names, supply routes, and some of the methods used to transport the goods; how could they refuse him? Above all, he knew the plan, and had money in the game.
It was a bitter winter in Toronto, and Joseph, the name he was using again mentally, decided to find a warm place to hole up for a while. He had enough money to live comfortably for several years without working and began searching for somewhere warm. Somewhere to enjoy life as he devised his plan to ease back into the game. A place with sun and warm beaches would be a much better place to hide out, Joseph thought. How could Canadians stand this ridiculous cold? He chose to use a series of flights, and would purchase the tickets – first class, of course – from separate vendors.
A week later, in an office several thousand kilometers west, a man’s solemn face split into an uncharacteristic grin. He typed a quick message. “It’s working, the suspect is on the move.” A man even further west opened the message, broad smile lighting the room. He leaped from his desk with a fervent exclamation, “Got you now, sucker!” Causing several coworkers to jump, wondering who had payback coming.
Johnny was driving north on the Francis, on the way to retrieve one of the D-6 dozers for use in another location. Several days of warm weather had not been kind to the road surface, and his empty trailer was skittering on the rutted, slippery surface, each corner a challenge.
Johnny was casually enjoying the challenge of keeping the trailer on the road. Driving the old Peterbilt brought back memories of a previous time.
The week hadn’t been the best on the home front. When Mary returned from Edmonton several weeks ago, it wasn’t the happy reunion Johnny had expected. First of all, after Sunday evening she had not answered his texts. This had been surprising, as had the message from his insurance company regarding an incident with the Silverado registered in his name.
He’d been wise enough not to call or text Mary immediately but took time to think about how to approach her. On one hand he was worried about the pickup, but he was much more concerned about his wife. He wanted to preserve their new-found happiness, not accidentally starting something negative with hasty words.
He was used to waiting, though in the past it often ended with a resentful tirade. Things didn’t get any better when a guy from the tire shop flagged him down in the parking lot of a fast food restaurant.
“Too bad about your truck, man! I saw the pictures on Facebook. Wow, you must be hot! If my ol’ lady did that…”
Johnny had been calm but this was too much. He was upset Mary hadn’t called him and embarrassed to get the information second hand. He sent an angry text, and when there was no response, another.
His angry messages glared back at him from the screen, and with a sense of dread he realized he’d made the terrible mistake he wanted so badly to avoid.
When she had pulled in the yard late that Monday night, he waited until she came into the house. She was hot and defensive, keyed up to counterattack the anger she expected.
When she made eye contact, he was grinning nervously. “Want to see a cool video of your husband
in the mountains?”
His timing was wrong.
He guessed she had appreciated not being questioned about the truck. But it was clear she wasn’t yet ready for peace; the many years of conflict and uncertainty were not yet far enough behind them.
He rounded another corner, wide low-bed swinging, snow flying as the low tail carved a trough through the snowbank. He downshifted as he began to lose speed on the hill.
“Why would I want to watch a clip of you playing in the mountains?” Johnny had waited, not sure what to say. “You are just so wrapped up in your own things!”
This hadn’t been right; he was trying to deflect the conversation away from his anger. He had tried once more, “Mary, I’m sorry about my texts.”
What followed made Johnny think of pouring gasoline directly on a fire. After a few minutes, Johnny had simply walked over and held her. She had cried then, calming slowly.
In the past Johnny would have walked out, allowing time – or whatever – to make things better. This was more difficult by far.
“Well, I guess we should go see the truck.” Her words had startled him, he hadn’t known what to expect.
“Truck, what truck?” His unexpected reply caused her to laugh nervously against her will. She had taken him out to the truck and walking around the rear he was shocked at the amount of damage. The passenger side of the box was mangled, the large rear tire had been replaced with the smaller factory spare, causing the truck to list toward the ditch. The passenger door was badly dented, and the half-door to the rear seat was torn, duct tape patching the gaping opening. The mirror was gone, and the back half of the front fender flare had been cut off. The running board was broken, hanging dangerously. He had been surprised she had been able to drive the truck home while pulling a trailer, without being detained by highway patrol.
Always a Brother Page 22