Bronco (EEMC #1) - Bijou Hunter Page 0,44

that way before your heart attack when you lived away from Shasta. Now you need to train yourself to think different. If you come crashing down, just remember how other people will help you back up.”

Smiling, I study Ramona. “You know you probably saved Max by accepting her into your life. She was so lonely. If she lost Eamon without having the Band, I don’t know if she would have ever gotten better.”

Ramona shares my smile. “There are people that just belong in your life. You feel it on a primal level. I felt that with Max, Kelsi, and Hugh. I felt it again with Shane. Now I have all these people in my life that love me for me and will lift me up. It was scary to let so many close, but now I feel safer, you know? The world isn’t so scary or dark. I hope you can feel that way too. No matter what happens with Bronco, the world doesn’t have to crush you.”

Though never a natural hugger, I’m learning to pick up on signals from people. I sense Ramona could use reassurance. She’s opened up to me about something painful. We’re friends but not super close. She risked her mood to help me, and I want her to know something that can’t be conveyed by words.

Of course, even as I wrap my arms around Ramona, there’s a part of me that believes I’m invading her space. I always feel as if people might be put out by affection. I should just mind my own business.

But I’m learning that I don’t have to be afraid. While I don’t know what will happen with Bronco, I do feel reenergized about visiting him again. If Ramona can face her demons, I can face mine too.

PART 4: ELKO SECOND CHANCE

BRONCO

Conor meets me at a Bojangles on Pike Road, where the inner part of town meets the rural roads leading to farms, woods, and the Village. I spot his dad’s Harley in the parking lot when I arrive, and the past returns to me. Wheels in his prime was a bear of a man, willing to die to protect the Executioners. Barbie and his boy were the other side of the Executioners’ coin. All his love and worth came from what we built in this town.

Now he’s gone, and his grown son rides his hog. I’m struck by the number of years since Wheels died. Time never seems to move too fast in the moment, but then I realize how much of it is gone.

Shaking off my sense of nostalgia, I enter the restaurant and order a Coke. Conor sits in a corner booth with his long legs resting along the seat and his feet sticking out. I slide in across from him and sip my soda.

“What’s up?” I ask my nephew.

He puts down his phone and levels his dark green eyes at me. I’m struck again by how much he looks like Wheels. The older Conor gets, the more I feel as if I’m seeing my long-gone friend.

“The Village is getting into the weed business.”

“They’ve always used it.”

“Now they’re moving the product. I caught one of their hippie girls on the road, selling a bag to a high school kid.”

“You say anything?”

“Not to her. I chased the kid and explained how I had his driver’s license and would hunt him down if he ever bought from anyone else in Elko. The little bitch nearly pissed himself.”

Conor and I share a smile. “How much are they charging?”

“Thirty for a dime.”

“Inflation, huh?”

“The last time we sent someone out to the Village to check out their setup, they weren’t growing much pot. Mostly corn and other shit to feed their people.”

The Village is a self-contained commune. A cult called the Volkshalberd has lived there since before I was born. I grew up thinking they were a bunch of hippies living off the grid. I’d see them walking in groups, many without shoes with every man, woman, and child sporting braids. The locals treated them in the same way as when the Amish made an appearance. Just a weird little group of people living their weird little lives. Harmless really.

I know different now. As a grown man, I’ve noticed the poverty and abuse I hadn’t spotted as a kid. The children aren’t well-fed, don’t attend school, and scream when spoken to by outsiders. The Village is a shithole, and the Volkshalberd are idiots spreading their stupidity and abuse from one generation to the

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