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"That's something," the man looking under the car with him scratched his hairy ring around his head and adjusted his frames on his nose, "…And you say you can replace it in half an hour?"
"Yeah, I can have it done that quickly or you can pick it up later—whatever suits you."
"Should we wait?"
A second man who seemed shorter than the first agreed that this would be best, and with a nod to the bar, they left their keys with Casnar and went to take care of some thirst as promoted by the hot weather. He set to his task, thinking about the rest of the old Ford and moving from his worktable back under the car…It was an old pickup with a cap on its bed, loaded with equipment and the two men riding it together were traveling in from out of state. They were intent for the Divide where the engine would be sucking wind, hauling whatever hell they had in the back, but a Ford with chains on its tires and two rows of seats was meaning for travel through the possible snows that fell and melted in the rocks higher up above Cherry Lake's view…Casnar also knew an opportunity when he saw it.
"I'll swallow the cost of the repair if you do me and my lady a favor," Casnar said, leaning over their booth in the bar, "…You heading anywhere near Nederlinds?"
The mature old pair looked at each other, a couple of spectacles and balding heads.
"We'll be cutting right through it on our way to Aspen," the second man who hadn't spoken to Casnar yet replied, "…You need medicine for her or something, 'cause that's all they have up there with the coffeeshops and knick-knack stores….But there's some useful stuff in that town and the mines are fitted with some hospitable livings….Plus the hospital," he droned on and his friend provided Casnar with his answer.
"Let's say we pay you for a good job that doesn't break down on the way…Having a mechanic in the car while we make up into the grinds could be helpful and opportune," he said, "…And so long as you and your lady don't combine to make over five hundred pounds in addition to what that truck's going to haul, we'll give you a lift into the rough country and drop you off in Nederlinds."
"Deal," and Casnar ran down the street once he'd left the bar and made a mention to Verne he'd be out of the shop for a few days, maybe a week, then inside 89 he found Braith still painting a rather intricate addition to her fresco on the wall and picked her off the floor, grabbed the bottles of moonshine while she went and dressed into clothes meant for the mountains, and followed him with protesting reasons to the shop.
Making the repairs he saw over the Ford in what time he had left and the men gave him, for they hadn't come out of the bar just yet, Casnar checked the fluids, added a tank of gas and set their bags by the lift.
"Why are we going to Nederlinds, Casnar, I told you they probably won't know anything and then how will we get back here?"
"Don't worry about it," he said, relief in him at seeing the old pair appear in the doorframe of the bar and stepping out with squints under the new hats they'd bought from Verne as souvenirs, "…There's a trainline in Nederlinds that connects to Denver….I think it's likely been repaired since the Great War and we can take it to the city, convince someone to drive us back here to visit a family member."
"You're not convincing me with a firm solution to the problem…This really sounds like a what if scenario, Casnar."
"It's the least you can do for me, Braith, after watching you all these years," he grabbed her arm and led her out to meet the men, "…I want you to be healthy, I want to see you better, and I know we can do this."
She fell quiet and forced on a smile as she met the men—Ronald and Willy Birkenstock…brothers from Memphis, Tennessee.
