Her eager look said it all. Before Winter knew what was happening, she found herself upstairs in her room getting changed into warmer clothes and a pair of boots that Viper had told her to grab from a pile in the closet. Going back down the steps carefully, she noticed that several other members had decided to tag along.
Viper was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps. When she walked to his side, he took her cane from her hand and leaned it against the bottom of the steps. Sweeping her up into his arms, he turned and went through the door that Razer was holding open with a grinning Beth by his side.
The club parking lot was filled with motorcycles; Winter wondered which one was Viper’s. Her question was quickly answered as he strode to an oversized monster on two wheels. Placing her on her feet by the bike, he left her to find a spare helmet.
“Be back in a second.” As she stood waiting, the other members stopped and stared at Viper’s bike. None said a word, but Winter could tell from their expressions that something was unusual about his bike to draw so much attention. When Viper reappeared from the factory, even Winter could see the flush on his cheeks in the dark.
“What happened to your old bike? You loved that machine; you wouldn’t even let me touch it. I know you said it needed some work so you’ve borrowed my extra. Let me take a look at it, maybe I can do something with it.” Rider said, looking at Viper’s new bike with an expression of a mixture of repugnance and disgust.
“There is no fixing it, the engine is gone. I needed a new one anyway. It was breaking down all the time,” he shrugged, helping Winter carefully onto the bike.
“It’s a weekender’s bike,” Train said with revulsion.
Viper threw him a hard glare and the bikers scrambled to their own rides.
“Put on your helmet,” Viper ordered.
Winter hesitated. “What’s a weekender’s bike?” Looking at the other bikes, she realized that none of the other bikes had a seat on the back like Viper’s. It actually looked like a small leather chair. She put on her helmet, trying to keep the tears at bay. He obviously had one installed with her in mind. The motorcycle was comfortable for her to sit on. Winter leaned forward, holding Viper around the waist as he started the engine and pulled out in the lead. She glanced sideways to see Cash with Evie at his back, who was giving her a thumbs up.
Winter couldn’t help but enjoy the moonlight run through the mountains. It was a thing of beauty, seeing the light of the town down below and the stars above. With the wind blowing, it almost seemed as if you were flying through the sky. Viper was obviously an experienced rider, taking the twist and turns of the road as if it was second nature. Winter didn’t want the ride to end and was unhappy when Viper made a signal to Cash, expecting them to turn back to the clubhouse. They continued on for another mile before their speed changed, slowly turning into a large empty lot surrounded by huge trees.
The bikers all got off their bikes. A few of them pulled blankets from the bags off their bikes and started to lay them on the ground. Cash went to a huge fire-pit built out of bricks. Removing a tarp covering the middle, he pulled a lighter from his pocket and within a few minutes a fire was steadily building strength.
As the fire built in strength, something triggered and her memory finally kicked in. “This is Cash’s homestead, isn’t it?”
Cash, who was nearby, heard her. “You recognize it?”
“Everyone who drinks in Treepoint would recognize this spot.” Winter turned to face Cash who was standing with his arm around Evie. “When I was a little girl, my dad liked to take a drink every now and then.” Everyone listened as Winter talked. Cash had never revealed much of himself to the other members and listening to someone that was associated with him before he became a member of The Last Riders gave them a revealing insight into their friend.
“Do you mind?” Winter questioned, before continuing the story.
“No.” Cash gave her a twisted smile as she recalled the memories of the place where they were standing.
“This would have been where your grandmother’s house was and I’m betting that’s her original fireplace.”
Cash’s nod confirmed her suspicions.
“Anyway, as I was saying, my father liked to drink, but Treepoint was dry during that time. Cash’s grandmother was our local liquor store. A car would pull in front of her house and blow their horn, once for beer, two for whiskey, and so on. Cash would always bring it outside in a brown bag. The whole transaction took about a minute. Your grandmother had it down to a fine art.” Winter said with true respect. Cash’s grandmother had been a respected woman in town, despite her bootlegging business. When the town finally went wet, she retired to a home closer to town. Winter had not seen her for the last couple of years; she had suffered a stroke becoming paralyzed.
“How is your grandmother?” she asked.
“Feisty and mean as ever.”
“I was sorry to hear about her stroke.”