I was intent in my purpose to be rid of him and had planned to confront him at The Auto Shop, no matter how much I dreaded his response. I couldn’t stand to have him inside my home one more night; he’d become violent after I refused to marry him only weeks after losing my Uncle. It was as if he was a different person; mean, short-tempered and violent.
My parents died in a car accident when I was only nine, so I came to live with my bachelor uncle in northwestern Wyoming. It had been rough at first; I was a scared kid who missed my parents and Uncle Leonard had no idea how to relate to, or raise, a young girl. But as I grew up, we became very close and now, I was lost without him. In the midst of my grief I shut down, and Carter hadn’t been even a little sensitive to my sorrow. He got drunk after I said no to his proposal and became violent. That was the first night he beat me and the night I knew I had to get him out of my life for good.
I was terrified of what his reaction would be, but I couldn’t take one more night of the drunken abuse. I steeled myself against the onslaught of anger that I knew was inevitable.
A lightning storm caused the electricity to short out at the ranch just before I got into my little car and drove the short distance to the family business sitting at the other end of the property. I was determined to tell Carter I wanted to end our relationship, but knew if I told him at the house, he wouldn’t leave and more than likely beat me or hurt my puppy just to spite me.
In the aftermath of delivering the news, he wasn’t taking it well. My heart was pounding inside my chest, thumping with fear. I realized I probably should have waited until he was sober, but I’d been working myself up to it and wanted this chapter of my life closed. My heart felt like it would fly from my chest as I stood in front of the furious man. I could see him about to fly into a rage and turned to leave my uncle’s auto shop before things escalated. I wanted to get home and lock the doors to the house behind me.
“You ungrateful little bitch! Don’t you walk away from me!” he shouted viciously as I dashed to the other side of the building. He stumbled. His eyes were glazed over from alcohol; the half-empty fifth of Jack Daniels sitting on his workbench was no doubt the culprit. “I’m talking to you! You can’t kick me out! I’ll kill you, first! All this should be mine!”
Realization dawned: so that was why he wanted to marry me. It should have occurred to me earlier. I felt sick to my stomach.
Carter charged at me, pushing aside a partially full barrel of waste oil that stood between us and knocking it over. It landed with a loud clang and the thick liquid inside oozed over the cement floor like black blood. He unknowingly walked right through the dirty gunk in his urgent quest to punish me, slipping which made him even angrier. The one thing that Carter was truly adept at was holding his liquor, and terror seized my heart as he charged toward me. He must have had more than usual.
“Just stay away from me, Carter!”
I frantically looked for something to protect myself, but the light was low, and the shop cluttered with a plethora of scrap metal, greasy rags and trash.
My uncle’s automotive shop was a mess and to make matters worse, it was dark inside. The one kerosene lantern that sat on the work bench was the only light in the dim space, except when the lightening flashed outside illuminating the premises for a brief moment at a time.
Since Uncle Leonard died six months ago Carter had let the place go to hell. Gone was the orderly and efficient business it had once been; gone were the five mechanics who used to work for us and the steady stream of customers. Carter was the only worker left because he’d run the others off due to his tyrannical ways. I couldn’t help but think it was all my fault because I hadn’t had the strength to be rid of him sooner.
The shop was now littered with old tires and engine parts, dented bumpers, and other automotive body parts that had been salvaged or discarded. A disassembled motorcycle that was mid-way through an overhaul sat to one side of the garage, and two cars, one with an open hood and another up on blocks, were in various states of repair. Two others were outside the broken-down barn waiting their turn to be serviced. Just a year ago, the lot would be full of repaired vehicles waiting to be picked up, or those about to be repaired.
The locals in Jackson Hole were loyal to my uncle had kept coming after he died because they knew that the shop supported me and the ranch. That alone, accounted for the work that was still in process. The familiar scent of grease and gasoline permeated the air.
The blood rushing madly in my ears was so loud that I could barely hear the thunder booming outside as it rumbled through the northern Rockies; the result of nearby cracks of lightning from the brewing storm.
I lunged away from Carter, narrowly making it out of his grasp as his hand swiped through the air at me. His fingers tangled in my long hair and
