Metal Peace, Taz & Kodak, book 3

Taz  &  Kodak III

Metal Peace

Editor: Jerry

For David

Thanks Tracy for helping to make this story come to life.

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Prologue:

Taz is back to work on the mesa. He’s accustomed to a Spartan life, leaving the jungles of Vietnam before settling in Montana. He mends fences, herds cows, and lives in a cabin with Kodak, his trusted companion. They like a life where they depend on themselves and each other to survive.

Little does Taz know that he has been targeted by Sam Jones, head of the White Brotherhood, Taz helped bring down. Using skills he honed in Vietnam, he stops an attempted jailbreak, leading to the arrest of most of the members of the White Brotherhood.

Out of reach, Sam Jones is determined to strike back at Taz and Gen. Walker, men Jones holds responsible for dislodging him from Montana. He employs an army sniper to right the wrong done him and his movement.

Gen. Walker and the man he enlists for assistance must stop the would be assassin before he can do more damage.

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Chapter 1

Echoes

Gen. Walker’s house was a treat for Taz & Kodak. Living up on the mesa in a cabin without electricity or running water isn’t an easy life. Taz loves it. Kodak doesn’t mind so much that he wanted to leave it or Taz. He overlooks the shortcomings and enjoys the natural world so close outside the front door.

Even though they love the peaceful mesa living, visiting the general’s and Kathreen’s is a treat they look forward to days in advance. It’s there they are treated special and fed until they can’t eat any more, and then they get food to take home with them.

Kathleen most often sent the invitation to a meal or a gathering that Taz & Kodak were always more than welcome to attend. The latest invitation came through Rowdy and was from the general. Any time Taz & Kodak rode Cyclone and Milkweed off the mesa, they were already thinking about the fine fresh foods Kathleen prepared because she knew what they liked best and got least often. When the general called for them to come down, it meant there was something important to be discussed.

From time to time there was a gathering, barbeque, or picnic behind the house, where all the cowboys met to celebrate the good life the ranch provided them. The cold stormy winter meant heavy coats and discomfort, and so the coming of spring was a perfect time to have the first gathering of the new year. Until the tied the horses up behind the house, they wouldn’t know what kind of deal it was.

It had been over four months since the last get together and long past was the conflict with the rustlers, the white supremacists, and the courthouse shootout that had everyone’s attention, until the general orchestrated the outlaw’s last stand.

On this early April evening, there was no indication of what the general had in mind, and Taz & Kodak knew better than to try to get ahead of him. They were grateful anytime they were invited to dinner with two people they considered to be good company.

The general had a mind of his own. Few things got past him for long and he never forgot anything, especially when it concerned the health or wellbeing of one of his men. He didn’t always know what to do, but in time, he was sure to do something. This meeting was about that. It also involved dinner with two men the Walkers enjoyed entertaining.

There were only the four of them at the dinner table. It was the usual feast of fresh vegetable dishes along with the beef in which the general took so much pride. He took good care of his cattle. They lived free and grazed on grass most of the year. It wasn’t about profit, although the ranch supported itself with ease. It was Kathleen who long ago developed a plan to keep the ranch well within the profit margin necessary to maintain it.

The mixture of cattle and cowboys, who recently had been at war, was a good one. Once a man saw the brutality and senselessness of such conflicts, he was often more gentle and caring of animals. It was Gen. Walker’s father who first brought soldiers home to the ranch to work.

Gen. Walker grew up among these kinds of men, who taught him what it meant to be a man. The soldiers he felt closest to and respected most, he invited to Montana. Gen. Walker was comfortable with them and they with him. When it came to trust, there was no one he trusted more, except for Kathleen, the woman he loved, and not incidentally, the woman who ran the ranch very nicely, thank you very much, while he was away at war.

When he decided it was time for him to retire, he wasn’t sure he could, but he was happy once he did. There were days when he felt like he was missing something. These weren’t feelings that could last long. There was a ranch to run. The conflict of the previous year did allow him to play general again.

Kathleen was there to remind him of how much he had to do each day if he wanted to keep the ranch running smoothly. On these days he wondered how his wife had managed without him all those years he was away at war.

The general kept a few prime head each year to butcher and serve at his table. It was the beef Taz & Kodak found in front of them at the special dinner. Kodak joined Kathleen, having a glass of her blackberry wine with Kathleen. It was their favorite before meal drink. Gen. Walker drank his 30 year old bourbon and Taz drank the sun tea Kathleen set out late in the morning to get the best result from the Montana sun.

“Come on back to my office,” Gen. Walker said, once dinner dishes had begun to be cleared.

The general and Taz puffed on the long rich tasting cigars, reputed to be Cuban, but no one had any proof where they might have come from.

Rumor had it that during a visit to the White House, while then President Kennedy was contemplating the sending of more advisors to Vietnam, JFK provided the two star general with his first Cuban cigar after dinner. It was also rumored that JFK was so pleased with Gen. Walker’s forthright advice, he explained how he got the embargoed cigars, so the general could have a supply in the Asian Theater where JFK sent him.

While it may or may not have been true, Gen. Walker knew how to get the cigars through third party countries, where the general had served and maintained relationships. No one had the audacity to search a general’s luggage on his return to the States on R and R or upon his retirement. Even if he had cigars, who was going to question him on what kind they were.

No matter the source of the cigars or how the general came to have them in his possession, they were a good way to complete a meal in his mind.

“Mighty fine meal, General,” Taz said loud enough for Kathleen to know he was talking to her.

Kodak stopped helping Kathleen clear the table to join Taz in the general’s office. It was never for certain what the general might have on his mind, but it wasn’t unusual for Kodak to come into the office with Taz. Since Kodak’s return from his ordeal, after his plane crashed in the Pacific, Taz and Kodak were rarely separated.

“I’ve spent some time getting the right dates and the right records concerning your request, Taz. You know I worry about this soldier being directly connected to the breakdown you suffered. I might have simply said I wasn’t able to find out his identity. The thought did occur to me. The thought also occurred to me that you deserve the truth, and I’ve always given you that.

“We’ve never talked about the details of the day you went off the rails but I do know more now, because there were several reports filed at the hospital about your presence at the young man’s bedside when he died.”

“You did find out his full name and where he was from,” Taz interrupted, not wanting to drag it out any longer.

“Charles Drew Taylor from Coeur d’Alene, Idaho, age nineteen. He died the day the congressional reception was to be held in your honor. That was the day you stood up the Congress of the United States, and much more importantly, their wives. It was the day your career as a military man ended. I never had the details, until I received the information on this young soldier. Now it’s all clear. Many times it’s best not to delve too deeply into someone’s demons.

“I did ask Kendall about where he took you and what happened that set you off that day, but he was more interested in protecting you than pleasing his commanding general. He told me where he took you, which he dutifully recorded in his driver’s log, without telling me any more than what he figured I already knew. I don’t know anyone else Kendall would cover for if I asked him for the details.

“Putting this together with what I already knew, I have a clearer picture of how the wheels came off your wagon.

“That’s how I knew I needed to let you finish what you started that day. You’re on a journey I can’t possibly understand, Taz. What I’ve written on this paper will take you where you think you want to go. I don’t know if you’ll find what you’re looking for, but I’ve done all I can to assist you in your search.

“Before you make plans to leave the mesa, I want you to know there are no conditions to your return. You take as much time as you like. You satisfy whatever itch you need to scratch. Return when you’re ready. You’ve earned that, Taz, and I want you to know that I depend on you in a way I don’t depend on many men. Just keep that in mind and hopefully you’ll make your absence a short one.

“The mesa is yours until you want to give it up. I’ll put no one up there where you and Kodak live. I can have another cabin built in a day if the need arises. You won’t be crowded in any sense of the word. Go do what you need to do and come home when you’re ready to come home, but remember, this is your home as long as you want it.”

“Thank you, General,” Taz said, taking the piece of paper off the table. “We’ll need to acquire a vehicle and make some plans. I won’t leave until you move the cattle back off the mesa. Got to keep those fences repaired. There’s no hurry after two years.”

“Vehicles aren’t a problem. I’ll have one of the jeeps cleaned up and put in good working order. Idaho is just a little way over the hill from here. Hardly a day’s drive.”

“I hear that’s pretty country,” Kodak said. “I’ll have to get some extra film. Let you see where we went,” Kodak said to reassure the general about their return.

“Kodak, I’ve put a bag of coconuts on the back porch. Don’t forget them. I have some bananas and fresh fruit in a canvas bag on top of some canned goods I picked up for you boys this morning,” Kathleen said, sticking her head inside the door to speak.

“Thanks, Kathleen, Tazerski loves you,” Kodak said.

“When are you going to bring the young fellow down again? I haven’t seen him in an age.”

“Next time we come down. He’s getting a little more comfortable about coming to the house. It took him a little time to adjust to the cowboy way.”

“I’m sure,” Kathleen said. “He still ride Milkweed?”

“He does. I try to discourage it except when the horses are in the corral. No telling where he’d go if he got a chance to ride off into the sunset.”

“A monkey on a horse. I’ve heard it all now,” the general said, shaking his head.

*****

It was dark by the time Taz & Kodak reached the cabin on the mesa. Tazerski was sitting in Taz’s rocking chair on the front porch. Kodak let Milkweed move up beside the porch so the monkey could ride over to the corral, where the horses would stay overnight. It was April on the mesa and the nights were pleasantly cool with the fresh night air being comforting after the evening ride.

Kodak set out an open coconut for Tazerski to have for a treat, when he came in from being with the horses. He put a banana on the table for when he came inside, but when after the horses were gone a while, Tazerski liked being out with them, until he tired. It was a big change from when Tazerski wasn’t comfortable being away from Kodak for any length of time.

For a monkey he’d adjusted rather well to the high plains of Montana. He’d adjusted to the times Taz & Kodak rode away from the cabin without him, but he liked it better when they took him down to the house to see the man and woman who treated him so special.

“You going to finish the addition before we go to Idaho?” Kodak asked.

“Window frames are still on back order. I don’t have the roof on yet. Probably, but don’t call it a promise. I didn’t think it would take so long.”

“I want to order the bed. That will take some time.”

“The ‘queen sized’ bed?” Taz teased.

“Well, king sized bed sounds a bit intimidating, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know. I like the sound of it. How else am I going to feel like a king?”

“You’re the king in our house, Taz,” Kodak assured him.

“That may well be, but do you drive?”

“What?”

“Do you have a driver’s license.”

“Yeah, it’s a California license, but it’s still good.”

“Can you drive a jeep?” Taz asked.

“It’s got the stick thing, doesn’t it?”

“Stick shift. I’m sure it does. What do you think?”

“I can learn,” Kodak said.

“Maybe Kendall will take you out for a lesson. He can drive anything. He raced cars as a teenager, he told me.”

“You can’t drive, Taz?”

“No, my old man had a car but he wouldn’t let me near it. It was broken down half the time and when it wasn’t broken down he was wrecking it. I never had much interest in learning.”

“When do you want to go?” Kodak asked.

“Next month. It’ll still be nice, and after October the weather could turn bad. I have no interest in being out there in bad weather.”

“Me either. That’ll give you time to finish the bedroom.”

“Probably,” Taz said, not wanting to commit to an exact date.

“Jeremy said he was coming back to help this week.”

“Yea, Rowdy said he’d stay once the frames came for the windows. He’d help me set them in and get them level,” Taz said.

“I can help. I’m just not very good with my hands.”

“I’d never say that, Kodak. You’re fine with your hands.”

“Actually, I have a better eye,” Kodak bragged.

“Yes, you do. You picked me out. I’d say you have a very good eye.”

“No, that’s not how it happened. I think I was stuck with you, as I recall. It was something like losing a bet.”

“That’s very cruel. How could you think being around me could be called… stuck with me?”

“Truth hurts. I felt stuck. It’s a good kind of stuck now.”

*****

Kodak was cleaning up after breakfast and sweeping out the cabin as Taz got out his toolbox to go to work.

“Why don’t you walk Tazerski out to the corral? He’s getting under foot and I want to finish sweeping,” Kodak said. “If you take him to the corral he’ll be out there for hours.”

Tazerski looked from Kodak to Taz as they spoke.

“That’s right, pick on the short guy. Make me watch your monkey. Come on, Tazerski. I know when we aren’t wanted. I’ll feed the horses while I’m out there. Then, I’ll be around back working on your new bedroom. In Nam wherever I threw down my cot was my bedroom.”

The door of the cabin was already open from when Taz & Kodak had morning coffee on the porch. Kodak used the opening to get rid of the pile of dirt that he swept out several times a day. When he was satisfied, he hesitated to remember as a kid his family stayed in a cottage down at the beach, where he watched his mother sweep every time he and his sisters came in from the beach. He smiled before turning to attend to the dishes.

Kodak heard it while his mind was wandering.

It wasn’t unlike Taz banging nails up on the roof out at the back of the cabin. It was strange because he only heard it once. Usually the pounding went on for some time, once Taz got to hammering. It did sound like it came from the side of the house. was more to the side of the house. He stopped to listen before going back to work. There was no indication anything had changed.

He turned when he thought Taz came back into the house, but found it was Tazerski instead.

“What are you doing? I thought I sent you out to play with the horses?” Kodak scolded as Tazerski closed the distance between them.

The monkey leaped into Kodak’s arms. He hid his face in Kodak’s neck. Kodak could feel him shaking.

“You’re shaking. What’s wrong with you?”

The realization that something was seriously wrong came over Kodak slowly. Tazerski pushed himself out of Kodak’s arms, leaping to the floor. He grabbed Kodak’s hand, pulling him toward the door.

“Where’s Taz?” Kodak asked, listening to a silence that was unusual in its magnitude.

Tazerski pulled more insistently.

It took a minute for Kodak to locate Taz. He had been sitting on the top rail of the corral beside Tazerski when the bullet hit him on the upper left side of his chest. His left leg was propped up on the lower corral rail. Taz lay motionless flat on his back.

“Taz! Taz!”

Kodak dropped down beside him, looking at a growing red stain on his shirt. Kodak’s first instinct was to put his body in front of Taz’s body, but he knew by the location of the wound, Taz was in serious trouble and if the gunman was going to shoot him a second time, he’d already have done so.

Kodak looked around, unable to see where the bullet might have come from. There was no movement on the floor of the canyon, except for two very nervous horses and an agitated monkey that had taken to squawking and pacing behind Kodak.

Once he was sure the gunmen wasn’t still there, Kodak grabbed one of the saddles Taz had left on the gate of the corral, after taking them off the horses the night before, and he saddled Milkweed, leading her outside of the corral. He went back to ease Taz’s shirt off as the horse waited beside him, still shivering from the fear of the unknown.

“Tazerski, take this to the general. Go to the house. The house. Bring the general. Do you understand me,” Kodak spoke as if he were speaking to a young child.

He set Tazerski on the saddle, putting the shirt in front of Tazerski for him to hold. Tazerski watched Kodak’s every move and listened carefully to each of his words. He knew where the trail led and he knew the tall slender man who was in charge lived there.

“Bring the general,” Kodak said, holding the horse at the beginning of the trail that led down to the house, slapping Milkweed’s flank, she trotted down the trail in the right direction with Tazerski holding on tightly, not accustomed to being sent off on horseback alone.

Once she started, Milkweed knew where she was going. When she reached the gate behind the house, she knew to wait for it to open, so she could go to the barn where she lived most of her life and where she got the oats she loved.

When Milkweed stopped, Tazerski, still holding the shirt, scampered over the top of the gate and across the compound to the back of the house with the shirt flapping in his hand.

“Hey, little guy, what are you doing out on your own,” Boyd said, seeing the monkey scurry past, moving toward the house.

The back screen door slammed as Tazerski dashed inside, passing Kathleen, he headed for the general’s office without hesitating.

“The boys are here?” she asked the monkey, moving toward the screen door. “Where are the boys?”

Kathleen knew something was seriously wrong. Tazerski would never come in the house without one of the boys. She knew where Tazerski was heading, and that in itself was baffling. Usually his first stop was the banana bowl on the table he passed on the way to the general’s office.

Boyd was leading two horses toward the back of the house for the general’s and Kathleen’s morning ride, when Kathleen appeared on the back porch.

“Where are the boys?” Kathleen asked, hoping they’d just stopped to talk.

“Don’t know. Monkey came on Milkweed. I was about to let her in, when I got done here. She’s standing at the gate.”

“She’s alone?”

“Just her and the monkey,” Boyd said, only then thinking it was odd.

“Something’s wrong. Get some of the boys. I got a bad feeling, Boyd.”

“Yes, ma’am. We going to ride up there.”

“Let me talk to the general. We’ll be riding up there.”

Kathleen went back into the house and the general came toward her with Taz’s shirt in his hand.

“He’s been shot. We got to get up there. I called Westphalia to get his ass out here. He’s on the way.”

“Boyd, bring a jeep and a stretcher. Rowdy, bring me and the misses our Winchesters. Get me four men on horseback, armed. Get them up there a half-hour ago. Take a first–aid kit and get some plasma out of the freezer.”

“What’s up, boss?” Kendall said, jogging from the radio room with Crosby in tow, after hearing the commotion.

“Taz has been shot,” he said, holding up the bloodstained shirt. “Kodak may be hurt too. We’re heading up there. I want a jeep, a stretcher, medical supplies for triage. Upper left quadrant chest wound. We’ll need to bring him down on the back of the jeep.” the general gave emphatic orders without knowing the extent of the injury.

This wasn’t something the general had to ponder. He’d spent most of his life ordering men into battle and ordering the care they needed, once the battle ended. It was an automatic response to the emergency.

“Yes, sir. On the way, boss. You go ahead, I’ll be there as quick as I can. I’ll be set up to transport him back down.”

“Here’s the Winchesters,” Rowdy said, attaching the weapons and their leather sheaths to the saddle of each of the waiting horses. “I’ve got four men saddling up. We’ll be right behind you if you want to go ahead. Kendall, we’ve got the medical equipment at the barn door. We’re stripping out a jeep for you.”

“Leave someone here to tell Dr. Westphalia where we’ve gone. He’s on the way.”

Boyd was leading Milkweed around the gate when the general and Kathleen galloped out, heading up the trail.

It was less than five minutes before Kendall pulled the jeep up to the gate. Rowdy and four wranglers charged around the jeep on their way up the trail as Kendall held the gate for them to pass.

Chapter 2

The Uncertain Future

Kathleen sat across the trail with her Winchester across her legs, looking back toward the cabin as the jeep eased down the trail back toward the house. Taz was on a green canvas stretcher that had been placed on top of a pile of hay and it laid across the back of the vehicle.

Maddox sat behind the stretcher holding up an IV as the jeep moved awkwardly on the uneven dirt and grass trail. Kodak walked on the side of the stretcher nearest Taz’s head and the general walked on the other side of the jeep. Two cowboys with rifles sat on their horses near the corral next to the cabin and two more rode just ahead of the jeep. Everyone was alert and No one spoke as the precession crawled back down the hill in an agonizingly slow journey.

The mood was somber.

The general told the two men they left behind not to let anyone near the scene of the crime. He’d be back with the sheriff to conduct an investigation, after Taz was secured. Kodak told him all he knew, which was that he found Taz shot shortly after he left the cabin to feed the horses. Taz was pale and remained motionless.

When Kodak was with Taz, waiting for the general to ride to the rescue, he’d seen heard nothing. There was no one there but the two of them. Whoever had done the shooting was long gone, leaving no sign of who they were. Why anyone might want to shoot a ranch hand sitting with a monkey on the corral fence was anyone’s guess, except it wasn’t that long ago that there had been the shootout at the courthouse that Taz was instrumental in breaking up. The general already had a good idea of who was behind Taz’s shooting.

“What the hell do you mean by ordering me out here like I’m one of your soldiers? I’ve got an office full of patients who depend on me, Gen. Walker. You explain yourself.”

The doctor was in a sloppy looking gray suit, stethoscope dangling from his neck, as he charged the gate, once he caught site of the general before he looked at the jeep and who was on the stretcher.

“He’s been shot. It’s bad. Keep him alive, doc,” the general pleaded. “What ever it takes, do it.”

“Damn dumb… why didn’t you tell me. I’d have had an ambulance here. Let me up there,” Dr. Westphalia ordered, climbing awkwardly into the jeep to tend to his patient. “Get me a damn ambulance. This man has lost too much blood. What in the hell are you doing up there. Who shot him?”

The doctor ranted as he checked Taz for exit wounds and added to the direct pressure Maddox was using on the wound.

“He’s bleeding out of his back. It went through,” Dr. Westphalia said, adroitly feeling for other wounds on Taz’s back. “Damn it. I need an ambulance,” he yelled. “I need gauze. Bring me all you have. I’ll try to pack this to get pressure on the bleeding. His breathing isn’t good. May have nicked his lung. Can’t tell from the angle of entry.”

“Crosby has already called for an ambulance. It’s a long way out here,” Rowdy said. “Closest one is forty miles away.”

The doctor stuffed gauze into the wound on Taz’s lower back, taking off his Jacket as he’d begun to sweat.

“Rowdy, ride back up there. Go to where we found him. Scour the area. Look for the bullet. If it went through him it’s out there. Don’t let those cowboys ride on the crime scene. Put them on the perimeter to stop anyone from going up there. I’ll call the sheriff.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll take a couple of cowboys and show them how to look. If it’s out there, we’ll find it, General.”

“Come on with me,” Kathleen said, shoving her rifle in its holster. “You’re a mess, Kodak. You can use some coffee.”

“No, ma’am, I’ll stay with him,” Kodak replied, standing next to the jeep as the doctor pulled out gauze and packed in more that he pulled from the bucket sized container of gauze Maddox brought him.

“What did you boys do, rob a pharmacy? Put some of that in my car. I’m running low on gauze at my office. Move back away from me. Give the boy some air. There’s nothing to see. He’s been shot. Go find something to do,” Dr. Westphalia snapped, whipping his hands on his once white shirt. “Where’s the damn ambulance? Do you know what type blood he has? We can’t wait. I’ve got to get some blood in him if there’s any hope of keeping him alive.”

“Type O,” Kodak said. “It’s on his dog tags.”

“Okay, cowboys, we need a fill-up here. All cowboys with type O blood, stand over here, the rest of you find something to do to earn your pay. Bring something for them to lie down on. No point in letting them pass out, while I drain their blood.”

Westphalia continued to work on slowing the bleeding as another jeep was pulled up beside the first one with the same set-up of stretcher on hay. The doctor set up a transfusion, using the medical equipment that was only a little better than what he had in his office for emergencies.

“We’ll start with three pints. If his pulse doesn’t improve we’ll need a couple of more units. You give once and once only and then go find something to do.”

“I’m type 0,” Kendall said. “I’ll give next.”

Cowboys still stood around the jeep. The doctor worked and the cowboys gave blood. Kodak held Taz’s hand. The general leaned on the hood of the jeep, watching the doctor move. Kathleen brought coffee for Kodak and the general and told the cowboys to come to the back porch where she had cups and coffee and some sandwiches that were freshly made.

This was a scene Gen. Walker’s cowboys experienced at one time or another while they were in his army. The wait was always worse, when it was a soldier they knew that they were waiting for. Everyone knew Taz. Most knew Taz’s legend. No one wished this cowboy harm, no matter their reaction to his close friendship with Kodak. At times like these issues like those didn’t arise.

It took another half-hour before the ambulance was being guided up beside the jeep. Dr. Westphalia supervised the loading of Taz.

“Look, he needs to be in a hospital. It’s all I can do to keep him alive. I need to pee and I’m dying for a cup of coffee. He’s as stable as he’s going to be. If I sent that ambulance out of here, General, can you catch me up with it once I piss and get a cup of your coffee to go.”

“Not a problem, doc. I’ll get you in that ambulance without it needing to stop if you like,” the general said.

“No, that won’t be necessary. Put a cowboy with type O in the back. He’ll need another transfusion before we get there. I’ll flag you boys down in fifteen or twenty minutes,” he advised the ambulance’s driver.

“We move pretty fast, doc. Odds are the next time you see us will be in Billings at the emergency room,” the driver answered.

“Kendall, can you give this guy a five minute head start and beat him to the Interstate?” the general asked, knowing the answer.

“I’ll be waiting on the ramp for him if you let me take that Corvette you got in your private garage, General.”

“I want to get there alive. Just catch him without any heroics and I might not pee myself before we get to the hospital,” Dr. Westphalia said, heading for the bathroom.

“Go ahead, driver. I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes. Stop at the bottom of the ramp and let the doctor get in the back.”

“You’re on,” the driver said. “Like I said before, you’ll probably see us in Billings.”

The general rode up front with the driver and Kodak rode in the back with Taz and a cowboy with type O blood. Kendall passed the ambulance with the doctor a mile before they reached the ramp to the Interstate. The doctor was waiting at the bottom of the ramp in his blood stained shirt that now had significant coffee stains to boot.

*****

“Damn doctor is no more than twelve years old and he’s a surgeon. Thanks me for my assistance but told me he could take it from here. Kids think they know it all,” Dr. Westphalia complained.

“Is he still alive?” Kodak asked, worried about how pale Taz grew the last few miles into Billings.

“He’s alive. His pulse is weak. His breathing is shallow. The boy is in serious trouble. I hope that little boy knows what he’s doing,” Dr. Westphalia said.

“He going to live, doc?” Gen. Walker asked.

“That’s up to him. I don’t have anything to do with it now. They had the operating room waiting. Once he’s stable they can get in there and stop the bleeding. He lost a lot of blood before I got there. I don’t know how much. I don’t know if I got enough back in him to make the difference or not. He’s young, general, unlike you and me. He’s strong and I’d say he’s got an even chance of surviving the day. I don’t know what those surgeons are going to find. If it had hit his heart he wouldn’t have made it here. If it nicked his lung, he may have blood in his lungs. That makes it a bit more dicey. All we can do is wait and hope what I did was enough.”

“You want my man to take you back?” the general asked.

“With him?” the doctor said, pointing at Kendall. “No, I risk my life once a day. I’ll walk before I’ll let him drive me.”

“Nice rod you got there, General. I don’t think the doctor appreciates it as much as I do.”

“I haven’t had it out of the garage since I retired. Kathleen got me that for my fiftieth birthday. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but I don’t have any place to drive it. What are you doing here? I didn’t tell you to follow us to the hospital.”

“It’s Taz, boss. I got to know if he’s still alive. Besides, you’ll need a ride back sooner or later.”

“There is that,” Gen. Walker said.

Kodak paced, Dr. Westphalia sat next to the general on a couch. Kendall leaned with his back against the wall beside the door.

They waited.

It seemed like hours before one of the surgeons came into the waiting room. Everyone was on their feet, waiting for him to speak, but unsure they wanted to hear what he had to say.

“We’ve got the bleeding under control. It took some time to accomplish that. They’re transfusing him now and once we’re sure he’s stable, we’ll go in to start making repairs. No vital organs were damaged, but he’s lost a lot of blood. The extreme angle of the entry wound saved his life.”

“I got another pint if you need it,” Kendall said. “I’m type O.”

“No you don’t. You’ve given your limit, son. One pint is it,” Dr. Westphalia said.

“We’ve got that covered. Type O is one of our favorites. We keep a lot of it in stock. We’ll be okay there. Come back in a few weeks and give us a pint then. With his blood loss we could be looking at some degree of brain damage. We won’t know until he wakes up.”

“He will wake up?” Kodak asked.

“If he wakes up,” the doctor answered. “We’ll know more once we repair the damage. None of the damage in itself is life threatening. It comes down to how much blood was lost and how bad he wants to live. It’s the best I can do right now. Once he’s stable, we’ll finish and I’ll report back to you, but the big question won’t be answered because he survives the operation. That’ll be good but the real test will be when he opens his eyes and can recognizes you.”

The surgeon left the waiting room as everyone went back to their positions.

“Well, General, I’ve done all I can do here. Have your man run me back home. Please order him not to take that viper of a machine out of second gear,” Dr. Westphalia said, ignoring Kendall as he spoke.

“Doc, we never got out of second gear,” Kendall bragged.

The general laughed as the doctor squeezed his forearm as a last means of offering him comfort.

“Sorry I took you away from your patients, doc. I did need you.”

“Oh, I didn’t have any patents. I was just fussing for the sake of it. I hope your boy is okay. I don’t know if I got enough blood in him soon enough. What I do know is I did my best. You let me know how it goes.”

“I will, doc. Kendall, take it easy on him and cover the Corvette back up once you return her to the garage. We’ll be here a few days by the sounds of it.”

“I’ll wash it up before I put her away, boss. If it’s okay?”

“Good man, Kendall. Bring Kathleen down. I know she’ll be worried. We’ll have dinner in town before we go back. Bring the Oldsmobile and be sure to fill it up before you leave. That thing drinks gasoline like it’s water.”

“Yes, sir. Come on, doc. I’ll deliver you safe and sound. Good luck, Kodak. I’ll be praying for Taz. I’ll be back with the Mrs. Later this afternoon.”

“Thanks,” Kodak said, as Kendall held the door for the doctor.

*****

“Gentlemen,” the doctor said. “I removed his third rib. We stitched up the exit wound after doing what we could to repair the tissue damage. His heartbeat has strengthened considerably. We’ll leave him on the respirator for the time being. One less thing for his body to struggle to do. There is no reason he can’t breathe on his own. If he remains stable after a few more hours, I’ll remove him from the respirator. See how he does.

“He’ll be in the ICU for the next few days. I can let you in one at a time, but only for a few minutes. Then, the best thing you can do is go home. We’ll keep you advised.”

“How long before he has a room?” Kodak asked.

“Private room, son. I want a private nurse twenty-four hours a day in his room. If you have a former Army nurse on staff, you tell her I requested her. I want the best doctors. I don’t want to hear I can’t or I won’t. Anyone asks you who the hell I think I am, you tell them I’m Gen. Walker, and I’m used to having my orders obeyed. You understand, son,” the general said in his most determined soft but convincing voice.

“Yes, sir. I’ll get on it,” the surgeon said.

“We’ll give them a few minutes and I’ll tell them to take you back so he hears your voice,” Gen. Walker told Kodak. “I’ve been led to believe that does a lot for a wounded soldier’s morale.”

“Thank you, General,” Kodak said.

It startled Kodak to see Taz on a machine that was helping him breathe. The noise and the monitoring devices were disturbing, but nothing distracted Kodak from noticing how pale Taz looked.

“I’m here, babe. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He stood next to his bed, holding Taz’s hand, wanting to hear his voice. A nurse sat on a chair just inside the door.

“You an army nurse?” Kodak asked.

“No, that’s Madge. She retired a few months ago but they called her a few minutes ago. She agreed to stay with him, when they told her the general’s name. Who is he anyway? The way the surgeon was talking, it might have been the president or someone.”

“He was the commanding general of the Pacific forces up until a year ago. He’s just a rancher now.”

“This one of his boys?” she asked.

“Yes, Taz is one of his boys. Madge might know his name. He was famous once upon a time.”

“You think so. He’s so young. Madge is like really old, you know.”

“If she was in the army, and if she can read, she might know his name. He was on the cover of Time magazine a couple of years ago.”

“He was?” she asked, taking a closer look at Taz.

“Well, you can’t stay. It’s the rules, no matter if he is famous. We won’t leave him alone. That general made that clear to Dr. Williams. I’ll come tell you if there is any change,” the nurse said. “No one is allowed to stay in the ICU. Five minutes is the limit.”

“Thanks,” Kodak said. “I’ll be in the waiting room.”

Gen. Walker listened to what Kodak had to say, once he returned to the waiting room before he walked back to where Taz was. The nurse stood up when he came in. She wasn’t sure of how to stand at attention, but one look at Gen. Walker made her want to find out.

“You’re too young to be an Army nurse. You know what you’re doing?” the general wanted to know, after taking a look at Taz.

“Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. Madge is the Army nurse. She’s on her way.”

“You tell her Gen. Walker wants to talk to her, when she arrives, can you do that for me, young lady?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll tell her to speak with you right away.”

“He doing okay?”

“No change. He’s only been here a few minutes.”

“If there is a change you come get me. I’ll be in the waiting room.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If we don’t have another Army nurse to spell Madge, you’ll do. You tell the doctor I want you as Madge’s relief. She’ll decide how much time she wants to devote to me. You okay with that, young lady?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll tell Dr. Williams. He’s a surgeon.”

“You tell him what I want and we’ll do fine.”

“Yes, sir. I’ve got other duties, but I’m sure he’ll take care of it.”

“What’s your name?”

“Wilma Forge.”

“Nice name, Wilma. You ever been to Valley Forge?”

“No, sir, is that in Montana?”

“No, it’s not in Montana,” Gen. Walker said, amused by the naiveté in her question.

*****

When Kathleen arrived, she went to see how Taz was doing. Upon her return to the waiting room, she ordered the general to come with her to go to dinner. Kodak refused an invitation to go along, which didn’t surprise them.

“Kodak, I know how hard this is on you. It’s hard on all of us, hon. We all love Taz. Why don’t you let me bring you something to eat. There’s no point in making yourself sick. You’ll want to keep up your strength for when he comes home and you’ll need to take care of him.”

“I know, Kathleen. I can’t leave him. I told him when I came back from the Pacific that I’d never leave him again. I couldn’t eat anything. You go ahead and eat and bring something I can have later.”

Kathleen brought back a sandwich for Kodak and she had put a pillow and a blanket in the car, because she figured he’d not want to leave Taz. She brought those in with the sandwich, not letting the general get out of the car for fear he’d want to stay at the hospital.

“I’m taking my husband home. He needs his rest and letting him sit here won’t do him or Taz any good. He’ll no doubt be back here before sunup, but you get a little rest if you can. I’ll send him a Thermos with some coffee for you. Don’t let him drink it all. He will, you know?”

“I won’t,” Kodak said. “Thank you, Kathleen. You’re a special woman. You and the general are special people.”

“Thank you, Kodak,” she said, hugging him. “You try to get a little rest. He’s strong. It’ll take more than one bullet to stop Taz. Heaven help whoever shot him if Taz ever catches up with him.”

Kodak nodded and Kathleen left him alone.

Chapter 3

Calling McCoy

Gen. Walker was up before the sun came up the following morning, but he wasn’t at the hospital. He was sitting at his desk in his office at the back of the house. There was business to attend to and it wouldn’t get done from the hospital.

“It’s ringing, General. This is his barracks. It’s as close as I can get this time of day,” Crosby said.

“Yea, who am I speaking to?” the general asked, leaning back in his chair.

“Pvt. Percy, who the hell is this?”

“Well, Pvt. Percy, this is your lucky day. I’m Gen. god damn Walker. You got that name or should I spell it for you one letter at a time?”

“Yes, sir,” the private said.

Gen. Walker was certain he heard the private’s bare heels clicking together.

“You bring Spec. 4 McCoy to the phone and I just might forget your name, private.”

“McCoy?”

“Spec. 4 Angus McCoy. I’m told this is his barracks and I want him on this phone five minutes ago. Are you hearing me, private?”

“Yes, sir,” the soldier said, as the phone went silent. “Where’s McCoy at,” Gen. Walker heard him say to someone in the distance.

Several minutes passed as Gen. Walker waited.

“McCoy,” a raspy voice said.

“Spec. 4 McCoy.”

“Yea, this is McCoy. You got me out of my rack. Why don’t you start talking.”

“Gen. Walker, McCoy.”

“Oh, shit! This isn’t going to go well for me is it, General.”

“Hell, McCoy, this is your lucky fucking day. You’re about to do me a favor and you know how much I appreciate a soldier who does me a favor.”

“Hey, General, I’m out of the Army in a couple of weeks. I’m about to process out of here. I’m going to be a cop.”

“McCoy, you’re just the man I’m looking for. Discharge or no discharge, police or no police, I need you in Montana yesterday, son.”

“I’m not a cowboy. I don’t know one end of a horse from the other, General. I’ve got a career ahead of me. Don’t mess me up. I’ve been waiting to do this.”

“It’s already done, son. I’ve got a message into your commander. You’re in the active Army Reserve for two years. You’re about to receive an early discharge, so don’t stray too far. You’re also being called up to active duty by the Montana Army Reserves. They’re assigning you to me. It’s a matter of national security as far as you’re concerned. I can’t go into it over the phone.”

“National security? What do you have in mind? Give me the short version, I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

“I have a man that’s been shot. If my hunch is right he was shot by the head of a white supremacy group, or he had him shot. This asshole shot up our courthouse to get his kid out of it a few months ago. He’s crawled back into the woodwork, after a judge cut him loose on bail. The man’s got money and he has powerful friends.

“My man, Tazerski, lit up a few of his men during the shootout at the courthouse. My theory is, shooting him is revenge, as well as a message to me. He’d be in less trouble if he shot me, McCoy. I aim on bringing the proper outlaws to justice. You’re the man I want on the job.”

“This Tazerski is the big rifle dude from Nam?”

“Yea, that’s him. ‘The fighting fool of 1st squad.’ He was shot in the chest. He’s alive but we got nothing on the shooter. That’s where you come in. I have men at the crime scene. The sheriff is coming up today, but he’s a county sheriff and not schooled in the fine art of investigative techniques.

“Look, McCoy, you did me a lot of good with the case you worked for me in the Pacific Theater. I haven’t forgotten you stuck with it, when I told you that you could bail out of it. You’re a professional’s professional. I want you to conduct the investigation on this. I’ll see to it whatever notes you need in your files to get you where you’re going, get in there with the gratitude of your grateful general. It’s the best I can do for you, son, but it’s better than nothing.”

“You don’t owe me anything, General. If you want me to investigate for you, that’s all you need to say. You already did me more good than I deserved. I stayed on that case because it was what I wanted to be doing. I became an army investigator because you made it possible. I’ll go wherever you say go and I’ll do the best job I know how to do for you.”

“That’ll be good enough. Like I said, I’ve got a call in to your commanding officer. I’ve talked to Division and they’re cutting your orders. I do a lot of business with the commander of the Montana Army Reserves. I keep him in some of the latest weapons. He’s agreed to release you to me on special assignment. He’ll send those orders to me.”

“Yes, sir. You’ve got a guard on Tazerski? If they’ve got a professional hit man on him, he isn’t safe as long as he’s alive.”

“Shit, I never gave it a thought. I’m slipping since I retired, McCoy. Oh, sorry, Kathleen. I didn’t see you come in.”

“What did you forget?” Kathleen inquired, putting down her husband’s coffee and cleaning out the ashtray on his desk.

“I’ve left Taz unprotected,” the general said, putting his hand over the phone for a second. “McCoy says they’ll try again.”

“The McCoy from that drug case in Vietnam?”

“The one and only. Let me finish getting him here.”

“My being smart enough to put you on the case is already paying dividends, McCoy. Go get your coffee. I’ve got to get a man into the hospital. This will really please the doctors. I’ve already had to threaten to court martial the lot of them.”

“General, where is he at in the hospital?”

“He was in the ICU when I left. They might move him today or tomorrow. I’ve asked for a private room.”

“Let all that take place, like they want to do it. He’ll have full time people around him in the ICU. No one is going to try anything there. Too many witnesses.”

“What do you suggest, McCoy.”

“Let them follow their usual routine. Once they put him where they want him, have him moved to a new room. Have all the records kept by his doctor and only his doctor. He shouldn’t be in the hospital’s record’s system at all. No information about him should be available to anyone but a nurse or nurses that are on his case. No one knows or has ever heard of your man. If they can’t figure out if he’s there or not, they’ll be less likely to do more than sniff around.”

“Okay, let me get busy. If you think of anything else call me back. Leave a message with my communications man, Crosby. I’ll call the hospital administrator and give him a heads up about what we’ll be doing. It’ll no doubt be the highlight of an otherwise boring morning.”

“Okay, General. I’ll start packing.”

“Kendall, you up?” the general asked, after hearing his voice. “I need a man with a weapon at the hospital. We’ll need to set up eight hour shifts, twenty-four hours a day. Put a driver on the detail to transport them, until I know what my plan is. I’ve got other duty for you, so stay close to the house.”

“You think he’s still in danger, boss?” Kendall asked, stretching as he came to the door, buttoning up his shirt.

“My investigator thinks so.”

“Your investigator? I thought Sheriff Ward was coming this morning?”

“Remember McCoy? The soldier that accompanied the bodies back to the States for me? Remember that drug investigation we ran out of Da Nang?”

“Oh, yea, he was a big kid. You don’t forget anyone, do you, boss?”

“Not the good ones. McCoy did above and beyond…. he’s going to be a cop, after I’m done with him.”

“A cop? I can see that. I’ll roust Rowdy to pick a man for guard duty. Barney’s a good wheel man. I’ll get him to drive the guard right away.”

“Get Boyd to do the driving this time, I want him to hang around for a look see. If he notices anything suspicious, he’ll know what to do. Barney can spell Boyd on transporting the guards in and out.

“I’ve got Sheriff Ward coming out. We’re going up to look over the crime scene. I want to discourage him from doing anything until McCoy is here, and then I’ll make arrangements for McCoy to take the lead in the investigation. The sheriff won’t want to spend a lot of time looking for clues and McCoy knows how to work a crime scene.”

“Okay, boss. A .45 okay, or do you want something more lethal?”

“Yea, a .45 is fine. We don’t want to scare the staff at the hospital any more than necessary. We can wear them on our hips with shirts out. Won’t be so obvious that way. I don’t know how to handle Kodak. He’s in jeopardy if he’s close to Taz. Just tell Boyd not to alarm him. Tell him I ordered a guard on the room to be safe. He doesn’t need to know Taz may not be safe.”

“You tell Kodak that Taz may be in danger and he’ll do whatever you tell him needs doing. He won’t let anyone get past him if he’s still alive.”

“I’ll need to think about that one. Maybe keep an extra .45 in the car. If we get wind of anything going down, maybe slip the .45 to Kodak for safe keeping. I don’t want the boy shooting himself.”

“I’ll tell Rowdy we want the best guys for this kind of a job. No one with any hinky idea about Taz & Kodak. I’ve never heard anyone say anything, but I don’t want anyone like that protecting him, boss. Can I ask for volunteers to protect Taz?”

“You’re reading my mind, Kendall. You put it better than I could. Tell Boyd to talk to me before he leaves. He’ll want to know what I’m thinking.”

“Have any word on his condition this morning, boss?”

“No change, son. He’s resting easy. Still might be losing a little blood but nothing they want to go looking for.”

“At least he isn’t worse. I’ll get right on the guard detail,” Kendall said, heading out of the house.

“Send Boyd over before he finds something else to do,” the general yelled after him.

The general leaned back in his chair, taking his cup of coffee off his desk before it was out of reach.

“You haven’t had a minute this morning, my love,” Kathleen said. “I want you to tell me that Taz isn’t in any danger.”

“I don’t think it’s anything immediate. I know only one reason for him to get shot and I didn’t think they’d come at him in the hospital. I’m slipping, Kathleen. I wouldn’t have let something like that get by me before,” the general said solemnly.

In war he knew instinctively what the enemy would do.

“War and peace are two different things, love. In war there are rules and designs that you can depend on. Back here, in the real world, there are no rules for men like Jones. There are no limits on what his hideous mind might conceive with no one there to tell him he’s as crazy as a loon.”

“You’re right, but Jones doesn’t know he’s crazy.”

“This is the real world, remember? There are crazy people everywhere. Shooting a lovely boy like Taz is the act of a crazy man.”

“You want me, Gen. Walker?” Boyd asked, standing at the door.

“I’ve got to get out to the kitchen. Delivery day,” Kathleen said, passing Boyd on her way out.

“I’ve left that boy exposed up there in that hospital. I’m going to put rotating guards on his room. Do you mind driving the first one up there for me?”

“General, I work for you, remember?”

“Yea, I remember, and you usually have things planned out for your day. This came up all of a sudden. I want you to deliver the man who will guard the room today. I also want you to take a long look around. Use that sergeant’s sense of yours and take a read on the situation. I want to know if anything looks suspicious. I want to know if you see a way to protect him better. I don’t want his healing interrupted. If someone has it in mind to take another shot at him, I want whatever force is necessary to stop it.”

“Tall order, General. I’ll take a look-see. Boy’s a hero. Be a shame to lose him to some asshole. I wouldn’t like that much. Most of your men would find that downright objectionable.”

“Well, Boyd, you’re virtually a quiver with emotion this morning,” the general said, amused.

“I don’t like it when good men are shot for no reason. I especially don’t like it when they bleed Army green.”

“Thanks, Boyd. I wasn’t sure where you stood on Taz. Old school is a bit shaky on change. I confess I have my moments, but good men are hard to find, Boyd. Taz is one of the best men I’ve known and I’ve known some damn good men in my time..”

“Don’t hurt he saved your life, General. Didn’t hesitate as I recall. Just did what needed doing. Got you out of harms way.”

“Yea, and I’ve left his ass hanging out and I should know better. You don’t spare the horses. Any tickets and I’ll take care of them. Be careful, but the sooner we have a guard on him, the better I’ll feel about it.”

“Good as done, General. I’ll call when we get there.”

*****

Sheriff Ward was the next to arrive to let the general explain what he wanted. He was pleasantly surprised by everything but his need to ride a horse up to the mesa to see the crime scene. Gen. Walker knew one trip was going to be enough and the sheriff would be more than willing to allow McCoy do the investigating.

Two men were standing guard near the corral. Both of the cowboys moved their horses off to one side, once they saw the general and the sheriff riding up from the house. Exchanging waves, they stood off from the official visit.

“This is where he fell. He was shot from the front. What do you think?” Gen. Walker asked, giving the sheriff no clues or much time to ponder the scene. “Kodak, the young photographer, was up here and came out right away but there was no sign of the shooter.”

“I don’t know. What do you think?” Sheriff Ward asked, scratching his head and holding his cowboy hat in his hand.

“Hard to say. He was shot from the front. It’s all canyon wall in front of him.”

The general waited for the sheriff to look up.

“Lord, General, can’t hardly get up there. You think he was shot from above? Who’d go through all that trouble?”

“That would explain Taz not seeing it coming. It was early in the morning, not long after the boys got up. He couldn’t have seen it coming or he wouldn’t have fallen straight backward. Do you think?”

“That all his blood?” The sheriff said, looking at the large stain where Taz had been found.

“Yea, he lost a lot of blood. Westphalia kept pumping blood into him. No telling if we got to him soon enough.”

“Long way up here, General. Boy’s lucky to be alive. You need some kind of communication up here, don’t you think? Could make the difference in life or death. Not after this anyway. No, siree, someone has a grudge against that boy. Bad place to get your ass shot, you ask me.”

“I’ve kicked myself for that oversight and a dozen more, since he was shot. I’m a general, sheriff. I can plan a battle, keep a division supplied, fed, and moving, but when it comes to getting out in front of a thing like this, I’m in the dark. I never saw this coming. You know who did this?”

“Me? Come on! How could I know? You bring me up here and show me this and you want to know who did it?”

“No, Jones did it, or he had it done. You’ve got to watch your back sheriff. That boy took out Taz as a warning. One of us may well be next.”

“Jones! I’m not made for big time sheriffing. Figured he’d be long gone. Jones?”

“Taz was even less likely to be hit. A cowboy living in a shack out on the range. Who in the hell could possibly wish that boy ill?”

“Jones,” Sheriff Ward said.

“Snakes got a long reach, sheriff. You need to be careful.”

“What in the hell does he gain by taking out a half-ass sheriff in the middle of no where?”

“Revenge. I’ve got an investigator coming. I’ve notified the FBI about the shooting and my suspicions. The agent who came here to investigate the courthouse shooting wants to be kept apprised. I told him we intend to conduct a full crime scene investigation.

“I know this is your turf, Sheriff Ward, and I brought you up here to see the spot and the size of the crime scene. I’m no good with this kind of thing and you don’t have the time or the manpower to spend a few weeks up here looking for clues.

“With that in mind, I wanted to run it by you, so you didn’t think I was trying to be sheriff, which I couldn’t do if I tried, and I know it. I do want your blessing. I’ve got an Army Investigator who knows his business on his way here. If you okay my plan, I’ll keep you advised about what we find and how I see it.”

“Oh, carry on, General. No, I have no objections. You have an investigator skilled at this sort of thing, you go ahead. You have my full cooperation. Let me know what you find out…. If you can. This takes a load off my mind, General. I was dreading how I was going to get this done while taking care of the town.”

“Same thoughts crossed my mind. We’re not exactly in town and I have resources you don’t have access to.”

“Yes, you do,” the sheriff agreed.

“The only thing that boy’s had his hand in, since he came to work for me, is that little shootout in town. No one thought Jones had that kind of reach. I never gave it a thought, so I’m responsible for that boy being up in that hospital. I put him in danger and then left his ass hanging out. Stupidity isn’t a defense, but as sure as I’m standing here talking to you, I’m getting whoever it was that did this. I won’t spare any expense or leave a stone unturned.

“And you be careful. Don’t be getting out of your car in the dark in an unfamiliar place. If you need to send a man out at night, don’t be the man that goes. Just until we clear this up.”

“Well, General, you seem to have some pretty definite ideas about what your investigator is going to find.”

“No, all supposition, sheriff. I’m mad and when I’m mad, I do my best to make something out of nothing. I don’t know who did this. I might not catch who did this, but it won’t be because I didn’t try. There are no facts that backup my suspicions… yet.”

“Thanks for the advice. I don’t want to walk around here. We could mess up the evidence. Get your man on it and update me when you have time. If there’s anything I can do, just call.”

“Will do, sheriff. I’ve got my men making sure nothing is disturbed. I doubt the bird that did this is going to hang around to try to muck up the evidence, but I’m not taking any chances.”

The general and the sheriff rode back off the mesa. The sheriff was more than happy to get back into his police car.

Gen. Walker was good at reading men and he figured the sheriff would gladly hand over authority to Gen. Walker, who was known as well as respected throughout the area.

As the general watched the police car move down the driveway toward the highway, he thought of only two groups that might have a grudge against his taciturn wrangler who lived on the mesa with Kodak. One group was the North Vietnamese soldiers, who knew the soldier with the big gun. The more likely of the two to hold a grudge, were the militia men of the White Brotherhood. Logic pointed at the WB and Jones, their leader.

*****

By the time the sheriff and the general were at the crime scene, Taz had been moved from the ICU to a private room. Breathing on his own and with a full time nurse in the room with him, the doctors agreed that the ICU wasn’t necessary. Most of the monitoring equipment was moved with Taz.

The hospital administrator was on hand to supervise the move, regarding it as a safety issue for the hospital. The chief of the Billings police encouraged cooperation with Gen. Walker and his men as the best recourse. The chief also assigned a car to remain at the hospital for the duration of Taz’s stay.

The doctors huddled around Taz’s bed once he was moved. He was resting comfortably and seemed to be gaining strength. Drugs were used to keep Taz unconscious, until his body was sufficiently healed.

After Taz was in his room for several hours, Kodak was allowed to sit with him. Kodak sat beside Taz’s bed, holding his hand, watching for any sign of him waking up. He watched his chest moving up and down in regular motions. Taz looked better, which made Kodak feel better, even if it didn’t mean much. It was the beginning of a long rehabilitation. Kodak was in it for the long haul. His promise not to leave Taz again was on his mind. He spoke softly to reassure Taz he was there.

It was late that afternoon, when Gen. Walker and Kathleen came into the room. Madge, the nurse, and Kelly, one of the general’s cowboy guards, sat in one corner playing rummy.

“Hi, Kodak. How’s he doing?” Kathleen asked.

“He’s alive,” Kodak said. “He looks better, huh?”

“He’s strong. He’s going to be okay. I brought you a shirt. Here’s another sandwich. I would have brought soup, but we had to stop a few times and it would have been cold.”

“Thanks, Kathleen,” Kodak said, not getting up or letting go of Taz’s hand.

“He does look better today,” she said.

“You Madge?” Gen. Walker inquired, watching Kelly deal the cards.

“Yes, sir. You’re the general.”

“That’s me. This is one of my men. I want him to have the best care possible. Can you make that happen, Madge?”

“Good as done.”

“What war, Madge? They told me you retired from the hospital.”

“I was in Korea, class of 51-52.”

“I was there. I was a bird colonel in that war. Got my third star as general in the Pacific Theater. I’d had enough by last year and I retired myself. Figured it was time for my wife and me to get to know each other.”

“That’s a fine reason to retire. I’ll take care of your soldier for you. I’ll see to it the doctors don’t miss anything.”

“You beating the pants off this man? Better be careful, he’s pretty damn good with a gun, Madge.”

The man holding the cards at the table across from Madge smiled but didn’t speak or get up. He knew his job and none of them were in the army any more. Kelly’s angle on the door was perfect in case of trouble. The .45 on his hip would be deadly at that distance.

“Any change, Kodak?” Gen. Walker asked.

“Looks like he could sit up and start talking any time,” Kodak said.

“Well, when he does, tell him the window frames were delivered. That was the holdup on the addition. Rowdy will get them installed. We’ll have that finished for him to move into when he comes home. If you don’t mind us doing it?”

“He’ll like that, General. Hear that Taz. The general is going to finish the bedroom. You can wake up now,” Kodak said, looking at Taz’s face, but there was no change.

“You can depend on it. I’ll go up with the window frames tomorrow. I’ll take a look to see what we can do to make things a bit easier on you boys. Don’t want him getting soft, but we’ll probably put in some communication, just in case. It’s not safe leaving you up there with no way to get help.”

“That would be a good idea, until he’s well again,” Kodak said.

“I have an investigator coming from the army tomorrow. The sheriff is letting him handle this. While we’re up there, I’ll see what I need to order to finish the job. We won’t want him climbing around on the roof for a while.”

The general and Kathleen didn’t stay, but they brought back a hot meal for Kodak. It sat with the sandwiches on the nightstand, next to Taz’s bed. Kathleen didn’t mention the unopened food. She knew Kodak was on a vigil. All she could do was make food available to him and hope he ate.

Since he’d returned from his ordeal in the Pacific, they’d been together, but once more he found he missed Taz. He missed his voice and his presence in his life. Taz unconscious wasn’t enough to fill the void Kodak felt.

Chapter 4

Evidently

It was the fourth day after the shooting that Gen. Walker was standing on his back porch, looking out at the new day. He’d already made the call and he’d gotten the same reply to his inquiry.

“No change. Taz was stable.”

He’d lost a lot of men in his time. They’d come and gone. Some got the million dollar wound and went home. Others died. Still others disappeared once their tour of duty ended. Gen. Walker never questioned it or spent a lot of time having regrets. Some of his men were pretty amazing, others barely ordinary, and there were the men he never knew at all.

With Taz in the hospital it was different. He’d become attached to Taz in a way he never allowed himself to become attached to men in war. The risk of war was too high to get too close to the men who might die.

Sometimes it was unavoidable. When he lost someone he knew well, he wrote it off to the cost of war. It was the business he was in. He pushed it from his mind in order that he could do his duty and not make mistakes.

He wasn’t at war now. His men for the most part didn’t do dangerous duty. Yet it was because he was a man of war that Taz went to town with him that day, prepared to lay down his life to insure the right outcome at the courthouse. Taz was a man who liked order. He respected authority. All Taz asked was to be left alone to do his job on the mesa. It was the least he could do for Taz, but doing it exposed him to the madness of men unlike any enemy the general knew.

As difficult as it was, he realization he was responsible for Taz being shot. He’d left his flank unprotected. He’d underestimated the enemy and Taz paid the price. The general didn’t know what he’d do if Taz died. All his sons were grown and they’d moved on hardly knowing their father. Taz was the closest thing to a son the general had.

He’d seen men die before and in time that wound would heal. What he dreaded was, if Taz died, he then owed Kodak a debt he could never pay. All the wives and girlfriends of the men who died under Gen. Walker’s command, didn’t live this close. It wasn’t an easy fate to consider, but was this justice for a man who sent men to fight and die?

He calculated he’d softened since retirement. He softened and let down his guard and he was with men he cared about and for and when they went out to work, he had every right to expect them to come back.

Taz wasn’t like any man Gen. Walker knew. Taz was a man among men. He wasn’t pretentious or ambitious beyond a desire to do the best job possible, when he was working. His motivation had nothing to do with personal gain.

Gen. Walker stood on the back porch, remembering being shot himself, and lying half on Main Street, half on Main Street’s sidewalk. It was Taz who pulled him to safety. He didn’t hesitate. Had he hesitated, the general might well have suffered a mortal wound. This was the image that troubled the general most.

Taz was right where he was needed when trouble started. He was willing to do what was required, risking his life by putting himself in the line of fire, to keep other men alive. Taz did what he saw as his duty, which went far beyond the United States Army. Being a long way from war, he still managed to save his general’s life.

Gen. Walker felt the long ago healed place where the bullet went through his side the day of the shootout in town. There was a dull ache in the cold, or when the rains came to stay. It was a serious wound but not life threatening. It reminded him of wars waged and the men who waged them.

“You taken to dementia, General? I’ve called you twice,” a husky voice said, as a large young man stood in front of the general at the bottom of the steps.

“Oh, sorry! McCoy? How the hell are you, son?” the general said fondly.

“Fine, General. A little confused, but I’m sure you’ll straighten me out PDQ. You were always good at that, as I recall.”

“Nah, you just needed pointing, McCoy. It’s what I do, point young men. You did the all the work.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. My career started when you pulled my ass out of the sling I’d hung it in. The case you assigned me to made my career in military investigation. You gave me purpose.”

“But you’re getting out, McCoy. How could you forsake the Army?”

“The Army trained me and now my skills are worth real money. There’s no future in military investigation. With this war coming to an end, no more drug runners and smuggling. Time to find out what the rest of my life is going to be about.”

“You’ve grown. You’ve matured. I’d hardly recognize you if not for that voice of yours. You look good, McCoy.”

“I thought you were retired,” McCoy said, pushing the conversation in the direction where it needed to go.

“Yea, I thought so too. I’ve got myself into the middle of an FBI deal, and now I may have gotten my best man killed. At best he’s going to take a lot of healing. Whatever the outcome for him, I want the guy who shot him and I want him, McCoy,” the general said with an unmistakable determination in his voice.

“How can you possibly arrange for me to be assigned to the Montana Army Reserve, and have them tell me to report to you as quick as I report there? I’ve been in the army for four years and most of the time there is moss growing under my boots. You’ve moved things so fast my head is spinning.”

“It’s a long story. It’s about a state affair that turned into an FBI affair. I can’t prove the shooting is related, but you can, and it is. I wanted the best investigator I know. I know you, McCoy.”

“Yes, you do, General.”

“The local sheriff is a good fellow but he’s in way over his head. He’ll let me have my way. Hell, he didn’t even know he was in danger, until I told him to watch his back.”

“I’m supposed to report to the Chicago Police Department in a little less than four weeks. I haven’t called them yet. I don’t know how long this will take, but, whatever you need, General, I’m your man. I’ll hope the fellow who got shot comes out okay, while I track down the shooter. I can tell he’s important to you. The cop job is pretty important to me.”

“Yes, he is. He’s like a son to me. We’ll need to take a ride up onto the mesa. It’s about fifteen minutes. I can get Kathleen to rustle you up some grub, let you freshen up in the guest room, where you can put your things, and I’ll give you all the details you need.

*****

Kendall eased the jeep up to within a few dozen yards of the corral. The general and McCoy left the jeep to look over the spot where Taz fell.

McCoy used his toe to move the grass and a small quantity of dirt, while looking at the discolored soil.

“A lot of blood. Describe the wound to me, General,” McCoy’s demeanor was professional as he examined the immediate area with his eyes.

“I’m told he was sitting on the top rail of the corral fence. The bullet entered upper left quadrant of his chest. Exit wound where it smashed the third rib and came out his back. It barely missed his heart and the trajectory took a chunk out of his back, but it missed all the vital organs.”

McCoy looked up. His eyes followed the canyon’s ridgeline, where it tapered away just beyond the corral and then tracked it back in the other direction. There were several rock formations that stood above the canyon wall but only one in proximity to the corral.

“I need to get up there. I don’t suppose it can be done without more bouncing?” he said, pointing to an outcropping that stood above the canyon rim very near the edge.

“Yea, it’ll require going out to the highway and coming in from the east. There’s an old cattle trail up there from when my grandfather kept a herd up there in the spring. I don’t have enough cattle to make that a productive proposition, but I’m guessing the trail is still there.”

“Anyone been up there in relationship to this case?”

“No, not that I’m aware of. The sheriff was here. When I told him I had an investigator coming, he backed off completely. He’s not looking to be involved in the case. A courtesy call to his office might be a good idea, but I don’t see him going up there voluntarily.”

“I don’t suppose it will be any easier on my back, going up there?” McCoy inquired.

“It’s a dirt trail. Rains soften it. Sun bakes it, McCoy. It’ll be a rough ride. I’ll tell Kendall to take it easy but no guarantee. I can have a couple of horses saddled and I’ll ride up there with you. The easiest way to go is back down to the house and out the highway if we stick with the jeep.”

“No, No, no horseback riding. I have my dignity. I’ll investigate your case for you, General, but don’t expect me to take a shine to horseback riding. I’m strictly a city boy. I don’t need to tell you how troubling it is breathing this air.”

“You’ve never had fresher air, McCoy. Montana has the best air this side of heaven.”

“Like I said, I’m a city boy. You see the air in the city. How do you know what’s in it if you can’t see it?”

“Very funny, McCoy. If we’re going we better get moving.”

*****

Kendall pulled the jeep up to the canyon rim a few dozen yards from the outcropping McCoy pointed out.

“Okay, here’s the plan. We’re looking for anything that doesn’t belong here. Odds are someone waited here to get the shot he wanted. With your man sitting still I can’t believe the guy missed his kill shot. I’d say you have one lucky cowboy, General.”

On foot they circled around the main point of interest. McCoy was looking for tracks, signs of a vehicle, slowly closing in on where he was sure he’d find a sniper’s nest.

“Here. Here’s some cigarette butts,” Kendall yelled, standing on some of the rocks that formed the outcropping.

“Don’t touch them,” McCoy yelled.

“There’s a shell casing,” Kendall yelled, looking down.

“Don’t touch it. Back out of there and don’t touch anything,” McCoy said with excitement.

“I might get a partial print off the shell casing. At times it’s enough if the guy’s in the system.”

McCoy leaned to put the shell casing into a plastic bag with a pencil, flicking each butt in as well.

“I’ll need to come back up here to dust this spot. We might pick up fingerprints or a palm print.”

“What do you think?” Gen. Walker asked.

“He spent awhile up here. Probably came in before sunrise. He walked a ways to get in here. A vehicle would leave tracks. See the tracks the jeep left? No horse dung. You said he was shot early.”

“Yea, maybe an hour after first light. They sent the monkey down to the house and I was already in my office.”

“Monkey?” McCoy said, looking the general over. “ “You do know you said monkey?”

“Yea, it’s a long story.”

“A monkey rode down to the house from that shack? You’re making that up to make me feel like a tenderfoot, aren’t you?”

“No, it surprised me too. Kodak told the monkey where to go. He had Taz’s shirt and he brought it to me. The monkey saved Taz’s life.”

“A monkey?” McCoy said without believing it.

“He’s at the house. Kathleen treats him like one of our kids. I’ll introduce you when we get back,” the general said. “He spends a lot of time in the barn with the horses.”

“No, General, I absolutely do not want to meet your horseback riding monkey.”

*****

“How close can you get me to Chicago, General?” McCoy asked. “I need to get these things to a lab I trust.”

“I’ll put Crosby on it. You might have to improvise a little if I can get you close. Why not use the State Police Crime Lab? They’ll cooperate. We rescued Montana from the outlaws for them.”

“No, I want to watch. I got a guy lets me watch. He’ll stick with it, until he’s got all there is. I’ll need to go back up there to dust the rocks. See if our shooter got careless. This is good. Is there more?” McCoy asked, shoveling in the remainder of the chipped beef gravy on fluffy biscuits.

“Sure, McCoy. I told Kathleen not to throw it away, when I knew you were coming. I knew you ate leftovers.”

“Very funny. It tastes fine to me. I’ll take another plate, General. Tell your driver I’ll want to go into town to get a fingerprint kit from your local sheriff. Then he can take me back up to dust those rocks. Give Barney Fife a call and let him know I’m coming.”

“Good as done. I’ll get you a refill on this.”

“Sheriff may lend you a man if I ask,” the general said.

“No, Andy needs to stay in Mayberry, and I’ll make sure it’s done according to Hoyle.”

“Good as done. The corral and the cabin? I have some building to do up there. I’ve got lumber, shingles, and insulation on the way for later today. Do I store it or can I get my men to work? I don’t want them in your way.”

“Nothing there to look at again. What we’re looking for is up top. It could give us something to go on.”

“Yea, these birds are wily critters. We’ll want to have them nailed solid before we make a move. I don’t know who did the shooting, but I know who put him up to it, and I want him.”

“Come on Kendall, to town, and then back to the top of the canyon, Watson, where the games afoot.”

“What did you put in his SOS, boss?” Kendall inquired.

*****

Late that afternoon Rowdy and Boyd were checking three truckloads of lumber and building supplies in the driveway while cowboys unloaded a fourth in the barn.

“Damn, General, you building a housing development out here?” McCoy asked, entering Gen. Walker’s office.

“They didn’t leave any food in here, McCoy. What did you get me?”

“A fine palm print where the shooter pushed himself up out of his perch. That’s it. It’ll be hard convicting someone on prints taken off of rock, but it all adds up in the end.”

“I can get you out of Missoula at 06:30 in the morning. It stops in Joplin and than Joliet. Can you get someone to pick you up in Joliet? If you can you’re home free.”

“06:30? Isn’t that, like, really early, General?”

“Yea, so you better sweet talk Kendall, because he’s got to get his ass up at 03:00 to be sure you’re on time.”

“A road-race. Now you’re talking my language. I take it I can sleep on the plane?” McCoy asked.

“If you don’t stop eating the plane will never get off the ground, McCoy. I suppose you can sleep. I’ve never heard of it on a cargo plane, but you are exceptional.”

“What are you building, General?”

“Taz was working on an addition to the cabin. We’d been waiting on the window frames. He’s an independent sort and insists on doing things himself. His buddy, Kodak, lives up there with him.”

“Buddy?” McCoy asked.

“Friend. Very close friend,” the general said.

“I see,” McCoy said.

“Well, it isn’t for me to see. I’ve been looking for a change to do something for that boy, since he pulled me out of the line of fire in town.”

“Pulled you out of the line of fire. Here, in Montana?”

“The shootout at the courthouse. I got shot. I was down in the street and Taz pulled me to safety. I’ve been looking for a chance to put something more substantial up there for the boys and with him flat on his back, I’m going to build a bungalow. A nice porch where we can sit out and watch the sun set some evenings. We’ll run a phone line and some electricity while we’re at it.

“It’s the least I can do for him. I’ll do it my way and apologize later. It’ll be a suitable place for him to heal up.”

“General, if I hadn’t seen you general, I might mistake you for an old softy,” McCoy said. “That’s a nice thing you’re doing. You’ll put a smile on that cowboy’s face.”

“Maybe. A general expects loyalty from his men, and that’s one loyal cowboy. I can afford to spoil him a little.”

“I haven’t seen any signs you’re not a general any longer, General,” McCoy said.

“You ever heard of posse comitatus, McCoy?”

“Sure, I am an Army Investigator. It prevents the military from operating on a war footing within the U.S.”

“That’s why I’m a retired general who employs some discharged soldiers on his ranch. Otherwise, anything I did could be confused as a criminal act. I render assistance when called upon, as a Montana rancher. I’m just a well armed rancher with connections.”

“From what I read on that shootout in town, you conducted a military operation, saved a lot of local asses. General or not, they are damn lucky to have you here.”

“That comes from a lifetime of military experience. Just lucky I was in the neighborhood.”

“Taz, who has now been shot, just happened to be the cowboy who blew the bad boys to Kingdom Come. Three dead, three wounded, and the shootout ends,” McCoy repeated the facts he’d learned at the sheriff’s office.

“A cowboy who just happened to be one of the deadliest weapons to survive Vietnam, and I may well have put the bull’s eye on his chest.”

“How do you figure?” McCoy asked.

“It was my plan, McCoy. I won the battle, Taz paid the price. The war is on. A general has to protect his men.”

“You blame yourself and now you want to build him something he might never use?” McCoy thought out loud.

“Rewards often are for the giver more than the getter. Rewarding a man like Taz isn’t easy. He doesn’t want anyone to give him anything. He wants to earn his way.”

“He knew we were walking into danger before I did. I should have known. He told me not to go to town unarmed.”

“Even then I wasn’t concerned. It’s not the first time either. Kendall is always telling me to be prepared for trouble and not leave my ass hanging out. I think I might be slipping, McCoy. Maybe it was a good thing I retired.”

“Stuff happens, General. No one knows what comes next. We do the best we can. You did what you thought best at the time. Why question yourself? Beating yourself up over your wounded cowboy… well, it’s spilt milk. I need a shower and some sleep.”

Chapter 5

Wild Blue Yonder

“Kendall, got a minute?” Gen. Walker said loudly.

“Sure, boss, what do you need?” Kendall asked, as he stepped into the office.

“I’m sending McCoy out of Gore Airfield in Great Falls on a hop over to Joliet. I’m going to need him at Gore before 06:30. They’ll know he’s coming and you shouldn’t have any trouble getting onto the tarmac where the plane will be waiting. I told McCoy he could sleep until 03:30. How long can he sleep?”

“You better tell him 01:30. I know it looks like 200 miles on the map but the road isn’t good between here and there. Four to five hours I’d call it, if you want him there alive and on time.”

“They’ll take him along but they won’t wait. How do you know this stuff?”

“I’m a driver. It’s what you pay me to do. I’ve checked routes to all the major cities in Montana from here.”

“Even in the Corvette?”

“Even in the Corvette. A hundred miles of bad road is a hundred miles of bad road. I don’t know it. I’ve seen it on a map. Weather could be a factor. What’s he doing in Joliet?”

“I don’t know. He’s taking the evidence from the shooting to a lab in Cicero. He takes it all very seriously.”

“Remember what a gangly kid he was, when you got a hold of him, boss?”

“Yea, and he was heading straight for the stockade. I saw a glint in his eye. I’d seen it before. I put him to work instead and he’s turned into a good cop.”

“First time I heard you yell. You dressed him down big time. He didn’t know whether to shit or go blind.”

“What’s that, three or four years? He grew up.”

“I was on light duty in your office. You were using me as a gopher, while I was healing up after being wounded. The army wanted to discharge me. I told you I had no place to go and you assigned me to your command.”

“You and McCoy are two of my success stories.”

“Half the cowboys on your ranch are success stories, boss. Taz was the topper.”

“No, Kendall, Taz didn’t need me. If anything, he taught me a thing or two. I don’t think I’ve met anyone less self-aware. He was a fighting machine, dedicated to 1st squad. His childhood was brutal. Only mentioned it once. Then, only after I said something I had no right saying.”

“Some men transcend human frailty. Taz could have written his own ticket long before he self-destructed. He did what he did for the Army, not for Sgt. Tazerski.”

“Did you think Taz would adjust to Montana living?”

“I didn’t see he had a choice, but no, I didn’t know if he’d fall down some drunken hole somewhere. That’s where Kodak fits into his life. That boy stabilizes Taz. I don’t say I understand it, but it works for them and so it works fine for me. Kodak has me worried. Won’t leave his bedside. You can’t buy loyalty like that , son.”

“You do cultivate loyalty, boss. Didn’t McCoy do a job for you about the time he was heading for a court martial? He was in a world of hurt and the next thing I know he’s coming and going from your office like one of your officers.”

“He was going nowhere in the Military Police. I caught him drinking on duty. Another officer would have had him up on charges before daylight came around.

“He just happened to fall into my hands at the right time. We had our eye on a man in Mortuary Services. An investigation linked him with the drug trade. I assigned McCoy to the Mortuary to keep any eye on the bad guys. When it was time to pull McCoy off the case, when it was beginning to get dangerous for him, he set up a meeting with the head of the operation, who wanted a big dumb soldier, who might run interference for the operation.

“McCoy made it so we couldn’t pull him off the case. The head of the operation took McCoy into his confidence. As a result, we got the head of the drug syndicate and most of his operation. That big dumb soldier snookered them all into putting their cards on the table. We had him wired and as quick as we had the goods on them, we busted in and arrested all of them. We separated McCoy out later and I had him assigned to Army Investigations.”

“You never know what’s on the inside of a man, boss.”

“He was a misfit MP that I threw a lifeline to in the beginning, but he was a professional at MPing in the end. Now he’s going off to become a cop in Chicago.”

“I don’t remember all that but I remember him. He was your first project that I saw. I’d only been with you for a few weeks.”

“I didn’t know how either of you would turn out. I never know what comes next. I see potential and go with it. You boys always surprise me. As much potential as I see, there’s always more.”

“You going to tell him about the early wakeup call?”

“He’s a big boy. He’ll figure it out.”

*****

The plane’s engines were running as Kendall drove up to the open door and the stairs McCoy would go up.

“Thanks, Kendall. I’ll be back in a couple of days. Lord knows where I’ll be landing, but I suspect we’ll meet again.”

McCoy left the car, disappearing up the steps.

“I’m Spec. 4 McCoy. Gen. Walker sent me,” McCoy said, as a sergeant stood in his way.

“ID would help, Spec. 4 McCoy,” the sergeant said.

McCoy flipped out his military police identification.

The sergeant showed him to a small metal seat that had been bolted to the floor in between crates and boxes.

“Buckle in, McCoy. We’ll be airborne in a few minutes. You didn’t give yourself a lot of extra time. It’s 06:26.”

Before leaving Montana, McCoy had bounced enough to have him wide awake. It was noon local time, when they had an hour layover in Joplin. It was no time at all when they were landing in Joliet, where he found the waiting car.

“Hi, Cilla. Thanks for coming all this way to get me,” McCoy said, scooting in and leaning to kiss her cheek.

“Couldn’t leave my baby bull out here in the middle of nowhere. Where to, McCoy? Mama’s all yours for two days.”

“Cicero. You know the police lab near the center of Cicero? Has all those windows and is about 6 stories high?”

“I work in Cicero. It’s the new police factory, isn’t it?”

“I’ve got a friend from Nam who works there. I’m helping a general with a case in Montana and I need someone I can trust to examine the evidence. You don’t want to disappoint a general if you can help it.”

“Always the cop, McCoy. Where’d your mama go wrong?” Cilla asked.

McCoy stood in the lobby long enough to start yawning and shifting from one foot to the other in an attempt to stay awake. When the man he was waiting for finally came out, his eyes had closed and he was beginning to nod off.

“Attention, soldier. Where’d you get that uniform?”

McCoy almost came to attention, squaring off his shoulders before remembering where he was.

“Holloway, you’re still an asshole,” McCoy grumbled. “An asshole you need for a favor. Come on back. I’ve cleared you as a visiting law enforcement officer. You tell me what you want and you’ll have to come back tomorrow. I’ll work late tonight and get what I can for you. You got the envelope with the evidence?”

“Yea, it’s right here,” McCoy said, holding the envelope.

“I’ll show you how the big boys do it, since you’re joining us in a few weeks.”

“I’m on special assignment with the Montana Army Reserves. I’ll be holding off coming to work in Chicago.”

“Bummer. We’re shorthanded. They’re recruiting like crazy. Not many dudes with your qualifications applying.”

“I know the city. It’ll be nice being back to civilization.”

“Here. This is where I work. Take a seat and give me the envelope. I’ll log it in as you give it to me. Now, you know cigarette butts don’t yield much beyond being the brand a bad guy smoked on a given day. The shell casing offers us the best shot at something substantial. If there’s anything on that puppy, I’ll get it off for you, McCoy. My specialty is shell casings.”

“Can I watch?”

“Sure. Just don’t touch anything. It’ll take a bit of time, so your watching isn’t going to make it any faster. I’ll work up the final results for you after I’m off work tonight.”

“I understand. Will I be able to match what you get with evidence from another crime scene?”

Holloway turned away from the items he’d set out on the counter in front of him.

“Yes, and no. If it’s handled properly and they can be matched in a proper lab by someone who knows what they’re doing. If I get anything substantial I’ll run it through the national fingerprint directory. That might take a week. It’s possible we can match just a thumb or fingerprint. Not likely but I’ve had it happen. Give you a name to go on.”

“I’m falling asleep. I didn’t get much sleep last night, or the night before. What time tomorrow?”

“My first break is at ten in the morning. Be here and I’ll walk you through the results. Don’t expect much, McCoy.”

“Do the best you can. I’ll see you in the morning.”

*****

The general and Kathleen entered Taz’s hospital room and found Kodak with his head resting on the bed as he held onto Taz’s hand. They both glanced to see all the machines doing what they had been doing when they left three days before. He waved for the nurse to go outside, and she put down her magazine and left the room.

“Kodak,” Kathleen said. “Kodak.”

“Oh, huh, ah Kathleen. General. I must have fallen asleep.”

“You need to come home and freshen up. Get a good meal and a good night’s rest,” Kathleen suggested.

“No, I want to be with him. Thank you.”

“I’ll stay with him, Kodak,” Gen. Walker said. “You go home and let Kathleen feed you. I won’t leave him alone.”

“No, thank you, General. I promised Taz I wouldn’t leave him again, after I came back from the plane crash. I want to be here when he wakes up.”

“Here, honey, I brought you a roast beef sandwich and a bottle of fresh soup I cooked this morning.”

“That’s prime roast beef, son, don’t be wasting my best beef,” the general added.

“Oh, thank you. You shouldn’t go to all that trouble. I do appreciate it. I don’t want to make work for you.”

“You’re one of the family, Kodak. Just appreciate it enough to eat some of it. I actually want to see how much you enjoy it,” Kathleen said, holding up a spoon for Kodak to take.

“The doctor said there’s no change. He’s resting and might not wake up for a few more days,” Gen. Walker said.

“Yes, sir, I talked to the doctor this morning. The first thing I want Taz to see is me, when he wakes up.”

Kodak dug out two spoonfuls of soup. There was still warmth in it and it did taste good, except his appetite went downhill from there and he set the bottle on the nightstand with the containers of food the nurses kept bringing him.

“What good are you doing him if you make yourself sick, Kodak?” Kathleen asked.

“I’ll be fine. I just want to be with him. I’m pretty scared he’ll leave me.”

While the general almost always got his way, he knew when to defer to a decision he couldn’t change. He recognized the bond between Taz & Kodak and it wasn’t something he could overrule. It wasn’t his job to tell Kodak what was best for him and Taz seeing a familiar face if he woke up wasn’t a bad idea.

“The window frames came. I put men on getting the job done. I’m going to arrange for some communications up there. I can’t let you boys go back up there if you can’t call for help. I’ve learned my lesson. He’ll come home to a first class bedroom and I’ll see to it a few other improvements are made. I hope you don’t mind me stepping in?”

“No, he’ll really be pleased. He was having a hard time getting it all done once he got it framed up. The floor was never level and every time he was trying to level it, it rained. He’d get mad as a hornet and fuss up a storm,” Kodak said, almost smiling when he remembered an animated Taz.

“Not a problem, Kodak. I owe that boy my life, you know? We’ll make a few improvements to keep him off the roof while he heals up. Maybe some indoor plumbing, a tub,” the general added, more to check Kodak’s reaction.

“Tazerski is keeping us all busy,” Kathleen added. “He’s doing fine and likes sitting in the general’s office with him. He has his own cowboy hat. He’s so cute. He doesn’t seem to mind being in the house. The problem is there are way too many hiding places for him to fall asleep in. If I can’t find him, I open a coconut, and before I set it down, there’s Tazerski.”

“He likes his coconut. I miss the little guy. He gets to see the horses every once in a while? He loves the horses.”

“He spends half his time in the stables. He has two dozen horses in there at any given time. His favorite is Milkweed, but he has made friends with all the horses. Cyclone is a bit moody. She misses Taz too. The cowboys don’t know what to make of that monkey,” the general said. “I’m not sure what to make of him.”

“That’s nice. I was worried about him. I’m sorry I left him for you to take care of. I didn’t dare bring him here.”

“He’s one of the family now. Don’t give it a second thought. We’ll hate to see him go,” Kathleen said.

“No, I’ll be glad to have my office back. He just comes in, climbs up on the chair next to the desk, and he sits there, watching me,” Gen. Walker said. “I’m not sure he isn’t a South Pacific spy.”

“He likes you, dear,” Kathleen said, patting the general’s arm.

The visit ended and Kathleen and the general stopped to chat with the nurse before sending her back into the room. She had observed no change.

Kendall held the door open for Kathleen. The general stopped to talk to the guard, who was going on duty. The general got into the backseat of the car on the passenger side, and in a few minutes they were heading out of Billings and back toward the ranch. The late afternoon traffic was modest as they worked their way toward the secondary highway that would take them home.

By the time they reached the turnoff traffic had dissipated. Kendall knew better than to push it with Kathleen in the car. With just the general, he’d waste no time getting back home, but there was no hurry and he continued at a moderate pace for some time.

“He looked better today,” the general said.

“Do you think so?” Kathleen said, not buying it.

“He’s been unconscious a long time.”

“Yes, he has,” she agreed.

“I thought I was done with waiting for my men to die.”

“He’s not going to die,” Kathleen said, patting the back of the general’s hand to comfort him. “He’s seriously wounded. It takes time to come back from that.”

“I suppose,” the general said. “I don’t like seeing him like that.”

“General, we’re being bird-dogged. Black sedan staying a half mile back. Turned off the highway behind us. He’s being real careful but not quite careful enough. I’ve seen him twice now. I watched him turn off behind us. No one has ever turned off behind us on this road before.”

“Kick it up five miles an hour and see what he does,” Gen. Walker ordered calmly.

He didn’t move or look out of the back window. Kathleen held the general’s hand without reacting to the conversation going on between her husband and Kendall.

“What did he do?” Gen. Walker asked.

“I wondered if you forgot. He kicked it up five miles an hour. He’s following us, boss. He’s staying a half mile behind, barely comes into view as we take the next curve.”

“I’m sure. I’ll give it another five and double check. We’re going to hit rough road in about two minutes,” Kendall said. “We’ll be starting up the mountain right after that.”

“Give me my .45 before you’re too busy,” General Walker said.

Kendall popped open the glove compartment, handing the holster back to the general.

“Ready yours before we hit the curves, Kendall. I don’t want to come out of this car on my own. Can he catch us?”

“General, he won’t catch us. Pull your belt tight, ma’am,” Kendall said. “It’s going to get a little hairy.”

“Don’t worry about me. Do what you need to do.”

Gen. Walker tightened his seatbelt, and Kathleen did the same, taking her husband’s hand again, patting the top of it to reassure him that she wasn’t afraid.

Kendall’s .45 clicked as he loaded a round in the chamber, once he’d jettisoned the holster onto the floor, he yanked to pull his belt tight. The engine of the sedan began to growl an evil, powerful sound as he gave it a little more gas to check to see if the power was there.

“You okay, son?”

“Fine. He’s still right in the same spot where he’s been. He’s just coming into view before I lose sight of him again. He doesn’t know I know he’s there yet, but he will if you want me to dump him.”

“As soon as you’re on the mountain, give him something to chase, son. You get this thing tuned up like I told you, Kendall?”

“Two four barrel carburetors, transistor ignition, and a few other goodies that were recommended to put a tiger in our tank, General. She screams on the straightaway.”

“I’ve heard the second four barrel kicking in. I wondered what it was. Kendall, before you get too busy, I want you to remember to double the guard on Taz’s room. We may as well pull out the stops now that we know they’re staying close to us. Get Rowdy to issue arms to our best men. We’ll need to set up a guard on the house, until we’ve finished this little game. I’m tired of being surprised.”

The general spoke in a soft even voice, belying the circumstances. He’d expected more trouble but not with Kathleen in the car. His wife had nothing to do with the war with the WB and having her in harms way pissed him off. Kendall was cool and he wasn’t about to let a bad guy catch him.

“Hold on. It’s Miller time. He’s closing down the distance.”

When Kendall punched the accelerator, he knew precisely where the first hairpin turn was. He planned to be around it and gone before the tail realized it. Because of the many twists and turns on the mountain road, the tailing car would assume he wasn’t far away. But Kendall would be driving on the edge of losing control. He knew the road and he knew precisely where to use speed and when to brake to keep the pursuit car well behind them.

When he came off the mountain and hit the five mile straight stretch of road, Kendall pegged the speedometer until it ran off the dial. The air whistled as the car flew and Kendall checked the mirror to see if anyone appeared.

“No headlights behind us, General? He’s still on the mountain. It’s five miles to this turn and he hasn’t shown.”

“Carry on, Kendall. You can drop it back now. They’ll think we turned off. They’ll be searching that mountain all night, looking for the turnoff we took. Nice work, son. You do have a way with cars.”

“Yes, sir, I do,” Kendall smiled.

“Sorry dear, I’m slipping in my old age. I should have seen that coming. I don’t like exposing you to danger.”

“My love, as long as I’m with you, you can expose me to anything you like,” Kathleen said, kissing her husband and squeezing his hand in hers.

Kendall blushed.

*****

McCoy was back at the police laboratory a little before ten. He brought his coffee and an extra cup for Holloway. He still hadn’t caught up with all the sleep he’d lost, but he was alert and ready to go.

“Come on back. I’ll tell you what I found. That coffee for me?”

“Yeah, here. I figured it would save you going to get a cup on break. I do appreciate this. It means a lot to a man who helped me.”

“Close the door,” Holloway said, moving over to the counter and opening his coffee to take a long sip.

“I remembered cream, but I put a little sugar in just in case,” McCoy cringed, knowing how he hated ill-prepared coffee.

“Cream only but you didn’t get enough sugar in it to make it undrinkable.”

“What did you get for me?” McCoy said, looking over Holloway’s shoulder.

“More than I figured. We have a perfect thumb print. Don’t get too excited. Matching only a thumb print with one presently in the system is a long shot. I’m continuing to run it against known hit men. Now I got a partial index fingerprint. I think it is enough to make a positive ID, but hard to say. It’ll take way longer to do any mass comparisons. I’ll do what I can to expedite the results, but probably not going to get a match.”

“So we don’t have much of anything?” McCoy observed. “Why hit men? I didn’t tell you anything about the shooter, except he smokes Viceroy and lays in wait for his victim.”

“But you see, I’m a laboratory technician with a brain, McCoy. I went off the reservation on my own. Here, I want you to look at these. No complete print on any of the butts. Except for one tiny detail, your shooter might remain anonymous.”

“What detail is that?” McCoy asked, looking closer at the cigarette butts and shell casing.

“Take a look at each cigarette butt. What do you see?”

“He smokes them down to the filter? They’re all the same.”

“No, he doesn’t smoke them to the filter. I don’t know how far he smoked them down. He field strips them?”

“Military? He’s a military guy?”

“I knew one soldier who did this to his cigarettes. He pinched off the burning tip of his cigarette, field stripped it, and then pinched the remainder off and stuck it in his pocket. He was an Army sniper. Never left anything behind.”

“Army sniper? Makes sense.”

“He may well be one of your own, but he got careless. The sniper tucks the butt into his pocket, leaving no evidence he was ever there. This guy didn’t care or left those items to taunt you. He ain’t in Vietnam no more but old habits are hard to break.

“Your man is going to have some serious stains on his index finger and his thumb, where he pinches off the fire.

When you nail your man, check for the telltale stain.”

“Son of a gun, Holloway. When I heard you were going to work in the police lab, I didn’t think you were the type. That’s damn clever. I’d never have picked up on that.”

“Well, McCoy, there was that little marijuana deal you let me slide on. I owe you my career. You get up here and need anything, you see me. If I can help you I will.”

“The general I’m doing this for gave me a break and he saved my career. We’ll just call it even, Holloway. I appreciate your help. I’ll be seeing you before long.”

“I’ve got your evidence in a plastic bag. I blew up some pictures of the cigarette butts. It could come in handy down the road.”

“Well done, Holloway. I didn’t expect to come away with much. I’ll see what the sheriff back there has now.”

“There’s more?”

“Andy of Mayberry runs the town nearby. There was a shootout at his courthouse. I have no reason to expect he did a crackerjack job of investigating, but I didn’t expect you’d get much. If he got fingerprints we may be in business,” McCoy said, leaving the lab.

Cilla was waiting outside in the car for him.

“Take me to O’Hare, Cilla darlin’. I’ve got to get back to Montana. That seems like the place to start. I’ll call the general to let him know I’m on the way back. He might be able to expedite the travel arrangements.”

“Did you get what you were looking for?” Cilla asked.

“A veritable goldmine of information. My man Holloway really came through for me. He also created a lot more work. I thought this could be where my investigation ended, but it appears we’ve only just begun.”

“I can’t talk you into staying over one more night? You slept the entire time yesterday,” Cilla complained.

“If anyone could talk me into staying, Cilla darlin’, it would be you, but duty calls, and the investigator has investigating to do. It’s why they pay me the big bucks,” McCoy said.

“I thought you were in the Army?” Cilla said, and they both laughed.

“Yea, I am, but on base I get all the food I can eat, and that’s big money, babe.”

They laughed some more.

Chapter 6

Andy of Mayberry

The general wasted no time getting busy once they arrived back at the ranch. He was immediately calling Crosby to the radio room where he laid out the plan.

“Crosby, get me Rowdy and Boyd. We’re going to button this place up. I want radio communication in all vehicles that leave the ranch. You get with Boyd to see to it the radios all match up to your receiver. Let me know if you need anything.”

“What’s up, General?” Crosby asked.

“We picked up a tail leaving the hospital. Kendall left them in the dust, but now we know they’re there and Taz was only the first target.’

“Those WB boys?” Rowdy asked, after answering his call to the general’s office..

“Not a minute’s trouble until we came up against them. Now we’ve got guys chasing us. I don’t know if they’re behind it, but logic points right at them. The smart move for Jones would have been to become invisible, but that’s not his style, and he’s picked the wrong general to fuck with.”

“What’s the plan, General?” Rowdy asked, as Boyd leaned in to listen.

“I’m calling the police department in Billings and I’ll get them to pick up the slack at the hospital, until we can have more men there. They already know we’re guarding Taz and they’re cooperating. No reason to think that won’t continue.

“Rowdy, pick four volunteers who don’t mind twelve hour shifts at the hospital. We’ll secure some kind of lodging. change the men every three days. Volunteers only. Make it clear they’re going to be protecting Taz.”

“What do you want done here?” Boyd asked.

“I want guards on the driveway, halfway between the road and the house. Set me up a sandbagged guard station. Get a roof on it so they aren’t standing out if it rains. That’s a twenty-four hour a day guard. I want a radio at that position so they can communicate with the house.

“If they’re watching us they’ve seen construction material coming in. They may use a lumber truck to get to the house. I want the sprinklers down by the road run for an hour every four hours, but turn them on now for the next eight hours. Anything that tries to come off the road and across the front of the property should sink up to the axles. Run the water until they will.

“I don’t think they’re that stupid but we’ll be ready for them if they are. Are you getting all this.”

“I’m with you, general. You haven’t missed anything yet. What about the cattle?”

“I want you to move the cattle to the shipping pens. It’ll be harder to stampede them from there. I’ll call Randy Couch to get him to pick up the cattle early. The easiest way to draw us away from being ready for a fight would be to have us chasing cattle all over Montana. These guys aren’t rocket scientists, but that just might cross their minds.

“Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it. I’ll get four men to cut out the cattle a few dozen at a time. We should be able to get the main herd into the holding pens in half a day. We going to tell Sheriff Ward what’s up?” Rowdy said.

“He doesn’t work well under pressure. I’ll wait until we’re sure of what’s going on. You know as well as I do, I’m probably over reacting, but we’ve got Taz in the hospital already. I’m not waiting until they put more of them there. We’ll be ready for them if they decide to come at us..

“Kathleen was with me today. They couldn’t have made a bigger mistake than coming at me with my wife in the car. I don’t plan to get caught flat-footed again. We’ll be ready for them if they come.”

“Yes we will, General,” Rowdy said. “They’ll live to regret it if they decide to drive up here.”

“I want to finish the work up on the mesa. Maybe four of my best builders. Can we do everything else and keep four men up there? Armed men.”

“We have enough to get it all done.” Rowdy said.

“I want the house finished when Taz comes home.”

“Good as done, General. I’ve got the men for the job.”

“Thanks, Rowdy. Anything comes up, give me a call.”

Gen. Walker felt no fear, but he failed to protect those closest to him. As a rancher he might accept this failure. As a general, he wasn’t letting it happen twice.

The FBI and the Montana State Police asked to be kept apprised. Their main concern was to find out if the shooting led back to the WB, and more precisely, Sam Jones. The local authorities had jurisdiction until the time the man they wanted was linked to the crime. At that time they wanted to be involved in rounding up their fugitive.

*****

“Kendall, my man, how long to the ranch?” McCoy asked, as he tossed his things in the backseat of the sedan.

“Five hours if I take my time,” Kendall said. “Couldn’t you have gotten a flight a little closer? I could have picked you up in Chicago and not been that much further from the ranch.”

“Best I could do on short notice, Kendall. Believe me, it doesn’t thrill me driving over hill and dale for hours and still end up in the middle of nowhere.”

“City boys,” Kendall said.

“How long if we detour through your little town and stop to see Andy?”

“Andy?” Kendall asked, yawning.

“Your local sheriff. Where you gentlemen conducted your shootout to rescue his town.”

“Five and a half hours. Five hours and fifteen minutes if we stop for coffee,” Kendall calculated.

“How come the stop knocks off fifteen minutes?”

“Once I have some coffee, it’ll speed me up a bit.”

McCoy had enough cash for two Egg Mc Muffin and two large coffees. The MacDonald’s was right on the way.

*****

“Hey, honey, you sit up here and eat this. I baked them fresh this morning. Here’s a cup of coffee to wash it down,” Madge said, as Kodak sat up rubbing his eyes from another night of sitting beside Taz’s bed.

“Oh, thank you. That smells incredible, Madge. You didn’t say you were a cook.”

“Yes, it would, since you haven’t eaten enough to keep a bird alive. You making yourself sick isn’t going to help this boy none,” Madge said, moving the uneaten food into the trash can.

Kodak bit into the roll and the flavor was every bit as good as the smell. He smiled, taking a swig of coffee for a double dose of flavor he savored.

“Thanks, Madge. That was nice of you,” Kodak said, biting the roll another time.

“Not nourishing, but it will put something in your stomach. He has good color this morning.”

“You think so? I can’t tell anymore.”

“I dug out my copy of Time magazine with ‘the fighting fool of 1st squad’ on the cover. It took time for me to associate this man with that cover. You expect him to jump right out of the magazine and yet here he lies quiet. Who did this to him anyway?”

“I don’t know, Madge. I haven’t spent any time thinking about it. I don’t know why he’d have an enemy in the world. He’s one of the good guys.”

“They have two guards on his room now. Someone has some idea that adds up to another attempt on his life.”

“I didn’t think about it. The general is quite fond of Taz. I’m sure he’s doing what he can to protect him. I have a hard time believing anyone would want to hurt him.”

“I’m an old army warhorse and I know the smell of fear. Those boys standing guard are waiting for something to happen. Every time I go out, they act like they’ve never seen me before when I come back,” Madge said. “I don’t carry my pistol on my person.”

“You’re funny, Madge. You’re nice. I’m glad the general put you on the room with Taz.”

“Well, I don’t mind telling you I wasn’t all that anxious to come back to work, but your general does have a way of getting the troops to attention.”

“He’s a good man, Madge. I’ve never met anyone more compassionate. I trust him. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Yes, I’m sure. Generals often do. Just in case, I never travel alone,” Madge revealed.

“You don’t?” Kodak asked, looking to see if someone had come in with her.

“No, sir. It’s me and Smith & Wesson model 29 in my purse. If someone tries to harm that boy he’ll have to come through me first.”

“Thank you, Madge,” Kodak said, smiling at the idea of the tiny nurse holding off assassins. “What kind of gun is it?”

“‘The most powerful handgun in the world,’ according to Dirty Harry anyway. I’ll take his word for it,” Madge said. “The shells are .44 Magnum.”

“Why did they change rooms? This doesn’t look any different from the other one. This is the third room in five days.”

“Honey, this is a hospital. They might do anything, when the mood strikes. This room is more out of the way and there’s no direct foot traffic. The staircase across the hall leads to the parking lot. The guards aren’t going to let anyone to come out on this floor. Other than that you have to come from the main nurses station to get down here. No one will bother him here,” Madge said,

Madge set down her purse and moved the chair from the table where she and the cowboys played cards, putting it nearer the bed.

“How is he, Madge? What are the doctors saying?”

“His blood pressure is good. His pulse is stronger and he’s been breathing on his own. His color is improving and that’s always good. The problem is, until he opens his eyes and recognizes you, there’s no way to know if there’s permanent damage from his blood loss. The damage has begun to heal. He’ll wake up when he’s ready. That’s when we’ll know. The doctors don’t say anything more than that.”

Kodak intended to be there when Taz opened his eyes, and that would make everything okay. Taz would be okay and Kodak would be okay.

*****

“Sheriff Ward, do you have a minute?” McCoy asked, as he strolled into the sheriff’s department, spotting him off in one corner with one of his deputies.

“Oh, Gen. Walker’s man. McCoy, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir. Did you tell the general he owed you for the fingerprint kit I borrowed?”

“Thanks,” the sheriff said.

“Yes, well, I’m back to ask some questions. We have some interesting evidence from the crime scene.”

“What can I do for you, McCoy?”

“It’s not the shooting on the mesa. Your shootout in town in the courthouse. Taz was involved in that.”

“He broke it up. Never seen anything like it. The general says there were eight riflemen in the two second-story windows at the front of the courthouse. I was on the first floor and behind all the action, until the general’s men opened up. I don’t mind telling you it sounded like all hell broke loose. It seems he had men in the two alleys adjacent to Main Street, drawing the riflemen’s fire to the alleys.

“I heard the uproar and came up front to see if Patton was out front. Damn if I’d ever seen anything like it. That boy, Taz, hell, he was a better man than me, I don’t mind telling you. He steps out in the street, lifts that big rifle, and the two front windows with the eight riflemen disintegrated. He stood there like he was bulletproof. Then he moved into the General Store. The general’s men were still firing, but it went silent after a minute.

“We figure the gunmen who didn’t get shot got away in the confusion of my men taking back the courthouse.”

“That’s a pretty good description. I really hadn’t asked about the details before. You seem to have a grasp of what went down. The general got himself shot and his men were busy drawing fire to the alleys. No one saw Taz but you and the outlaws. I understand there are pictures.”

“I never thought of that. We got busy securing the building as quick as the gunfire stopped. We didn’t manage to trap any of the bad guys except the dead ones. We didn’t secure the side entrances and they escaped that way.

“For some reason I’ll never understand, they returned to that WB compound Jones owns. The general used his men to surround them and when they tried to escape the State boys showed up to take them into custody. Then some judge cuts the Jones the father and Jones the son loose on bail. That’s the last anyone has seen of them.”

“Fascinating! Fascinating! Which brings me to the information I need from you. The windows were shattered, but did you make an effort to get fingerprint evidence?”

“Son, I’m a sheriff. I know what evidence is. Certainly, I put my fingerprint man on what was left of the frames.”

“Did he get anything you can use in court?”

“I have an envelope full of the prints he got off there, but you’ve got to realize one detail. That’s a public building. Anyone can say they touched the window before the shootout.”

“Can I have copies of the prints you took?”

“I just told you that they won’t stand up in court.”

“So you don’t mind giving me the fingerprints? I’ll return them after I’m done.”

“What are you really after?”

“Everything comes back to the WB group. I want to get your evidence in the system. Compare it to known hit men.”

“Professional job?” the sheriff said.

“If it is a professional hit man involved with the WB, he might have been in that window. I want to cover all the bases. They could have brought someone from the outside in to do the hit.”

“My sets of prints only help if you have something on the shooter. Anyone could have touched that window at any time.”

“What I have are some partials. We probably won’t get much on them. If they match some of your prints we might get an identity that way,” McCoy explained.

“Now I see why the general called you. Very clever. I’d never have put that together. You figured all that out?”

“I’ve been in Army Investigations for several years. You learn to approach a problem from more than one direction. My experience tells me we might get more by comparing what I have with what you have. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Yea, you got me curious now. I’ll give you what I have. You brief me when you return it, McCoy.”

McCoy left the sheriff’s office with an envelope full of fingerprint evidence taken off the windows in question. He wasn’t sure what he was going to find, but he decided to go back to Cicero to see what Holloway could find out.

He should have gotten all the facts on the shootout before going to Cicero. He had no reason to tie the two events together until he’d talked to Holloway and had time to think about it. There would be a strong motive for one of the men in that window to want to take out the guy who took his buddies out.

McCoy was young and he knew he’d do a lot of backtracking before he was wise enough to see the big picture before backtracking. Investigating is what taught you to be a better investigator.

They drove past the sandbags, the guards, and into the area behind the house. Kendall went to fill the car up with gas and McCoy headed for the general’s office.

“Where you going, soldier,” the general barked from the table in the dining room.

“To see you. Can you get me back to Joliet?”

“Crosby,” the general yelled. “You forget your brain, McCoy.”

“No, sir,” McCoy explained. “Call me a little slow on the uptake. The sheriff had fingerprint evidence from the upstairs window in the courthouse. It makes sense that the guy who shot Taz was in one of those windows. It took me until now to put two and two together, I want my man to look at the sheriff’s prints. If he can match ours to theirs, we’ll probably be able to get a name of it.

“You’ve got the mind for this kind of stuff, McCoy,” the general said. “You fly all the way to Illinois to get to the local sheriff’s office. Not the way I’d have played it.”

“You want this guy. I want this guy, but I’ve got to get to him in my own way. I may be slow but I’m good.”

“Do it your way, son. You’re the investigator.”

“Crosby, he needs to get back to Joliet. ASAP.”

“You like to fly, McCoy?” Crosby asked.

“Book me first class. I need food and some sleep first.”

“One first class ticket in freight seating. You got it,” Crosby yelled, getting Gore AFB on the phone.

Once again Kendall had to get up in the middle of the night to get McCoy where he needed to be.

*****

As McCoy flew east, Kodak remained vigilant at Taz’s bedside. He chatted with Madge during the day. She was a pleasant woman who knew her business. She made the ordeal less painful.

There was a disturbance outside of Taz’s room the morning McCoy flew to Illinois. There were bells, voices, and something that sounded like chanting. As Madge headed for her handbag, the door swung open, and Medicine Band, Jeremy, two Indian braves and two Indian women filed into the room, forming a semicircle around Taz’s bed.

“You can’t come in here,” Madge objected, after they were in and the door was shut.

“I know them, Madge. It’s okay,” Kodak said.

“War Eagle’s heart is being held in the spirit world. Medicine Band wants to return it to Taz’s body. There’s a ceremony,” Jeremy explained. “It won’t take long but it can’t be interrupted.”

“Madge, they’re fine. I want them here. If it makes you nervous, you can wait outside. We’ll be fine. He’s a medicine man. Taz is their friend.”

“I don’t mind. They scared the hell out of me. I’m not unacquainted with the ways of Native Americans. I won’t raise a fuss. Just try not to disturb the rest of the hospital. They’ll toss us all out of here.”

Medicine Band chanted, smoke filtered from pots the women held, and bells jangled as they danced near Taz’s bed. Medicine Band put a substance on Taz’s forehead and cheeks before he became very quiet and seemed to be praying before the chanting started again.

As the ceremony was coming to an end, Medicine Band came over to Kodak, marking his forehead and cheeks before chanting for a few more minutes. The door opened and the Indians started moving out.

“Thank you,” Kodak said, putting his hand on top of Medicine Band’s hand, when he hesitated in front of him.

“He wake soon, Hair-in-Flames,” Medicine Band said.

Medicine Band left the room and Jeremy returned without his headdress.

“How’d you get here?” Kodak asked.

“I’d tell you on a cloud, but that wouldn’t be true. Sally Two Shirts has a pickup truck for her laundry business. She drove. It’s a new Indian custom.”

“How’d you know?” Kodak asked.

“We’re Indians. We know stuff. No, I rode over to your place. I told Taz I would help him put in the windows. One of the cowboys told me yesterday. When I told Medicine Band he went off to himself for a few hours and the next thing I know we were planning a trip here. Things happen fast when you’re an Indian. It’s best not to resist the inevitable.”

“Thank you, Jeremy. He’d appreciate your coming by. I appreciate it.”

“He has a powerful spirit presence, Kodak. It’s not easy to snuff out a spirit as strong as War Eagle’s. He’ll be fine. If he was going to die, he’d be dead. He can only die a sudden death.”

“He lost a lot of blood, Jeremy. It took hours to get him here.”

“He is strong. His spirit isn’t done here. Medicine Band says he has a long life ahead of him. He merely came to call for War Eagle’s heart to return to him.”

“Tell him I appreciate it very much.”

“He knows, Kodak. He knows. You are the one who keeps Taz’s spirit so strong. You go together as the hand goes with a glove. Medicine Band prayed for your heart to be unbroken and for your spirits to be one again.”

“Thank him.”

Jeremy left as Madge sat quietly in one corner of the room.

“War Eagle?”

“His Indian name,” Kodak said.

“Fitting. It’s amazing how intuitive they are. I always depended on medicine to heal my soldiers and my patients, but I can’t help but feel the energy they left behind. He called you Hair-in-Flames. To have an Indian name is quite an honor hereabouts for a white man. They aren’t given to being fond enough of most of us to give us an Indian name, not that we can blame them. We did them a big injustice.”

Chapter 7

Eye Openers

There were two more days between McCoy’s departure from the ranch and his return. This time there were no side trips and he went directly into the general’s office without being invited.

“McCoy, you done flying on the army’s dime?” the general said, as he jotted down some notes. “Sit down. You brought me something.”

“Sometimes I even surprise myself, General.”

“What did you find out?” the general asked stopping in the middle of what he was writing.

“Our shooter smokes Viceroy.”

“Come on, McCoy. I can read and I don’t need to fly to Illinois to know that.”

“I want you to look at what my man in Cicero got us,” McCoy said, removing the plastic bag he’d been carrying for four days. “First look at the cigarette butts. Here’s some blowups of them. Don’t take the evidence out of the plastic bag. I want you to hold on to it until we find a use for it.

“Why that is important comes later. Look at the butts. He is checking the thumb and partial index fingerprint he took off the shell casing. No matches in the system. He ran the prints against known hit men. No luck.

“You see anything unusual about the butts, General?”

“No, he smokes them to the filter. Lots of guys do that.”

“He doesn’t smoke them down to the filter. He field strips them.”

The general’s eyes met McCoy’s with some displeasure in them.

“He’s military?”

“Holloway said he’s seen these butts done like that before. He knew an army sniper who did it this way. Put the filter in his pocket to dispose of later. They pinch it off at the tip while it’s still lit. Leaves a distinctive stain on the index finger and the thumb.”

“Leave no evidence behind, but he left it for us?”

“He’s not an army sniper any longer, General. Maybe he got careless. Maybe he wanted to leave us a little something. Taunt us. Taunt you.”

The general pushed back from his desk and didn’t speak for several minutes as he processed what he was being told. He looked at the pictures of the butts before looking back at McCoy.

“What else. You’re holding out on me, McCoy. You had all this the first time around. You made a second trip. Why?”

“I collected your sheriff’s fingerprints from the courthouse. I’m a little slow on the uptake. It took me a long time to realize that we might be able to connect the shootout with the shooting. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Actually it was during one of my sleepless night on those damn transports, when we dropped about a thousand feet in a second and a half it came to me.”

“What did the second trip tell you, McCoy?”

“The man who handled the shell casing I found on the canyon rim was in the window at the courthouse the day of the shootout.”

“You’re certain? There’s no chance you could be mistaken.”

“Positive ID. The thumb print on the shell casing and one of the thumb prints from the inside of one of the windows at the courthouse are identical.”

“I’ll be damn. McCoy, you’re a force of nature. What comes next?”

“I’m working on a strategy. What’s going on out front? I felt as if I was driving onto the base back in Da Nang.”

“I picked up a tail after leaving the hospital. Kendall left him in the dust when we got to the mountains.

“Kendall’s from Hazard, Kentucky. Knew how to drive before he could walk. I let him soup up the ‘57 Chevy in case we had a need for speed.

“Kathleen was with me. We couldn’t stop to confront them. Don’t tell her I said that. She’d thrash me for suggesting I need to look out for her, but I wouldn’t put her in danger. I don’t like being threatened, even from a distance. Threatening my wife is a bad move.”

“Kendall told me about it. Now you’re turning the ranch into a fortress. I’d have suggested it. At least until we nail this guy and whoever sent him,” McCoy said.

“These are the times when it pays to have soldiers for cowboys.”

“I need you to open some doors. You have connections everywhere and the next step will require your touch.”

“And what do you need?”

“The Army keeps fingerprint records on all the special forces. While I can’t get near them, I bet you can get me in the door, General. If we’re looking for a former military man, my bet is on special forces. It cuts down the search.”

“I’ll send a messenger to carry the prints to APO in San Francisco with my request to run it against prints they have on file, active duty and discharged.”

“Start the search with army snipers,” McCoy said. “It’s another long shot, but we’re on a winning streak. We just might get lucky one more time. Then we can run recent traffic stops in Montana, when we ID him.”

“What good is a name if he’s tucked away in some militia hideout somewhere?”

“Maybe a picture comes out of a name. A picture gives us a lot more to go on. A picture gives us an advantage he isn’t aware we have.”

“You think the man who shot Taz followed us away from the hospital? Kendall only saw one man. Never saw his facial features.”

“The way I figure, your man on the mesa is a warning shot to you, General. A man like Jones doesn’t want your hired help. He wants you. He wants to make you sweat. The hit man is merely following orders. He’s waiting for someone to give him the go ahead before he makes his next move. I’d take armed guards with me any time I left the ranch if I were you. If he’s been to the hospital he knows Taz is well guarded. He may be waiting for you to make a mistake.”

“I’m not one to travel with a lot of fanfare, son.”

“Let me put it this way. Your life might depend on you always being in a crowd. I get his picture and our odds of keeping you alive go way up. I don’t have a picture.

“He’s clever. He’s patient. He’s persistent if he was the one following you home. We need to take him out before he takes you out. Remember this, General, he can sit in wait and shoot from five hundred yards and knock the eye out of a needle. If he’s army trained, He won’t miss,” McCoy said.

This was a fact of which Gen. Walker was well aware.

“Army trained?” Gen. Walker mulled over in his mind. “Maybe you should take the print. I’ll write you a letter.”

“You’re reading my mind,” McCoy said.

“You know what’s at stake. You’ve come this far. Probably a good idea to let you follow through.”

“Clear the way for me to get into their records. If he’s in there I’ll stick with it until I dig him out.”

The idea of one of his own taking him out was anathema to a soldier’s general. He loved his men above all else, except for Kathleen. He hated the idea of being taken out by one of his own.

The general leaned back in his chair to give some thought to McCoy’s information. The shooter being at the courthouse explained a lot.

Was he freelancing, settling a grudge he had with Taz? Was he sent by Jones to shoot Taz? If the shooter only wanted Taz, he had work to do. If his objective was to kill the general, he had work to do.

“If he was at the courthouse, he could have a personal grudge against Taz,” Gen. Walker said.

“I’ve thought of that,” McCoy countered. “Personal is up close. Walk up and put a gun in his stomach and squeeze off a few rounds to watch him die. This was business. It was a hit. If he’s only after Taz, why follow you?”

“You still think it was a hit?”

“Logic tells me. It could have been a hunter who mistook him for an elk,” McCoy said flippantly.

“You piss me off, you know? I want this to be simple and easy,” the general said angrily.

“You should have let Andy of Mayberry do it. I can only follow the evidence. It’s what I do. It’s why you called me. All I can give you are the facts.”

“I suppose you expect to be fed and you’ll probably want more sleep.”

“If there’s food involved, I’ll stay until you arrange for a flight to where I can get my hands on the files I need to look at. I can only look at one print at a time.”

“When you worked that case for me back in Vietnam, you came to me as a drunk kid away from home for the first time. You were cocky, arrogant, and useless to mother, God, and country. All I could think to do was give you a chance and hope you’d shape up. You did.

“What I see before me now is a professional investigator with more intuitive ability than most investigators with a lot more experience. What happened to you, McCoy?”

“Well, General, I met this general. He told me to get my shit together or spend the next two years in Leavenworth. I took him at his word. I took the job he offered me seriously. What you see before you today is the result of a stupid kid being given a chance to make something of himself. I still take it seriously.”

“You come up with a lot of ideas from a tiny bit of evidence, like that thumbprint. How do you explain that?”

“I get hunches, General. You mentioned food a ways back. I also have a good memory. I’m starving. I work better on a full stomach.”

“That hasn’t changed. How do you stay so thin stowing away all that chow?”

“I’m a growing boy, General. For some of your wife’s chip beef gravy over biscuits, I’ll do the job,” McCoy bargained. “Just don’t ask me to round up no cows.”

“Cattle, McCoy,” Gen. Walker said. “You work cheap. I’d have given you my best steak.”

“I’d have finished the job without the chip beef,” McCoy admitted.

The two men laughed loudly.

*****

Jake Slade sat in a station wagon inside the hospital parking lot. He’d waited a week to come calling, because he knew everyone would be on their toes for the first few days. He’d watched the comings and goings for days and he figured the general would put guards on the cowboy’s room.

He’d thought of a grenade, but Sam Jones wanted to keep it simple. How he missed the cowboy’s heart, he’d never know. He may have moved or twitched at the instant the shot was fired. Somehow the cowboy survived and that mistake wasn’t likely to happen again.

“I want him dead. I want that general scared. I want him to know I can hit him any time anywhere I want,” said Sam Jones, when he said no to the grenade.

Jake was nobody’s fool. Up on that mesa, taking out that cowboy was easy. Going into a hospital and into his room was dangerous and unpredictable. Jones wasn’t making the hit and didn’t care about unpredictability. He was a man that only saw the world his way.

The closer he had to get to take out the dude he was after, the more dangerous it became for him. He knew danger. He knew how to avoid it. It didn’t scare him.

Walking into a guarded room was akin to suicide. He’d seen the guards arriving and leaving. There were only two on duty today, but if he had to shoot his way into the room to finish the job he’d started, he’d never live to shoot his way out. He had to get into the room without being challenged. That made getting out a lot easier.

Jake was waiting for the opportunity that would eventually present itself. Either from a distance or close up, once he got a shot, he’d take it, but he was in no hurry. There was no need to rush into a deadly shootout. He’d wait until he controlled the situation and his exit route was safe.

Jake survived at the courthouse, because he’d planned his exit route. Two of his buddies left in body bags, but he slipped away in the confusion. If Jones hadn’t wanted the cowboy responsible taken out,

Jake would have done it on his own. He didn’t like being shot at and especially he didn’t like being surprised while he was working. Jones paid well and that made it better. He wasn’t a man that held a grudge, but he did like the idea of settling the score.

Slade went over the events of the week so far. When he remembered the truckload of Indians showing up, he chuckled. That was unexpected. He hadn’t read about any significant Indian being at the hospital. He was glad he hadn’t made his move that day, although confusion was often good for a successful getaway. Jake didn’t mind distractions as long as he wasn’t the one being distracted.

He was waiting for the right time to make his move. he’d know when it came. He wanted the cowboy first. It ruined the fun if he did the general first. The general would know he was next once he killed the cowboy.

Maybe he’d slip in dressed as a redskin. ‘That would be the ticket,’ he thought, as the idea came and went. A clown would work or maybe a Mickey Mouse suit to look as if he was lost, looking for the children’s ward. How long until Halloween? Everyone dresses for Halloween, but he didn’t need a disguise. Steal a doctor’s coat and a stethoscope and he’d look right in place inside the hospital. After all, no one knew who he was.

*****

“What are you doing,” a voice inquired as Kodak tried to open his eyes.

He felt a hand on his head and a gentle shaking.

“Kodak!”

“Taz! Taz!” Kodak yelled, pulling Taz’s hand to his chest, hugging it to him while looking into his open eyes, ignoring the dark circles surrounding them.

“Where the hell are we? Did I finish our bedroom?”

“No, you’re in the hospital.”

“I am? Did my hand get infected?” he asked, looking at the hand he’d pulled splinters out of a few months before. “I never get sick.”

“You were shot, babe,” Kodak said.

“Shot! We’re in Vietnam? We left Vietnam. I was out at the corral with Tazerski. We were sitting together watching the horses graze. Is Tazerski okay? Did I finish the bedroom? I was going to work on your bedroom.”

“You were shot. Tazerski is fine.”

“I was shot? Who shot me?”

“I don’t know. You’re awake. You know who I am. That’s all that’s important.”

“Oh, man, is my mouth dry. Where am I?”

“A hospital in Billings.”

“Oh, this is where the general was?”

“Yea, this is where they treated the general.”

“How long have I been here?”

“A week, I think. I’m not sure. I don’t know what day it is. Could be two weeks. Seems like forever.”

“You need a shave,” Taz said, feeling Kodak’s furry face.

“I do, don’t I,” Kodak said, laughing as the tears ran out of his eyes.

“You’re crying.”

“Yes, I am. You’re awake. They didn’t know if you’d wake up. You lost a lot of blood. Dr. Westphalia kept you alive until they got you here.”

“I feel like I can hardly breathe. My back hurts like hell. My head hurts. If I’m in the hospital, why can’t they do something about the pain? I feel like I’m lying on a rock.”

“It’s late. I’ll see what I can do. You want some ice?”

“Yes, no, don’t leave me. Push the button and they’ll come,” Taz said.

“Oh, yea. I forgot. We’re in the hospital,” Kodak said.

A nurse came and then a doctor came. They flashed lights in his eyes, checked his heart, his pulse, and the doctor checked his bandages for blood or drainage.

“Go ahead and give him the pain medication. All his vitals are strong. He’s going to be okay. You had us scared, young man. It was touch and go when they brought you in here.”

“It was?”

Kodak nodded while the nurse added the pain medication to his IV, sitting down near the foot of the bed. The doctor left the room satisfied.

“Is he okay?” the guard on the door asked the doctor.

“He’s awake. He’s going to be okay,” the doctor said, smiling.

“All right!”

*****

“General!... General!”

“Oh my. What time is it, Crosby?”

“04:30, General.”

“You’re standing here so I guess it’s important. Give me a minute to dress.”

“Yes, sir,” Crosby said, shutting the door quietly.

“What is it, hon? It’s still dark,” Kathleen observed.

“You go to sleep. It’s important. It’s almost daylight, dear,” the general said, leaning to kiss Kathleen.

“If it’s Taz, let me know,” Kathleen said.

“I will,” he said, pulling on his pants and heading for the communications room.

“Someone reporting trouble?” the general asked from the door.

“I started getting calls an hour ago. UPI called. The AP called. The UPI called again. They want to know where they can find a Sgt. Tazerski. They’re just getting wind of where he’s been since he dropped out of sight. They put two and two together and came up with you, General.”

“Jesus. How long has he been here? Don’t they ever give up? He’s been a civilian for over two years.”

“I don’t know. Going on two years I’d say. I’ve been here two years and he was here when I got here.”

The phone rang as the general sat to pull on his boots, figuring his sleep was done for this not

“Yes, sir. This is Gen. Walker’s place. Yes, sir,” Crosby said, putting his hand over the receiver. “Lester Storm, Time magazine. I haven’t told him anything yet, General.”

“Give it to me, Crosby. What the hell is going on?” the general said sourly. “Why now?”

“Gen. Walker. What can I do for you,” he growled into the phone. “Do you have any idea what time it is? It’s 05:00 in God’s country and I don’t take calls until 08:00.”

“I apologize, Gen. Walker. I interviewed you a couple of times for my magazine. We talked about your command, in the Pacific. I’m Lester Storm. It’s almost seven here. I’m in New York City.”

“Oh, you’re in New York City. I guess you don’t have time zones in the East.”

“Let me get to the point.”

“Yes, let’s. I can’t have you shot long distance, so talking is good, Mr. Storm. Shoot.”

“We have an interest in Sgt. Tazerski. We’ve been looking for him since he disappeared from DC two years ago. I was there to do a story on him. The sergeant dropped out of sight. This is the first sighting we’ve had since.”

“We’re going to come to some point, Mr. Storm? I’m back to the having you shot idea.”

“You know he was on the cover of our magazine on two occasions. We’ve received a gunshot wound report on someone named Tazerski. Hard to believe there are two and so close to a general who seemed to be looking after his best interests, after he gained fame as the ‘fighting fool of 1st Squad.

“We’ve located an ambulance log indicating he was transported from your ranch to a hospital in Billings, Montana. What can you tell me about it? The hospital claims they’ve never heard of him. Don’t you find that strange?”

“No comment,” the general snapped. “It’s 05:06 and I don’t take calls in the middle of the night, Mr. Storm. I haven’t had my coffee. I’m rather irritable before I have my coffee. Call me back at 08:00 my time and I may or may not have a comment at that time.”

“I just need one verification. There’s only one hospital I can find in Billings. They have no record of a Tazerski ever being there. I can fly out there but I’d rather talk to you about it. If I can get a little information you might head off a full scale invasion of Montana by curious journalists, who follow our lead religiously.”

“I’m sure it’ll be a nice flight. You’ll like Montana. I can’t tell you anything. I’m aware of a gunshot wound but nothing for you and New York City to worry yourself over, Mr. Storm. It was nothing and he isn’t there.”

“We have a vested interest in following the sergeant’s career. He was quite an item for quite some time. If he’s out there I’ll locate him, Gen. Walker.”

“I don’t know about that. He was a sergeant and I was a general. It’s a military thing. Call me back after 08:00 and we’ll chat if I can find something out for you,” the general said, slapping down the phone right past Crosby’s nose.

“Damn SOBs. How can I protect Taz with the entire news world wanting to find him? I thought that was over.”

The phone rang and Crosby snatched it up before it could irritate Gen. Walker any more.

“Gen. Walker’s office. What do you want,” Crosby said, uncharacteristically sarcastic.

“Kelly? What’s wrong? Is he okay? …He is. He is. Get back to your post. Thanks,” Crosby said, giggling and then laughing as he hung up the phone.

“You lost your mind, Crosby?” Gen. Walker asked.

“He’s awake. Taz is awake and talking. He’s fine. He’s going to be all right.”

Gen. Walker stood at the door for a minute, listening to Crosby. A slow smile came to his lips as he buttoned up his shirt. The anger was gone and his disposition took a sudden turn for the better. He walked next door to his office, sitting in his chair. He reached into the humidor for one of his cigars, taking it in his teeth.

“He’s going to be okay. Thank God,” he said softly, kicking his cowboy boots up on his desk.

It took a few more minutes for Kathleen to make the first pot of coffee and bring her husband a cup. The first thing she spotted when she entered his office was the cigar.

“You are only to have one of those a day and we agreed it would be after dinner,” she said, setting down his coffee while giving her husband a look of disappointment.

“He’s awake. He’s going to be okay,” the general said happily.

“Taz? He’s awake? Oh, my word, how wonderful. Now maybe we can get some spring back in our step,” Kathleen said, hugging and kissing her husband.

Kathleen sat on his lap and put her arms around his neck, kissing him again, putting the cigar when she finished.

“The press knows he was shot. They’re trying to find him. They’ve been on the phone all night, Crosby said. I can’t stop the press and they’re going to be all over that hospital.

“I don’t know how to keep Taz protected. McCoy thinks this bird is going to make another try at killing him?”

“Why? He’s as sweet as they come. Taz wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“No, but he killed two of those birds at the courthouse. McCoy is sure this guy was there. We need to get Taz back here as soon it’s possible. We can protect him here.”

“Can you put more guards on him?”

“Guns and a mob of reporters. What could possibly go wrong? We need to get him home. Set up a room for him where Westphalia can look after him. Until then, I’ve got to find a way to keep the reporters away from him. I’ll talk to the Billings police chief,” the general said. “Let him know what’s brewing.”

“How’s the place coming on the mesa? Once he’s up there you can put a guard on him. Put a guard on top of the canyon. They won’t be able to bother him.”

“We’re still a week away from having electricity up to them. Most of the outside construction is done and once we ship the cattle, I’ll put as many men as it takes to finish the interior. They put in the bathroom yesterday. We can’t test the plumbing until the electricity is done and the electric pump in the well is hooked up. We’ll have to keep him here until it’s all done. I’m going to asphalt the trail up to their house. It’ll make things easier.”

“You’re going all out on this project,” Kathleen said.

“If the rains come early we’ll need a paved surface,” the general explained. “It’ll make the trip easier on Taz.”

“We can put him in the guest room and set up a folding bed for Kodak,” Kathleen said. “I don’t think they’ll put up with that for long. You going to tell them about the press?”

“Kodak took care of the local media, when he was on tour with Taz. He’ll probably have some ideas of how to take care of this. All I can do is guard him. I have no authority in Billings.”

“You’re a general, dear. You can keep it from getting out of control. The Billings police will be more than happy to have your expertise.”

“I’d rather not. I suppose I could shoot a couple of reporters. It might discourage them,” Gen. Walker said.

“I don’t think they’ll let you do that, dear,” Kathleen reminded him.

“Given a choice of facing the North Vietnamese or a pack of journalists, Kath, I’d take the North Vietnamese every time.”

“They coming too, dear? I’ll have to have some help in the kitchen if we’re going to feed an army.”

Gen. Walker kissed her again and looked at her face as she stuck the cigar back in the humidor. He frowned.

“Celebration’s over. Time to get to work, dear.”

“This can’t help but complicates his rehabilitation. I don’t want him bothered. How am I to know which one of these reporters isn’t a reporter? I don’t like it and it can’t help but get out of control. Reporters!”

“You’ll take care of it, dear. You need to shower and change your clothes. I want to go to the hospital. Don’t you? I’ll get breakfast ready for you.”

“Yes,” the general said, remembering the good news. The general got showered and dressed in suitable clothing. They sat down to breakfast together as the sun rose and got higher in the Montana sky.

Kendall got up and was excited about the news that Taz was awake. The sadness that reached across the general’s ranch was lifted, but it did nothing to stop the chaos that was heading their way.

*****

“Dr. Jake Slade. Has a nice ring to it, don’t it,” Jake Slade said to himself as he arranged a nametag he made to go on the doctor’s tunic he’d stolen for the occasion.

He slipped the stethoscope into his ears, letting them slide down on his neck the way he’d seen the doctors do it. The rearview mirror didn’t offer him much of a view of himself, but he knew he was convincing. He was always convincing. He could charm the most hardcore doubter, because he believed in himself and he could always shoot his way out of there if he failed to convince someone.

It had taken him some time to figure out where they’d moved the elusive cowboy, Tazerski. It just took time, patience, and a keen eye to figure out which room was out of bounds for everyone but doctors and nurses.

The guard on the door was a dead giveaway, except prisoners often put each other in the hospital and cops knew better than to leave them unguarded while being treated.

Jake Slade reached under his tunic to touch the handle of the revolver in a holster under his armpit. It was small, relatively quiet, and effective at close range. He’d be in and gone before anyone knew what was happening. He’d walk back across the parking lot, get into the vehicle, and leave.

He’d drive to the main entrance, ease his way onto the main highway, turning right, heading for the Interstate about the time the first cop cars would be racing to respond to the call, ‘shots fired at the hospital.’

By the time the police were in the room of the man who had just been shot, he’d be on the ramp to the Interstate, heading for Idaho. He’d drive the speed limit, stop at the first rest area and jettison the costume. He’d slip the .22 caliber pistol down in the side of the trash can beside the doctor’s tunic.

‘It was good to have a plan,’ he thought, opening the car door, stepping out onto the parking lot.

Jake Slade stood tall, taking a deep breath of fresh morning air. It was the end of one shift on Tazerski’s door.

He’d succeed because he took the time to put all the pieces together before he made the hit. It was why he was successful. It was how he’d succeeded in Vietnam without getting wounded. He took the time to know the target, know the area, and make a quick getaway, once the job was done.

*****

“Ah, Mr. Storm, how did I know I’d be hearing from you again? How are you?” Gen. Walker asked cheerfully.

“General? Gen. Walker?” the uncertain voice asked.

“The one and only. You able to give me any more information about what’s going on, son?”

“Yes, sir,” Lester Storm said suspiciously. “I haven’t gotten the entire story but I’d appreciate you being honest with me on what I do have. How is Sgt. Tazerski? I trust he is not seriously wounded?”

“The last I heard, he was fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll let him know you inquired about him and if you leave your number, he can call you. Don’t be surprised if he doesn’t call, Mr. Storm. Mr. Tazerski has readjusted well to civilian life. I don’t believe he has any interest in the insanity you boys bring his way.”

“General, I’ve been on the phone with the local papers in Billings. I’m talking with local television news departments and news director of the radio stations. They’ve led me to the ambulance company that transported Sgt. Tazerski to Billings. I spoken to a very unpleasant Dr. Westphalia, your local sheriff, likewise telling me he knows nothing about anything to do with you or your ranch.

“In spite of your efforts to keep me in the dark, what I know is Sgt. Tazerski was near death when he arrived in Billings. He was suffering a gunshot wound near his heart and he spent some hours in the operating room, after his arrival. All according to the records kept by a hospital on a gunshot wound.

“The news services in Billings are going to be all over this story later this morning. They’re going to the hospital to get what will quickly become of national interest. You’re about to be inundated by journalists of every stripe. That’s my best estimate.

“Sgt. Tazerski is a celebrity, like it or not. Do I send our crew to join the… invasion, or do you give me some information that can lessen the need to pursue this story?”

“Yes! Yes, Of course I’ll do my best to inform you of the facts. He’s Mr. Tazerski. He was discharged from the army two years ago. Goodbye, Mr. Storm. I’ve got work to do. Have a nice day. Nice talking to you again.”

Gen. Walker tried not to slam down the phone, only half succeeding. Complicating the situation wasn’t what he had in mind, but he was powerless to stop it now. Taz was conscious. He could move him to the ranch as fast as the doctors said it was advisable.

“Kendall, time to roll. We need to get to Billings before noon, when I’m told all hell breaks loose. We’ll need two… no get me four men, sidearms only. We might need to convince some folks that Taz needs his privacy.”

“Okay, boss. He okay?”

“It’s not him, Kendall. It’s the entire news world making their way here to cover the story about him being shot. They’ve suddenly been made aware of where the disappearing Sgt. Tazerski got to. How the hell they got wind of it… I’d like to know. I might be able to maintain some control if I get out ahead of it. I’ll call the Billings police before we leave. They may be willing to drop some men in there before the stampede starts. I’ll let them know reinforcements are on the way.”

Already straining the resources of a small town hospital, the influx of news media, demanding answers, and wanting access was going to make everything more difficult. Gen. Walker was accustomed to fighting for what he needed, but shooting journalists, even annoying ones, was extreme.

Protecting Taz under the circumstances was going to be made more difficult. That’s why Gen. Walker would stay, until all risk was removed. He’d sit in the room with his .45 in his lap if he thought Taz was in danger.

Knowing Taz was going to be okay meant seeing to it he stayed okay. He didn’t want to alarm his men until it was necessary. With the Billings police already alerted, he knew they were prepared to protect Taz, until he arrived with more men.

It hadn’t hurt at all for the general to have sent in the latest bulletproof vest for a dozen of the Billings police. He’d also sent some of the latest communications equipment he’d been give by the Montana National Guard. Gen. Walker knew how the game was played and doing favors for local law enforcement bought him cooperation when needed.

*****

“How do you feel, Taz?” Kodak asked, feeling better than he’d felt in ages.

“I’ve felt better. Pulling that tube out of my dick wasn’t my favorite thing. Can I have some more ice?”

Kodak leaned over to spoon the ice into Taz’s mouth, until he shook his head no a few minutes later. His disposition wasn’t very good after being unconscious for so long and waking up to major discomfort.

The door opened and Madge came in with a cup of ice cream. She looked at Taz and he looked at her.

“They’ll only let you have vanilla, but I brought a cup thinking you might enjoy it. I’m Madge,” she said, giving the cup of ice cream to Kodak.

“Just take a little and see how it tastes. It’s cool and might help soothe your throat,” Kodak said.

“Did you notice the people outside?” Madge asked, pulling her Harry Callahan pistol out of her purse and placing it on the table in front of her chair.

“No, I haven’t looked outside,” Kodak said, as Madge arranged her things on the card table in front of the gun.

“You mad at someone, Madge?” Taz asked. “I hope it isn’t me. That’s the biggest gun I ever seen.”

“Honey, I know who you are. I know the biggest gun you ever saw was that B.A.R. A Browning Automatic Rifle is a hell of a weapon, Sergeant. This is a pea shooter in comparison, but I know how to use it for maximum impact should some misguided soul come looking for trouble.”

“Trouble?” Taz said.

Madge looked at Kodak and he shrugged, seeming to have no objections to anything she might say.

“Honey, someone shot you. I’ve been around long enough to know if someone tries to kill you and doesn’t, odds are he’ll keep trying until he does.

“I’m here to keep you alive. That’s what the gun is for. Call it your insurance policy.”

“Jesus! Anne Oakley for a nurse,” Taz said. “I’m just a cowboy who does his job.”

“I’m a nurse who takes her job seriously.”

Taz wasn’t sure how to take Madge. Her having a gun didn’t bother him. He just didn’t think it was necessary.

Taz lifted his head to scratch his neck. It had begun to itch as soon as Madge arrived. He knew the itch meant something, but he couldn’t remember what. Scratching it didn’t help.

*****

Jake entered the hospital through the side entrance. He knew where the doctors’ lounge was from earlier visits. Doctors came and went from hospitals all the time. He sat in the lounge with a newspaper to see if he’d be challenged. He wasn’t. After a few doctors came and went, he put down the paper, stepping into the hall to assume the role of doctor.

The man he wanted was on the second floor. There would be a guard, perhaps two. One shot behind the ear would dispatch them as well as anyone else who got in the way. Leaving as few bodies behind as possible was his plan, but killing was no problem for Jake Slade.

There were a dozen or so men approaching the first floor nurses’ station as he stood in the hallway observing. He didn’t waste any time slipping into the stairwell. It was time to do the job. As he moved up the stairs he felt the handle of his gun to be sure it was there. He stepped out into the second floor hall on the opposite side of the hospital from where he was going. The walk across would allow him to observe everyone moving around on the second floor. Passing the second floor nurses’ station would be the last place he might be challenged before he reached Taz’s room. By the time he entered the hall where he was going, he’d have enough information to know how to proceed.

He took one glance to see if the guard was in place. He didn’t keep looking down that hall, not wanting to alert the guard of his interest. It was time to make his move.

As Jake Slade was about to cross the open area in front of the nurses’ station, men whom he recognized from the first floor nurses’ station crossed in front of him. It was like a small scale invasion. He was distracted by the chatter aimed at the nurses.

He slowed to make sure the disturbance wouldn’t attract too much attention. In another minute he’d slip across unnoticed, because the new arrivals would block the nurse’s view of the hall. He’d take all the help he could get.

The guard moved a few feet, until his back was against the wall at the end of the hall. He looked back at the disturbance at the nurses’ station. The guard locked eyes with Jake as he prepared to cross over. Jake didn’t want to join the crowd at the nurses’ station and he didn’t want to retreat.

When Jake looked back to see if the guard was still looking his way, he saw the military issue .45 on his belt. The shirttail that covered it had been pushed out of the way. The guard continued staring directly in Jake’s direction.

Jake opened the first door to his left to move out of sight. He read the name as he entered the room.

“Morning, Mrs. Lavender,” he said enthusiastically. “How are you this morning?”

More men came up the main staircase, heading for the nurses’ station, joining the first group that were arguing with the nurse over the whereabouts of one Sgt. Tazerski, who they had it on good information was in this hospital.

Jake stepped back out of the room saying, “You have a nice day too. I’ll be back to check in on you later.”

There was confusion in the middle of the hospital. The guard had moved toward the commotion, halfway down the hall now. The commotion seemed to concern him. A second guard appeared out of the stairs on that side of the hospital.

Jake took his time seeing what came next. This was unexpected and now the guards were alerted to the disturbance. The time for making his move had passed. He wanted to find out what turned a normally quiet hospital into a circus.

*****

It was just before noon when Gen. Walker and Kathleen reached the hospital. He wasn’t expecting a reception committee but press vehicles were everywhere.

“Kendall, take us around to the side entrance. There’s already news vehicles out front and I don’t see any cop cars. They were supposed to head the press off. We’ll go up the side stairs. They’ll be able to figure out what room he’s in if they know what they’re looking for.”

“Get the extra men upstairs. Put some at the end of the hallway nearest the main stairs pronto. I don’t want Taz disturbed.”

“Yes, sir,” Kendall said, swinging out of the sedan and going back to the following vehicle to relay the orders.

The general held the door as Kathleen slid out and they moved double time into the hospital.

The man on the door reached for the knob to let Gen. Walker and Kathleen inside.

“I’ve got men with me. They’ll take care of crowd control,” Gen. Walker said to the guard as he entered Taz’s room.

As soon as Gen. Walker was in Taz’s room, he was on the phone.

“Hello, this is Gen. Walker. Get me an outside line. No, get me the Billings police chief. Thanks. Yes, I know they’re looking for his room. Don’t let them come down here. Tell them he isn’t here. Make something up.

“Hello, this is Gen. Walker. You boys were supposed to be here by now. I’ve brought men to keep them out of his room but not enough to control the outside. You need to put a couple of cars out here until you convince the press to back off,” the general advised.

Jake Slade stood on the first floor watching the general and his wife and then four more men go into the staircase on the opposite side of the hospital from where he stood. He hadn’t figured out what was going on yet, but he intended to before he left for the day.

If he’d gone ahead with the hit he’d have walked right into Gen. Walker’s men. Calling it off proved to be a wise decision. Slade knew his intuition wasn’t to be questioned. It had saved his life more than once.

Jake headed for the main entrance, blending in with the people he could see coming and going. Men passed him, going up the main stairs on their way to the second floor. Some men passed him on their way back outside. The loud voices were demanding and intimidating.

Jake stood watching them for a minute as he stood at the big glass doors. He moved out into the warm early afternoon. A man with a microphone stood nearby. He was gathering a crowd and Jake moved over to listen.

“For two years Sgt. Tazerski’s whereabouts have been unknown, but this news service has tracked him here.”

“Cut. That’s all I need out here,” a man in a suit and wearing headphones ordered. “We’ll finish it inside once we have more. Take some stills and get the sign. I want pictures of the sign. We need to set the scene for tonight’s broadcast.”

Jake was standing under the sign. He moved around the men with clicking cameras and past the illegally parked news vehicles, thinking someone should do something about the scofflaws. He shook his head and headed for his car.

Jake thought about the general and the guards in the hallway. He knew there was a good chance the general would go into that staircase alone, when he left. If he timed it right he could take him out on the stairs, go up and get the cowboy, but with the guards already there and the group that just showed up, the odds were against him making two hits and coming back out alive.

He understood it would be easy to get trapped on the second floor. Too many people and he could no longer control his escape route. It was over for this day. Too many variables had been added to the picture. Any one of them could foil any plan he came up with.

‘I’ll wait for things to calm down. No choice. As long as they don’t know what I look like, I can move around freely. This just isn’t my day. Too many cameras. He might appear in one of the pictures. If there was no hit there was no reason for someone to go over the faces in those picture.’ That suited Jake fine.

As Jake was preparing to leave the hospital parking lot, Gen. Walker finished with the phone and came into the hall to position his cowboys. He sent a man to the end of the hall where anyone coming up the main staircase would pass. He sent one man back down to the first floor to watch anyone who went into the staircase. He put two guards on Taz’s door. The police chief was sending two cars to keep an eye on the activities out in front of the hospital.

Satisfied, Gen. Walker finally felt comfortable doing what he came to do, visit his friend.

A police car drove down in front of where Jake was parked. He didn’t let the cops see his face, reflexively moving his hand very near his gun. The car kept moving as another police car came through a side entrance and stopped at the main hospital entrance.

“Grand Central Station,” Jake said to himself.

Jake slipped the gun out of its holster, placing it under his thigh, resting his hand very close to it. He pulled off the tunic, the holster, and the stethoscope in one motion, tossing it in the backseat. His white tee shirt with the ‘don’t tread on me’ logo was a perfect fit for Montana free men. People often smiled and nodded when he wore it.

Jake Slade was a cool customer. He sat quietly until all the police cars were out of view. It was time to make a smooth quiet exit.

‘What the hell happened?’ he wondered, beginning to feel like he’d failed the mission he’d undertaken. First his kill shot didn’t kill the cowboy and now, just as he was ready to finish the job, all hell broke loose. ‘Maybe this cowboy ain’t meant to be dead.’

He looked into the rearview mirror, carefully brushing back his thick dark hair, smiling through his newly acquired facial hair to make certain he still had it.

“Shit!” he yelled, exploding with rage, slamming the side of his closed fists against the steering wheel. “I wanted to finish it today. Where did all those idiots come from?”

Jake drove away from the hospital and Billings. He would regroup and decide on his next move. It was never the same twice. Each day brought a new approach. He didn’t like getting this close and then needing to retreat.

“Here it is. Room eleven,” a young reporter said as he charged out of the staircase.

“Can we go in?” the small man asked the big cowboy.

“You think I’d be standing here if you couldn’t go in?” “How is he? This is Sgt. Tazerski’s room?”

“Got me. It’s the room I was told to stand in front of to keep people like you out. They don’t discuss the patient cases with me. This is a hospital. It’s where people come for privacy. Why don’t you go back to wherever you came from? This room is off limits to visitors. Doctor’s orders, and much more importantly, my orders. Scat!”

The police kept order. Reporters stood in front of anything hospital like, making speeches to a camera. They mostly said they had no information about anything, except the world was once more aware of a disappeared celebrity sergeant from a faraway Asian war.

Chapter 8

Release

The ranch slowly went back to normal. The sandbags stayed in the driveway as a warning to discourage anyone driving up toward the house. They were left out in anticipation of Taz’s return to the ranch, when guards would once again need to stand watch.

Taz grew stronger every day, which left less and less concern about his survival. His inner strength immediately had him wanting up and out of the bed and the hospital. For a few days Kodak could keep him calm, but the doctors weren’t so successful at issuing sedatives and pain medication. Taz didn’t like feeling doped up. A little pain made Taz feel like he was alive.

The idea was to move Taz to the ranch as soon as he was strong enough. All of Billings wanted to get him out of town so they could rid themselves of the news people who were forever shoving microphones into the citizenry’s faces to ask them how they felt about it all. Most didn’t know what they were talking about, until it was explained.

*****

“General, McCoy. 03,” Crosby said, coming to the office door.

“Where the hell have you been, McCoy? We’ve got every newsman in the civilized world here. What are you doing?”

“That’s not all you’ve got, General. He’s there.”

“He who?” the general barked.

“Jake Slade is our boy. Army sniper with a general discharge.”

“What?” the general said, moving up close to his desk and listening more carefully to the phone.

“I’m sending you his Army ID picture.”

“Okay.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at FBI headquarters in DC, General,” McCoy yelled into the phone. “I’ve been tracking Sam Jones to see where he might have gone.”

“Sam Jones? I didn’t tell you to find him.”

“Funny thing about that, General. I’m in St. Louis getting a gander at Jake Slade’s records, and when I take his picture over to the local FBI shop, they start telling me about you rounding up Sam Jones’ militia boys. They track all the militia in the Northwest. They’ve got men inside. They’ve got pictures at FBI headquarters in DC. They arranged for me to use a gizmo they have here to check out newspaper and magazine photographs to identify each face in a crowd.

“I’m not exactly on a roll with finding Slade. I decided to come see if I could locate Jones. Find Jones you find Slade. They’ll be together sooner or later, General.”

“Why are they being so nice to you, McCoy?”

“Once I told them I was working for you, they couldn’t wait to give me a look at their photo collection. Still didn’t find Jones, but I know where Jake Slade is.”

“You do. Where is he? Talk louder. You sound like you’re at the airport?”

“They wouldn’t let me call you from inside the headquarters. I had to come outside to make this call. That’s why it is so noisy. There’s a damn bus depot across the street from the entrance. I’m standing on the corner of 9th & Pennsylvania Avenue.”

“I’ve been in DC, McCoy. If I want a description I’ll go back. Get to the point. I’m looking for some guy called Jake Slade? Yell if you like.”

“They wanted to talk about militia movements when I told them you sent me. I tied the army sniper to the courthouse shooting. I tied him to the sergeant’s shooting. Their interest level peaked.”

“What did they think of your conclusions?”

“That’s when they sent me to FBI headquarters in DC, General. They got me looking through this gizmo that magnifies the faces. I been here two days looking at pictures. No luck looking for Jones. You wouldn’t believe this magnifier, General. It brings faces right out of a crowd.”

“McCoy! Slade,” the general barked, one finger in one ear and the phone pushed hard against the other. “I’ve listened to all the buses I care to hear.”

“This morning I heard them talking about your sergeant. Someone had a Washington Post with a picture taken out in front of the hospital in Billings. I ran that picture into the magnified and checked every face. Slade was in front of the hospital when that picture was taken. He is dressed like a doctor, tightly trimmed beard and mustache. It’s Slade. No doubt about it.

“General, I sent you his file picture before I left St. Louis. It should be there today. I’m having his face blown up from the picture in the paper this morning and I’m sending that to you today. I’m having them prepare copies for me to bring back with me.

“We talked about him coming at you, General. You need to put more men on your cowboy at the hospital.”

“Done, McCoy. I did that when the press showed up. He won’t get near Taz. What’s your next move, McCoy? Make it short. This line is terrible.”

“More file pictures to look at. Jones is in Idaho. Positive ID on that from agents in the field. He is at one militia compound and then another. They lose him and then he pops up. Slade is probably working for Jones. Sooner or later they’ll be together. The FBI now knows who Slade is and they’ll be looking for him. I’ll go out to Andrews when I’m done here and fly back there.”

“How in the hell are you getting all over the place, McCoy? Last time I heard you were in California. Who’s footing the bill?”

“Hell, General, I show them my orders assigning me from Army Investigation to you and all they ask me is, ‘is that Gen. Hardnose Walker?’ I tell them it sure as hell is, and they pick out the oldest transport going near where I’m going and strap me in. I don’t know whether using your name helps or gets me the worst plane on the flight line, but they get me where I’m going.”

“You’re something else, McCoy. Don’t be too long gone. We plan to bring him home in a few days. Might want you to take a look-see at what I’m doing to protect him.”

“I do believe you miss me, General.”

“McCoy, what made you look at the pictures taken in front of the hospital?” Gen. Walker asked.

“Jake Slade.”

“Why? What made you think you’d find him?”

“Hunch. A hunter’s got to hunt, General. Slade was discharged because someone was killing the local village chieftains around the area where he worked. Slade likes to kill, General. It’s his job. Be careful because he does it well.”

“Liked his job too much, huh,” Gen. Walker said. “I saw it a few times. Most men don’t like to kill but some men get a taste for it.”

“You keep an eye on your cowboy and watch your back, General. He can pick the time he wants to take a shot at you and he doesn’t need to get close. He wasn’t at the hospital visiting relatives. Make certain only doctors the guards recognize get into that hallway. Slade is slick. He’ll keep looking for an opening until he gets his prey.”

“Damn,” the general remembered something he’d overlooked. “The day all hell broke loose when the news media found Taz, Taz’s neck was itching. He kept complaining about his neck. He’s got a hole in him the size of all outdoors, and his neck itching is what he complains about. I was too happy to see him awake to put the pieces together.”

“General, I got pictures to look at. My neck itches from time to time. It isn’t that big a deal, you know. My butt’s been known to itch.”

“No, it isn’t a big deal, except the last time his neck itched was the day of the shootout at the courthouse. He told me he got that itch on patrol in Vietnam just before 1st Squad got hit by Charlie.

“It itched the day of the shootout. His neck itched the day the news media showed up looking for him. Now you tell me Jake Slade was there. Mighty curious that itch.”

“You know how silly that sounds, General?”

“Yea, sure. It’s downright insane, but I saw it work. Now you tell me the itch thing was accurate again at the hospital. He didn’t remember what the itch meant, but I remember the day he told me not to go to the courthouse unarmed. I took a few armed cowboys to humor Taz. I thought he was feeling uneasy about facing the rustlers.

We ended up in one hell of a gunfight. That itch saved our bacon. If Slade was at the hospital, why didn’t he try to get to Taz?”

“Could be Mr. Slade saw all the commotion and ditched his plan. You do understand your cowboy isn’t Slade’s real target? Shooting your cowboy is meant to make you nervous. He’s planning a hit on you, General. Jake Slade isn’t done yet. He has bigger fish to fry. He’ll use Sgt. Tazerski to get at you.”

“I’ve thought about it. I was the man behind the men who put an end to Jones’ Montana ambition. He seems like the kind of bird who holds a grudge. I got most of my cowboys armed. I’ll be all right here and when I leave the ranch I’ll take protection, until you cage this bird for me, McCoy.”

“You need to see about getting your cowboy out to the ranch as soon as possible. It’ll be easier to protect both of you if you’re in the same place. I won’t be here more than another day. I’ve got a call in to Andrews to get on the first flight going your way, but you need to move that cowboy.”

“McCoy, don’t try to tell a general how to general. I’m waiting until he’s strong enough to make the trip. Then we have a doctor who’ll sit with him if necessary, but we can’t move him until moving him won’t kill him. They’re still worried about some undetected permanent damage from his excessive loss of blood. Once they tell me they think it’s safe, we can move him here. After the crowd he attracted today, they’ll be more than glad to get him off their hands.

“I’ll take all the precautions I can before moving him. We’ll keep him at our house until the house on the mesa is ready to move into. Probably two more weeks if the weather is good.”

“Smart move, General. Why didn’t I think of that?” McCoy said.

“McCoy!”

“Yes, sir, General,” McCoy said, almost clicking his heels.

“What I said about you becoming a damn good investigator,” Gen. Walker barked. “You just might be better than that. Thanks, McCoy.”

“Yes, sir. I try.”

“Once you get what you’re looking for there, get back here.”

“Yes, sir.”

*****

Taz knew he needed to be alert. It wasn’t the on patrol Vietnam kind of alert but an undercurrent of anticipation that told him he wasn’t out of the woods yet. He felt his body mending, which reassured him the danger was somewhere else. The pain was tolerable as long as he was able to keep his mind off it.

Armed guards went with Taz everywhere he went within the hospital. They were provided white smocks that covered their guns. This was more for the comfort of the hospital staff than serving some purpose. When the guards had to leave Taz for a test or an examination the head nurse had to okay the people who were giving Taz care before the guards waited outside the door.

Kodak and Madge were always in the room during the day. At night it was Kodak, a replacement nurse, and one of the guards who assured Taz he could sleep easy, but any time the door opened, Taz wanted to reach for his B.A.R., quickly realizing it was well out of reach. It was unsettling to Taz how similar the hospital felt to Vietnam. He simply couldn’t shake the idea of danger lurking.

He wasn’t anywhere near Vietnam but he finally remember what the itch on the back of his neck meant. He woke up to that itch and that was the first time it ever failed him. Something usually happened when he had that itch, but nothing had happened that day.

Maybe the itch was the result of him being shot and so his neck itched when he regained consciousness. His neck hadn’t itched since, but he hadn’t forgotten his uneasiness over being in that hospital.

Taz still couldn’t remember hearing the shot that took him down. He did have a memory of looking down at Tazerski as he reached to scratch his neck. His next memory was of Kodak with his head resting on Taz’s hospital bed. Maybe that’s why his neck still itched. He didn’t think so, but it was a possibility.

Some mornings Taz found it difficult to separate Vietnam from the Billing’s hospital room. The upheaval in his body kept his mind off balance and on constant alert. Kodak’s presence reassured him and told him where he was. The hospital had closed in on him that first day he was awake. He wasn’t comfortable being there.

He wanted to get up and walk out but he couldn’t. He could barely make it to the bathroom with Kodak’s help. He was sure the weakness would pass but it hadn’t. He didn’t like the hospital or that it required some thought for him to put all the pieces together each time he awoke. Feeling like he was always in danger angered him.

*****

The great sadness that had descended on Gen. Walker’s ranch lifted. There was relief and a new problem that came in the form of journalists, photographers, and ‘news’ people, who arrived in clusters at first. It took some thought for Gen. Walker to decide how to handle ‘news people’ who had no luck reaching Taz in the hospital. It was no secret that Gen. Walker’s ranch would be Taz’s next stop.

The first few days of this interruption, Gen. Walker took the walk down his driveway to the road to meet whoever came to inquire about Taz. He answered questions in general, hoping they’d figure out it wasn’t worth the trip out to the middle of nowhere to come away with so little and besides a chat, little is what they came away with. Gen. Walker would not talk about Taz or his recovery.

The reporters carefully stood in front of the ranch entrance as they reported to their cameras that they knew nothing about anything, but what a fine spiffy driveway Gen. Walker had. The driveway that led to the ranch somewhere up that away, where the once missing sergeant, now found, would come to rehabilitate, or so they speculated.

The faces changed. The questions remained the same.

“Is Sgt. Tazerski coming here?”

“I haven’t discussed Mr. Tazerski’s plans with him. I don’t know where he intends to go.”

“Doesn’t he work for you?”

“He has a job with me any time he likes. He might decide it’s not what he likes today. I can’t tell you what he might decide tomorrow. He works for me. I don’t own him.”

Gen. Walker took care in dressing the part to meet the reporters and the curious. He wore his biggest ten gallon hat, a buckskin shirt with tassels, and two pistols crossed his chest. These were his silver pistols with the pearl handles. He wore snakeskin boots inlaid with silver.

Whether walking with two guards, who kept their pistols drawn and at their sides, or standing up in the right passenger side of his general’s jeep, the general cut quite a figure and every eyes was on him as he made his flamboyant entrance.

This show gave two sharpshooters time to take up their position a hundred feet to the right of the driveway’s entrance. A slightly elevated camouflaged position prepared to offer a perfect view of anyone in or near the driveway.

The sharpshooters were there to drop anyone who became a threat to the general. It was the kind of precaution a general could take without believing it was necessary and not wishing to be proven wrong.

There were two sharpshooters. One looked through a scope at the gathering and the other used binoculars to survey the woods on the far side of the road at spots that might provide a possible sniper’s perch.

These precautions were going to run off any professional hit man, because he was going to spot the two sharpshooters and the camouflaged guard post in short order, and that was the point. There was no desire to have a shootout with a bunch of newsmen caught in the middle, but then there was always the chance the sniper didn’t care.

The idea of Taz being shot on his ranch and the man who shot him still being out there somewhere close, meant caution was taken where possible. There was no reason to think the guy was still around. There was no reason to think he wasn’t. It was a game of wits now and it was a game Gen. Walker didn’t intend to lose.

With so many former soldiers in his employ, giving them some time doing something they were well trained to do was good. It paid off when they took down the White Brotherhood’s compound. Tactics gave Gen. Walker and his men the upper hand. A superior display of force discouraged resistance. Preparedness was important at times like these. It became more important once Taz came home.

Once retired, Gen. Walker never figured military discipline would come in handy on his cattle ranch, but once it was necessary, it was right there in the person of the men he’d offered jobs. He’d hand picked the soldiers he invited to go to work on his ranch. He was careful to single out men who might benefit most from such employment.

His sons growing up and moving away to pursue their own lives got Gen. Walker thinking about how he’d run a ranch and have people he trusted, and so he began asking his best soldiers if they wanted a job with him once they were discharged. The men he knew best and trusted most were the most anxious to accept the invitation.

“War is hell,” and Gen. Walker wanted to get as far from war as possible, once he retired. He’d never imagined being called upon by Montana authorities and the FBI to assist in the demolition of what was likely to become a dangerous militia.

It was dangerous enough to stage a jailbreak and overpower a local sheriff and his men. It took Gen. Walker and his men to save the town from the insurrection at the courthouse. They weren’t able to stop the jailbreak but they were able to round up the militia and everyone involved with an assist from the sheriff and state police.

That event led them into the current danger. The people who were at the center of the militia wanted to teach Gen. Walker a lesson. They’d started with Taz, the most visible of his cowboy-soldiers who took down the militia in the shootout at the courthouse.

It wasn’t much of a stretch to think, if they wanted to take out Taz, they might want to take him out as well. There was no evidence of it yet if he disregarded the tail that tried to follow him home from the hospital. Gen. Walker was a general and he disregarded nothing. His primary concern was his wife’s safety and the safety of his men. That meant he had to be careful to keep the people around him safe.

Now his every move was planned in advance. There were guards in place where he was going and along whatever route he took. If Kathleen was with him there were more precautions, because he didn’t want his wife in danger. Kathleen never knew how well she was protected because the men protecting her and her man were professionals.

Gen. Walker had studied the two pictures he’d received the day McCoy called from outside FBI Headquarters in D.C. He was confident he could pick Slade out of a crowd on first glance, even if he was wearing a disguise. It would be the first thing he looked for any time he stepped out of a door or got out of a car.

He now wore his .45 in an open holster Rowdy made for it. The flap on the military gun-belt that kept the .45 in place in any terrain was a hazard if he needed to get to the pistol in the least amount of time. Any time he went outside he was wearing the .45 under the flap of his open shirt he no longer tucked in.

He didn’t like letting Kathleen see him armed, but she knew what was under the dangling shirttail. Kathleen knew a lot more than she was willing to let on. With Taz already in the hospital she knew the stakes ran very high. Her husband being armed was a comfort to her.

Gen. Walker was trained to look into the face of fear and never blink. He recognized danger where danger existed. His training taught him to think fast and clearly to reduce or remove danger as carefully as possible. This took a lot more determination when the people who could be hurt were the people closest to him. All precautions were taken.

A big blowup of the two pictures of Slade were hung above Crosby’s radio equipment in the communication room. Smaller copies were posted in the bunkhouse and in the barn. Every cowboy stopped from time to time to memorize the face.

Gen. Walker was pleased to see the loyalty his men showed him without considering what his loyalty meant to them. Each was grateful to have a job and a place where he belonged. No matter the original intent, the general and his former soldiers made for a successful ranching operation.

It had been while reading about Civil War generals, taking their most trusted men back to civilian life with them that had Gen. Walker thinking it was a good idea. This was before he remembered that many of the men on the ranch, when he was a boy, spoke of serving with his father in Europe.

Under the current conditions, the men were more soldier than cowboy. They weren’t about to see any harm come to anyone on the ranch. Reverting back to a military mindset took no effort at all for men who served in wartime.

A couple of times reporters slipped onto the ranch, trying to avoid the guard post by using the woods. Once they set off the motion detector, Crosby would alert the guards on duty, who let the trespassers trip around in the thick forest underbrush to the north of the house before rounding them up to usher them back to the road, where they were made to stand in front of and read the sign out loud, “Trespassers will be shot.”

If Jake Slade came around, no one recognized him and he didn’t make his presence known. With so many eyes searching for him, it was doubtful he was among the reporters.

Gen. Walker was more than a little familiar with reporters. They had a short attention span, tiring easily when no small shiny objects attracted them. Maintaining a pleasant demeanor, he told them nothing they didn’t already know. Fewer and fewer reporters made the trek out to the ranch each day, but the general cheerful met with them.

It was a time when the reporters hadn’t honed in on who might have shot Taz or why someone would want to shoot him. They weren’t sure how seriously he was wounded or if he was still in the Billings’ hospital. Only the rumors he was there kept a group of reporters nearby.

It was the general’s intention to have Taz safely tucked away on the ranch before the facts in the story became clear. Everyone who had a role in protecting Taz had orders not to give so much as the time of day to anyone.

At present the news media were content trying to get a live sighting on Taz. Their main ambition, finding the missing Sgt. Tazerski who’d been misplaced two years ago. At least that’s when they’d lost track of him. All they had was rumor and suspicion to explain where he got to.

McCoy was the only one to put all the pieces together. Both Kodak and Gen. Walker had some idea of who might want Taz dead and why. McCoy identified the shooter, tying him to a motive for the attempt on Taz’s life. Only McCoy had drawn a straight line from the shooter, to Taz and from Taz to the general.

Releasing any of this information to the press would ruin any chance of catching Slade off guard. If he didn’t know he’d been identified, he had no need to hide. This is what McCoy saw as his way of getting his man. He didn’t intend to turn over the final piece of the plan to anyone else. Not only didn’t Slade know he’d been identified, he didn’t know there was an investigator on his trail.

The FBI’s main interest in Jake Slade was Sam Jones, who was heavily invested in the militia movement. The White Brotherhood had mostly been rounded up but the militia groups merged one into another as necessary.

The FBI agents were concerned about Gen. Walker’s safety, but he was the last man who needed protection. He was their best source of information in the area and they advised local police agencies that cooperation with the general would be looked on with gratitude.

The FBI agents assigned to duty to identify and observe the northwestern militia groups were grateful that Angus McCoy brought them several essential pieces on the remnants of Sam Jones’ White Brotherhood. They weren’t so much concerned with the identity of Taz’s shooter as they were with how he was associated with Jones.

The combination of logic and intuitive ability, along with his persistence, led McCoy to the shooter. Once he identified Slade, he was ready to make an arrest. When he crossed paths with the FBI agents and they offered him an opportunity of a lifetime.

McCoy was smart enough to know that scratching the back of the FBI was always a good idea. When they let him use the gismo that got McCoy a look at Slade’s picture outside the hospital where Taz was, McCoy knew he was on a roll.

The FBI agents were impressed that McCoy knew to use the device to look for Slade in what was a one in a million shot Slade would be standing in a picture taken thousands of miles away. Another of McCoy’s hunches turned gold.

McCoy had been reluctant to get into the investigation Gen. Walker wanted him to do. He owed his career as well as his future to the general. He couldn’t refuse him. Working a case in the middle of nowhere was going to be a long and lonely road. Yet that road and the investigation led him directly to the FBI.

Once seated at FBI headquarters in the Nation’s Capitol, he was overwhelmed. He was sure the formality of a buttoned down federal agency wasn’t his cup of tea, but they were the big leagues. He had set out to be a cop and he’d soon be a Chicago detective, but being at FBI headquarters was impressive indeed.

McCoy planned to develop his career in baby steps. He wouldn’t let ambition drive him. He’d work an investigation just like he was working this one. It would assure the proper outcome in each case. Racing to convict someone, anyone, to pad his resume wasn’t his style. He was lucky enough to be going from Army Investigations directly to being a Chicago detective.

This was only possible because Gen. Walker pulled his skinny ass out of the big wringer he’d gotten it in without any help. The drug investigation the general threw him into paved the way directly to Army Investigations. Even the general was surprised by McCoy’s tenaciousness in staying undercover with the dangerous case until it was solved.

McCoy’s appreciation for law enforcement had grown, while he worked for the general. He’d want to find a way to maintain the contacts he’d made inside the FBI by sharing information he developed during investigations with the FBI agents when possible. Having open communication with other crime solving agencies couldn’t help but pay off.

On his way back to Montana McCoy had a lot of time to think about his entire involvement in Taz’s shooting. He took the time to read the information on the militia movement FBI agents furnished him.

The FBI agents were certain that if Slade got wind of the fact he’d been identified as Taz’s shooter, he’d burrow so deeply into a militia group somewhere that they’d never find him. Their best guess was it would be the same militia group where Sam Jones was hiding, which had McCoy studying the information on the militia movement that he was given.

For the time being Slade was still near Billings, trying to finish the job he’d started on the canyon wall above Taz’s cabin. He was now staying in close proximity to the hospital, waiting to get his next shot at Taz. This gave McCoy the advantage. Slade was going to show up one day, feeling invincible, and McCoy would snap the cuffs on him if possible and put a bullet in him if it wasn’t.

No one could know what Slade’s next move might be, but McCoy intended to be there to stop him.

*****

Disaster was inconceivable to the general. His men were capable of staying in control and McCoy made it less likely someone would penetrate their defenses at the ranch. He’d always avoided disaster by having the right men in the right places at the right time. His biggest failure had been in failing to protect Taz before realizing his war with the White Brotherhood wasn’t over.

Gen. Walker was home from the war and seeking to be the best cattle rancher he knew how to be. He’d tried to forget their were bad actors everywhere you went. He truly believed he could retire peacefully to his ranch. His plan came back to bite him on the ass, but luckily he was a general and he had no trouble regrouping.

After losing interest in the ranch, the biggest contingent of reporters returned to Billings, and slowly lost interest, leaving town. The reporters who stayed staked out the hospital, taking shifts, determined to get the story. They lived out of a motel, playing cards to fight the boredom as they waited.

The doctors were aloof, which didn’t require a lot of training. The reporters couldn’t be sure Sgt. Tazerski was still at the hospital. They couldn’t be sure he wasn’t. All the doctors said they hadn’t seen him and hadn’t treated him. Odds said at least one of them was lying.

The entire staff was briefed by the sheriff and warned that revealing anything but the no-story story could get Taz killed. The doctors and nurses treating Taz did it by using a series of deceptions to throw the reporters off their trail. A hidden corridor that allowed access to a series of adjoining rooms allowing doctors to come and go and for Taz to be moved out of view of the interlopers in most instances.

The guards stayed in the hall in front of the room where it was suspected Taz was. There was a guard in the hidden corridor that only doctors and nurses could access. The guard accompanied them to and from Taz’s room. A series of disguises made moving around to treat Taz easier. Whenever necessary a distraction was created to get prying eyes off of the real action.

Reporters stayed clear of the hospital when it wasn’t their turn to be there. They maintained six hour shifts and no Sgt. Tazerski or Mr. Tazerski had been seen by anyone. By the end of Taz’s second week in the hospital, this had become the routine. The big worry now was getting him out of the hospital and back to the ranch.

By this time the reporters weren’t sure they knew anything, but that didn’t deter them. The younger, more energetic among them took to stepping into and quickly out of rooms without guards on them. The more experienced among them knew this could very well lead to a bullet, but they didn’t bother cub reporters with such details.

After the first few days the entire country thought the illusive Sgt. Tazerski had been found in a Billings’ hospital. Now the press wasn’t as sure he was still there. After two weeks the story no longer led every newscast or appeared on the front page of newspapers. The illusive Sgt. Tazerski had eluded them again, or so it seemed.

The first sign that something was changing was when six vehicles at the rear of the hospital. Their arrival went virtually unnoticed and were spaced to be that way. The vehicles arrival were coordinated with the changing of the guard in the hallway outside of Taz’s room. The reporters were always at the other end of the hallway looking for an opening that might give them a look in the room at the end of the hall.

Nothing had taken place that aroused any suspicion that something was taking place. The new guards arrived shortly after the off duty guards went into the staircase to go to the waiting vehicle outside the ground floor door.

The reporters left the hallway satisfied it was all routine. They didn’t notice the cowboys had their shirts tucked in and their guns were plainly visible. They’d always imagined the guns under the shirts. Seeing the sidearms was no great shakes.

Today there was no vehicle waiting for the two guards who were usually going off duty. Instead they stood at the end of the hallway on the first floor next to the door that led outside and waited.

Taz had made it clear that he was ready to go home. The doctors scratched their chins and were reluctant to give their approval. Having Dr. Westphalia agree to stay at Taz’s bedside until all possible danger had passed reassured the doctors who wanted to have their hospital back and without the constant surveillance that seemed to have been going on forever.

Taz perked up and began eating solid foods. Kodak was relieved. Madge agreed to accompany Taz to the ranch and assist with Taz’s medical care, until he was up and getting around on his own.

Two sheriff’s deputies came in and went to the downstairs nurses station just after 9 a.m. There was laughter as they chatted with the nurse. It got the attention of one of the reporters but no word was sent out that anything unusual might be occurring.

Two more sheriff’s deputies came in and took the stairs to go up to the nurses station there. The reporter seated at the top of the stairs took notice. He checked the hallway to see if the regular guards were in place, and they were. None-the-less, something was up.

The second floor reporter went downstairs to the phones to report the movement to the reporters at the motel. Word spread like wildfire, reaching all the local news media in minutes. It was put on their news ticker. The word was out.

“Something is happening at the hospital!”

Each room in the motel waited for a turn on the telephone to make a long distance call to notify their headquarters they were on the move. A parade of cars left for the hospital. No one really knew if anything was going on or if being shut up in the motel for so long just had them all stir crazy and ready to move for any reason.

When a gurney was rolled from the back of the hospital, around the nurses’ station, and down the hallway toward Taz’s room, the reporters went nuts. Something was happening.

“There’s a gurney. They’re taking a gurney to the room with the guards,” a reporter yelled into the phone.

Cars lurched. Tires squealed. Each car full of reporters sought a way to gain some advantage in the race to the hospital. Police cars blocked the main entrances, forcing the reporters to park in a distant parking lot well away from the front entrance.

Parking like crazy people, car doors were left open as reporters sprinted toward the hospital’s front doors. It was a feeding frenzy of reporters. No one was safe from questioning.

This stampede cleared the other side of the hospital where the general moved a private unmarked ambulance up to the side door where the patient would be loaded. It was an operation that went unnoticed by anyone but the general’s men and sheriff’s deputies.

No one was there to make any effort to break up the flood of reporters at the top of the stairs, where they watched the hallway with the two guards leaning against the wall at the end. It looked just like it always looked. Sometimes there were two and at other times there was just one. What had changed?

“Someone said there was a gurney?” an old reported said.

“Yes, there was. I saw it. It went into that hall,” a reporter reported with his finger.

“Did it go into the room next to the guards?”

“I don’t know. I went to call you guys,” the cub reporter said.

“Oh, Jesus,” the old reporter lamented. “No saw anything.”

Striding up the steps two at a time, a sheriff’s deputy stopped at the top.

“You boys got to form one line. You’re blocking access. You are free to stay here at the top of the stairs, but remain on one side and remember, this is a hospital. Rumor has it there are sick folks here.”

The deputy held his index finger up to his lips.

“Are they moving him today?” the old reporter asked, stepping forward to take charge, using his arms to move everyone else back.

“Moving who?”

“The guy in the room they are guarding?”

“Got me. I’m a deputy. They said move you boys away from the stairs. I move you boys away from the stairs. That’s what I know.”

“Nothing is going on. Which one of you called us?” the old reporter barked.

The deputy went to the nurses to get his coffee refilled with the reporters looked on.

The gurney had been wheeled into the room and Taz was ready to be transferred onto it. Kodak stood to allow the gurney to be moved snuggly up against the bed. His hand came out from under Taz’s mattress with a .45 in it.

“What the fuck is that?” Taz wanted to know.

“It’s a gun,” Kodak said. “I thought you were in the army?”

“You were sitting there all this time with a .45 under my mattress?”

“Gen. Walker gave it to me. He worries about you.”

“You could have shot me. The safety is off.”

“I suppose. I didn’t.”

Madge took her .44 magnum off the table where she was sitting, stuffing it into her purse. After Taz was arranged on the gurney a green baseball cap with the US Army logo in yellow was shoved down on his head to shield his eyes.

“I’ll be seeing you later, kiddo. I’ll be out before you can say Jack Robinson. I’ve never worked on a ranch before,” Madge said, tucking her well-armed purse under her arm.

“Bonnie and Clyde you two ain’t,” Taz said. “What’s going on? Why all the artillery? I let her slide because I don’t know her, but I know you and you’ve never packed before.”

“The war’s over. We’re going home,” Kodak said.

The door opened and cameras began to flash from forty feet away as every reporter was now facing the hallway. They yelled questions, as the first paramedic appeared in the hall. A man held the door open to the staircase that led down to a door at the side of the hospital.

At the same time Taz was being moved downstairs one of Gen. Walker’s men opened the front doors at the bottom of the main staircase to yell, “There’s an ambulance at the side of the hospital. They’re getting away.”

By the time Taz was being maneuvered out of the stairs and out of the side door, all the reporters were racing toward the other side of the hospital.

By the time the fleetest reporter reached the side of the building, Taz was being slid into the ambulance, hat pulled low to cover his face, and for good measure Kodak blocking any clear view of his man. Cameras clicking, reporters yelling, the chaos arrived in time to see the back door of the ambulance shut from the inside. The six ranch vehicles that arrived earlier were now parked to keep reporters from closing in on a well organized operation.

Someone shouted, “They’re getting away.” as the ambulance began easing out from in between the ranch vehicles, easing around the sheriff’s car at the nearest exit, turning onto the highway that went in the direction of the general’s ranch.

Reporters took off for their cars. Unfortunately they’d parked in a lot on the opposite side of the hospital. Gen. Walker drew up the plan and it was executed perfectly with a big assist from the Billings sheriff’s deputies. He was all smiles as the six ranch vehicles moved out behind the ambulance with the valuable cargo on his way home.

“Wounded War Hero Goes Home,” was the headline everyone favored at both local and national news headquarters.

The reader must have been curious about who the hero was and where he was. A stock photo taken during Taz’s army touring was all there was. Kodak’s photos taken of Taz since his army days documented his maturing into manhood, but they were private.

It was a few more minutes after the ranch vehicles followed the ambulance onto the highway when the first reporter’s car approached the exit. As he stopped for the police car, it drove away, leaving the exit exposed.

The reporters car reluctantly started again as a half dozen other cars arrived on the scene. The driver of the first car to reach the exit was determined to be the first car out, and so he refused to yield to the faster moving cars.

They’d all seen the ambulance disappear on the highway. This was going to take some cooperation to catch up with their prey. After too long in Billings, no one was in the mood to compromise. Horns blew. Reporters screamed.

Two cars collided when a third car tried to run the blockade by going over the curb and sidewalk. Honorable reporters felt obligated to smash into him to keep him from beating them out of the parking lot.

The two remaining Billings police cars stopped and the police got out, leaning on the front of their cars to watch the demolition derby that had broken out. Each time a car was positioned to break out, another car blocked the way.

Once one car finally worked its way out on the highway, the rest had to cooperate to keep them from getting away.

The reporters wasted no time giving chase, but they’d underestimated the general’s guile. When they soon found themselves behind the unmarked ambulance, traffic was thinning on the way out of town. Finally they had a piece of good luck, or so it seemed. It should also have seemed too easy but there was the ambulance in plain sight.

The decoy ambulance slipped in behind the one carrying Taz, shortly after it left the hospital. The decoy slowed to let the ranch vehicles pass before it was time for them to turned off to take the road home.

One by one the following vehicles slowed to find a place to turn around, realizing they’d been snookered. The reporters that didn’t know Montana knew they better go back the way they came, after a nice drive in the country.

Chapter 9

Death’s Doorway

Next stop, Gen. Walker’s ranch and the ever-present guard post to dissuade trespassers. Reporters, being reporters, parked in the driveway and waited for the guard at the guard post to call the house to see if someone might want to come down to explain the goings on.

The general said proudly, “absolutely not,” being pleased with himself about getting Taz home with little resistance and tucking him in before the first report backtracked to his door.

“General, if someone doesn’t go down there and make some kind of bargain with the press, they’ll be there every time someone comes. I’ll go down and tell them two of them can come up and take one picture of Taz. If they leave their questions, I’ll see that they’re answered. In return they’ll agree not to stakeout the ranch.”

“I guess I’m slipping, Kodak. Go ahead. Make a deal that gets rid of them.”

Once on the mesa, Taz would have privacy. The trick was to get rid of them long enough for Taz to heal and return to his home. Then he’d decide who to talk to.

Kodak walked down until he faced the growing crowd of journalists in the driveway out of sight of the house. Being a member of the fourth estate, he knew they’d seize any bone that got them back to civilization with a picture of Taz.

“If you stop acting like you’re trying out for the Lord of the Flies, I’ll take one news team consisting of one journalist and one photographer to the house. You pick ‘em. You get one still picture of Sgt. Tazerski. No more. Figure out the questions you want answered, write them down, bring them with you. I’ll answer them, returning the answers to you within 24 hours.

“Pick the lucky duo and the rest of you can go. This will be the only offer. Refuse it, and you’ll be out here until the cows come home.

Kodak turned and walked away as the guard waited for a choice to be made.

“Who the hell was that?” an indignant reporter asked. “Who does he think he is?”

“That’s Kodak,” an experienced journalist answered.

“Oh, that’s Kodak? He’s young.”

Kodak smiled, hearing the exchange and remembering he’d been a celebrity for a minute once. He was back to being a photo-journalist, albeit unemployed at the moment, but he’d covered a lot of territory in his twenty-two years. It was nice that someone remembered.

Taz had settled into the guest room, which resembled his hospital room. Kodak explained the deal he made to rid the ranch of reporters.

“Can I have a glass of water first? My throat is dry. Give me the hat back. Nothing in the deal says I can’t wear a hat, is there?”

“No, Taz, you do it your way,” Kodak said.

Taz smiled when Kathleen delivered homemade ice cream with the water.

“Oh, Kathleen, how I’ve missed you,” Taz said.

He did his best not to scowl too severely for the photograph but the shadow the bill of the baseball cap made hid the dark circles around Taz’s eyes. Both Taz & Kodak knew the pursuit didn’t end here. Taz had been found again and finally there was confirmation of it. This would only feed the desire for more information, but the press also knew they’d have to finesse their way into any interview. Everyone wanted to know where he’d been and what he’d been up to since he dropped out of sight.

*****

Everyone knew Taz’s disappearance coincided with him standing up the Congress of the United States. That was the story they wanted now that he’d been found. Getting it was going to take some work.

At first people were horrified that a soldier, a hero of the Vietnam War, would be so disrespectful. As time went on and the body count piled up, Taz was celebrated as the soldier who stood up the people responsible for the unpopular war, which meant Taz was heroic all over again.

As with his original fame, the story about his disappearance was complicated and without glamour. Taz’s snubbing of congress was no more than a slip up precipitated by a soldier doing what soldiers do, dying for his country.

After witnessing the death, becoming part of it, Taz needed a drink. The trouble with Taz and drinking, he couldn’t have just one, and thus congress had ended up being snubbed. Taz was gone.

Since it didn’t make a good story, it would never interest reporters and Taz would never tell anyone that he sat holding a young soldier’s hand for the last minutes of his life. Taz’s life as a touring Vietnam War hero went straight down hill from there and he hadn’t been heard from since.

People tend to believe what they need to believe. They want the facts to fit their narrative when possible. When the facts go astray, people pretend, molding things to fit what they choose to believe if they don’t look too closely.

Even Taz’s original fame wasn’t what it appeared to be. Two unlikely pictures were taken by a rookie photo-journalist, Kodak, who had to do something to keep from pissing his pants during his first firefight in Vietnam. He clicked off several pictures and pissed his pants anyway.

Two of these pictures the inexperienced war correspondent took during his first firefight ended up on the cover of Time magazine in successive weeks. The second picture adorned the cover after both Taz and Kodak were lost on a mission. It became a national sensation.

The iconic pictures Kodak took were of Taz wielding his B.A.R. The publishing of the two pictures began the roller coaster ride of fame for Taz. The ride ended at Walter Reed Army Hospital, where he went to visit wounded soldiers a few hours before a banquet in his honor given by the US Congress was scheduled. Against the wishes of the staff, Taz sat with the dying soldier, when he should have been dressing for the formal dinner.

The ensuing drunk Taz went on was predictable if untimely. Disappearance without a trace only helped to heighten his legend as rumors flourished.

Gen. Walker made arrangements for Taz to dry out in private. Once he had, a discharge the general expedited arrived, and Taz and his constant companion Kodak flew to the general’s Montana ranch, where Taz could recover.

The mysterious disappearance of Taz went full circle with Taz being shot at a time when he was finally ready to visit the hometown of Charlie, the soldier who died that day at Walter Reed. He promised Charlie he’d look up David, the man he stood in for the day Charlie died. As the time for that visit approached, Taz went out one morning to sit on the corral fence and he was rediscovered by the world.

The events from two years before were now woven into his shooting and reappearance. It made no more sense now than his original fame.

Taz was aware that his participation in the shootout at the courthouse was the closest thing to a heroic event he’d been involved in. He was a simple cowboy and his boss asked him to save the town, and he did. It was the same kind of thing he did as the ‘fighting fool of 1st squad,’ but he wasn’t a soldier any longer. So the act was heroic, as well as perfectly executed, as the general’s battle plans often were.

In Vietnam Taz stopped death dead in its tracks. He stood with his B.A.R. and fought like a demon. He shouldn’t have survived the war, but he defied the odds. He kept the men of 1st squad alive by the force of his will and the firepower he wielded. The enemy knew him by name and cringed when they heard it. They feared him as well as respected him as a soldier.

Taz had no fear, being an invisible hero to everyone but 1st squad, until Kodak showed up to take pictures of his first war. Neither of their lives could ever be the same once the powers that be saw Taz as the face they wanted on the war they had a difficult time selling.

What people remembered about Taz was that he once was a hero who somehow slipped out of the limelight.

Now he’d been found. Without anyone knowing anything about his latest exploits. He was a sensation all over again. He was famous now because he was found.

It would require some skill and a little compromise before Taz and Kodak could disappear from view again. Hopefully that disappearance would occur before anyone found out the rest of the story.

Sooner or later some reporter was going to open his mouth in town as he purchases a pack of smokes or a gallon of gas, and he’ll say something like, “I’m coving the story about the shooting out at Gen. Walker’s place. The boy that was shot is a war hero, you know?”

“War hero hell? That boy saved this town. He took on a dozen desperadoes and blew their shit away, son. He might be a cowboy now, but he’s deadly with that big gun of his.”

By that time the boys hoped to be back on their mesa and out of view of the world once more. The other cowboys would protect them because they were one of them and they deserved their privacy if they wanted it.

*****

“That’s it,” Kodak said. “You’ve got all you’re going to get. If there are any future pictures of ‘Mr.’ Tazerski in the future, I’ll release them. Should any of you try to freelance your way into a story, there will be nothing else. Respect his rehabilitation and give him room to heal, and we’ll talk about another deal at a later date. Everything goes through me. Piss me off and you’re out of luck.

“That’s all for now,” Kodak said, walking the reporters to the back porch.

A brown flash dashed across the porch, leaping into Kodak’s arms.

“Hi, fellow. I missed you, too,” Kodak said, as Tazerski smashed his little monkey face against Kodak’s neck.

Two pictures of Kodak with the monkey were snapped.

Kodak glared. The two men moved back down the driveway. Kodak didn’t stipulated that pictures of him were out of bounds. It was his mistake. He’d bought the time Taz needed to heal and that was good enough.

“Well, well,” Dr. Westphalia said, entering Taz’s room. “Last time I saw you, you weren’t so pretty and pink, son.”

“I understand you saved my life,” Taz said. “Thanks. You were in the ambulance?”

“I was. I picked the front seat with some padding in it. This old backend isn’t built for a jump seat any longer. I had to stop and have a piece of Kathleen’s pie while they got you situated. I’ll be here until you’re out of the woods. It’s safer for you to be here but that exit wound isn’t healing well. I’ll be keeping my eye on it.”

“They say if it hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead a few weeks now,” Taz said seriously.

“All in a days work, son. Did what I knew to do. Had a lot of help from someone way more powerful than me. He decided it wasn’t your time. Glad you’re doing better.”

“Don’t remember much,” Taz explained.

“Looks like we may ought to replace those bandages. We need to keep you as still as possible. A walk to the bathroom now and again should be okay for the time being.

Two weeks and three days after being shot, Taz was back on the ranch.

Taz stood to let Kodak shower him the second day back. He wasn’t steady enough to stand up alone and Madge was out of the question. He remembered when Kodak showered him when he was too drunk to stand while he was in Vietnam. The memory made him smile.

Even taking as much caution as possible, the bandages still got wet. Dr. Westphalia came into the room each morning to supervise the bandages being changed and inspect the wound.

The exit wound in Taz’s lower back was incredibly painful. While he resisted taking pain medication as long as possible, but if he wanted to sleep, he needed it. He refused to admit to being in pain ever since his father broke Taz’s arm when he was a little boy. Sleep became more important than a determination to prove his manhood to a father he hadn’t seen in years.

The house was geared up to aid Taz’s rehabilitation and even the radio room went silent for the first few days. Crosby took to sitting on the back steps and pacing on the back porch, unaccustomed to not having something to do.

Madge took up residence in one of the front sitting rooms. She sat with Taz for long hours each day. Kodak and Madge picked up the ongoing game of rummy that Madge was winning. Taz slept because of the medication Madge put into his I V. while he slept, under doctor’s orders.

The smells of the kitchen brought Taz’s appetite to the surface. It was Kathleen’s soups and blended cereals that got him interested in eating again. Just a few mouthfuls, but it was a good sign, although getting out of bed no longer appealed to him. Everyone was sure it was the pain.

By the time Dr. Westphalia checked the wounds each morning and Madge replaced the bandages, Taz was exhausted. It took more out of him each day. No one was happy with the direction his recovery was taking.

A ranch full of well-wishers waited to be able to welcome Taz home. They were told each morning to fall out and give him some more time to gain some strength. When he didn’t gain any strength, all the cowboys got was a shake of the general’s head to tell them to go back to work.

Cowboys paused when passing the back of the house to wonder what was going on inside.

Dr. Westphalia was in Taz’s room several times a day, staying longer each time. The stress appeared on his face as he left Taz, shaking his head as he passed the general’s office on his way to get more coffee.

It was the morning of the fourth day Dr. Westphalia stopped leaving Taz’s side. It was what he was warned could happen. He’d have been happier without another fight for Taz’s life, but the crisis came in its own time and Taz was once again lost to unconsciousness.

Gen. Walker stood beside Dr. Westphalia as he took Taz’s pulse, once the morning bandaging ritual was over. Taz hadn’t awakened for something that usually had him climbing the walls trying to resist the pain.

“I don’t like it. His pulse is weaker. He should be gaining strength by now,” Dr. Westphalia said. “His temperature is elevated today.”

“What can I do?” Gen. Walker asked as Madge and Kodak watched from the foot of the bed.

“Wait,” Dr. Westphalia said, looking up once he laid Taz’s limp arm back on the bed. “Wait and pray. It’s his fight now. All I can do is watch and wait.”

Each cowboy knew his job and felt less like doing it,

once it became apparent Taz wasn’t going to walk out on the back porch looking like his old self anytime soon. Some men didn’t know anything about Taz’s original fame. They all remembered the courthouse shootout, when Taz ended the fracas before going back to work.

The story was told and retold in the bunkhouse, after the event. Only half the cowboys had been in town and fewer witnessed Taz’s courage under fire. Word spread fast on the ranch. Taz wasn’t an easy man to know but he was a hard man to ignore. Wherever he was, he was noticed.

Now cowboys stood silent in the area behind the back porch, staring at the screen door that led into the house. They had no purpose. It’s just where they stopped moving and at times there were several men doing nothing but waiting.

Most cowboys weren’t certain about who Kodak was or where he fit into ranch life. They didn’t know how Taz and Kodak fit together. Taz was a man who had earned their respect and if Kodak was all right with Taz, Kodak was okay with them. It was the cowboy way. Tend to the cattle and tend to your own business, and what soldier turned cowboy didn’t have a boatload of could’ve been and shouldn’t of.

*****

“His temperature is still rising. He’s developed an infection. I’ve pumped him full of antibiotics. It’s so close to his vital organs it could be fatal. Getting his temperature down is essential. Start bringing me all the ice you have and make as much as you can,” Dr. Westphalia explained.

There were ice packs and cold compresses as Taz fell more deeply into unconsciousness. Kodak sat in a corner chair as Dr. Westphalia listened to Taz’s heart, checked his temperature, and applied antibiotics directly into the wound. More were injected, arriving from Billings.

It was late afternoon of the fourth day that teepees appeared in the area between the house and the bunkhouse. Medicine Band, Jeremy, and two dozen members of their tribe chanted and beat drums softly. The ranch stopped. Cowboys and Indians stood side by side, waiting.

“How do they know?” Kodak asked Gen. Walker, as he stood on the back porch, watching the solemn gathering. “Did you tell them?”

“My smoke signals are out of order. No, they know. They’ve adopted Taz. They believe he has a special spirit they need to honor. They’re calling on the Great Spirit to heal him.”

“I’m betting on Dr. Westphalia,” Kodak said, going back inside, not wanting to talk to Jeremy or Medicine Band. When Kodak listened to what they had to say, he found himself doubting his Catholic beliefs, although he wasn’t sure what they were.

Kathleen and Crosby were standing at the door to Taz’s room. Dr. Westphalia held Taz’s hand, taking his pulse again. Madge stood at the foot of the bed. Taz slept into the evening. He was burning up and the ice kept coming.

“I’ve done all I know how to do,” Dr. Westphalia said to no one. “This is always the danger. He’s a strong boy. You might want to say a prayer to get the only help we have left. The doctors in Billings say to just wait.”

“Take him back to the hospital?” the general asked, never feeling more helpless. “I should have left him there.”

“That madhouse? Lord no. He’s just as able to fight here surrounded by friends. He wouldn’t survive the trip at this point. No, we just need to wait. If the fever doesn’t break by tomorrow… well, the infection is getting worse.”

“And he’ll keep getting worse, until he’s dead,” Gen. Walker said sadly.

“That’s a possibility,” Dr. Westphalia said. “I can’t believe he’s survived all this only for it to come to that.”

A little before dark Medicine Band appeared at the door dressed in his best Shaman’s regalia.

“Don’t let him in here. No telling what kind of a thing he could be carrying. He’s not clean,” Dr. Westphalia complained, horrified at the sight

of Medicine Band’s appearance.

“You said you’d done all you can. Let him do what he can. It can’t hurt now. They believe in Medicine Band’s healing power. He claims to be Taz’s spiritual guide,” Gen. Walker explained.

“Damn heathens act like they own the place,” Dr. Westphalia objected, making sure he had no contact with the Indian. “I don’t know why you put up with them.”

“Rumor has it I’m keeping my cows on their tribal territory,” Gen. Walker advised the doctor, who glared.

“Tribal property, poppycock. They should be on a reservation where they belong.”

Medicine Band moved to Taz’s bedside, ignoring the doctor’s objections. He chanted, encouraging smoke from the pot he carried to move over Taz, using an eagle’s feather. He danced and the bells on his ankles jangled softly. Medicine Band sang lyrics from a song that had been sung for a thousand generations by the Ogallala people. Tom Toms could be heard in the hallway as other Indians sang so softly it was as if a light breeze had been let loose in the back of the house.

Medicine Band stopped his dance. He stopped his song. He used the feather to move smoke over Taz, giving so soft an invocation it could hardly be recognized as speech.

Kathleen, the general, Dr. Westphalia, Madge, and Kodak had all moved to the corner of the room near the right side of Taz’s bed. Every set of eyes was mesmerized by the service.

Medicine Band abruptly stopped. The music being made in the hallway stopped and Medicine Band turned to exit the room. Before he hit the door the music had stopped. Not a sound could be heard as Dr. Westphalia peaked out the door to see where the Indians were.

“Damn heathens are gone. Where do they get to so damn fast. I don’t like it, I tell you. It’s not natural and you shouldn’t tolerate it,” Dr. Westphalia was unable to hide his bigotry for people whose land he stood upon and for whom he had no appreciation at all.

No one paid much attention to the doctor’s displeasure. It was Taz they turned to now. He had not moved or shown any sign of understanding that he’d been put into the hands of the Great Spirit to resolve the damage done to him.

It wasn’t for Medicine Band to sanction Taz’s life or his dying. It was for Medicine Band to remove all obstacles to Taz moving onto the next level of life that was already his. It was the Great Spirit who knew what form that took and where in the universe Taz belonged.

No one said anything. Madge went to stand at the head of the bed. Kodak put his chair back beside Taz’s bed. Gen. Walker had gone back to his office and Kathleen stood in the doorway as Dr. Westphalia took Taz’s pulse.

“There’s no change. That damn Indian can’t do him any good,” the doctor said, convinced Taz was on his own now. “At least he’s resting easy. Shouldn’t let that damn Indian in here to disturb him.”

Kathleen shook her head and returned to the kitchen to see to it enough food was prepared to feed everyone. She didn’t have to look to know that activity on the ranch had stopped. She could hear the silence. There were no sounds of cowboys working. Moving things around in the kitchen got her mind off the drama playing out a few feet away.

Gen. Walker sat alone in his office. His coffee had gone cold and his one a day cigar sat unlit in his ashtray. He kicked his boots up on his desk. There were no plans for a funeral. He’d been so sure having Taz home would make everything okay again.

Gen. Walker remembered the first time he met Taz, not knowing what to expect, but being in charge meant other people expected. He ordered. After the first meeting he saw that Taz would do whatever he was ordered to do, not because he believed in it, but because he was a soldier.

Gen. Walker found that he wanted Taz to believe in the orders he gave him. He remembered inviting Taz to eat with him, so they might get better acquainted. This was when Taz was going on tour representing the US Army.

The general liked to know what made men tick. He explained to Taz that hatred for his father was counterproductive. This was common sense and good advice. Then Taz told Gen. Walker about his father breaking his arm, because he wanted to ride a mechanical horse out in front of the A&P.

The general was so upset by the story that he put out his cigar in the middle of one of the finest cuts of beef in the Asian theater, not to mention what it cost to ship it there from his ranch. He’d never been caught so off guard by a soldier before or since.

In not so many words Taz told him he didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. Taz certainly left Gen. Walker with something to think about. He attempted to show Taz that he could help him and benefits came with his cooperation. Taz wasn’t going to ask for any special treatment and he wasn’t interested in someone telling him what his life was about.

Intending to teach Taz a lesson, the general had learned one.

“Taz is Taz,” the general remembered a member of 1st squad telling him, when he asked for a description of him.

Gen. Walker would have been upset with an ordinary soldier who failed to appreciate his words of wisdom. Taz told him the way it was, because ‘Taz is Taz.’ There was no disrespect in it. Taz was telling a truth about his life only he knew. The general spoke a hypothetical truth that was generally true and Taz straightened him out on that.

“No change. I was worried they might upset the boy. We need more ice.”

“I’ll see to it,” Gen. Walker said having had his meat freezers turned into ice makers. “Doctor, you treated my father and his family. You’ve treated me and mine. As far as small town doctors go, you’re the best there is. You willed that boy stay alive the day he was shot. I appreciate you staying to see to his recovery.”

“Not like I have a thriving practice any longer. I have my patients from years past. I don’t’ take on new ones. Everyone understands when I’m not available. It’s not like I’m the only game in town any longer.”

“What I don’t understand, Dr. Westphalia, and I say this with all sincerity. I don’t know how a man as smart as you are can be so full of shit when it comes to Indians. Those people have been dragged through hell and back, and somehow, through it all, all the hatred, all the mistreatment, they’ve maintained their dignity.

“A man like you should know better and if you don’t know better, you should learn better. Those people have more right to be here than either you or I.

“I’ll see to your ice,” Gen. Walker said, standing up and walking past the stunned doctor.

Cowboys stood near the house, Crosby sat on the top step of the back porch, Rowdy and Boyd leaned on the hitching post in front of the bunkhouse. The Indians chanted, danced, and beat their drums softly as the time passed in a way that made it seem like the day might never end.

“How is he, General,” a cowboy asked as Gen. Walker moved toward Rowdy to get the ice brought to the house.

“No change, son,” Gen. Walker said, not stopping to chat before having second thoughts.

He stopped, putting his hand on the cowboy’s shoulder, “All that can be done is being done. He’s tough. He’ll be chasing rustlers in no time.”

This got a smile out of him as other cowboys remembered Taz going after the rustlers the year before.

*****

It was in the middle of the night. Kodak’s head had come to rest on the bed with Taz’s hand in his. The ordeal had taken him beyond exhaustion more than once. Madge was seated near the foot of the bed. The house was bathed in a soft light for anyone who needed to move around.

Kathleen had fallen asleep in her husband’s easy chair. Gen. Walker slept with his head on his desk. The only one still awake was Dr. Westphalia, who monitored Taz, determined to see the crisis through to the end.

Medicine Band sat in his teepee focused on his fire as he was one with Taz. His ancient song slipped softly from his lips as he envisioned the Taz who journeyed with him to the spirit world. Medicine Band wanted Taz to live as much as anyone, because his world made more sense with Taz in it.

It was before dawn, but not much, when Kodak felt Dr. Westphalia’s big hand on his shoulder.

“What? What?” Kodak said, startled awake. “Is he…? Is he…?”

“It’s 100. It started to come down an hour ago, when it was 103. The fever has broken. He should be okay for the time being. He’s going to be all right.”

“Oh, God,” Kodak exclaimed wearily, crying into Taz’s hand, unable to control his sobs.

It had been a long dark night.

“Thank God,” Madge said softly. “Thank God.”

Dr. Westphalia walked to Gen. Walker’s office to stand in the door way. He was not very happy with the general. Gen. Walker was just sitting up from a fitful sleep. He didn’t speak when he saw Dr. Westphalia standing there. He just stared.

“Go to bed, General. He’s going to be okay. The fever has broken. It’s 99.9 and coming down. It’s been coming down for the better part of an hour.”

Gen. Walker reached for his humidor and tossed Dr. Westphalia a cigar.

“Thanks, doc,” the general said smiling and lighting his cigar.

“Don’t thank me. I didn’t have anything to do with it. That was between Taz and his maker. It wasn’t his time.”

“You give the big guy a thank you for me, doc. I haven’t been on such good terms with him lately. I’m still pissed off about Vietnam. I’ve got to go a mite to forgive him for that one.”

“In your own time, General. We don’t get to know why things are the way they are, we just get to be pissed off if it suits us.”

“Amen, doc. You need to go get some rest. You getting sick won’t do Taz any good.”

“You do the same, General. A lot of folks depending on you. Don’t know I’d be so keen on the idea of coming out here every day for the likes of you,” Dr. Westphalia told him.

“Yea, something about that kid. I don’t know what it is. When solders, cowboys, and Indians all take to you, that’s something, doc.”

“You may add doctors to that list,” the doctor said.

“Thanks for seeing to him.”

“I’ll see you later this morning, General. I might stretch out on your sofa for a few hours. I’m not as young as I use to be. These all nighters are a killer.”

Kodak let go of Taz’s hand and went into the bathroom to put cold water on his hot face. It was like the weight of the world was lifted off him. He came out and looked at Taz’s peaceful face.

“I’m going out to let Medicine Band know he’s going to be okay,” Kodak said.

“Hon, you need to lie down. You’re exhausted. You can’t keep sitting up with him. You’ve been at it three weeks now. Lie down. I’ll be here. I won’t leave him. Then, when you get up, I’ll go get some sleep.”

“I might when I come back in,” Kodak said, walking past Gen. Walker’s empty office on his way outside.

Standing on the back porch, puffing on his cigar, Gen. Walker stood looking out across the empty space between the house and the bunkhouse.

“Where’d they go?” Kodak asked.

“They were gone when I came out,” Gen. Walker said.

“I wanted to tell Medicine Band he is going to be okay.”

“Me too. Gone. Back in the wind.”

“Must have pulled out after the ceremony last night,” Kodak said.

“Nope, they were there, beating their drums, and dancing when I got coffee about 3 a.m. I stood out here and watched for a few minutes.”

“How do they know?”

“You asked me that when they showed up, Kodak. Beats the hell out of me. They know. How they know isn’t something white men are meant to understand. They believe what they believe and it works for them. We should all be so lucky.”

“So did Dr. Westphalia do it or did Medicine Band do it?” Kodak asked.

“I prefer to think Taz did it. It’s less confusing to me that way. The longer I live the less I know. Dr. Westphalia told me he’d done all he could do yesterday in the afternoon. The rest is one of those great mysteries of life, Kodak. Let’s go inside or I’m going to fall asleep leaning on this post. I need some sleep,” Gen. Walker said.

Kodak ran out of steam before he got back to Taz’s room. He collapsed on the cot set up beside Taz’s bed. He didn’t remember seeing Madge or speaking to her. He fell face down and didn’t move all day.

The ranch once again started to move.

Chapter 10

Crossing All the T’s

Each time Kodak came out of Taz’s room, his furry friend was waiting. Tazerski didn’t wait for an invitation, unable to wait to leap into Kodak’s arms. The general had tried to keep him in the barn with the horses to distract him, but by this time Tazerski was out the door anytime someone came in or went out.

At first he waited on the back porch until the door opened before he darted inside. It didn’t take him long to figure out how to open the door himself. Closing the door carefully, he headed for the hallway, where he sat by the closed door to Taz’s room.

He seemed to understand the seriousness of Taz’s condition. He didn’t attempt to go in the room, preferring to wait for Kodak to appear at the door. Then he didn’t let Kodak out of his sight, until he went back inside Taz’s room. Tazerski was waiting to be allowed inside.

Taz’s temperature returned to normal and he slept peacefully. There was adequate pain medication to keep him comfortable, which allowed him to sleep. After the crisis, sleep was the best thing for him.

His color had improved, his heartbeat was strong, and his respiration was good, which meant everyone could relax. Two days after his fever broke, Taz opened his eyes and said, “That Indian’s been in here.”

“Medicine Band? You better be careful what you say about him,” Kodak said. “He’s got your number cowboy.”

“He was at the hospital too,” Taz seemed certain of it.

“He was,” Kodak said. “How’d you know that?”

“He held my heart in his hand,” Taz said with certainty.

“No, he might not win any dance prizes, but he never got near your heart,” Kodak remembered.

“In the operating room. He was in the operating room. He held my heart in his hand,” Taz explained.

“If you say so. I doubt the surgeons let him near you while they operated on you. Maybe you dreamed it,” Kodak said.

“Maybe! I want some coffee and some eggs,” Taz said. “Strong coffee like you make for me up at our place.”

Madge stood up and stared at Taz as Taz and Kodak talked to one another.

“Regular cup of coffee. Eggs scrambled in a little bit of butter. No oil. No strong coffee.”

“Damn, I got to negotiate breakfast? I promise not to get fat,” Taz said. “You still packing, Madge? Let me see your quick draw.”

“Yea, only because it was in my purse when they brought me out here. You don’t want to see my quick draw. Then I’d have to shoot you.”

“I have a headache. My mouth feels like the 3rd Army marched through it last night. Maybe some ice?”

“I’ll get your breakfast ordered and bring back some ice,” Kodak said.

“Hey, buddy,” Taz said, brushing up the hair on Tazerski’s head.

“Come on, boy. I’ll get you a coconut,” Kodak said.

Tazerski looked at Kodak and lay down close to Taz, holding onto his arm.

“Okay, I’ll bring it back for you. You’ve been good. You can stay until Dr. Westphalia shows up. He’ll raise hell when he sees you.”

“A monkey in the house,” Madge said displeased. “What’s this world coming to.”

Kodak went out and told Kathleen that Taz was awake and he wanted breakfast. He gave her what Madge ordered for him and sat with his own cup of coffee, chatting with Kathleen.

“He looks better. He’s got an appetite. That’s a good sign,” Kodak said.

“Very good sign. Dr. Westphalia said he’d probably be awake today. Wants him out of bed today if at all possible. He thinks lying on his back for so long hasn’t done him any good,” Kathleen said. “His back is healing very slow.”

“I’ll walk him in the hall later, once he eats,” Kodak said.

“Hey, Kodak,” Crosby yelled from the radio room. “Life magazine is on the horn for Mr. Paul Anderson. You available for comment or should I tell him you’re otherwise occupied?”

“Someone’s pulling your leg. Tell him I’m waiting for a call from Nixon and he’ll have to call back. It’s probably one of those reporters looking for an update.”

“I don’t think so, Mr. Anderson,” Crosby said. “He sounds like the real deal to me. I’m trained to know these things.”

“Okay, I’ll take it. I’ve got a few minutes.”

Kodak tried to think of any contract obligations he’d had with other magazines. Nothing came to mind.

“Hello?”

“I’m Kenneth Brown. This is Paul Anderson?”

“Yes,” Kodak said. “I’m he.”

“You took the pictures of Sgt. Tazerski that appeared in Time magazine several years ago?”

“I’m the culprit,” Kodak said, not having any sense of where the conversation might go.

“There’s some discussion of you releasing pictures of Sgt. Tazerski to keep your local press at bay.”

“Seemed like a good arrangement. I haven’t cleared anything with him yet, but it was how I got rid of them. They got one picture and a promise of more. I didn’t specify what more meant. They didn’t ask.”

“I’ll make it simple for you. We get the pick of the photographs before any release. We’re interested in using them in a feature article in our magazine. I’ve seen your work, Mr. Andersen, and it is consistent with Life magazine’s standards.”

“I’ll discuss it with Taz,” Kodak said. “He has to approve everything.”

“I enjoyed the spread in Nature magazine. You live a charmed life, Mr. Anderson. War, plane crashes, assassin’s bullets, and you reappear each time.”

“I just take pictures,” Kodak said.

“You must be part cat. I can’t wait to see what you do for an encore. It’s too long between your photographs’ being made available, but it does make them more valuable.”

“I spend most of my time photographing Montana landscapes these days, Mr. Brown. I did manage to stumble into some local Montana intrigue I photographed. I’ve been considering approaching Time magazine with these pictures, but it has become a little hectic around here. Those pictures feature Sgt. Tazerski in action.

“They rival the original photographs my paper in Sacramento gave to Time, which means I have no allegiance to them. I’ll be more than happy to discuss whatever arrangements we might be able to make. No one has seen this collection. Only a few people know they exist. They will be an exclusive release, when I get the right offer.”

“We don’t want to get into a bidding war, Mr. Anderson. I’m interested in doing a story. We’ll pay you more than market value, because they’re pictures of Sgt. Tazerski, but we won’t get involved in high dollar finance. We’re a magazine, not an investment bank.”

“Money isn’t of great concern to me, but there are doctor’s bills, hospital bills to pay. The only reason why we’re still talking is because the bills need to be paid. I have no interest in shopping my work around. You called me. These are my terms. If it isn’t enough to take a big chunk out of the bills, well, no point in spending a lot of time on it.”

“How is the sergeant?”

“He seems like he’s stronger today. We almost lost him a few days ago. He’s doing better.”

“I’m happy to hear it. I enjoyed the stories about the sergeant. He made the war almost tolerable. The way he dropped out of sight created quite a stir about where he might have gone. He’ll be a hot item for a little while.”

“So it seems. This place has been a zoo since they found him. I’ve never seen anything like it,” Kodak said.

“He is a celebrity of some note. I don’t suppose you want to discuss with me how he happened to be shot?”

“No!” Kodak answered with no give in his voice.

“Our specialty is telling a story in pictures,” Mr. Brown continued. “Your being a photographer means you’re likely telling a story with your pictures. A perfect match for us. Everyone here loved the idea of approaching you. We are accustomed to paying a fair price for the work we want, Mr. Anderson. From time to time we find ourselves wanting the work of an outside photographer.

“If I can take a look at what you have to offer, I think you’ll find our offer more than fair. I’m authorized to make a generous offer for the right photos of the sergeant. We’d like a description of each photograph from you.”

“I’m listening, Mr. Brown. As I said, my obligation to all other magazines has been fulfilled. I’m free to make whatever arrangement we decide is prudent.”

“Can we meet at your location or would you rather fly to New York City to discuss terms?”

“No, I can’t travel at the moment. I don’t feel comfortable leaving Taz. Planes aren’t my favorite thing at the moment.”

“I thought you might say that. You have negatives and copies of the pictures there?”

“Yes, I do,” Kodak said.

“I’ll be in touch and let you know when I can make the trip out there. I fly to the coast a couple of times a year and I can set down near you and complete our business in one afternoon if that’s satisfactory?”

“You have the number here. They can get a message to me if I’m not here. We can have a car meet your plane to bring you out here.”

“That’s quite nice of you. Thank you, Mr. Anderson. I’m looking forward to doing business with you,” Mr. Brown said, hanging up the phone.

Kodak handed the phone back to Crosby.

“It’s easy to forget you guys are famous,” Crosby said. “I’d read somewhere your name was Paul Anderson. I’ve only known you as Kodak. I almost told him he had the wrong number.”

“I’m Kodak, Crosby. It’s my name now, unless you want me to write you a check. Thanks for taking the call. He might be calling me back some time in the future. Ken Brown. You might need to get me a message if he is flying here to see me.”

“I’ll make a note to put the call through to your place, once you’re back on the mesa.”

“Except we don’t have a phone. You’re slipping, Crosby. You’ll have to send a smoke signal or a rider. It is important.”

“Yea, I forgot,” Crosby said sheepishly.

Kodak shared the content of the phone call with Kathleen.

“This will help pay some of the bills Taz has run up. He isn’t going to be able to work for a while.”

“The general has taken care of the bills. You boys aren’t to worry about it,” Kathleen said.

“You are generous people, Kathleen, but Taz wouldn’t allow it. He’d be wanting to work until he is fifty to pay you back. The one thing I know about Taz is, he’s got to be free. He can’t be free letting you and the general carry him. He’s a proud man, Kathleen.”

“Yes, he is, but you boys aren’t in a position to pay the hospital. We are. The general thinks of you boys as his sons. Let us help a little. We’re glad to be able to help.”

“Yes, and whatever is going on up on the mesa is more help. I’ve heard the trucks going up every day. I’ve seen them carrying building supplies. The plans for our bedroom was never that big. I don’t think Taz even had a plan.”

“Taz can’t be up there in that shack now, Kodak. We’re putting a place up there that we’ve talked about building for years. It’s what Taz needs and so we’re building it now.”

“You’re too good to us. I know he can’t live a Spartan life and heal up at the same time. It’s another reason why selling some pictures can pay some of the bills. It’s not always going to be good times and paying you back seems like a good idea.”

“As you wish, Kodak. I wouldn’t get into a deep discussion with the general about it. He’ll resist your desire to pay him back. You talk to me. I keep the books. I’ll give you an honest accounting. We expect nothing and don’t need it, but I appreciate your desire to pay your way.”

“I want to be able to tell Taz that we don’t owe anything. I can show him the deal for the pictures and tell him I’ve paid the bills and he’ll leave it alone. He isn’t a big detail man. He lets me take care of the details,” Kodak said.

“Yes, I recognize the syndrome. The general takes my word for what’s going on with the money. I’ll show him what you’ve paid me at tax time. It’ll get us a few months to let things settle down.”

*****

Kodak sat talking to Tazerski while he ate his morning banana. Gen. Walker sat holding Kathleen’s hand, as she explained expenditures regarding the new house on the mesa. There was one major credit for the sale of 200 head of cattle.

“We can offset the construction. I’ll get Rowdy to give me hours of labor involved. We’ll cut our tax bill a little.”

“What Construction?” Taz said from the door. “You ain’t messing up my cabin, are you?”

“Oh, well, we’re ah…,” Gen. Walker stumbled. “You suppose to be up, son?”

“Looking for him. I got lonely,” Taz said. “Don’t even got a monkey to talk to. For the first couple of days I can’t get any privacy and now I’m all alone.”

“Taz, you shouldn’t be walking alone,” Kodak said.

“Construction?” Taz repeated. “You building something without me? I got a knack for building.”

“Sit down, Taz. We’ve finished that bedroom you were building. I’m making some improvements so living up there is a little easier. You’re in no condition to be roughing it for the time being. The bed hasn’t come yet. We’re waiting for the bed. Touching up the place in the mean time,” the general said. “I asked Rowdy to take a couple of cowboys up there, once we shipped the cattle.”

“You lines aren’t exactly on the level, Taz. Even the roof had an odd slant to it,” Kodak said.

“Hey, you put me up in the air and you want straight lines too? Give me a break. Lucky I didn’t fall off and break something. Besides, the rain runs off better that way. I’m sure glad you love me. I’d hate to hear what you had to say if you didn’t.”

“Love doesn’t mean I need to lie to you,” Kodak said. .

“Yes, well, I’m told they had to redo some of those lines. We didn’t want the bed tilting so much you roll out of it,” Gen. Walker said.

“You know how to hurt a guy? I could have done it if I had enough time. I was getting there. I’ve been a little under the weather.”

“You worked on it all summer, Taz,” Kodak reminded him. “You spent a lot of time up there cussing.”

“Don’t you want to sit down, hon?” Kathleen asked, concerned about Taz being up on his own for the first time.

“I can’t stay in there any longer. I’m going nuts. Even Kodak deserted me. He told me he wouldn’t leave me again when he came back from being lost in the ocean.”

“I’m twenty feet away from your bed. That’s hardly leaving you, Taz. I could hear you if you whispered. You were sleeping,” Kodak objected. “I just came out for some coffee and we got to talking.”

“Dr. Westphalia will tell you when you can make the move up to your place, but not for a few days,” Gen. Walker said. “We nearly lost you. We can’t get to you so fast once you’re up there. You need to stay here a few more days. I want to be sure you’ll be okay up there.”

“I’m getting restless. I’m also getting tired. Time for a nap after all this exercise. Good to see people. None in my room. Woke up all alone. Not even a monkey to talk to.”

“You are poorly treated,” Kathleen said. “Fresh churned ice cream in the kitchen.”

“What flavor?” Taz asked.

“Strawberry. Made it with fresh strawberries.”

“You talked me into it. Maybe I’ll have some before I take my nap.”

Everyone laughed.

“I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard him say at one time,” Kathleen said after Taz moved back toward his bed. “He must be feeling better.”

Chapter 11

Move Up

“We’ve made a road to drive up there on. It’s still dirt but we graded it nice. We’re waiting to put down a single lane of asphalt. We need to keep you off of Cyclone for a bit longer,” the general said.

“A road,” Kodak said. “The trail is still there?”

“Oh, yea, we’ll be on horseback most of the time but we needed to get construction material up there and a road seemed like a good idea,” the general said.

“You been carrying lumber up there to me for two years and never needed a road. You getting soft, General?”

“No, I’m getting old, and I’m beginning to look for the easy way to do things. We can undo what we did if you don’t like the changes we made.”

“No, no, no, no,” Taz said.

“Why don’t you sit down, Taz. How about some scrambled eggs?” Kathleen asked.

“It was hard enough getting up out of bed. I’m not sure I want to sit down so soon.”

“Dr. Westphalia said that it’s healing real well now. The pain should start getting better,” Kathleen said.

“It’s not so much pain as it is uncomfortable when I’m moving around.”

Kathleen got several pillows from the living room and put them down on the chair where Taz usually sat. She helped him to move around the table to sit down.

“Oh, man, this is like heaven,” Taz said. “I might could be talked into living here with you guys. Kodak doesn’t treat me as nice as you guys.”

“As I said, I’ve got men up working on your place as we meet here this morning. We’ll have it ready for you in no time,” Gen. Walker said.

“I don’t recall you complaining about me always having dinner ready when you came home,” Kodak said.

Tazerski got off of his chair and went around to climb up on Taz’s lap.

“Oh, no, don’t do that,” Kodak said, reaching for him.

“Leave him alone. I’m fine. He missed me, didn’t you, little guy? I’m okay.”

The monkey sat well down on Tax’s leg and put his hand on Taz’s forearm, rather than his usual backward arm around the neck hold he liked.

“How long before the bed gets here? I’ve stopped draining the doc said. A pile of hay would work.”

“I asked Kodak about what he had in mind,” Kathleen said. “We need to get that ordered. I bought a nice sheet set for it,” Kathleen said, having measured the mattress when the delivery men put it in the barn.

“Kathleen, you’re spoiling us,” Kodak said. “I’ll never get him to like my cooking again.”

“After working all day, food is food,” Taz said, digging into the breakfast Kathleen set down in front of him.

The boys moving back up to the mesa was the first topic every morning when Taz came out to eat. He’d never had a mother to pamper him and while he liked Kathleen fussing over him, he knew he needed to regain his independence and he missed the quiet of the mesa.

Taz ate half his eggs and half of one biscuit before he felt like he might bust open. His appetite had increased and he was eating more each day but he still preferred Kathleen’s soups and a lot of ice cream. Neither took a lot of chewing to enjoy it.

It was another three days before Taz made it down the back stairs of the house and stood on solid Montana soil. Kodak went to the stable as Taz exchanged comments with the cowboys who came over as soon as they saw him.

The warmth of their smiles and the pleasure the cowboys took in seeing him getting outside made Taz feel good. He chatted easily with men he rarely talked to after the ‘howdy’ they exchanged upon meeting.

Cyclone made a trail straight to Taz, shoving him twice with her nose, until he hugged her neck. Milkweed stood off to one side, until Cyclone backed up far enough for Taz to easily rub her nose the way she liked. Kodak stood watching the growing crowd Taz attracted. Taz seemed comfortable being the center of attention.

It took the general a couple of minutes to appear out of the stable with Tazerski riding a beautiful red pony with a blond mane. With the cowboy hat resting against his back, Tazerski let the general lead the pony toward Taz & Kodak.

“I don’t believe it,” Taz said. “A monkey on a pony. It’s just his size.”

“Gentle as a lamb,” the general said. “I met a rancher who raises them. This one had Tazerski written all over him.”

“Coconut,” Kodak said, thinking it was the perfect name.

Tazerski didn’t go far but he liked sitting on Coconut. He felt more like the rest of the cowboys and more like he belonged in Montana. He missed the trees and the birds but Montana was okay.

A few days later at dinner, Taz said he was ready to get the final few miles to where he lived. For the first time no one argued with him. He looked around waiting for the usual, ‘it’s too soon.’ ‘You need to gain some more strength. Taz just wasn’t sure how he’d make the trip. He was way too weak to walk and way to sore to ride.

He happily shoveled in meatloaf, mashed potatoes, peas, and gravy he put over top of it. Everyone was happy to see him eating the way he once did, emptying his plate.

“Everything is ready for you. We’ll get you up there in the morning,” Gen. Walker said.

The following morning Gen. Walker had Kendall bring around the jeep they’d rigged up with pillows in the rear to ease the trip up to the mesa. Kodak sat beside Taz and the general and Kathleen road ahead on horseback. Tazerski sat up front with Kendall. They eased on to the dirt road. It was slow and careful going.

Sitting in the back seat meant not getting a very good look at what was just below the canyon wall, until they were almost up to it.

“Where the hell is my cabin?” Taz asked, stretching to see up to look at what had replaced it. “What the hell? What did they do? Kendall, what did he do?”

“I’m just the driver. You need to ask him,” Kendall said.

“Oh my God,” Kodak said. “It’s a house. They built a house. No wonder they didn’t want me coming up to see.”

Kathleen stood beside the general in front of the two bedroom house they’d built while Taz was convalescing. The jeep stopped and Taz and Kodak sat speechless. They got out to get a closer look. It was a house.

“What did you do, General?” Taz asked, still stunned.

“Taz, I never said thank you. I decided it was time to say it and I decided on this.”

“Thank you. I’m the one that should thank you, General. No one has ever treated me as well as you,” Taz said, letting go of Kodak’s hand and stepping forward to hug the general in a rare display of emotion.

“Well, let’s go inside and we’ll show you what you have,” Kathleen said.

“I had them build the front porch offset from the front door. That way you can sit out with your coffee in the morning on the screened-in porch. When it storms or unpleasant out, the size of the picture window gives you a wonderful view to the west while sitting in your living room,” the general said excitedly. “I’m afraid we were unable to capture the slant you’d built into the previous porch, Taz.”

“Very funny, General. My eye may be a little off kilter, but no one ever fell off the porch.”

“You have electricity,” the general said, opening the front door.

“This is too much,” Taz said.

“You have a phone. There’s a shortwave set. It’s marked where you get Crosby. You push down the button and he’ll hear you in the communication’s room. There’s a pump on the well for running water. Kathleen, you want to pick it up from there. Most of the rest is your doing.”

“You have an electric oven, electric coffee maker, some new cookware, dishes, and little things you’ll find as you go. I recommend taking your boots off before coming into the house. Keep slippers near the door. The dirt up here goes everywhere if you aren’t careful. The rugs are sturdy and meant to last. For the worst conditions there is a showerhead outside the back door that will come in handy.

“The bathroom is set up with handles in the shower so Taz feels comfortable and doesn’t fall.”

“That’s why I keep Kodak around. He holds me up in the shower,” Taz said unashamed.

“In case Kodak is out when you shower, you’ll feel safer with the rails. The tile is easy to clean and the mirrors are a nice size. I think you’ll get use to it,” Kathleen said. “I did get you some towels and other goodies.”

There were only two windows that faced the canyon wall, and both had awnings to keep anyone from having a view from above. It’s not a typical consideration when building most houses, but the general had in mind when this one was built.

No one thought there would be another attempt on Taz’s life on the mesa, but being careful was on the general’s mind. Angus McCoy was the only one who spent any time up on the canyon wall. He was there the day Taz and Kodak moved in. He had the general string wire and moved the elevated rocks that could serve as a hiding place.

McCoy knew Jack Slade well enough to be almost positive he’d never make a hit on Taz in the same place twice. He would attempt another hit however. McCoy kept an eye on all the angles. Taz and Kodak were asked to report their movements to Crosby each day.

Usually McCoy made a point of being in the communications room when Crosby and Kodak talked about the plans for the day. It was then that McCoy made his plans for the day. He got together with Rowdy and Boyd to make sure that the boys on the mesa were never far from help. McCoy took pride in his ability to remain out of site.

The road between the house and the mesa made it possible to move up and down without being on horseback. The trip took seven minutes with the pedal to the medal and Kendall at the wheel. McCoy insisted he know every inch of the road in case of an emergency.

They didn’t discuss what kind of emergency but Kendall was a sharp cookie. He knew what he would be expected to do in an emergency, and so he prepared for it.

*****

“I’ve never had a place this nice to live in before. The tent in Vietnam was the best living I ever did before this,” Taz said from his easy chair that faced the kitchen where Kodak was exploring the goodies in all the cabinets.

“I had it pretty good growing up. We always lived in a nice house.”

“We’ll go for a walk after dinner,” Taz said. “When will they bring Cyclone and Milkweed up?”

“The radio is in the corner of the hallway. See what Crosby says,” Kodak said.

“This is going to take some getting use to. We are actually connected to the world, Kodak. Wonder what’s going on out there.”

Once again Taz settled into yet another homecoming. This time he’d come all the way home. Felling comfortable in a house built for him and Kodak was easy. It was built for them. You could hardly be more at home than that. The creature comforts, even on a Montana mesa, were far in excess of what Taz needed, but it was fine. He liked it.

There was some question about Taz being able to live the life he’d lived before he was shot. The house was the perfect answer until Taz was able to resume his work on the mesa. He had no doubt he’d be as good as new before long.

Kodak spent his first week back on the mesa arranging the new home for Taz’s comfort. His cooking skills lacked the variety that was Kathleen’s specialty, but she’d filled the freezer with casseroles and dishes the boys enjoyed most.

The pantry was full and Kodak wouldn’t need a shopping trip for some time to come, which meant he wouldn’t leave Taz, which is how it was planned.

Chapter 12

Finger Pointing

McCoy had been gone for some time before coming back to watch Taz being brought up to see his home for the first time. Because of where the sun was in the sky that time of morning, no one could see him even if they looked up at the top of the canyon wall.

He was immediately on his way into the general’s office and found him at his desk.

“McCoy, I thought you ran away from home. I’d of had Kathleen stock up the kitchen if I knew you were coming.”

“My eyes are crossed from looking at pictures through that magnifier.”

“Do tell, McCoy. I thought you already did that.”

“I gave you highlights. The more I know the more you know. The safer that makes you.”

“You staying this time? I want you to take a look at the mesa. See if you see something I missed. Make suggestions. He’s going home tomorrow.”

“Let me brief you on what I know first. I’ll go up and look over the new place and where you might want to beef up protection until the next time Slade comes calling. You did what I told you?”

“Yea. I’ve moved the old cabin far enough away he won’t be poking around. I’ll keep guards on him until we put Slade in the ground.”

“I’ll find him for you. You’ll have to put him in the ground. I don’t kill people unless they force me to,” McCoy explained.

“You find him and I’ll take care of him myself.”

“General, forget your vendetta. I can’t be certain he won’t find you before I find him. Your boy having a hole in his back makes him way easier to protect. You, on the other hand, are highly mobile and motivated. I can try to protect you but the harder you make it the more danger you’re in.”

“Move on, McCoy. Tell me about his discharge. We haven’t covered that.”

“What makes you think I know about that?”

“McCoy!”

“Provincial leaders were dropping dead at a rapid rate. A dozen in two months. All of them close to Slade. No alibi. No witness saying he didn’t. No proof he did. After they hit and even dozen in two months, they offered him a general discharge and a ticket home. He took it.

“Slade’s a loner by nature. He’s a crack shot. I tracked down a couple of guys in his unit. Not much to say about him. Confirmed the loner tag.

“Average student. No athletics. No girlfriends of note. Just your average everyday stone cold killer,” McCoy said.

“I’ve seen this bird, McCoy,” Gen. Walker said, staring at the latest picture McCoy brought him “Older, hair on his face, but I’ve seen him recently.

“He was at the hospital, General. You could have passed him in the hall.”

“No, I was going in and out the side entrance. The only ones there were my own men. He was inside the hospital. Second floor nurse’s station. In that area. The day all hell broke loose. It’s the only time I paid any attention to who was upstairs at the end of the hallway where Taz was, but I saw him. If I’m not mistaken, he was looking right at me.”

“That was the day the picture was taken in front of the hospital sign. His face was blown up ten or twelve times. That distorted it.”

“Can I have this? I’ll get Crosby to make copies so everyone sees it.”

“I know what he looks like. You can keep it. Make a few copies for Sheriff Andy. I’ll take a few to him. Dollars to donuts, he’s the guy who follow you away from the hospital. It’s a move he’d make. Run you off the road if he got lucky. Put a bullet in your body to be sure.”

“Kendall thinks it was him,” Gen. Walker said.

*****

A few days later at dinner, McCoy showed up, after his trip in town to see the sheriff.

“Could you pass me those biscuits. Wouldn’t want any to float away,” McCoy said.

“Kodak got pictures of that shootout deal, according to the sheriff. How do I get a gander at those?” McCoy asked.

“Kendall can drive you up. I’ll call ahead. They’re probably still packed. What are you looking for?”

“Just looking,” McCoy said, adding some mashed potatoes to his plate.

“Kodak is a good guy. He knows about you. Taz doesn’t. We might not want to mention Slade around him.”

“Call them? You got them hooked up to the outside world? You only need to get shot around here to get a phone? Glad I don’t need a phone. I hope there’s more of this beef.”

“This is a cattle ranch, McCoy. Probably the only place you couldn’t clean out of beef,” the general said.

*****

Kendall pulled the jeep up a few feet from the porch. Kodak came out to greet them.

“Hey, Kendall. This is getting to be a regular route for you.”

“Yea, you can say that again. This is McCoy. He’s the general’s investigator. He came to see you.”

“Hi, McCoy. Welcome to the mesa. I have the pictures out. All snapshot size. Crosby can blow up copies for you if you find anything you like,” Kodak said.

“Kathleen sent some things. Pot holders, dish towels, and she sent some pot roast and mashed potatoes. I think she put a tin of biscuits in for you.”

“Taz will love that,” Kodak said, holding the screen door open for them.

“Where is he?” Kendall asked.

“He’s lying down. He still gets tired easy.”

McCoy sat at the table looking over the several rolls of pictures taken at the courthouse shootout, taking particular care with pictures of the second floor windows, where Slade’s prints had been found.

“You have a magnifying glass?” McCoy asked.

“No, we don’t have anything like that.”

“I’ve got two pictures that look like the guy. Might help to have as many images of him as possible. He can change his appearance.”

“This is the guy who shot Taz?”

“Yea, I took his thumb print off the shell casing he left up on top behind here. The sheriff got some prints from the same guy, proving he was at the courthouse shooting. You need to know what he looks like,” McCoy said, handing Kodak the picture he’d brought for him.

“What’s his name,” a stern determined voice said as Taz moved out of the bedroom toward the table.

“Pardon!” McCoy said, buying time.

“The name of the guy who shot me. You know it?”

“I work for the general. You need to talk to him.”

“If that’s the man who shot me. I want his name,” Taz said, moving closer to the table, sounding determined.

McCoy was a good bit larger than Taz, but there was no mistake about who was in charge.

Kendall stepped aside to let Taz move closer. Taz didn’t look at him or acknowledge him as he honed in on the photograph of the man who shot up. Taz’s easy going demeanor had been replaced by something more insistent.

“He shot me. I want to know his name,” Taz ordered.

“Yes, he did. His name is Jake Slade. He was an army sniper. He left a thumb print on the shell casing I took off the rim of the canyon right above here. He left some prints at the courthouse. He was staring right out of those second story windows at you when you ended that little insurrection,” McCoy said, deciding to go against the general’s wishes.

“He’s a brother. One of my own men shot me?”

Taz was confused.

“He’s nobody’s brother. He was run out of the army for killing people no one told him to kill. He’s bad to the bone. He’s not one of us.”

“You’re Regular army?”

“Yea, I’m Angus McCoy. I work for Army Investigations. I’m about to time out and the general tagged me for this.”

“If the general picked you, you must be competent,” Taz said.

“I like to think so. I’m learning. I’m about to become a cop, where I’ll learn my trade in depth,” McCoy said.

“I’m Taz by the way,” Taz said. “Thanks for telling me his name. A man shoots you, you should know his name.”

“Yes, you should,” McCoy agreed.

“I feel better now. He was at the courthouse?”

“He was at the courthouse,” McCoy said. “Probably has a lot to do with why he wants you dead.”

“I killed some of his buddies then. It’s a reason. I’ll be seeing him one day,” Taz said with an icy certainty. “It’s a day he won’t forget.”

“I don’t know he had buddies. He’s a loner. You got in his way. He didn’t seem to like it.”

“That was intended,” Taz said.

“He was probably paid to kill you. A warning to Gen. Walker is the way I figure. No proof of any of it.”

“Cold blooded,” Taz said.

“Very cold,” McCoy said. “The coldest.”

“You going to get him, McCoy?” Taz asked.

“If I can, but unless he makes another try, it’ll be hard to dig him out of whatever hole he’s dug himself into.”

“Do we have coffee, Kodak?” Taz asked. “Our company might like a cup.”

“Yea, there’s still half a pot.”

“You drink coffee, Mr. McCoy?” Taz asked.

“Sure do. Sounds like a winner,” McCoy said.

“Kendall?” Taz said.

“No, I’ve had enough. Don’t want to need to stop to pee on the way back.”

“What do you think of this place? The general built it for us,” Taz said, sitting across from Kodak’s chair.

McCoy held the two pictures he wanted Crosby to blow up. “I’ll return these as quick as Crosby’s done with them.”

“Just let Crosby hold onto them. I’ll pick them up on my next trip down to the house.”

Taz seemed fine and, after he got what he wanted, he seemed glad to have company and to share some of what they had. McCoy spent another few minutes making small talk, took the pictures and left with Kendall.

“How do you feel?” Kodak asked, after the company left.

“I feel better now. I wondered who shot me. I wanted to know why. I guess a paid killer is as good as the Viet Cong. There is no reason for me to be shot. All I did was my job. If they didn’t want to get themselves shot up they shouldn’t have been shooting up the courthouse. Didn’t they think someone might object?”

“It’s over now, Taz. You’ll be fine,” Kodak said.

“Yes, I will be fine, babe, but it isn’t over. I owe someone… big time,” Taz said, feeling his chest.

“You’re getting stronger. Dr. Westphalia said we can go out, even ride a little.”

“It’s healing. My back is still sore but the doctor says it will be even after it heals. What I would like is to take a ride on Cyclone.”

Kodak began to laugh.

“What?” Taz asked.

“I remember the first day you saw Cyclone. I remember how Cyclone got her name.”

“Needed a clutch or a brake or something,” Taz said, remembering the first time he tried to get on a real horse.

Less funny was a sudden flash of memory of a mechanical horse in front of the A&P back home. He wanted to ride it. His father broke his arm in three places yanking him off it. Taz cringed, pushing it out of his mind.

*****

Few things upset Kodak since Taz had come out of his coma. The idea of Taz wanting to go after Jake Slade sent a chill through him, because he knew Taz was a man who took care of business. Kodak wanted to go back to the peaceful life they’d had before the courthouse shootout. It couldn’t happen until Taz let go of his need to even the score.

Kodak reasoned there was no imminent danger, until he stepped out onto the porch, late in the day, and found two riflemen on horseback on either side of the house. Someone was in the cabin, and smoke drifted over the roof where the old woodstove vented.

Kodak knew immediately why they were there. Of course they were there. The general wasn’t a man who would take chances with Taz’s safety. Until Jake Slade was out of the picture, guards would be close at hand. He went back inside and closed the door, deciding not to suggest they sit out that evening.

The horseback riders had been there several times since they moved into the house. It was a cattle ranch and Taz wasn’t able to work yet. Naturally the general had cowboys riding fence in Taz’s place. That’s all Taz needed to know, except Taz usually knew a lot more than he said.

This was the first time they were just sitting with rifles across their saddles. What Kodak didn’t know was how serious the threat was. He went over to the radio in the corner and pressed the button to Crosby’s radio room.

“Crosby, Kodak, what’s up?”

“All’s quiet on the western front,” Crosby replied immediately.

“All quiet here.”

“Thanks for checking in,” Crosby said.

*****

While the ranch got back to full speed in its daily dealings, there was one man who wasn’t celebrating Taz’s coming home, being under the protection of Gen. Walker and his small army.

Jake Slade wouldn’t make another try on the ranch. That was a fool’s move. He could wait. He’d wait for life to return to normal. One day he’d move closer to keep an eye on the general’s ranch. One day he’d catch them off guard. That would be a very good day, when he finished his job.

*****

Later McCoy waited in the general’s office while Crosby blew up the pictures of the courthouse windows.

“Taz won’t be doing a lot of moving around for a few days. The front porch is where he’ll like to sit out and you can’t see it from the bluff. Anyone moves around up there that isn’t supposed to be there; we have communication with the station up there in the old line shack. They can alert Crosby before they eliminate any threat.”

“How many men near the house?” McCoy asked.

“Four during the day. Two on horseback at night. Two jeeps on patrol up top during the day, one at night. Once we asphalt the road up there, I can have a dozen men up there ten minutes after we get an alarm.”

“Good. I can spend my time tracking Slade. I’ll want to keep copies of the pictures I’ve brought you. Have Crosby copy them and give me the originals. I’ll probably recognize him when I see him, but seeing the different ways he can alter his appearance keeps me on my toes.”

“Don’t stray too far, McCoy. He’s home and I need you to keep an eye on things.”

“Won’t need to stray far. He isn’t far. He hasn’t finished yet. He’s waiting just like we’re waiting, General. You’re doing all you can. Let me do what I know how to do.”

“I want that bird, McCoy.”

“I understand that.”

“I don’t like my men being threatened. Get him, McCoy. I’ll cover your ass. No one will cry over Jake Slade getting his just desserts.”

“I’ll get him for you, General. I’d do anything for you, but I won’t kill him for you. That’s where my loyalty ends.”

“I won’t rest easy until you get him.”

“Like so many men bent on murder, if Slade wants him dead and doesn’t mind giving his life to make him dead, He’s almost impossible to stop. What you’ve got to remember is, Taz isn’t the primary target. You are. He won’t give his life to get Taz, but he may well be willing to give it to get a shot at you. You’re the one I worry about at night.”

“I keep my .45 on my nightstand. I maybe getting old, but I take a lot of killing.”

“Remember he’s a sniper by trade. He prefers a long shot. Easier to make a getaway. He might get close if he thinks he can pull off something he likes. Not his style but not out of the question. You need to watch your back, General. No telling when he’ll make another try. I can’t be everywhere all the time.”

“So you think he’s close?”

“Could be. My instincts say he’ll lay low for a while. Whatever he was doing at the hospital didn’t work out. Too much confusion is my guess. Too many opportunities for things to go wrong. It’s not like him to get in the middle of chaos. Let himself be photographed to boot. He got sloppy because he was too close to his target. He’s not as clever up close, because he’s trained to wait for his target to come to him. He plans it all out and takes his shot and leaves without anyone seeing him.

“What I know is there will be another attempt, because it’s what Slade does. Jones has probably paid him to do the job. Slade won’t quit until he does what he was paid to do. He can’t walk away because Jones protects him. Jones is his ticket to safety when things get dangerous for him.”

“Can you stop him, McCoy?”

“As long as we have Taz on the ranch, he’s safe. I don’t see Slade making another try here. I may be wrong. We need to keep him protected. My guess is he’ll wait for the right time. I doubt he knows what his next move is yet.

“You’ve got enough men to discourage Slade. He caught you off guard once. He knows it’s not likely to happen again. You’ll be on guard. A natural response but you’re far more capable of responding. He’ll watch for an opening to be exploit. I’ll be looking for the same thing.”

“But string the wire anyway?” the general said.

“No one is a hundred percent predictable. He might try taking a shot from the canyon wall again. Especially if it looks to be without risk. The wire tells him we’re alert.”

“But he won’t do it here if he values living?”

“No, he won’t, but I wouldn’t bet my life on it.”

“No, and I won’t bet Taz’s life on it. I’ll keep a guard in the bed with him if that what it takes.”

“Give his buddy a .45 and make sure he knows how to use it. As a last resort, it could makes the difference.”

“I showed him. He was carrying at the hospital. Took to the idea as soon as I mentioned it.”

“Love is hell,” McCoy said.

“Yea it is, but that boy would take a bullet for Taz. That kind of loyalty can’t be purchased.”

“He knows about Slade.”

“Kodak?” the general asked.

“Taz.”

“McCoy!”

“Couldn’t be helped.”

“How’d he take it?” the general asked.

“Better than I expected. He’s too weak to do anything right now, but I wouldn’t want to be in Slade’s shoes if Taz ever runs across him.”

“McCoy!”

“Slade has the advantage. He picks the time for the next engagement. What he doesn’t know is I’m out here waiting for him to pick that time. I’ve got to be close enough to see him coming and far enough away that he doesn’t know I’m there,” McCoy explained.

“How many clients have you had, McCoy?”

“You’re the first and you’re still alive, might I add.”

“It sounds like a job for a dozen men, McCoy. Can you do it?”

“A dozen men can’t appear non-threatening if you’re a hit man on the job. I, on the other hand, can be quite inconspicuous in a pinch. Ask me that after we’ve encountered Slade the next time. I’ll have an answer then.”

The general laughed nervously, following McCoy’s logic. The idea he was being asked to do a job he’d never done before was a lot to ask.

“What’s your next move?”

“I’ve got some stops to make in Utah and Idaho. These are where the most powerful militia movements are located out here. The FBI keeps an eye on comings and goings. They’re letting me look at all the pictures taken since Slade was at the hospital.”

“How long will you be gone.”

“Two stops in Utah. Idaho presents a lot more targets. I’ll probably get all over Idaho. Maybe be gone a week.”

“We be all right with you away for a week. I thought you might hang around to keep an eye on things.”

“Taz can hardly leave his bedroom. We’re fine for a week. You have enough guys up there to defend the Alamo. Keep doing what you’re doing and we’ll be fine.”

“The boys were going over about the time Taz was shot. They wanted to look up a fellow named David. He was the best friend of a boy who was dying at Walter Reed. Taz sat with him and promised to look up his friend David. See if you can locate him since you’re going to be over there. Since Taz won’t be doing any traveling soon, I want to invite David to visit the ranch. It’s something Taz would like. I have the file on the boy who died. His address. Details of his service.”

“I can do that. Be a nice change of pace. Hone my investigative skills.”

“That’s good. Taz will be pleased.”

“I don’t suppose Kathleen has any of that chip beef gravy lying around? Can’t travel on an empty stomach.”

“You’re a piece of work, McCoy.”

*****

It was the following week that Crosby called Kodak to tell him a Ken Brown was on the way into the ranch to meet with him. Kodak made sure Taz was sleeping. He saddled Milkweed after taking the envelope with the pictures from the courthouse and putting them in the saddlebags.

“I expected you to be older,” Ken Brown said, shaking Kodak’s hand as he entered Gen. Walker’s office, where the meeting was to take place.

They sat at the desk and Kodak watched as the man from Life magazine went through the fifty pictures of the courthouse shootout. He formed two piles the second time he went through them, picking out an even dozen.

“Do you want to look at these?” he asked, sliding the chosen pictures over in front of Kodak. “If you give me the negatives we’ll use six to eight, according to how they fit into the space allotted for the story we’re telling. I was expecting pictures of Sgt. Tazerski,” Ken Brown said.

“You wanted the pictures of the activities in town. These are the best pictures. Sgt. Tazerski is pictured in several of those.”

“I understand he was instrumental in ending the uprising.”

“That’s accurate,” Kodak said. “The story you want to tell can be told in these pictures. There are another dozen pictures of Sgt. Tazerski that aren’t being negotiated at this time. I’m not comfortable releasing those.”

“I’m aware of the shooting. I understand you want to be careful. These are excellent pictures. A story in pictures that needs to be told, but paying you the price I had in mind, with only a few pictures of the sergeant in them, is excessive. I don’t know I can get that much for these. He is our main interest to account for his departure from the scene. I thought you understood he should be the subject.

“I do want to keep the channels open for when the rest of the pictures are available. If I buy these, which I’d like to, I’d be looking for more with the sergeant in them.”

“There’s no discussion we can have at the moment. These are the pictures available. You came here to discuss the pictures I mention that were taken at the courthouse. I’m not prepared to give you every picture of Taz the first time we meet, Mr. Brown. He’s in no condition to worry about business negotiations at this time. My instincts tell me that if this works out well, you are a man I can deal with.”

“Later, once we establish Sgt. Tazerski is not in peril, I want to do a spread exclusively on him using the pictures you’re withholding from me now.

“Maybe we can do a story on his rehabilitation. There will no doubt be an audience created for that story if we include some mention of him being shot and now recovering, since the shootout at the courthouse.”

“It’s not a deal I can make at present. If Taz is agreeable we can discuss it at a later date. I can’t sell what doesn’t belong to me. These pictures belong to me and while some include Taz, they are my creative property.”

“I see. Here’s my offer,” Ken Brown said, as he removed a tiny tablet from his shirt pocket, wrote something on the first sheet of paper, tore it off, folded it in half, and sliding it across in front of Kodak.

Kodak swallowed hard, not wishing to appear shaken by all the numbers that had been written on the paper.

“This is for the pictures you’ve picked out today. This isn’t any combination deal. As I said, I can’t agree to anything concerning Taz without getting his approval.”

“That’s for these pictures only. We have first rights and we’ll retain book rights if we do a hard bound special edition and want to use one or more of these pictures. There is a flat rate for each picture used in such an edition. You wouldn’t be disappointed and you can think of it as a bonus. Being ‘Kodak originals’ has a certain value. We’d like to be considered in any release you are planning to make.”

“You brought a contract? I’ll consider that right now.”

“Of course,” he said.

“When can I expect a check?” Kodak said.

“I’m on my way to San Francisco. I’ll return to New York in a week. You should receive the check two weeks from today. Call me if it isn’t here by that time.”

“That’s fine. Where do I sign.”

“I have one more question and I don’t want you to be insulted.”

“Go ahead,” Kodak said.

“You aren’t shopping the pictures of Sgt. Tazerski around, are you? I’m prepared to make you a substantial offer to have exclusive first publication rights to any pictures of his involvement in this event. People want to read about him and no one else is going to offer you more.”

“Any other pictures that I have aren’t for sale to anyone at this time. You’ll be the first to know when they are available and you can bid on the limited rights to them or make me an offer I can’t refuse.”

“I couldn’t ask for more. You’re a shrewd businessman and these are some of the best action stills I’ve seen in some time. I hope we’ll have an opportunity to do more business together soon, Mr. Anderson.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Kodak said.

“This brings up one more matter I’ve agreed to handle. This is a $5,000 check from our publishers to be applied to the sergeant’s hospital bills.”

“What?” Kodak said surprised.

“You weren’t compensated for your original pictures of the sergeant. Your paper erroneously allowed us to publish them without stipulation. I think it worked out well for you but it was an error we’ve been waiting to rectify. That check should be fair compensation for the unauthorized use of your work.”

“That’s pretty nice of your people. Tell them we are grateful. I’m happy to do business with you, Mr. Brown,” Kodak said, shaking hands as business was concluded.

It’s the way Kodak thought business should be done. He gathered the remainder of the pictures and thanked the general for letting him do business at the house.

*****

Taz was seated on the front porch when Kodak rode back up toward the house. He stood and waved as Kodak stopped near the porch.

“Where were you?” Taz asked.

“I had some business to do down at the house. You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I missed you,” Taz said very seriously.

“You did. I was only gone for a few minutes, babe.”

“I’ve been up for an hour.”

“It takes time to ride down and back.”

Kodak went around and put the saddle up before releasing Milkweed into the corral. Taz stood out near the corral to watch the horses run. He held Kodak’s hand as they walked back toward the house.

“Are you okay, Taz.”

“I was afraid. I was scared when you weren’t here. Crosby said you were down there with some guy from Life magazine.”

“Crosby’s got a big mouth. It’s a surprise. I sold some pictures.”

“He knew I was upset. He said he shouldn’t say but he did anyway. He said you’d be right home.”

“Did it help? You could have asked to talk to me if it would have helped. A surprise is worth upsetting you, babe.”

“Yea, you’re in the middle of a business deal and you excuse yourself because your boyfriend is having a panic attack from being alone. I just had to know you were okay. I don’t remember being afraid before.”

“I’m fine, Taz. You’re fine. I won’t leave you.”

“He’s still after me, you know. He’ll try again. I’m happy for the first time in my life. I don’t want to die.”

“Taz! No one is after you. We’re protected. No one can get up here. See the smoke over at the line shack.”

“Yea,” he said, watching the smoke circle above the roof.

“The general is keeping cowboys on watch up here. If you listen close, sometimes you can hear a jeep up top. They’re patrolling up there too.”

“I’m not well enough to fight my own battle. I don’t like being helpless. I’m not going to be helpless much longer.”

“I know. The general is worried. There’s no proof of anything. McCoy said it doesn’t hurt to be on guard, until he nails the guy.”

“He seems okay,” Taz said. “Glad he’s army.”

“He knows his job and he’s doing it.”

“What’s for dinner?” Taz asked.

“Oh, now the truth comes out. You wanted food. You didn’t really miss me at all,” Kodak joked.

“A guy can be hungry and miss someone at the same time, can’t he?” Taz asked. “Besides, I did just fine those months you were lost.”

“Depends on how you define fine.”

“I won’t argue with you if it’s going to hold up dinner.”

They laughed and Kodak went in to move the casserole out of the fridge and into the oven.

“I did miss you while you were gone. I think that’s why I get scared when I wake up and don’t know where you are,” Taz said solemnly, staying close to Kodak.

“I’m back. I was gone a little more than an hour.”

“No, after your plane crashed. I was really lonely, Kodak. You don’t know how hard that time was on me.”

“Now you know how I felt while you were unconscious.”

“I didn’t go anywhere. I was right there the whole time. You were sitting right next to me. You and your .45.”

“When you were in that hospital bed, you were further away from me than you’d been when I was lost a half a world away in the South Pacific. Being able to touch you and you not respond…, it was about as scary as it gets, Taz.”

“I can respond now if you touch me,” Taz said, smiling an evil little smile.

“Yes, you can,” Kodak said, smiling right back. “The casserole will take an hour to heat up properly. We can go into the bedroom and see if all your working parts are working.”

“I’d like that a lot. That’s the other thing about you being gone. I want to hold onto you all the time when you come home. Do you think I’m getting soft.”

“Anything but,” Kodak smiled.

Chapter 13

Reunited

The jet black ’64 Ford Galaxy stopped at the guard post at the front entrance to Gen. Walker’s ranch. The radio in Crosby’s office crackled.

“Mr. Dave Miller has an appointment to see Gen. Walker.”

“Send him up. He’s okay.”

The car parked near the back porch and the blond haired young man walked up the steps and knocked on the back door.

“Come on in,” Gen. Walker said, extending his hand and introducing himself as they went back to his office.

Gen. Walker picked up the phone and dialed the house on the mesa.

“Kodak, Gen. Walker, I’ve got someone I’m bringing up to see Taz. Yes, it’s Mr. Miller. We’ll be up in a few minutes.”

The general stood at the gate, waiting for the black sedan to go through. He closed the gate and got into the passenger side of the car. It followed the brand new single lane of asphalt that took them the four miles up to the mesa. The car stopped in front of the hitching post that sat at the side of the house.

The young man followed Gen. Walker as he opened the screen door to the front porch and held it for his companion.

“Hi, Kodak. Dave Miller. This is Kodak, Mr. Miller.”

“Hi,” the young man said, shaking Kodak’s hand.

“Sit here. You can put your things on the table. I’ll get Taz. He needs to rest in the afternoon. He’ll be glad to see you. He’s wanted to meet you for a long time.”

Kodak went into the bedroom and Taz’s eyes were immediately on him.

“You’ve got company, babe.”

“Oh, Jesus, tell me it isn’t a newsman.”

“No, it’s Dave Miller.”

“Who?”

“He’s the fellow you stood in for when the soldier was dying that day in DC.”

Taz swung his feet out of bed, holding his left arm close to the bandage that ran from his chest to below his beltline. He pulled on his jeans, slipped into his slippers, and put on the shirt he left hanging on the door handle before lying down. He moved out toward the open end of the house.

Gen. Walker was pouring coffee from the pot on the stove.

“Coffee, Taz?” Gen. Walker asked.

“Yes, sir. It’ll get my eyes open.”

Taz stood at the table and extended his hand to the visitor.

“I’m Taz.”

“I’m Dave,” the visitor said, standing to shake Taz’s hand.

“David… he called you David.”

“Charlie? Yes, he always did. Dave sounds more mature, don’t you think?”

“That’s up to you,” Taz said. “You get to decide. You’re older than I thought you’d be.”

“You’re way younger than I thought you’d be. You’re my age. I was almost a year older than Charlie.”

“He was very young,” Taz said, thinking back to the day at the hospital, when he held the hand of a boy soldier as he died for his country. “I feel very old if that helps.”

“What the hell happened to you?” Dave asked, looking through Taz’s unbuttoned shirt.

“Shot. I got shot,” Taz said.

The general stood off to one side of the table and Kodak stood off to the other. Taz sat down across from the young man.

“How’s Coconut doing? Has Tazerski gotten tired of his pony yet?” the general asked.

“No, he spends a lot of time with Coconut. Let’s go out. I’ll show you. We’ll be back in a few minutes. You enjoy your visit,” Kodak said to Taz as he led the way out.

“They tell me you’re famous,” Dave said.

“I’m just a soldier they took pictures of in battle. The pictures were famous for a while. I wasn’t.”

“Why’d you sit with Charlie? They told his mother you were on a tour of the hospital and when you came to his room you went in and stayed until he died. Why? Charlie was nothing to you.”

Taz squirmed realizing this was a door he’d rather not open. It had started his downfall several years before. Charlie’s death sent Taz into a tailspin for reasons he still didn’t understand.

“He was a brother. He was in that sterile room all alone. He was hooked up to all kinds of machines. They told me he wasn’t going to live. I decided I needed to sit with him. A man shouldn’t die alone, especially a brother.”

“I appreciate that. Charlie was too young to die. We weren’t on very good terms when he left to join the army. I told him he was a fool. He had a high number. He’d never have been drafted. My number was lower than his. I didn’t go. They would have had to come and get me. He went anyway. I guess that sounds pretty bad to a war hero. It’s how I felt. I had nothing against the Vietnamese.”

“Me either, Dave. How you felt was how you felt. This is America. You get to make up your own mind. I’m not sure I’d go now if I had it to do all over again.”

“You joined?” Dave asked.

“I joined. I volunteered for Vietnam as soon as I was old enough to go. It’s a long story.”

“I don’t think a guy is smart enough at eighteen to be put into life and death situations. A lot of them are going to die because they aren’t smart enough to stay alive.”

“Amen,” Taz said, trying to relieve Dave of his guilt.

“I told Charlie he’d never make it back. He was no soldier. He was a nice kid. Never hurt anyone. I didn’t go to say goodbye to him. We were best friends before that. I was pretty mad. We’d been friends all our lives. We did everything together, until he joined the army.”

“He was young. So young,” Taz said. “I got all the way through my tour in Vietnam and didn’t get much more than a scratch. The pictures of me took on a life of their own. I was on a tour of the country when I met up with Charlie. Once he died… once I watched him die…. He thought I was you. He kept calling me David.”

Dave’s face turned into a boy’s face. His eyes filled with tears. He wanted to speak but couldn’t. Taz decided to finish what he was going to say.

“When I left him, I promised him I’d look you up and let you know he was thinking of you when he died. He must have thought a lot of you. There isn’t a lot more to say.”

Dave Miller looked down at the things he’d brought into the house with him. A few tears leaked down his cheeks as he made an effort to keep Taz from noticing. He thought of the friend he’d missed and was still angry with for giving up his life for a cause Dave didn’t believe was right. Dave was saddest about the time he wasted being mad at Charlie.

“Here,” Dave said, moving the magazines and a high school yearbook to reveal the hand made peace symbol Taz put around Charlie’s neck that day. “They told us you gave your peace symbol to Charlie just before he died. It came back with his things. His mother didn’t know what it was. She gave it to me the day we buried him. You should have it back. It was between you and Charlie.”

“I’ll be damned,” Taz said, holding the peace symbol that Solomon had given him years before. “Metal Peace.”

Taz wore it under his uniform, feeling as if it had some magical power to protect him. He slipped it around his neck as Dave watched, seeing it had some effect on Taz.

“Metal piece?” Dave asked.

“It’s made of metal. It’s a peace symbol. Metal peace. It’s an Indian deal from a wise old Indian,” Taz explained.

“Oh. Glad I brought it. I wasn’t sure if I should. How’d you get shot anyway?”

“Someone wanted me dead. Laid for me on the ridge out behind the house. Shot me one morning last month. I’m lucky to be alive,” he said, his hand cradling the metal.

“You go through Vietnam safe and sound and come home and get shot. That’s pretty lame.”

“Yes it is. Life is like that. How’d you get here?”

“I drove. A man named McCoy talked to Charlie’s mom. He asked about me. Of course she knew who he was talking about right off. Charlie and I were best friends for forever. I was always at his house or he was at mine.

“This McCoy guy told her the story and said that you wanted to meet me, but you were a bit under the weather and since I only live over in Idaho, I told him I’d drive here. I knew the story about a war hero sitting with him until he died. I wanted to meet him… you.”

“I do appreciate that. It has been on my mind more than once. His last thoughts were of you. He thought I was you. He thought he was talking to you. I can’t recall much of the conversation. He seemed happy I was there. You were there. He talked about you being boys together. Things you’d have understood, but I didn’t.

“He did apologize to you. Said you were right and he should have never enlisted. He was smiling and seemed happy to get that off his shoulders. He died peacefully. I was holding his hand and he was chattering away one minute, and then he was gone that quick. Just stopped living,” Taz said, amazed at the time how swiftly it took place.

Dave had tears in his eyes as he listened.

“Glad he passed easy. They say he had a rough road after he was wounded. Glad he didn’t suffer at the end. Glad you were there. Wish I’d have gone.

“By the time I knew he was at Walter Reed, he was already dead.”

The general and Kodak came back inside a few minutes later. There were a couple of minutes of small talk. Dave showed Taz some of the pictures of Charlie and him in their high school year book. He had the two copies of Time magazine with Taz on the cover.

“I got these from our librarian back home. Would you mind signing them for me.”

“No,” Taz said, taking Dave’s ink pen and signing both covers for him.

As Dave stood and said he should be going, they shook hands again.

“Thanks for coming. I’m glad to meet you,” Taz said.

As Dave passed in front of the general, and he began to follow him out, Taz stopped him.

“General,” Taz said.

The general stopped and turned in the doorway with the sun directly over his should. His shadow on the floor almost reached the table.

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you. No one has ever been so kind to me, General,” Taz said, saluting.

“You already have, Taz. You gave me someone I can look up to,” and the general saluted him right back.

Gen. Walker turned and left the doorway.

“Nice. Very nice,” Kodak said.

It was a bright day. It was the kind of day that made you feel glad to be alive. Dave’s black Ford Galaxy crawled back down the thin shiny stretch of asphalt toward the general’s house.

Taz sat silent with a half cup of cold coffee in front of him. Kodak sat across from him, wondering if an old wound was reopened by the surprise visit.

“It came back to you. I remember the day that dude gave it to you. We were up in a park in San Francisco.” “Solomon gave it to me in Golden Gate Park.”

“You never cease to amaze me, Taz.”

“Thought he may have a screw loose. Solomon told me I’d give it away one day. He didn’t say it would come back.”

“You okay?” Kodak asked.

“Yea, I’m fine. Something like finishing a journey. I’m glad he came. The promise has been fulfilled.”

Chapter 14

Slade Moves

The weeks after Dave’s visit saw Taz growing stronger. He was able to mount Cyclone but riding was still tiring. They drove into town for Kodak to shop at the market a couple of times, when Taz wanted to go out.

It was on a Wednesday, an hour or so before Taz took his afternoon nap, the boys headed for town to get Taz’s prescriptions refilled. It was a pleasant day, the sun was shining. The air was fresh.

“I want to stop at the market too. Tazerski’s coconuts might be there,” Kodak said, stopping the jeep in front of the pharmacy. “You okay? Want to go in with me?”

“No, you go ahead. The sun feels nice on my face.”

When Kodak came back out, there was a strange man seated behind Taz. A chill ran through Kodak.

“Who is he,” Kodak asked loudly, standing in the shadow of the overhang, moving no closer.

“Hi, the sergeant said you’d give me a ride,” the man said.

“I don’t understand. We need to go to the market, Taz. You shouldn’t be offering strangers a ride,” Kodak said, standing firm.

“You better get in. He isn’t about to let you walk away. He’s got a pistol in my back.”

“A pistol,” Kodak said, easing forward.

The man had short hair and was clean shaven. The white neckline of his undershirt appeared at the neck inside his plaid cowboy type shirt. He wore jeans, slightly faded, old cowboy boots, looking like any cowboy you might meet in Montana high country. He also looked exactly like Jake Slade. Kodak’s blood ran cold.

“Get in. He’s got a gun on me,” Taz repeated.

“It has a hair trigger, so be very careful when you shift gears. I’d hate to have an accident,” Slade said smiling.

Kodak noticed a tan light weight jacket draped over his arm. The arm was extended toward the back of Taz’s seat. Kodak became immobile as he stood beside the jeep.

“Where are we going?” Kodak asked, standing fast. “Is the gun under that jacket?”

“You’re a fucking genius. If you don’t get in I’ll just pop you two right here. Get in,” Slade insisted.

Once in the jeep Kodak fumbled with the ignition but the jeep didn’t start.

“You might want to turn the switch on. I’m army, son, don’t fuck with me. Drive out of town the way you came in. I’ll tell you which way to go. Don’t forget the hair trigger. No point in sending the sergeant to his great reward before his time,” Slade said, amused by it all.

The engine finally started. Kodak ground the gears trying to get the jeep in reverse. His knee shook so severely it was almost impossible. The grinding was hard on the ears.

It was at this time a man stepped out from under the shade of the overhang. He carried a large bag of popcorn and was beside the jeep before Slade could warn him off.

Slade realized he dare not take the gun out of Taz’s back to warn off the pedestrian. He’d heard what a fighter Taz was. Give him an opening and no telling what he’d try. Slade did his best to keep his cool. If he was forced to shoot all three of them in the middle of Main Street, he would.

“Back this thing up,” Slade ordered, as the man beside the jeep smiled, friendly like.

“Howdy, gentlemen,” the big man said happily. “I’m with the local Preservation Committee and we’re collecting donations to restore the courthouse to its previous splendor. Perhaps you’d like to donate,” McCoy said with a pleasantness he didn’t feel.

“Beat it. We ain’t interested. Get this thing out of here,” Slade growled, Kodak let the clutch pop, stalling the jeep, which got Slade’s eye on him.

When Slade looked back, he was looking into the barrel of McCoy’s .45.

“I’ve got a gun in his back. You don’t back off, I’ll cut the son-of-a-bitch in half,” Slade promised.

“That’s too bad. I sort of like him. I suspect half cut him in half. Once I put a bullet in your ear, you’ll stop shooting.”

“You think you scare me? Wrong! Back up the jeep,” he ordered, leaning closer to Taz to make sure the gun couldn’t be dislodged.

Kodak didn’t move.

McCoy took half a step backward, holding his pistol steady and pointed at Slade’s face. Slade followed him with his eyes, trying to figure out his next move. The sound of four riflemen chambering a round got Slade’s eyes up at the roof of the building and on four M-16s pointed directly at him. This wasn’t how he saw his plan going.

“Excuse me for moving back. I hate blood and guts getting all over me. You can’t get it off your clothes,” McCoy explained.

“Call them off. I’m going to kill him even if you kill me. The sergeant is holding a losing hand.”

Slade’s eyes lifted to look at each of the four muzzles aimed at him. This had never happened before. He’d always had surprise on his size. His plans always worked. This wasn’t going to end well.

“My orders are to stop you. I hate to loose the sergeant, but he’s not my concern. You, however, are. You so much as twitch and those boys will open you up. Does it feel like a good day to die?”

“You’re bluffing.”

“You see, I work for a guy who wants you dead. The sergeant doesn’t figure into it beyond being bait to draw you out. In the larger scheme of things it’s like trading a pawn to save the king. I’m here to save the general, Slade. One way or another it ends here today. You take the pawn and I take you.”

Slade flinched when he heard his name. How’d this guy know who he was? He’d covered his tracks. He felt exposed.

A rage ran through Taz. This was the guy who shot him. Taz felt like this was payback time. Forcing the rage out of his mind, a peacefulness washed over him as he waited to strike. Slowly he began moving the rearview mirror, a little bit at a time, while Slade and McCoy palavered. Once he could see his assassin’s face, he let his arm relax beside him and waited.

“Hey, Slade! I don’t want you looking at them when I kill you,” McCoy said, noticing Slade’s eyes on the rifles again. “I want you to see it coming. You too much a coward to look the man that kills you in the face?”

“You’re going to see me kill this one,” Slade said, leaning forward enough to make sure the gun couldn’t be dislodged.

Once Slade was satisfied, he looked at McCoy to make sure he saw the strength of his position. He wasn’t fooled by the bravado, he’d let Slade go before he’d let the sergeant die.

As soon as he leaned forward that little bit more, Taz’s elbow shot back and caught Slade in the left temple. Taz waited for the shots to rip into him.

Slade slumped onto the floor as McCoy snatched the gun from his grasp.

Kodak’s head drooped between his shoulders as he leaned hard on the steering wheel. He reached under his shirt, removing the wire McCoy had furnished him, letting it drop on the floor. He exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath.

“You were wearing a wire?” Taz asked.

“Uh huh.”

“We were sitting ducks so McCoy could ride to the rescue?”

“It’s what he said he needed to protect you.”

Taz was surprised by this little piece of news.

“What the hell are you thinking, Tazerski. I had it under control. He wasn’t going to shoot you,” McCoy blurted.

“The gun was in my back, McCoy. I’m a pawn, huh? Did I kill him?” Taz snapped.

McCoy yanked a groggy Slade back into his seat.

“No, you put the hurtin’ on the son-of-a-bitch though. How’d you know he wouldn’t pull the trigger when you hit him?” McCoy barked. “Are you crazy?”

“He might have gotten me, but he wasn’t getting anyone else,” Taz explained. “I owed him.”

“I had everything under control,” McCoy said disappointed.

“You want to give him his gun back and we’ll see how it turns out doing it your way,” Taz taunted.

“No, no. I just can’t believe you did that. He could have killed you. Tazerski. You’re certifiable.”

“I didn’t kill him. I wanted to kill him. Shit! I think I broke my elbow,” Taz said, unable to lift his arm.

“You’re crazy,” McCoy said, as Jake Slade jerked back to semi-consciousness.

“What hit me?” he asked.

“He’s alive,” Taz said with no pleasure.

“Don’t worry about what hit you. Worry about me doing it again if you fuck with me,” McCoy said angrily, pulling Slade out of the jeep and onto his feet, but his knees weren’t ready to hold him.

McCoy leaned his weight against him to pat him down, making sure there were no more weapon on him.

“You boys keep him covered?” McCoy said, shoving his gun into the holster under his arm. “Grab for it and I’ll break your jaw.”

“What hit me?” Slade repeated, acting stunned.

“A very self-destructive sergeant,” McCoy said. “So much as twitch and you won’t be able to ask what hit you.”

Kodak finally got enough energy to lean to hug Taz, putting his face against Taz’s shoulder. He was spent.

“You knew what was going on and didn’t let on?” Taz said.

“I was scared shitless,” Kodak said.

“I’ll be damned,” Taz said, kissing Kodak’s cheek. “You’re something, you know? You might want to ease up on that elbow. It’s not doing so good.”

“Their faggots. I was blindsided by a faggot,” Slade said with hatred in his words.

There was no end to the mistakes Jake Slade made this day.

Taz whirled out of the jeep so fast McCoy never saw him coming. Taz picked up Slade’s pistol from the fender as he passed. What McCoy did see was Taz on top of Slade, bending him back over the side of the jeep, trying to shove the barrel of the pistol up Slade’s now bleeding nose. Taz held the outlaw in place by using a clump of hair that made for a handy handle.

“What did you call me, motherfucker? You human piece of shit. I’m going to blow your brains out the back of your head. You’re the guy that put a hole in me, and I’m going to return the favor, asshole. How does that sound to you?”

“Tazerski,” McCoy yelled, paralyzed by the possibilities.

“What did you call me? Say it again. I want to hear it before I kill you.”

Every few words, Taz jammed the pistol harder to get the barrel up the left side of Slade’s nose. The blood ran down over the barrel and onto Taz’s hand. Even after he stopped speaking, he jammed it harder against the petrified assassin.

It was McCoy’s turn to shake. He was afraid to move. The four riflemen stood on the street beside the jeep now, watching with no particular interest in the outcome.

“Tazerski, lighten up. He’s got a hair trigger on that thing. You’re going to shoot him,” McCoy said.

“Don’t try to make a monkey out of me, McCoy,” Taz growled. “My name is Taz.”

“Don’t do this. He wins if you kill him. Don’t!” McCoy pleaded, being over his head for the first time in his law enforcement career.

“What’s my name, asshole?” Taz asked, jamming the pistol some more, leaning all of his weight against the bent backward Slade.

“Hair trigger,” Slade muttered before peeing himself.

“What’s my name, asshole?” Taz demanded.

“Sgt. Tazerski. Don’t kill me. Please!” Slade cried.

“What did you call me,” Taz continued, still raging.

“Mr. Tazerski,” Slade managed to say, losing the feeling in his legs and beginning to feel faint. “Don’t kill me.”

Taz let go of his hair and stood up. Taking the barrel of the pistol in his weakened left hand, he let McCoy take it.

“Damn, man, I was sure you were going to kill him,” McCoy said.

“I was,” Taz said. “That fucker shot me.”

McCoy stared at Taz not being certain what to make of him.

Kodak moved over to hug Taz.

“Take it a little easy on that arm. I think I did break that elbow. We might should drop in to see how old Dr. Westphalia is doing today. He hasn’t looked at my back in over a week.”

Kodak held onto Taz, crying tears of relief. The threat was over. He rested his head on Taz’s shoulder, not wanting to let go of him.

“You’re one cool customer,” Taz whispered. “I don’t believe you stalled all that time, until McCoy got his shit together.”

“I wasn’t all that cool. I was shaking, but I wasn’t going to drive away from our protection.”

“McCoy was in the pharmacy?”

“He came in from the alley. He told me Slade was following us. He gave them the slip right outside of town. McCoy felt like Slade would make his move today. We’ve come into town around this time before,” Kodak explained.

“I guess he knows his stuff,” Taz said softly, so McCoy didn’t hear.

Kodak saw Taz unleashed in Vietnam. He brought death and destruction to the enemy. There was no emotion to it. Today Taz’s raw emotional approach was something new, but understandable under the circumstances.

Kodak knew Taz could kill Slade. In war no one would have looked twice at such a death. Taz chose to let it go. He was content to let McCoy take charge, but Slade would never forget the day he came face to face with Taz.

Kodak knew the difference between good and evil. He knew Taz was pure goodness. He had a sense of right and wrong that he honored. He was also a trained soldier who could kill. Kodak was glad he didn’t kill today, even when he’d rest easier with Slade dead.

Angus McCoy wasn’t so sure. He was good at what he did. Once he had control of a situation, he was in charge. Right under his nose Taz took control away from him. The truth was, McCoy never saw it coming. He’d underestimated Taz and he got caught flat-footed. All he could do was watch… and pray.

Then it was over. McCoy had the gun he should have secured properly in the first place. How did he lose control?

How could he factor raw emotion into every situation? How could a seriously damaged man do what Taz did? McCoy didn’t know.

How close he came to killing Slade, only Taz could say, but he wouldn’t, because McCoy wouldn’t ask him for fear the answer would further distort the natural order McCoy believed existed.

Kodak took Taz to see Dr. Westphalia as soon as Slade was in McCoy’s vehicle and on the way to the sheriff’s office.

“Come in. Come in. Why do you look lopsided, son? That wound in your back bothering you? It was fine last week. Finally healing. What have you done?”

“No, the back is fine. I just broke my elbow on a guy’s head,” Taz said.

“You what? I told you nothing strenuous.”

“He knocked Jake Slade out using his elbow. Slade was in the backseat of our jeep intending to kill us,” Kodak explained.

“Good Lord! Let me look at it. We’ll need an X-ray. Why don’t you just stay home, son?”

“Jake Slade wasn’t at home, doc,” Taz said.

Chapter 15

McCoy Investigates McCoy

McCoy never believed in the duality of man. It’s how he came to see Taz. He went back to read the articles on Taz again. It would be part of his need to know things about people. There were comments from the men of 1st squad. They called Taz ‘a fighting fool’ and ‘a fighting machine.’ These words had been spoken with reverence, one army man about another. Taz was the man you wanted beside you when you went into battle.

This seemed contrary to the efficient ranch hand stories that came from the bunkhouse. A new round of inquires got McCoy stories of Taz chasing rustlers, commiserating with Indians, and of a man who stood his ground in the shootout at the courthouse, and then went back to fence mending and herding cows.

Taz could be centermost in one story and just one of the cowboys a few minutes later. He seemed to have little interest in anything but doing his job, but he’d do whatever he was called upon to do. The equivalent to: “…And all other jobs assigned” in Gen. Walker’s army of cowboys.

‘Wasn’t that what he was doing in Vietnam… a job the way he saw it?’ McCoy wondered to himself.

The most action McCoy saw, was in breaking up fights in one of the local whorehouses or bars that sprang up where soldiers were found. It wasn’t like fighting a war at all and McCoy didn’t know if he could face fire and stand fast.

It wasn’t something unique to him. Every soldier questioned whether or not he could face death without turning tail to run. Taz faced fire with distinction. This made him an attractive character to McCoy. He wasn’t impressed by losing his prisoner to Taz, who had every right to want Slade dead, even before Slade insulted him.

McCoy Knew he failed to do his job properly. Knowing Taz and Kodak had him assuming they’d act predictably. When you are taking down a hardcore killer, and one of his victims is present, ‘never assume anything,’ McCoy reasoned to himself repeatedly.

McCoy thought he would have liked knowing Taz the soldier. He liked visiting Taz the cowboy. He’d drive up to spend a few hours, drinking coffee, and they’d sit out on the porch to watch the colors in the Montana sky change.

A group of pronghorn might pass, or an elk, sometimes a bear could be seen from the porch. McCoy did most of the talking. Taz sounded like a cowboy should. He sounded comfortable with his life. McCoy thought he might find some mystery beneath Taz’s cowboy way, but he didn’t. Taz talked and acted like any cowboy would.

Nothing he said or did explained the man inside the cowboy. That discovery was more perplexing than Taz taking his prisoner away from him. By all appearances Taz was an ordinary man.

Kodak was the perfect host and offered McCoy food and more coffee at regular intervals. It was another new concept McCoy couldn’t quite get his brain around, but Taz and Kodak were perfectly suited to one another if outward appearances were to be believed. Their fondness for one another was apparent.

Taz loved the new house and the idea the general built it for him. It was more creature comfort than Taz had ever known, but he was ready to ride out on a horse and stay for several days, as soon as he was able. The comfort was nice but Taz was tough and he wouldn’t let it soften him.

Which brought McCoy back to the day Taz almost killed Slade. There wasn’t a jury in the country that would convict Sgt. Tazerski in such a matter. There wasn’t a judge who would put him in prison for killing the man who tried to kill him. These facts ran through McCoy’s brain the day of the event, making it more disturbing.

There was no way he could stop Taz. If asked to tell what happened, McCoy would have said he didn’t see anything. If Taz had killed Slade, McCoy would have wiped the gun clean of prints, dropping it beside Slade’s side, instructing the boys to drive away. Then he’d do the same thing, taking the riflemen he brought with him.

Sheriff Ward had bailed out of the investigation of Taz’s shooting as soon as the general told him he had an investigator coming. The sheriff was cooperating with McCoy and in return he now knew Jake Slade was the shooter as well as a participant in the courthouse shootout.

It was small town Montana. The man who helped shoot up the courthouse was found dead on Main Street. There would be no crying over this death or worry over how he got that way, but townspeople would sleep easier, and they’d thank the sheriff for a job well done.

Knowing this disturbed McCoy. He was going to be a cop. Seeing justice done was his job, but he wasn’t a cop yet, and what was more just than a killer killed by a man he was trying to kill? It wasn’t according to the law but it was just.

Letting Taz get to Slade bothered McCoy, and it forced him to consider all contingencies concerning Slade’s death, after the event ended. Slade didn’t die but he could have.

No, McCoy wouldn’t have dropped a dime on Taz. There were any number of reasons why. This was disconcerting for an aspiring police detective. Why did he feel the way he felt? Maybe it was the general he was protecting.

The other thing McCoy was trying to understand was Kodak. He gave him the wire, telling him why he had to wear it. Kodak put it on. He listened to all the instructions about what could go wrong, which all ended with him in serious jeopardy. Except McCoy would be there every step of the way to put a bullet in Slade before the shooting started, and that explained McCoy’s attitude. He was ready to shoot Slade on sight if either Kodak or Taz was in danger.

When the chips were down, Kodak spoke into the microphone with clarity. He did everything possible to keep from moving away from the pharmacy, until McCoy took over. Taz had courage few men possessed. Kodak was willing to protect his man anyway necessary.

The love and affection between two men was awkward for McCoy. He wasn’t able to ask questions about that either. He was made far too nervous by something he didn’t understand. He’d seen it the day he got Slade, but it was most apparent on the mesa.

It was something McCoy wanted to understand. Two men he respected, with due cause, weren’t afraid of sharing a hug or of holding hands as they watched the Montana sky change. With all the heartache and heartbreak in the world, McCoy found it heartwarming.

Taz wasn’t going to be a cop. He figured bad people needed to be disposed of when necessary. Good people needed protecting. Taz didn’t mind protecting them, or himself, from a killer. He wasn’t going to wait around for someone else to decide to do it.

Taz didn’t have much use for people. He felt someone should have protected him as a boy, but no one did. It wasn’t until Vietnam that he found a purpose in life. He took on the role as protector-in-chief of 1st squad. His job, as he saw it, was to keep them alive.

Once home he’d been swept up in a whirlwind that had nothing to do with war or returning from one. He was on stage, playing a role the army ordered him to play. It’s when he came face to face with a soldier dying from the war that he slid down the razor’s edge.

The horrors of war, it’s consequences, and the scars it left weren’t easily repaired. The incongruity of what he was doing and what he had done collided at Walter Reed when a young soldier died.

The whirlwind swept Kodak up with Taz. They bonded, depending on one another in a way they’d never depended on anyone else. Kodak became the first person Taz trusted, but Kodak lacked the ability to put Taz back together again.

The life and death struggle of war was replaced by sunny Montana skies, after Gen. Walker took charge. It wasn’t easy living on the mesa, but as long as they were together, it completed them in a way nothing else did.

Being a cowboy wasn’t a lot different from being a soldier. A cowboy had a job and he did it. It was easy once Taz applied his sense of duty to it. He felt good about it.

In Montana, on Gen. Walker’s ranch, everything made sense to Taz. There was a predictable order to his life. It furnished a security Taz relished. He was sure it made him a better man.

When McCoy said his final goodbye, he was sure he’d see the boys again. Taz thanked him again for saving his life and McCoy blushed, saying, “I didn’t do anything.”

Kodak laughed at the uncoordinated parting.

*****

Sitting in the general’s office, McCoy was ready to eat. He could smell dinner. He sipped the coffee Kathleen gave him.

“I’m going to need to go see if my discharge is ready, I think I’m on overtime,” he said to the general.

“Oh, that reminds me. This came for you last week. I kept forgetting to tell you.”

The general opened his top drawer to slid it across to McCoy.

“It says my discharge papers were sent to the Montana Reserve unit near here. It’s dated ten days ago, General,” McCoy said.

“You were doing such a fine job, I didn’t want to distract you. I took the liberty of writing the Chicago Police Commissioner. I told him if he gets tired of you eating everything in site, I’d put you on my payroll, because you’re the best damn investigator around.”

“Thank you, General. I’ve got a question for you before you get me to my discharge. Maybe ask Crosby to get me to Joliet.”

“Shoot, McCoy. I owe you now.”

“The sergeant. Tazerski. I’ve read the articles. While I was at FBI Headquarters I wandered over to the Washington Post morgue and dug up the articles about Tazerski. He was in DC one minute and dropped out of site the next. No one was ever quite sure of where he went. Where was he and how did he avoid the stockade after standing up the US Congress?” McCoy asked.

“I went to West Point with a man who became a shrink. He was US Army all the way. I called him and told him what I needed. Being a doctor, as well as a high ranking officer, he committed Taz for a drying out period, while I expedited his discharge.

“The last thing the army wanted was to see their golden boy brought up on charges. The army smoothed it over with congress. Once discharged, I flew him to Montana,” the general said.

“What happened to him? I know it had something to do with that kid who died, but this guy is a major hero. He’s famous. He’s got the world by the tail and could write his own ticket. What happened?”

Gen. Walker reached into his humidor for two cigars, tossing McCoy one. Once they were lit, he leaned back and kicked his boots up on his desk, putting his hands behind his head.

“War is hell, McCoy. Taz was a perfect fighting machine. If I had an army of men like Taz, I could rule the world. The trouble with war is, it’s war. A man can only endure so much. Some men stay focused and never deal with it at all. They cram it all down inside and hope it never surfaces, or some it doesn’t bother.

“My father once told me that after WWII, all the men gathered near ports in tent cities. They were with their squad, with their company, and they could sit and talk to each other about it, drink, explore the local landscape before taking a slow boat home.

“On the ships they were shoulder to shoulder with guys who saw action with them and knew what they knew, experienced what they experienced, and they talked about it. They worked it out, so to speak.

“When they got home, few of them wanted to talk about the war again. It was over and they’d made it home alive. The therapy they needed was furnished by the men they fought beside. No one else could understand what they’d done and seen. Why talk about it? That’s old soldier rationale,” The general explained.

“Almost all my cowboys were once soldiers in Vietnam. I invited the men I knew personally to come to Montana to be a cowboy if they want. We’re talking America’s finest fighting men. I rarely had much to do with the front line troops, but I met soldiers, and many soldiers on my staff saw action.

“This is their boat ride home in some cases. There are guys who don’t have a home to go to, and so they stay on as cowboys. It’s a good life, hard work, good food, modest pay. Some men come to the ranch, spend some time, readjust to being home, moving on to another more appealing place.

“Taz was lost in the bush in Vietnam one day and being wined and dined the next. There was no decompression time at all. He’d never had any kind of a life except in the army. It’s all the boy knew. Taz was a decorated war hero touring the country at the ripe old age of nineteen. It’s what he was ordered to do. It was a sweet gig.

“His visit to Walter Reed triggered a response made far worse by what he was doing. Everywhere he went he was greeted like a hero. When he sat with that dying boy, something broke inside Taz. He saw himself as part of what killed that boy, which was contrary to what motivated him. That’s my interpretation of events.

“The death forced Taz to deal with his roll in war. It didn’t matter if congress or the president was waiting in the wings, it was his time to come home from war.

“As far as I can tell, if Kodak hadn’t been there for him, we might never have gotten Taz back. He was in danger of losing himself. He’s at peace with himself on the mesa. He’s as good a man as I’ve got. As long as he has a job and Kodak is there to keep him company, I think his life is as good as it has ever been. Taz belongs here.”

“You know, he nearly killed Slade,” McCoy said. “I thought he was a dead man.”

“I thought Slade had a gun on Taz and you came to the rescue?”

“He nailed Slade up side the head with his elbow. Can you believe that. He’s all bound up. Has a hole in him, and yet he waited for Slade to move into range, bonk, out like a light. I couldn’t believe it. I was talking Slade out of his gun and Taz takes him out.”

“You were going to talk him out of his gun? He’s a killer.”

“I had my gun three feet from his head. He had his gun pointed at the back of Taz’s seat. There were four riflemen on top of the pharmacy with orders to blow him up if he flinched. I had him.”

“So that’s where my cowboys have been. Riding around with my investigator. Slade wasn’t the kind of guy that was going to prison for the rest of his life without putting up a fight, McCoy?”

“I’m not convinced of that,” McCoy said.

“You better thank Taz the next time you see him. He did the right thing. That boy is fearless.”

“You think so? I haven’t finished yet.”

“Taz wasn’t waiting around for you to finish?” the general said.

“I’ve got Slade’s gun. Everything’s under control. Then Kodak hugs Taz in front of Slade. Slade said something about a faggot, and Taz was on him like stink on shit. I still don’t know how he got to him. The boy’s wounded. He gets Slade’s gun, and I swear to god he was trying to shove it up his nose.”

“McCoy, you left a piece out. That’s not like you. How did he get Slade’s gun away from you?”

“I put it down on the rear fender,” McCoy said sheepishly.

“Which means you didn’t have Slade’s gun.”

“Anyway, I mean Taz was a madman, General. He kept asking Slade to repeat what he said.”

“Did he?” the general said.

“No! He was too busy begging for his life.”

“I suspect he was.”

“He pissed himself and begged Taz not to kill him.”

“Did he kill him?”

“No.”

“What happened.”

“He gave me the gun and calmed down.”

“Sounds like Taz. Then you had the gun?”

“Yes, but not before I almost pissed my pants. I don’t know why Slade is still alive. I want to be a cop and Taz totally outflanked me. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You let him get his hands on a gun with the man who shot him a few feet away. Not a good move, McCoy. You need to work on that.”

“Not good at all. I learned my lesson.”

“A fighting machine, McCoy. You can take the boy out of the army but you can’t take the army out of the boy. He’s a trained killer. He was trained by the finest military in the world. You’re lucky, McCoy. What would you have done if Taz used the gun?”

“I swear, he had that gun up his nose. There was nothing I could do. It was all up to Taz. All I could do was watch. I felt helpless.”

“He taught you something?”

“Yes, he did.”

“You’re a good man, McCoy. You’ll be a good cop.”

“Thank you, General. Is that dinner I smell?”

“You’re a piece of work, McCoy. You’re going to weigh three hundred pounds one day.”

*****

Gen. Walker moved down the back steps of his porch to walk out to where Taz was opening the gate, after he heard their jeep returning from town.

“Going to need to stop letting you go out by yourself,” Gen. Walker said.

“Your birddog was keeping an eye on us, until he got Slade the other day. You think I didn’t know McCoy was around somewhere? I ever tell you about when my neck begins to itch?”

“Jake Slade had a hard head?” Gen. Walker asked, looking at Taz’s sling.

“I suppose. I’d have used a club but I didn’t have one handy.”

“McCoy said you almost killed that bird,” Gen. Walker said.

“Nearly bout. I decided I didn’t need to kill him. He’s just one of a million assholes. Can’t kill ‘em all, General, but I’ll kill him if he ever crosses my path again.”

“There will be a trial,” Gen. Walker said.

“What’m I going to say, ‘I got shot. I was sitting on a fence and woke up in a hospital.’ No, they won’t need me in court. He’s a bad man. McCoy got the goods on him.”

“Broken?” Gen. Walker asked.

“There’s a crack. The sling keeps me from forgetting.”

“You need anything, you know where I am. Kodak, keep an eye on your cowboy.”

“Yes, sir,” Kodak said. “I thought we left the brushes with death back in Vietnam. It got pretty close to us out there that day. Slade meant to kill us, General. He was one cold dude.”

“Not so cold Taz didn’t get him to piss his pants,” the general said. “Paper tiger.”

“McCoy’s been talking, I see. I guess he saved our bacon. He’s been up to check on us three or four times since he got Slade. I figured we wouldn’t see him again after the showdown in town. Putting that asphalt down makes it easy on him to come see us.” Taz said. “I walked Cyclone some. Won’t be long I’ll be able to ride out to the fence line, get back to work.”

“Don’t rush it, Taz. We sent the herd to market last month. We aren’t using the mesa now. You take it easy and heal up proper.”

“Where’d McCoy come from, General?”

“McCoy was an MP in Vietnam, when we first crossed paths. He went into Army Investigation. He didn’t see war up close. I don’t think he ever had to kill anyone. By the description he gave me, he expected everything to go a certain way. There were risks but he had calculated how best to reduce the risk to you.”

“Yea, he wired up Kodak. I was riding along without a care in the world. Things like that don’t usually slip by me.”

“When you went after Slade, after the event ended in McCoy’s mind, your rage caught him by surprise. I think the fact he didn’t see it coming is what shocked him most. He reasons everything out to its logical conclusions. He didn’t figure you into the equation.”

“I figured he was trying to resolve something out when he kept coming up to visit. You know him better than I do. What I know is he made sure Slade didn’t kill me. That’s all I need to know, but I can’t tell him or you why I didn’t kill him. I was ready to. He called me that name and I wanted to kill him, but I didn’t. That’s all there is to it.

“You might could say, it’s why I like Montana. It’s why I like your ranch, General. Damn few assholes to kill. When I meet me one that needs killing, I let him go. You figure I’m getting soft?”

Gen. Walker started laughing. Taz smiled.

“No, I figure you’re just about right, Taz. As men go, you’re one of the best men I’ve known. You don’t need to explain yourself to me.”

“Thanks for saying so, General. I’m a little tired. It’s nice to be home and I do appreciate all you do, but I need one more thing.”

“Shoot, son.”

“I appreciate all the protection. They got me through a rough patch when I first came home. I feel like I’m ready for you to move the sentries off the mesa now. My neck hasn’t itched all day.”

“Let me talk to McCoy. He’s my security expert. If he agrees, I’ll pull the cowboys off the mesa.”

“Thanks,” Taz said, ready for the ride to the mesa. “General,” Taz said, hesitating.

“Yes, son?”

“You’re like the father I never had, you know.”

“Taz, I couldn’t be more proud of you if you were my own son,” the general said.

Taz smiled and sat down beside Kodak in the jeep.

“Thanks, General,” Kodak said, moving the jeep through the gate on the way home.

Gen. Walker pushed the gate closed as he watched the jeep ease along the single black strip of asphalt. He smiled and turned to walk back to his office. He began to whistle.

The End

---

Postscript

Gen. Walker and Angus McCoy sat smoking cigars in the general’s office before it was time for McCoy to make his exit to start his new life in Chicago.

“I still haven’t gotten a line on Jones, General, but Jake Slade is singing like a canary. Jones hired him to kill Taz and you. They’ve already sworn out warrants for Jones. Attempted murder and conspiracy to commit murder. He’s looking at big time.”

“Jones isn’t going to shoot anyone. He’s your typical frightened little man,” the general said. “Slade’s a songbird? You just never know.”

“He could hire someone else to do his dirty work. Jake Slade isn’t the only gun for hire out there.”

“Could be, and we’ll deal with it when that time comes. Good work, McCoy. You took Slade down without firing a shot. Pretty damn impressive, you ask me,” the general said, smoke rising to the top of the room.

“I’ve decided to look at it your way, General. Damn nice work. I can hang around a year and never know what makes Taz tick. He did what he did and I do what I do. It all turned out fine.”

“Taz can’t explain why that word sets him off. He can’t explain why he didn’t go ahead and kill Slade. He killed way better men than Slade in Vietnam. It is what it is, McCoy. Some things aren’t meant to be explained. Taz is Taz.”

“How do you feel about that word, McCoy.”

“Ugly. I understand ugly, but not how he went off.”

“Say you’re a gay. Say you’re every bit as good a man as any man alive, but someone seeks to diminish you. They call you that. I don’t know how I feel about Taz and Kodak, but what I know is, they’re happy together. By god that’s a small miracle. So few people find the kind of happiness they share, I bless them for it.”

“No one ever called me that, so I don’t know. I know you got one tough cowboy. In spite of his temper, he’s a damn good man, General. I also can tell you, when Slade called him that, I winced. I can’t say I didn’t see what was coming. I may have just ignored it.”

“Now you’re talking, McCoy. Think the best about yourself and when you can’t do that, give yourself the benefit of the doubt. I didn’t have anyone else I could call concerning Taz being shot, but I had no doubt in my mind, I wanted you on the case. Since this is your first civilian case, you can mark it off as solved.”

“Thank you, General. I’ll tell my new boss that.”

“Which brings me to security. Taz wants the sentries pulled off the mesa. I told him it was up to you.”

“Considering all I know and all I’ve learned, I think it’s safe. I’ve taken out the hiding places on the rim. The wire blocking off the rim from easy access is going to discourage anyone from getting closer. Run a jeep up top a couple of times a week to be sure.

“You know to keep your eyes open now. You need to remember if something looks suspicious, check it out. Use common sense and you should be fine from here on out,” McCoy said. “Case closed and time for me to get back to my own life.”