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 with no sign of compromise in his voice.
“That’s too bad. I sort of like him. I suspect at best, you'll 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 easily.
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 rounds got Slade’s eyes up at the roof of the building in front of the jeep. Four M-16s were pointed his way. 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, and these are all I have with me,” McCoy explained, keeping the .45 pointed at Slade's nose. “Your move, dirt bag.”
“Call them off. I’m going to kill him even if you kill me. The sergeant is holding a losing hand this time. How he survived that bullet I put into him, I don't know. My orders are to finish what I started on the mesa.”
Slade’s eyes lifted to check each of the muzzles aimed at him. This had never happened before. He'd always had surprise on his size. He wondered where he'd gone wrong, but he realized it no longer mattered.
“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, asshole?”
“You’re bluffing.”
“No, 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. You take the pawn and I take you. Put down your gun and you'll have a nice prison cell and new playmates.”
Slade flinched when he heard his name. How’d this guy know who he was? He’d covered his tracks, but he'd obviously missed something.
A rage was running through Taz. This was the guy who shot him. Taz felt like this was payback time. Forcing the rage out of his mind, a peaceful calm washed over him, as he readied himself to strike. Slowly he began moving the rear view mirror, a little bit at a time, while Slade and McCoy palavered. Once he could see his assassin’s face, he let his left arm relax on his left thigh. He 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, or are you too much a coward to look the man who kills you in the eye?”
“You’re going to see me kill this one,” Slade said, leaning forward enough to make sure the gun couldn’t be dislodged before he fired.
Once Slade was satisfied, he looked at McCoy again, thinking there had to be a way to get out of the fix he'd gotten himself into. He wasn’t fooled by the bravado, he’d let Slade go before he’d let the sergeant die. There was a bargain to be had here if he played it right.
But as soon as Slade leaned that little bit forward, he put himself in range of Taz's elbow, and it 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 and gasped. He reached under his shirt, removing the wire McCoy had furnished him, ripping it off and letting it drop on the floor. He exhaled as though he’d been holding his breath.
“You were wearing a wire?” Taz asked. “This was planned?”
“Uh huh,” Kodak said.
“We were sitting ducks so McCoy could ride to the rescue?”
“It’s what he said we needed to do to take this guy out.”
Taz was surprised by this little piece of news. He had no inkling of what was going on.
“What the hell are you thinking, Tazerski. I had it under control. He wasn’t going to shoot you,” McCoy blurted. “He had five guns on him.”
“The gun was in my back, McCoy. I’m a pawn, huh? Did I kill him?” Taz snapped. “If I didn't, someone give me a gun. That son-of-a-bitch shot me.”
McCoy yanked a groggy Slade back into his seat, keeping his gun in his face. Slade wasn't more than partially conscious.
“No he isn't dead, but you put the hurtin’ on the son-of-a-bitch. How’d you know he wouldn’t pull the trigger when you hit him?” McCoy barked. “Are you crazy? I'm a professionals. I had it under control.”
“He might have gotten me, but he wasn’t getting anyone else,” Taz explained. “I owed him that much.”
“I was handling it,” McCoy protested. “It was all going according to plan.”
“You want to give him back his gun and we’ll see how it goes doing it your way,” Taz taunted, holding his elbow as it began to throb.
“No, no, I just can’t believe you did that. He could have killed you. Tazerski. You’re certifiable. I'm never going to go out of my way to save your life again.”
“I didn’t kill him? I was trying to kill him. Shit! I think I broke my elbow,” Taz said, unable to lift his arm. “Oh, Jesus, it hurts.”
“You’re crazy,” McCoy said, as Jake Slade jerked back to consciousness, unable to fathom what took place.
“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.”
Slade's gun rested on the jeep's rear fender and McCoy moved him far enough away he couldn't get it before the riflemen got him.
“What hit me?” Slade repeated, acting stunned and out of sorts.
“A very self-destructive sergeant got you, sucker,” 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 and not quite sure he'd done what he'd done.
“You knew what was going on and didn’t let on?” Taz said.
“I was scared shitless,” Kodak said. “I was shaking the whole time.”
“I’ll be damned,” Taz said, kissing Kodak’s cheek. “You’re something, you know? You might want to ease up on that elbow, Kodak. It’s not doing so good.”
“They're faggots?" I was blindsided by a faggot?” Slade said with a renewed hatred in his voice.
There was no end to the mistakes Jake Slade made on 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 saw 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. “Let him up, Tazerski!”
“What did you call me? Say it again. I want to hear it before I kill you. I told you I'd kill him, McCoy. You should have gotten him away from me while you could. Let that be a lesson to 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. They were more or less pulling for Taz.
“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 and this guy tried to kill me. I'm going to let him insult me too. I'm as good a man as any and twice as good as this asshole.”
“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, McCoy was out of moves.
“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 for mercy.
“What did you call me,” Taz continued, the rage lessening in his tight gut.
“Mr. Tazerski,” Slade managed to say, losing the feeling in his legs and beginning to feel faint. “Don’t kill me.”
“That's all I ask for. A little respect is nice, asshole.”
Taz let go of Slade's hair and stood up. Taking the barrel of the pistol in his weakened left hand, he let McCoy take it from him.
“Damn, man, I was sure you were going to kill him,” McCoy said.
“I was,” Taz said. “That fucker shot me and he pissed on me.”
McCoy stared at Taz not being certain what to make of him.
“You're nuts, Tazerski, but if I was over there in that mess again, you're the guy I'd want with me.”
“He's the man I want at my side,” Kodak said.
Kodak moved over to hug Taz. Slade's eyes moved off the hug onto his feet.
“Take it a little easy on that arm, Kodak. I think that elbow is broke. We might should drop in on old Dr. Westphalia on our way out of town. 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. The riflemen each patted Taz's back as McCoy got the cuffs on Slade.
“You’re one cool customer, Kodak,” 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?” Taz asked.
“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 business,” 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 they’d rest easier with Slade dead.
Angus McCoy wasn’t sure what happened. He was back in control. 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? He'd learned a valuable lesson about people.
How could he factor raw emotion into every situation? How could a seriously damaged man do what Taz did? McCoy didn’t know. Because he didn't know, he'd know better next time.
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.
When McCoy was sure Taz was going to waste Slade, McCoy was already looking for a cover story to protect Taz. This alarmed McCoy more than the event itself scared him. There was no doubt in his mind, even with his increased appreciation for right and wrong, he'd have protected Taz, because it's what the general would ask him to do. The fact he would follow those orders further distorted McCoy's beliefs.
The entire mission was about protecting Taz. From the day he arrived, besides finding the bad guy, his job was to keep Taz safe. That extended to protecting him in the event Slade had to be killed. No, McCoy wouldn't have killed him for the general, but if Taz had killed Slade, he'd have covered it up.
He wasn't sure why, except Gen. Walker had covered for him when he could have thrown him to the wolves and ruined his life. It's why McCoy was here. It's why the generals men were loyal to him. He was a soldier's general and his soldiers knew it. McCoy knew it too.
In war people die and this was a war against some bad men.
*****
Kodak took Taz to see Dr. Westphalia as soon as Slade was in McCoy’s jeep 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,” Dr. Westphalia said, taking a second look at Taz as he sat down. “What have you done?”
“The back is fine. I just broke my elbow on a guy’s head,” Taz said.
“You what? I told you nothing strenuous. This isn't going to help you heal.”
“Yes it will, doc. I feel wonderful.”
“Confirms what I thought all along. You're out of your mind, son, but the general's men tend to lean toward the far out there side of life.”
“He knocked Jake Slade out. He used his elbow to do it. Slade was in the backseat of our jeep intending to kill us,” Kodak explained. “A fractured elbow is about as well as it was going to turn out.”
“Good Lord! Let me look at it, Taz. We’ll need an X-rays. Why don’t you stay home, son? Heal up before you go looking for trouble.”
“Jake Slade wasn’t at home, doc,” Taz said. “He got the drop on us. I thought about adding a new hole in my back to go with the first one he put there. Thinking about it made me mad, the madder I got, the more determined I was not to let him do that.”
“You are an amazing young man. How'd you become this guys target?”
“I stopped a jail break one time.”
“Yes you did,” Doctor Westphalia remembered. “You pissed off the white supremacy guy when you did it. Nerve of him thinking he could come in here and take his men out of our jail.”
“Yes that's what happened,” Kodak said, smiling at Taz. “He's a hero.”
“Well, this one will be on the house. My contribution to the beautification of America. The more of those men we get rid of, the better,” the doctor said, feeling around Taz's fast swelling elbow.