McCoy didn't think men were all that complicated. One you got beyond booze and women, there was declining lack of interest in anything not including a ball or a gun. Taz, on one hand, was a simple fellow, but, on the other hand, the things he did indicated there was far more to him than met the eye. The question McCoy was left with, why was Jake Slade still alive?
As soon as he got back to the ranch, McCoy went to Gen. Walker's office to read the articles he'd glanced over when he first arrived at the ranch. Now that he'd seen Taz in action, he needed to read them more carefully. The Time articles, the pictures of Taz in Vietnam, and the pictures of the shootout at the courthouse, were glimpses of Taz in action. It didn't answer McCoy's question.
The only reason Taz was at the place where he took Slade down, was because he was the bait to lure the killer out into the open. Once he knew Slade was following Taz and Kodak, McCoy decided to set up an ambush of his own. The road into town offered no elevation or place a sniper could wait for his prey. It was open range.
McCoy was sure, since Slade didn't know he'd been identified, he'd feel safe approaching Taz and Kodak. When he did, McCoy was ready for him and the plan worked fine, until Taz went into action, and he lost control of the situation.
While Taz dismissed his heroics, Kodak documented the action with some sense of the heroics involved. A man armed with only a camera, during a firefight, shooting pictures of the main character in a modern day opera that wouldn't be seen otherwise.
'Speaking of heroic,' McCoy thought, picturing Kodak in action.
McCoy knew he'd screwed up Slade's arrest. But for Slade's mouth and Taz's sense of dignity, everything would have gone accordingly.
When you are taking down a hardcore killer, and one of his intended victims is on the scene, “Never assume anything, dummy,” McCoy yelled at himself.
Putting away the articles, he knew how lucky he was not to be dealing with Slade's corpse. It wasn't a mistake he'd repeat. Taz was a man you underestimated at your own peril. McCoy learned that lesson.
“What stopped Taz from killing him?” McCoy asked himself.
McCoy solicited stories about Taz from the cowboys in the bunkhouse. Taz chasing rustlers, commiserating with Indians, and stories of a cowboy who stood his ground in the shootout at the courthouse. In each case Taz did what he was asked to do, going back to mending fence, once he did it.
McCoy's instincts told him there was only one place where his questions could be answered. The stop to read the articles in Gen. Walker's desk was a refresher before he went to the mesa to ask hard questions.
*****
McCoy liked visiting Taz the cowboy. Taz was like every cowboy he knew, but he only knew them from the ranch. McCoy wanted to ask Taz the question he'd been burning to ask, wince earlier that morning. 'Why didn't you kill Slade?'
How do you ask a man why he didn't murder someone? You couldn't just come out with a thing like that. McCoy feared it was another question that might go unasked. McCoy was scared by what the answer might be. He was scared by what he saw himself doing if Taz had killed Slade.
They drank coffee and sat on the porch to watch the colors in the Montana sky. They were changing as the sun began sinking in the western sky. McCoy didn't notice the Montana sky before that afternoon on the mesa. He'd never watched the sun setting before.
Taz wore a sling. It clashed with his flannel shirt. McCoy knew the story behind the sling, but it made Taz look less formidable. Taz was five foot eight without cowboy boots. Kodak towered over Taz. McCoy was five ten and a good sized man, but Taz was able to claim center stage at any given time. McCoy had the scene secured that morning, until Taz went into action. That confused him.
They watched a herd of pronghorn pass a hundred yards away, paying no attention to the house. An elk stopped to check the porch for any sign of danger, ambling off toward the north.
Kodak brought the coffee pot to refill the cups, but no one spoke.
A bear came and went without having an interest in the people on the porch. McCoy had never seen a bear in the wild before. He tensed until he realized the bear was on his own turf and no threat.
The three men watched quietly, enjoying these encounters without needing to leave the porch. The quiet was part of the allure. McCoy rarely noticed silence. It was the first time he remembered thinking about the silence.
“At first I photographed the wildlife,” Kodak said, rocking beside Taz, holding his hand. “The clicking of the camera alarmed them, even from a hundred yards away. I stopped doing it. I've had to learn to enjoy the moment without a need to document it. A photographer doesn't need to be at work all the time. Some things are best when you simply enjoy the moment.”
“The pictures you took in town at the courthouse,” McCoy said. “It was almost like being there. How could you stand in the middle of a gun battle and take pictures?”
“I am a photographer. I was doing my job. I represent no threat to anyone. Besides, I was across the street from Taz. He was drawing the fire. He really wasn't in the open that long, as I recall. A picture freezes an instant in time. It may not record the next instant.
“There was a lot of fire coming from the general's men. They were closer to the courthouse. The general had Taz step out long enough to eliminate the threat coming from the window. When Taz opened up, it took a few seconds to empty a clip into that window. That ended the threat and the gun battle.”
“I thought I saved the town from certain destruction,” Taz said with a sigh.
“You saved the town before or after you saved the general?” McCoy asked.
“The general had the plan. I pulled him out of the line of fire. He gave me the plan. He set it up so men on both sides of the window opened fire at the same time. The guys in the window were returning fire to the sides. When I shot out the window, they were so busy they didn't know I was there. Then they were dead.”
“Slade was in that window.”
“Then I guess only most of them were dead,” Taz said.
“If you'd gotten him then, he wouldn't have shot you later,” McCoy said.
“Nah! If Slade didn't shoot me, someone else would have. No shortage of bad men, McCoy,” Taz said. “Jones has money to hire any of them.”
“I saw the Life magazine pictures,” McCoy said. “I'd seen Time when they did their story. Incredible pictures, Kodak. You're getting quite the reputation.”
“When I saw Taz on Time's cover, after we'd been away from home a few days, I knew it was my picture. I was freelancing, the paper got first publication rights only. They paid my way to Vietnam, but I owned my pictures. Somehow someone gave Time permission to use them.”
“That must have made for a nice settlement,” McCoy said.
“They made me a fair offer and I still own the pictures.”
“Where did you get your poise under fire?” McCoy asked.
Kodak smiled, lifting his hand and the hand he held.
“As long as I'm with Taz, I'm safe. So far anyway.”
“He was in a different danger. He didn't know it then. I didn't know it then,” Taz said, leaning to kiss Kodak.
There was no one McCoy would stand in the open with during a firefight. He didn't have that kind of courage.
“You worried Jones'll send someone else at you?”
“Nah! Can't do anything about it if he does.”
“I'll be a detective in Chicago. Anything comes up like that. If the general or you feel threatened, let me know,” McCoy said.
“Okay,” Taz said.
McCoy thought Taz sounded like a cowboy should. If he was feeling pain, he didn't let on. If he'd hoped to find some truth that explained Taz, he didn't.
“Is that what you came up here for, McCoy,” Taz asked. “There is no answer for what you want to know. I don't know why. I could have killed him. I didn't.”
“Okay, when you went after Slade, tell me what you were thinking.”
Taz bristled. If he didn't like a question, he told you where to go. He didn't speak for what seemed like a long time. It was no more than a minute or so.
“McCoy, I fought for this country. I was ready to die for my country. When Slade called me that name, I thought a piece of human refuse like him didn't get to humiliate me. I intended to do exactly what you thought I was going to do.”
“...And?” McCoy said, wanting the rest of it.
“I didn't. That's all.”
“You went after him. You had a gun. I'm not sure I wouldn't have killed him under the same circumstances,” McCoy argued Taz's aplomb.
“I didn't.”
The mystery of Taz wasn't one that was meant to be solved. McCoy didn't like mysteries. He accepted he couldn't do anything about this one.
Kodak was the perfect host, offering McCoy food and coffee. Taz and Kodak were a concept McCoy couldn’t quite get his brain around. They seemed perfectly suited to one another, if outward appearances were any indication.
The fondness they shared was obvious. Few couples McCoy knew fit together with the ease of these two. It was another subject he didn't understand and he lacked the imagination to figure it out. It was too new to him.
*****
It was while driving back from the mesa, McCoy dealt with adding perspective to what he learned there. That brought him back to Taz almost killing Slade. McCoy put Taz in the situation that could have led to Slade's death. It was a mistake he wouldn't repeat, and it was on him, not Taz.
The love and affection between two men was awkward for McCoy. He wasn’t able to ask questions about their relationship for fear of asking the wrong question. He didn't even know where to start. He was afraid of embarrassing himself in front of two men he'd grown to respect.
With all the heartache and heartbreak in the world, McCoy found their love confusing but refreshing. He was warmed by it. Happiness seemed in short supply in the world he'd been inhabiting, but Taz and Kodak had found it on the mesa. As he thought it over, McCoy realized how little he knew about women. It didn't do anything to comfort him or explain where he might find happiness..
*****
When McCoy came in the backdoor, Kathleen said, “You look like you can use some coffee. It's fresh,” she said, handing him a cup of coffee. “Rumor has it, you got your man, McCoy. Good job. The general said you'd track him down if he was still alive.
“I don't mind telling you, I'll rest a lot easier knowing those boys are safe. I've worried myself sick over Taz the last few months.”
“I understand your concern, but Taz isn't easy to kill. Slade on the other hand, is lucky he's still alive.”
“That's a story I want to hear. I'm in the midst of fixing dinner. I know you don't want me to stop to listen to you now.”
“No, no, you finish what you're doing. I haven't eaten all day. I'll be happy to give you the details later,” McCoy said, heading for the general's office.
The coffee was just the ticket, after the last few hours of tension and adrenaline rushes.
Gen. Walker didn't look up until McCoy spoke.
“I need to go see if my discharge is ready. I think I’m on overtime, General,” McCoy said, starting the conversation.
“Oh, that reminds me. This came for you last week, or maybe it the week before? I kept forgetting to tell you.”
The general opened his drawer, sliding an envelope across to McCoy.
“It says my discharge papers were sent to the Montana Guard Unit nearest here. It’s dated ten days ago, General.”
“Makes you wonder how I ever got to be a general. You were doing such a fine job, I didn’t want to distract you,” the general said. “I did take the liberty of writing the Police Commissioner in Chicago. I told him I was sending him one of my best men. 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 this side of the Rockies.”
“Thank you, General. I don't know what to say. You really want to stick your neck out for me?”
“You're a crackerjack investigator, McCoy. You'll be fine. I ran the letter past the Secretary of the Army. I asked him to put his signature and seal on it. We served together in Korea a couple of years after we graduated West Point together. He was all bent out of shape when I went to the Pacific, and he went to the Pentagon. I don't think he minds now. He wouldn't sign anything without checking you out.”
“Thank you again, General. I didn't expect that.”
“McCoy, we haven't had much contact since you worked on that DaNang business. When I asked for you, I didn't know what I was going to get. I never expected the kind of effort you gave me.”
“I owe you, General. Army Investigations is a first class outfit. I learned the tricks from professional investigators. You sent me there and I learned my trade well. I was a little worried working on my first case alone.”
“You'll make a fine detective. Having Slade off the street makes a lot of people safer, McCoy. I want to thank you for that.”
“My pleasure, General. I’ve got a request and a question for you, before you get me to my discharge papers, after dinner of course. Maybe ask Crosby to look at flights to Joliet. See if there's a regularly scheduled flight. I can live with that. I don't want to pin down the day just yet. There are still things I need to do.”
“I'll get Crosby right on it. Shoot, McCoy. You've got a question?”
“I don't know if you have the answers I'm looking for. There are things I'd like to understand better. I came into this investigation winging it. It's about Sgt. Tazerski. We haven't discussed some important facts. Things I'd like to know before I can put this case to rest,” McCoy began.
“The question makes me think you have a good idea where you're going,” the general said.
“I do and I don't. I dug up information on Taz while I was in D. C. It leads to more questions than answers. I have the framework in place. I'd like details.”
“He isn't as easy to pin down as you think, McCoy. The boy gets under your skin, doesn't he?”
“I find Taz and Kodak two of the most fascinating characters I've ever come across. Finding them in the same place is a shocker.”
“I can give you the details, but Taz is not a man you can put a label on. He's got his own sense of right and wrong. He's an unusual young man. That's unusual in a good way,” the general said. “Just wanted to warn you. His story wouldn't be one you would expect.”
“I'd still like the details that explain all this. He is on your ranch. You must have had a reason for hiring him. While I was at FBI Headquarters, I wandered over to the Washington Post morgue, and I dug up the articles about him arriving in D.C.”
“They just let anyone into their files?” Gen. Walker asked.
“I flashed my Army Investigations I.D. and my FBI clearance. They gave me the keys to the kingdom and a secretary to jot down notes for me.”
“Ah, put a spy with the investigator to find out what he's up to.”
“You think so?” McCoy asked. “She was so pleasant. Not hard to look at either.”
“It's what I'd do if I wanted to know what you're up to. Where did you lead the Washington Post?”
“The sergeant was in D.C. one minute, dropped off the map the next. The trail almost stopped there, except for one short mention in a column by some guy named Anderson. That's where his trail went completely cold.
“I figure you know where he was, after he stood up congress,” McCoy said. “Especially since he ended up on your ranch. While I have pieces of the story, your version would help. Taz doesn't say much about much.”
“It's a bad idea to lock up your war heroes, McCoy. Too damn few left. If you must know, I went to West Point with a man who became a shrink. He was US Army all the way. He was the only one in our class more gung ho than me.
“I called him and told him what I needed. Being a doctor, as well as a high ranking officer, he committed Taz under an assumed name so he could dry out, while I expedited his discharge. The army had no desire to go after him. Taz had given the army all he had to give. They were willing to accept his discharge.”
“I'm not the only drunk you saved?” McCoy asked.
“Hardly, McCoy. Taz was a drunk before he was sober, so going back to the sauce could have killed him. I'll go over what made him drink in a minute, but he doesn't drink any more, and I'll tell you how I know that.
“Last year Kodak was lost in the Pacific, plane crash. No one expected to see him again. Taz asked me for a bottle of my 30 year old bourbon.”
“You just said he didn't drink any more.”
“Yes, but I haven't finished the story. Taz gave me back that bottle of bourbon about six months later. The seal was never broken.”
“What's the point?” McCoy asked. “He wants a bottle he doesn't drink.”
“The point was proving, even with a nice bottle of bourbon, under the worst circumstances, he didn't need to drink it.
“Taz is a complicated man. Proving things to himself is important for him. Kodak was rescued. Taz promised Kodak he wouldn't drink again. He wanted the bottle so he could drink if he decided he needed a drink.”
McCoy shook his head, being left even more in the dark.
“No one wanted to write a story about the soldier who had the balls to tell congress to screw off. I'd assigned Kendall to drive Taz in D. C. and to keep an eye on him. The mystery of his disappearance was a far better story than what really happen to a war hero everyone liked.
“Taz was friendly to the press, so they didn't want to hurt him. Besides, the D. C. press is accustomed to covering up the peccadilloes of politicians. Passing up a negative story about a war hero wasn't difficult for the D. C. press. The mystery became the story.”
“I know the feeling. Taz generates mystery,” McCoy said.
“When some ambitious reporter sniffed around Taz's disappearance, he was directed to me. It's one of the best things about the stars on my shoulder. You tell someone to back off, they generally do. I promised to throw them a bone later.
“The army didn't want their golden boy tarnished. They used Taz until they broke him. The Secretary of the Army smoothed things over with congress.
“The last article written on Sgt. Tazerski read, 'This reporter has been advised, Sgt. Tazerski is on a secret mission for the army. It led to his sudden departure from D. C. earlier this year. I'll supply details as they are made available to me by my source at the Pentagon.'
“Jack wrote an expose column in the Washington Post. It didn't hurt he was a close friend of Kathleen’s. He was happy to write about the inside scoop on Sgt. Tazerski. That's where Taz's trail went cold.”
“Once Taz was discharged, I flew the boys to Montana,” the general said. “I did what was expedient to get the outcome I wanted. Taz could create a life for himself. Kodak just happened to be with him, and Taz needed him. I didn't object.
“Let's face it, I was as guilty as anyone for what happened to Taz. He toured a lot longer than I thought he'd last. I think having Kodak with him helped keep him on an even keel,” Gen. Walker explained. “That's what I think now.”
“I just left the mesa. It's obvious Kodak is his source of strength. What happened to Taz? I know it had something to do with that kid who died at Walter Reed, but I'd like the details, if you have them. I feel a certain kinship with Taz. We both share the same mentor.
“I'm asking you, because it might help me to process what's gone on here. He was a hero. He could write his own ticket. He didn't do that. He dropped out of sight at the peak of his fame, and he's kept a low profile, when he isn't saving the town or getting himself shot..”
“Taz isn't prone to trust his fellow man, and even as an emissary for the army, the good sergeant wasn't beyond poking his finger in the eye of self-righteous generals, including me when I crowded him. He's a hard soldier to figure, as you've discovered. I'd love to know what makes him tick, McCoy, but it's not going to happen. I take him as is. He doesn't give you a choice.”
Gen. Walker reached into his humidor for two cigars, tossing McCoy one. Once they were lit, he leaned back, kicking his boots up on his desk, and putting his hands behind his head, taking a long puff, he told the story.
“War is hell, McCoy. Taz was a perfect fighting machine. Give me an army of men like Sgt. Tazerski, I could rule the world. The trouble with war is, it’s war. A man can only endure so much misery and destruction. Some men stay focused and never deal with what they see and do. They cram it down deep and pray it never explodes. Some men succeed better than others.
“You'll need to let me ramble for a minute. I'll give you my opinion on the difference in wars, my perceptions about Taz. My father once told me that after WWII, the men gathered near ports in tent cities, waiting to get on a ship home. They were with their squad and their company, and they could sit and talk to each other. They could drink, explore the local landscape, eat the local food. The war was over and mostly the men wanted to sleep.
“On the ships they were shoulder to shoulder with guys who saw action with them for weeks. They knew what they all knew, experienced what they all experienced, and they talked about it or not, whichever suited them. They worked it out, so to speak. Just soldiers talking to other soldiers. It took another soldier, fighting the same war, to understand the experience.
“When they got home, few of them wanted to talk about the war again. It was over and they’d made it home alive. It was time to put the killing and dying to rest. No one else could understand.
“That was known as the 'Greatest Generation,” the general said with pride. “That was my father's war. Those men came home from war and built America into an industrial and manufacturing Goliath.
“Do you understand what I'm explaining to you, McCoy?”
“I do. The WWII vets decompressed before getting home. They got time to talk it out, put the war behind them. Today we're in Vietnam one day and walking around in the states the next. We carry the war home with us because there's no place to get rid of it.”
“Very good, McCoy. You get an A in WWII war vets. With few exceptions my cowboys are Vietnam vets. I invited the men I knew to come to Montana to be a cowboy for as long as they liked.
“We’re talking America’s finest fighting men. I wasn't near the front line troops in this war, but I put fighting men on my staff. I asked them their opinions. We got to know each other. Some of those men are still on the ranch.
“You might say this is their boat ride home, or my version of it. I listened to what my Daddy told me and the message was clear to me. Some of these guys don’t have a home to go to, and they like being cowboys, Taz being one of those. Taz is one of the few men I didn't know before offered him a trip to Montana. He was different. I knew nothing about Kodak. He figured into my plan later.
“Kendall is one hell of a wheel man, and he's clever in ways I'm not. I didn't understand what he told me about Taz and Kodak, but I knew he understood. Sometimes you go with your gut on a thing like that.
“I figure you've figured out their relationship. You've been on the mesa with them? They don't hide their affection. They shouldn't. That's their home.”
“I do. I don't understand it either, but it doesn't offend me. They're happy together. It doesn't get better than that as far as I can tell,” McCoy said.
“Quite true. Glad we don't need to get into that. This is a good life, hard work, good food, and modest but fair pay. I'm not a man looking to get rich. My riches are the ranch, Kathleen, and my men. I treat people fair.”
“If you didn't, General, I'd still be making big rocks into little rocks.”
“You take it too seriously, McCoy. If I told you about the generals who walk around drunk, you'd crap yourself, son. I needed you when I found you. I wouldn't have had Kendall stop the car if I didn't. I'm a general, not a high school principal.
“You're a lightweight, McCoy. A million miles from home, lonely, standing duty in the middle of the night and absolutely no one around, until some crazy general shows up six hours early for a meeting. I'd have been surprised if you weren't drunk.
“I can't count the soldiers I've found drunk on duty. If we wrote all of you up, the generals would be standing guard duty. You were a victim of circumstance. I wouldn't have told Kendall to stop except for that.”
“You weren't going to court martial me?”
“Nah, not as long as you played ball. I probably would have if you refused my request, but you didn't. Smart soldiers never do, McCoy.”