“And after that,” I said, “you put in your papers.”
Jimmy nodded.
“For the ATV/horse cavalry.”
Another nod.
Angel said, “I still don’t get why.”
I leaned forward in my chair. My arms on the armrests barely trembled. “It’s because it wasn’t a fair fight.”
Lyle grunted. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”
Jimmy raised his head and looked at me. “It’s not that.”
“Then what?” I asked.
Lyle laughed. “It’s because he wants the respect of that hick sheriff. Or his daughter.”
Jimmy rose from the floor. “I didn’t think you’d understand.” He looked at me. “Though I hoped you would.”
We locked eyes for a moment. Then he turned to go. When he got to the door, I blurted out. “Oh, Jesus. It’s Wild Bob’s respect you want.”
Angel scowled. “That hemorrhoid? What’s bis respect worth?”
Jimmy paused with his hand over the doorplate. “What he believed in was all wrong and twisted,” he said. “But he was willing to die for it. If what we’re fighting for is right, shouldn’t we be willing to risk something besides equipment damage and feedback bruises?”
When he had gone, there was silence in the room. Lyle and Angel and I looked at one another. Finally, Angel said, “He’s nuts. You don’t fight snakes by wriggling in the dirt and trying to bite ’em first. That doesn’t make you brave, just stupid. You stand back and blow ’em away with a sweeper. Only one way to end this fighting. Stomp hard and stomp fast.”
Lyle shook his head and said, “He’ll get over it. It’s just syndrome.”
“Well,” said Angel, “he’ll find out there’s a hell of a difference between teep fighting and fighting in person.”
“Maybe,” I said, “he already found that out.”
That was the last I saw any of them until after the big offensive. Angel and I shared a platform at a bond rally, but that was near the end, when Angel was the Hero of Boise. We’d both heard how Lyle—and half his fire-base—got scragged by the Sacramento car bomb and after the ceremonies we emptied a couple of Skull Mountains for him. That’s when Angel told me that Jimmy Topeka lost an arm in a firefight in the Bitterroots. He’s married now and living in the high country.
I managed to etch a half dozen stories out of that one day’s bull session. “The Brothers.” “Rules of Engagement.” You’ve read them. They were compiled on ©-Net at <The Insiders> website.
The funny thing—and it must be just a coincidence—is that ever since then my seizures haven’t bothered me so much.