TITLE: Redemption Chap 4c 25 Mar
By Randy Somers
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They got back to the search and found a used muffler that would fit Buck's Harley. Borrowing tools, Buck switched out the pieces. Buck handed the wrench back to Wilson and stood up.
"That fixed it. Glad you had a few Harley parts here. This muffler is just old enough to not look new on this old hog."
After paying for the part, Wilson and Buck walked out of the store. As they stood there a pickup roared into the dirt parking lot, spewing gravel with the sliding tires and spinning dust into the air. Before the large four wheel drive Ram engine had shuddered to a stop, four, well built young white boys stepped out.
"Hey Wilson," the tow headed boy called out.
"Did ya think that we'd forget last month." Walking up to Wilson, the other three spread out behind their leader. "That river nigger Sheriff stopped us the last time. He ain't here now."
Wilson took a step toward this bully. "Your own fault. You threw the beer bottle at me." Wilson had clenched his fist.
The bully laughed, "I wasn't throwing it at you. If I'd wanted to hit you, I would have. I missed on purpose. Just to let you know how much I love you." With that bully reached up to pat Wilson's cheek.
Wilson swatted the man's hand and arm away.
"Ah, you don't love back," he chuckled. His three friends chuckled in chorus.
Buck cleared his throat. The bully looked over at Buck. "Wilson you seem to be keeping bad company. Our little town doesn't like druggie bikers neither. He just looks bad, all that long hair and old dusty beard. Smells bad too."
The bully walked over to Buck, "You kinda sounded like you wanted to say something."
Buck casually put on his leather gloves, "Well I was just leaving. Didn't think I could stay in your nice little town. Stinks too much. All that cowboy BS just reeks. Wind in the wrong direction too."
Buck paused a moment to look into the bully's eyes. "But I think I'll stay and make sure this fight's a fair one. You and Wilson only. I'll put my money on Wilson."
The Bully paused. Calculating their chances against two just meant a little more work, some potential bruises and scratches to suffer, but the end result would be the same.
Buck saw the mental wheels turning in the bully's mind. In a still and quiet voice, Buck advised, "You need to know something friend. I don't play fight. I'm no cowboy. If you start something with me I'll dance. But any fight that lasts longer than thirty seconds is not really fighting, but playing."
Buck walked over to stand beside Wilson.
One of the other men sneered, "You better choose your friends a little better biker. Throwin in with Wilson could get you hurt."
Wilson and Buck stepped away from the front of the store into the open of the parking lot. They stood about an arm's length apart.
"Now boys, come on," the leader said. "Maybe their right. We should just let by gones be by gones." Walking up to Wilson he held out his hand. "Let's just shake on it and forgive each other, like your preacher brother says."
Wilson didn't move. Didn't smile.
"Ah. Well if that's how ya feel, we'll just be goin." The bully turned to walk away, but at his half step spun quickly and smashed Wilson in the face.
Wilson had been partially prepared for this and the blow only grazed his cheek as he ducked away. The ring on the Bully's finger made a long gash on Wilson's cheek. Blood mixed with sweat and dust on the black face.
No one can really describe what happened over the next sixty seconds. The three other cowboys jumped in to help their leader. Buck stepped into meet them and in four smart moves, learned from his tenure in the Army Special Forces, these men lay on the ground moaning. One's left leg jutted out at a wrong angle from the knee. The second man held his shoulder where Buck had dodged a punch, grabbed the man’s swinging are and dislocated the shoulder. The third man tried to grab Buck in a bear hug but only succeeded in getting his testicles in a pinch. He was still throwing up when Buck turned to watch Wilson and the leader proceed with the more traditional style of street boxing.
Wilson was not in a mood to be nice. Within that short minute, the leader lay on the ground, unconscious. Blood flowed out of his crooked nose into the dust. His left eye had begun to swell shut. His mouth was partly open and a front tooth was broken.
Wilson, breathing hard from anger, not exertion, stood over him. Buck walked over and placed his hand on Wilson's shoulder. This touch stopped Wilson from further assault on the bleeding and prone bully.
Looking at Buck the smile returned and Wilson said, "I enjoyed that!"
The Sheriff arrived and took their statements and took the four to the hospital. The grand jury considered it mutual combat so no charges were filed on any of the participants. But Wilson did not have any further trouble from that segment of the town's population.
The memory faded as the dust settled. Exhaling a deep sigh, Buck jumped when he felt a touch on his shoulder.
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