Matt’s face was in sheer agony from the pepper spray. It fucking hurt! He knew almost instantly that the only thing that had kept him from being as bad off as Larry and Frenchy was that his wraparound shades had kept most of the shit out of his eyes, and it still fucking hurt, too!

Jesus, what could he fucking do? The cops were going to probably be around sooner or later, probably sooner after what that little shit cop had said today. Worse, there were a number of people hanging around the Fiesta, and they weren’t exactly moving to help. In fact, they were mostly standing around laughing at Frenchy and Larry, and even though he wasn’t feeling all that great he could tell that they were happy to see Frenchy being the one hurting for once. And him and Larry, too. No matter what, no matter how much he hurt, he knew he had to get them out so they wouldn’t be there to laugh at anymore.

Finally willing himself to take his hands from his face, he went over to Larry, picked him up and stuffed him into the back seat the best he could. Larry was rubbing his eyes and crying and swearing and yelling his guts out, and really wasn’t aware of what was happening to him. There was still nobody coming to help, and there were even more now standing around and laughing at the screaming, swearing, stupid-looking Frenchy who lay oblivious on the cement. Doing the best he could, he stuffed Frenchy into the right seat of the Eagle, slammed the door and went around to the driver’s side. Thank God Frenchy had left the keys in the car! He slammed the door, started the car, and burned rubber out of the parking lot.

All right, he’d gotten them out of there, now what could he do. The best thing he could think of was to wash that shit off, but he didn’t have any idea where, other than going to one of their homes, and that would involve answering some hard questions. But fuck! We have a lake right here, that ought to do it, he thought. He stomped on the gas, tried to keep his eyes open enough to drive, and hung a left for the boat launch, the closest place to the water that he could think of that he could drive to. He couldn’t think very well with both Frenchy and Larry screaming and crying and rubbing their mangled eyes in pain.

The boat launch was right there, and he stomped on the brakes as he headed down the slick ramp. Somehow, he managed to bring the Eagle to a stop before he hit the water, but only just. He shut off the engine, pulled the parking brake, hopped out of the car and ran around to the far side to drag Frenchy out of the seat. Frenchy was still hopelessly out of it, had no idea of what was happening to him, but Matt hauled him right down to the water, splashed his face in it, and did the best to wash off the worst of the spray. He ripped off his shirt, soaked it down in the water, and gave it to Frenchy, who now felt at least enough better to use it to rub his crying eyes with.

That would hold Frenchy for a moment, he thought. Now, Larry! He headed back up to the right seat, where Larry was still screaming, crying and moaning in the back. It was even harder to drag Larry out of the car, but he was a little more docile as Matt got him down to the water and began to work on his face. He’d already used his shirt on Frenchy, and he didn’t dare use their spray-soaked shirts on their faces, so all Matt had left was his shorts. They’d have to do. He stripped them off, soaked them down and used it to work on Larry’s face.

He was still the only one of the three who was thinking, and not doing it very well. His own face was still hurting, and he took the time to kneel down and try to slop some water on it, to cool it down. It helped a little, but not a lot, and it meant that both Frenchy and Larry were really hurting.

Well, Frenchy, he thought, you wanted to see some ass kicked tonight and I guess you did.

As Jack drove down the street, Vixen was on the phone to the dispatcher at the Sheriff’s Department. She gave them the basic details, that Frenchy, Matt, and Larry had attacked Jack and her at the Fiesta station, and she’d driven them off with pepper spray. She didn’t know what had happened to them, other than they were down, and they hadn’t stayed around to find out.

“They want us to go back to the Fiesta and wait for the patrol car to arrive,” she told Jack after talking on the phone for a few moments.

“I’m not going back there unless the cop is there,” Jack said. “At least if Frenchy and his buddies are around. We can stay close by, but we’ve got to see a cop first.”

Vixen relayed his message to the dispatcher. “She said that’ll have to do,” Vixen said. “Jeez, I wonder how bad off they are?”

“I don’t think Matt had it too bad,” Jack said. “He was still standing when we split. Frenchy and Larry were down and I don’t think they’re getting up soon, but I’ll bet you that they will be pissed as hell when they do get up.

“I didn’t get Matt very well,” she replied apologetically. “I gave him a squirt, but tried to shift to Larry so I’d get both of them. I guess I did.”

“Yeah, and you hosed Frenchy a hell of a good one,” he said. “Shit, now I wish Alan had been there to see that. He might have liked it.”

“Jack, this is going to cause more trouble, isn’t it?” she said. “I was just trying to defend you, and it all happened so fast I didn’t really have time to think about it, I just did it.”

“Yeah, it’s going to cause more trouble,” he said thoughtfully. “I don’t know that Alan’s idea of a personal protection order is such a bad one right now. I’m thinking maybe we need to look into it.”

“I think you’re right,” she said. “After all, I was the one who sprayed them.”

“Right,” Jack said. “I think the time has come that we’ve got to quit trying to gut this one out on our own and get others involved. The cops and especially our folks.”

“I almost hate to do that,” she replied. “It could louse things up when we’ve got them going pretty good.”

“I hate to tell you this, Vixen, but they’re pretty well loused up now. Look, it’s not that late. Call your folks, and tell them to meet us at the Fiesta, then call my folks and tell them the same thing. I think I want them there when we talk to the cop.”

“You know, I think you’re right,” she said. “I don’t see any other way, either. Oh, well, I guess the worst that can happen with my folks is that they can ground me for only so long. Do you think we’re going to be in trouble with the police?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt it,” Jack said. “After all, we were attacked, and we defended ourselves. Well, you defended us, and you did a damn good job of it, Vixen. Now, get your cell phone hot while I see if I can figure out a way to see if they’re still at the Fiesta.”

While Vixen was talking on the phone to some obviously surprised and upset parents, Jack drove down several blocks, then turned and stopped short of Lakeshore. He usually didn’t leave his good birding binoculars in the Jeep, but kept a cheap pair of 8x50s he’d picked up at a garage sale so he’d always have something. With the Jeep parked, he snuck out onto Lakeshore, and looked up the street at the Fiesta station, and was relieved to see that, for whatever reason, Frenchy’s car was gone and there was no sign of him or his buddies.

He came back to the Jeep, put the binoculars away and started the engine. “They’re gone,” he said. “I guess that stuff must wear off pretty quick. Anyway, it looks safe to head over there now.”

“Good,” she said. “I’ve called your folks and my folks, and they’re on the way.”

With a feeling of foreboding, Jack drove the Jeep back to the Fiesta, and parked it in front of the building, rather than in a parking space where he’d been trapped before. He was a little surprised to see several people hanging around, and all of them seemed to be pretty jovial.

“Vixen, that was a pretty sight,” Heather Callahan gushed. “You sure gave it to Frenchy! God, it’s so good to see that happen! There’s going to be a lot of people happy to know that he got his for once.”

“What happened to them?” Jack asked. “That stuff was supposed to put them down pretty good.”

“Oh, it did,” Heather reported. “Frenchy and Larry were down and totally out of it, screaming and cussing and moaning and crying their little eyes out, and we were just laughing our guts out at them after as many people as they’ve beat up. You must not have gotten Matt as good, he was obviously hurting but he dragged Frenchy and Larry into the car and drove off. I don’t know where.”

About that time, Sergeant Piwowar drove up in the patrol car, without benefit of lights and siren. “I’m told you had a little excitement here a few minutes ago,” he said as he got out of the car, report pad in hand.

“Yeah, Frenchy and his buddies came after us, but got a little more than they were expecting,” Jack replied smugly. “Mostly because Vixen here was a regular Annie Oakley with the pepper spray.”

“Pepper spray, huh?” the sergeant smiled. “I had to take a shot of that stuff when I was going through the academy. It isn’t fun. You’re sure they were attacking you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jack said. “They’ve been after me for days, my little brother, too.”

About that time, Jack’s parents and Howie pulled in, with Vixen’s right behind them. Both were upset, and had to be calmed down by repeated assurances that everybody was all right and the action was over with. Of course, everyone wanted to know what happened, including Sergeant Piwowar.

“OK,” Jack said, “For everybody’s benefit, let me take this from the top, and Mom, Dad, Mr. and Mrs. Hvalchek, please let the sergeant ask the questions, OK?” He went on to tell the story of how they’d been blocked in, how the guys had come out of the car with malicious intent, and how Vixen had pulled out the pepper stray and stopped them. He was able to get through it with only a few interruptions.

“All right,” Sergeant Piwowar said when Jack had gotten through the story. “Do you know if there are any witnesses?”

“Apparently there were several,” Jack said, pointing at the crowd that gathered. “When it all came down, I was a little too busy to notice.”

“It always seems to happen that way,” the Sergeant smiled, clearly not too upset at what had happened. “Look, let me talk to a few people and I’ll get back to you.”

The families gathered around Jack and Vixen at the Jeep. “Jack,” his father said, “I know you and Howie have both been having problems with this LeDroit character, but this seems to be getting serious. Why didn’t you come to us before? ”

“That’s a little hard to answer,” Jack said. “I mean, Friday night was no big deal, I just got Vixen out of there before she got hurt. The deal with Howie Sunday you already know about. And then there was the deal yesterday morning, and frankly, so much happened yesterday and last night that I just didn’t think to mention it. It didn’t amount to anything real, just a lot of threats.”

They talked the situation over from all different directions, and Jack raised the idea of getting personal protection orders, the way that Alan had done. “As far as I can tell, it doesn’t actually stop them from doing stuff,” Jack said, “but if they do, then it’s an automatic trip to the slammer.”

After a while, Sergeant Piwowar seemed to have all the information he needed, and came over to the group. “Well, as far as I can see, you were just defending yourself against people who were out to hurt you, so I don’t see any need for me to run you in or anything. You’re free to go. But you said you’ve been having troubles with these people in the past, and I’d advise that you get a personal protection order against them.”

“We were just talking about that,” Jack said. “How do we go about it? ”

“I’ll leave a note for Chief Wexler to call you in the morning,” Sergeant Piwowar said. “You can get a lawyer, but it’ll be more expensive. The chief can walk you through the process. Since the two of you are still minors, you’re going to need at least one parent each involved with you, but that’ll probably only be needed tomorrow morning, unless something unexpected comes up in court, like a big accident or something. I’ll tell you that those guys are going to be hurting for a while, but you might want to lay a little low until the PPO comes through, just in case.”

“What’s going to happen to them?” Jack’s dad asked.

“That remains to be determined,” Sergeant Piwowar shrugged. “There’s stuff happening that I can’t tell you about, so all I can say is be patient. Now, I suppose I ought to get in the patrol unit and drive around a bit to see if I can find some people washing their faces.”

Since it was getting time to be heading home anyway, Vixen rode back with her parents, after a long and loving goodnight kiss with Jack. Neither one of them seemed embarrassed to have their families looking on, Howie thought. He wasn’t quite to that point with Misty yet, despite all the fun they’d had making out at the pond in the woods that afternoon.

The whole deal this evening had Howie pretty mad as he got into the Jeep with Jack for the ride back home. This had been damn serious; only Vixen’s quick action with the bear spray had saved Jack from what most likely would have been a pretty bad beating. Granted, Frenchy and his buddies had paid for it, but damn it, Howie thought, someone should do something!

While Howie had some other interests that afternoon, most of which involved enjoying being with Misty, the thought of Frenchy and his beer stash kept kicking around in the back of his mind. He’d pretty well given up on the idea of doing anything about it – it was risky in a number of ways, it involved doing a couple things that could get him into trouble. But still, he’d kept picking at the problem until he had some ideas that would probably work if he thought it was worth the risk.

But now, this deal tonight had him mad. Even though he hadn’t been directly involved, his rescue of Misty from Frenchy on Sunday had led to a lot of this coming down. Of course, it had worked out pretty well from his viewpoint, but it was pretty obvious that it had led to this. In a way, it was his fault, and Jack and Vixen had taken the heat from Frenchy for it. That didn’t seem fair.

Now, with this happening, Howie quickly revised his thought about the desirability of his taking Frenchy down a notch or two on his own. He had the power in his hands – why not just go ahead and do it?

The biggest stumbling block was that he’d absolutely have to do it by himself, so no one could ever know he’d been the one involved, but hey, when fate landed an opportunity like that in his lap, he’d be a fool to turn it down, wouldn’t he?

Jack pulled the Jeep into the driveway and stopped. “Well, shit,” he said, the first thing he’d said since they left the Fiesta station. “I didn’t want that to happen even if they got what they deserved, but they’re going to be gunning for me, now. I keep wondering what would happen if I told the folks that I wanted to take Vixen out to the hunting cabin for a few days.”

“Yeah, that’s lying low, all right,” Howie said. “You think this personal protection order thing is going to work?”

“Hell, I don’t know,” Jack said. “It might, but after tonight I’m pretty sure someone is going to get the shit kicked out of them before it has a chance to take effect. I’d just as soon that someone isn’t me or you or Vixen, if you know what I mean. If it works, then maybe I’m going to have to set myself up as a target, just to protect you two.”

“That’s not fair,” Howie said flatly.

“No, it’s not fair,” Jack nodded, “but you tell me what else I can do! I don’t want you or Vixen getting hurt because of this. The only thing I can think of is that Frenchy seems to have the attention span of a sparrow. He’s not likely to forget about this soon, but sooner or later something else will divert his attention and it shouldn’t be so bad.”

That settled it right there in Howie’s mind. He pretty well had to do it. Jack was right, Frenchy might not forget about getting a face full of bear spray soon, but if his beer turned up missing he might have something else to be pissed about. It seemed like a long shot, but Frenchy deserved it anyway. Besides, if Jack was willing to take that kind of risk for him, then why shouldn’t he be willing to take a little risk for Jack? “Yeah, you’re probably right,” Howie replied. Maybe something will come up. I think I’m going to go to bed.”

“What?” Jack smiled, glad of the diversion. “It isn’t anywhere near midnight yet.”

“Yeah,” Howie said, “but I had a long day.”

“A good one with Misty?” Jack glanced at him with a knowing grin.

“Yeah,” Howie replied obliquely, “Better than I expected. See you in the morning, Jack.”

When the alarm rang under Howie’s pillow at 2:45 AM he was sound asleep, but it could only have been ringing for a couple seconds before he managed to shut it off. Normally he didn’t wake up quickly and spent a fair amount of time stumbling around before he could bring himself to get organized, but somehow that wasn’t the case this time. He was wide awake in an instant, remembering what he planned to do and wanting to get on with it.

It was only the work of a couple minutes to get on his pants in the dark, pull on his sneakers, and grab a sweat shirt since he expected it to be chilly. Moving as quietly as possible, he went down the stairs, trying to avoid the step that squeaked so badly by putting his foot clear over on the edge. It worked; things were quiet, and it seemed as if no one was disturbed.

Howie knew that the key to the Jeep was on Jack’s key ring, but he also knew that there were spare keys for all the family vehicles hanging on the inside of a kitchen cabinet door. There wasn’t much light in the kitchen, certainly not enough to find the key, so he reached into his pocket for the tiny LED flashlight he’d put there before he went to bed, and in a moment he was heading out the door.

He didn’t go right to the Jeep; he quietly opened the side garage door, and with the little flashlight found the big wrecking bar and a box of garbage bags. He headed back outside and set the stuff in the back of the Jeep.

The next step was going to be the trickiest. He put the key in the ignition of the Jeep and pulled the transmission into neutral. Right by the house the driveway was flat, but it sloped down over the front yard to the street, so Howie knew that once he had the Jeep rolling he could keep it rolling. It took some pushing, but in a few steps he had it rolling on his own, so he scrambled into the seat and guided the Jeep as it rolled out into the street. A quick turn of the wheel and he was using the slope of the street to get farther from the house before he dared start the machine.

It was probably a minute or more before Howie thought he was far enough away that he was safe, so he turned the key in the ignition and the Jeep sprang to life. He used the little speed the Jeep had left backing up to get crosswise in the street, then put it into gear and pulled away. Only when he was pointed away from the house did he turn on the headlights.

Although Howie was still most of a year away from his driver’s license, he’d driven a fair amount, and Jack had let him drive the Jeep a lot on back roads, so he was familiar with it and comfortable with it. He didn’t hurry, but hoped he wasn’t drawing attention, and hoped that the late-shift cop was asleep somewhere.

At this hour there was no traffic moving in Spearfish Lake. There were yard lights and street lights, but the inside of virtually every house he passed was dark. For a moment, he wondered how many people were actually awake in town. Probably not many, he thought as he drove to the maintenance line that followed the railroad. He drove down the same way Frenchy had come in early in the afternoon, until he was able to pick out the location of the shack in the darkness. He stopped the Jeep, and used the backup lights to back along the faint two-rut to the shed door, where he shut everything off.

With just a little help from the flashlight, he was able to work the crooked end of the wrecking bar under the hasp. He got a good grip, put his weight on the bar, and was rewarded with some screeching and breaking sounds as he pushed it down. Suddenly, the bar went slack and he knew that he’d pulled the hasp and lock clean away from the door jamb. He probably didn’t need to have been quiet when he put the wrecking bar back in the Jeep, but quiet was a habit tonight. Then he pulled open the door of the shack and shined the little flashlight around.

Shit! He thought. That’s a lot of beer! He didn’t know how much, but there was quite a bit, stacked haphazardly on the dirty floor of the shack. There was no point in standing there staring at it though, so he found a place where he could set the flashlight and started hauling the twelve-packs out to the Jeep and stacking them neatly in the back, two at a time, keeping count as he went.

It took a lot of trips, twelve of them to be precise, before he could finally shine the flashlight around the shack and see that there was no more beer left inside. A smile crossed his lips as he imagined the tantrum Frenchy would throw when he found the shack empty, then headed back to the driver’s seat of the Jeep.

This really was the most dangerous part if he were to get caught. Underage driver, all that beer, a technically stolen Jeep. Yeah, he could get his butt in a sling over that one, he thought.

He’d done a lot of thinking about what he could do with the beer when he had it, including just dumping it and leaving it at the back door of the police station, but those two choices didn’t exactly seem right, for some reason. After a lot of thinking, mostly while making out with Misty at the pond in the afternoon, he came up with the perfect solution. He headed out to the south part of the city, then to County Road 720, the gravel shortcut that a lot of people used to avoid the Central Avenue intersection. About three miles down that road, the Albany River swings close to that road, before turning south to cross under the state road several miles further south. There was a little two-rut going to a spot back there where people occasionally went fishing.

If Misty’s favorite secret spot was the little pond in back of Matson Park, this might well be his. He came out here every once in a while, not often, to drop a line in the water, and he’d only rarely seen people or even any sign of them there. Even the two-rut was grown up with ferns, but he knew how to find it and wasn’t concerned about using the headlights.

He drove right down close to the water, right to where the bank dropped off steeply, stopped and killed the headlights. He pulled out the box of garbage bags, and began loading the twelves of beer into them, still in their boxes. Three to a bag seemed to be about all he wanted to handle, and that was fine with him. When he had a bag filled, he carried it out into the ferns and brush perhaps twenty yards from the Jeep.

It took a while to make the eight trips needed to temporarily hide the beer. That wouldn’t do for a permanent location, but it would do until morning, he thought. There were a couple good reasons why he couldn’t do the last part now, anyway.

Feeling satisfied with himself, Howie got back in the Jeep and drove home, hoping no one noticed him driving in. Apparently no one did, for everyone was still asleep when he pulled off his pants, sweatshirt, and shoes and got back into bed himself. A darn good night’s work, he thought as he fell asleep.

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