Free Enforcer by Caesar Campbell, Donna Campbell

time to marry her. I was still technically married to Irene, but that didn’t stop us from having a club wedding.
    We got a bloke from a Christian club in North Parramatta who was a registered cleric, and I told him the story.
    ‘Well,’ he said, ‘you know it’s not going to be a hundred per cent legal.’
    ‘I realise that, but I want the ceremony. I want to make her my wife.’
    ‘All right, I’ll do it for you.’
    So we had a wedding ceremony at a Comanche-ros’ house, wearing our bike gear, and Donna legally changed her name to Campbell. As far as the club was concerned, that made her my wife. And Donna was the perfect club wife. She understood that the club was for the men and that the old ladies were only guests. She knew that you kept your mouth shut and you didn’t ask questions. And she knew the meaning of loyalty. She made friends and earned a lot of respect in the club. At Christmas, if there were any blokes at a loose end, she’d invite them round for dinner with us. It was a tight club where everyone looked out for each other, and she fitted right in.
     
    M OST C OMANCHERO nominees had to serve a nine-month minimum to get their colours, but I was patched after six and a half months. The next day, Jock phoned me up and asked me to come round to his place at Pennant Hills.
    I put on my brand-new set of black and gold colours with the image of the condor and a broken wagon wheel, and rode out to the Hills district. Jock’s old lady Vanessa brought me a glass of Coke. Aside from running the club, Jock owned a truck and a fencing business, which must have been doing well, judging from the size of his house.
    Me and Jock were sitting down talking about the club for a while before he got to his point.
    ‘Is there any chance,’ he asked, ‘of getting your brothers into the club?’ Suddenly, I could see why I’d been given an easy ride. Jock wanted the fighting power of the Campbells.
    ‘You might get a couple of ’em,’ I said. My brothers had recently closed down the Gladiators and were riding together as independents.
    ‘I don’t want a couple,’ he said. ‘I want all your brothers. I want to have all the Campbells in the Comancheros.’
    I went and spoke to Bull, Shadow, Wack, Chop, Snake and Wheels. ‘Jock told me he wants you all in the club. He said youse’ll have a sweet run through.’ Meaning that, like me, their nominee time would be short and easy.
    Shadow was the first to agree, then Bull. Once they’d come over, Wack and Chop followed. Snake was a bit harder to convince. He didn’t want to be a nominee. So I had a word with Jock and Jock said, ‘You tell Snake that all he’s gotta do is turn up on club nights and meeting nights. The rest of the time is his.’ It wasn’t, strictly speaking, within the rules. Pushing a nominee through like that would have got up the noses of other members. But Jock was president and he seemed to do whatever he wanted.
    I passed Jock’s offer on to Snake and it suited him. He agreed to come over to the Comancheros. The only brother who wouldn’t come was Wheels. He just didn’t like Jock.
    The night the rest of my brothers were patched, Jock had the biggest grin on his face. He’d got what he wanted. Jock knew that having my five brothers in the club was like getting fifty more blokes. They were staunch, and they would do anything to win a fight. The power and reputation of the Campbell brothers suddenly added a whole lot of weight to the Comancheros.
     
    J OCK R OSS was a military man. Even before I joined the Comancheros I’d heard stories of his obsession with war, how he ran the club like an army. His favourite topics of conversation were his time with the SAS and the strategies of leaders like Napoleon and Genghis Khan. The way he’d recruited my brothers was in line with all that. He was building up his own army, and he wanted warriors. As a Scotsman he was well aware of the Campbells’ fame as highland warriors.
    Jock’s