Everett Brooks and the War on the Range: Part 1

Trespass in Heaven's Hollow.

Sep 24, 2024

Part 1 | Part 2

Chicks and ducks and geese better scurry
When I take you out in the surrey,
When I take you out in the surrey with the fringe on top!

Watch that fringe and see how it flutters
When I drive them high steppin' strutters.
Nosey pokes'll peek thru' their shutters and their eyes will pop!

The Surrey With the Fringe on Top, Gordon MacRae

They crested a rise in the dusty road; the Montana plains stretching out endlessly before them. In the distance five black dots, each in the hazy shape of horse and rider, milled about.

Everett Brooks reined in the carthorse, and their wagon rumbled to a standstill. He studied the picturesque - yet vaguely ominous - panorama for a moment.

“What do you suppose that’s all about?”

His ravishing and flaxen-haired counterpart, the recently christened Caroline Brooks, pursed her lips solemnly. “They look like Regulators. But what would Jack Skinner’s hired guns be doing on Duncan’s land?”

“I reckon we’re about to find out. Somethin’ like this was bound to happen sooner or later after Skinner bought that neighboring property a couple months back.” Everett retrieved his Henry repeater from the wagon bed where it reclined lazily on top of a blanket - beside the basket that had contained their picnic lunch. He racked the lever action and handed the weapon to Caroline. “You best hold on to this, darlin’. Just in case.”

Everett snapped the reins and the carthorse dutifully lumbered forward once more.

He pulled up several yards short of the interlopers. They were indeed Regulators, easily identified by their black coats and matching black hats.

“There something I can help you gentlemen with?” Everett kept his tone amiable and relaxed, but his body was coiled and his senses alert; ready to spring into action at the first sign of trouble. Nevertheless, he casually removed a tobacco pouch from his leather waistcoat, constructing a hand rolled cigarette as if he didn’t have a single care in the world.

“This here land don’t belong to you and yours. You’re trespassin’, friend.”

Everett stuck the freshly rolled smoke between his lips, lackadaisically striking a match on the wagon for a light, then allowed a bemused expression to creep across his stubbled face. “That a fact? Well, who would you say it belongs to?”

“Jack Skinner.”

“That so?”

“It is if’n I say it is!” the shaggy and bearded spokesman for the group growled, urging his horse close to their cart in a threatening manner. Caroline gripped the Henry rifle even tighter, while Everett remained outwardly nonchalant.

“I think you’re makin’ a mistake, partner.” Everett held up his hand to silence the man before he could protest. “Now, I ain’t sayin’ you’re a liar or nothing like that; though I suppose you very well could be. I’m just sayin’ somebody played you for a fool. Jack Skinner’s property is back thataway about a mile, give or take.” He pointed in a northwesterly direction.

“I know good and well where Mr. Skinner’s property begins and ends, and I say that you and your whore are standin’ on it!” The gunhand’s face was red with indignation. Everett’s friendly demeanor evaporated as one of his two Colt Open Top revolvers materialized in his right hand. He wordlessly shot the cretin’s horse out from under him. The Regulator screamed in agony as the animal crushed his leg underneath its dead weight.

The others went for their pistols, but Everett’s second gun was already clear of its holster. Caroline leveled the Henry. The Regulators begrudgingly removed their hands from their pistol grips.

“Smart choice, friends. There’s no reason y’all got to die on account of this jackass.” Everett motioned to the man writhing on the ground, pinned as he was beneath his deceased mount. “Point of fact, I’m inclined to let you fellows ride away; even your bum legged compadre here. Provided he apologizes to Sweet Caroline.”

“You can rot in Hell: I ain’t apologizin’ for nothin’!” the crippled Regulator spat.

“Guess you best leave this fellow behind for me to deal with.” Everett sounded almost sorrowful.

“Ain’t no way these boys are gonna leave me behind. Right, gents?” The four mounted Regulators shifted uneasily in their saddles, exchanging uncertain glances with one another. The expression on his face transformed into one of alarm. “Right?!”

“I wouldn’t count on them none too much at the moment. They’re at the mercy of me and my whore here,” Everett Brooks drawled.

“C’mon now, fellas, you can’t let him do this!” The doomed man’s voice trembled with newfound panic and hysteria.

“What else you reckon we ought to do? He’s got the drop on us like he said. You shouldn’t have insulted his woman.”

“There’s four of you and two of them!” He screamed in exasperation, his voice shrill with despair.

“You know as well as we do they’ll just blow us away soon as we pull. We ain’t all dyin’ for your stupidity.”

“You damn cowards!” The prone man reached for the Colt .45 holstered on his unimpeded hip. A bloody fissure exploded between his eyes. The remaining Regulators looked away from the nearly headless corpse with shame and disgust. They kept their hands raised as they urged their horses slowly backwards.

“You best believe Mr. Skinner’s gonna hear about this, and he ain’t gonna be none too pleased.”

“Well, you be sure to give him my regards. He knows where to find me if he wants to sort it out. In the meantime, take your perished friend and get the hell out of here.” Everett and Caroline watched the Regulators retrieve their erstwhile comrade from beneath the ponderous corpse of his dead horse and sullenly ride off into the distance. Once satisfied there was no more danger to be had Everett holstered his pistols, while Caroline laid the Henry rifle to rest across her lap.

“This ain’t over by a damn sight. Jack Skinner’s going to raise all kinds of hell about you plugging one of his gunhands,” Caroline murmured dolefully. Everett concurred with a perfunctory nod while he goaded their carthorse into motion, wagon wheels rousing thick dust off the trail as they rattled homeward.

“He ought not to have been so inconsiderate towards you. Still, seems like we can’t ever get a moment’s peace and quiet can we, darlin’.”

Afterword: To enhance the impact of this story, listen to the song below after you read.