Everett Brooks and the War on the Range: Part 2
Bushwhack in the Hollow
Part 1 | Part 2
I don't say I'm no better than anybody else,
But I'll be damned if I ain't jist as good!
Territory folks should stick together,
Territory folks should all be pals.
The Farmer And The Cowman, Rodgers and Hammerstein
Later that evening Everett and Caroline were just finishing a round of especially vigorous lovemaking when there was an insistent pounding at their cabin door.
“Everett! It’s Sheriff Miller! I’m gonna need you to open up!”
Everett Brooks cursed while he hastily rummaged around for some clothes to throw on. Caroline, meanwhile, pulled the bedsheets up to her chin to cover her exquisite nakedness. Another knock sounded, forceful and impatient.
“C’mon, Everett! I know it’s late. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”
Shirtless and wearing only a pair of pants, Everett unlocked the door and swung it open. The twilight glow from emerging stars overhead revealed the grizzled visage of Jake Miller. The sheriff of Heaven’s Hollow was loitering on the stoop outside the cabin Everett and Caroline called home. Behind him was the ruthless and conniving Jack Skinner, flanked by a pair of surly looking Regulators whom Everett recognized from the showdown earlier that afternoon.
“What’s this all about, Jake?” Everett’s tone was curt as he buckled his brace of Colt revolvers around his waist.
The sheriff eyed the former outlaw warily. “Sorry for disturbing you at such a late hour, but Mr. Skinner here insisted it couldn’t wait.”
“You’re damn right it couldn’t wait!” Jack Skinner seethed. “This son of a bitch murdered one of my men in cold blood!”
“That a fact?” Everett drawled.
“I have witnesses!” Skinner motioned to the Regulators standing on either side of him.
“How ‘bout it, Everett? You kill his man?”
Everett Brooks shrugged. “I did. He was trespassing and he pulled on me.”
“Only after you shot Ray’s horse out from under him!” one of the lackeys objected. It was the same man who had consigned poor Ray to his fate after ordering the other Regulators to stand down: He had a pinched face, sporting a hazel colored goatee and hooded green eyes that radiated hostility. “Wasn’t no cause for you to do that.”
“He insulted Caroline.”
Miller let out a low, knowing whistle. Skinner cast a withering, irate glare at the man.
“Something you’d like to add, Sheriff?”
“Just that everyone in Heaven’s Hollow knows you don’t besmirch Everett Brooks’ woman. Anyone does so puts his own self in peril.”
“And you just allow this brigand to run roughshod over your town, shooting whomever he pleases? What kind of lawless snake pit are you running?”
Miller’s already gruff gaze turned even more severe. “We got laws, just like any other civilized place. Mr. Brooks here happens to be one of our most upright citizens. Does more to help keep the peace than just about anyone else around. If he shot your man and his horse, then I’d say he Goddamn well had it comin’.”
Jack Skinner’s face contorted in pure rage and unbridled hatred. “What a piss poor excuse for a lawman you are, Sheriff Miller. Very well, if you won’t do anything to reign Everett Brooks in, I’ll handle him myself.”
“You’re sure as hell welcome to try, Mr. Skinner,” Miller growled. “I think you’ll find folk ‘round here ain’t gonna be so easy to intimidate as you’re used to.”
“Is that so? We’ll see about that,” Skinner sneered. He spun on his heels and stalked off into the dusky evening, angrily summoning his pair of Regulators after him.
“You best watch yourself, Everett,” the sheriff observed. “That vicious bastard’s got it out for you. This is going to get ugly.”
“You’re not wrong,” Everett remarked matter-of-factly. He turned and gave the lawman an affable cuff on the shoulder. “Would ya like to come in for some coffee before you head back?”
Caroline appeared in the doorway, a loosely wrapped bedsheet her only attire. Jake Miller’s gaze awkwardly shifted back and forth between the bare-chested man and his semi-naked wife.
“I, uh, think I’ll leave you fine folks to it. I’ve taken up enough of your time. Sorry again for the disturbance.”
“I’ll come see you in town tomorrow so we can discuss what’s to be done about good ol’ Mr. Skinner,” Everett bid the sheriff farewell.
The morning Sun was finishing its creep above the eastern horizon when Everett Brooks stealthily exited the cabin. He wanted to get an early start on his two hour ride into Heaven’s Hollow, and Caroline was sleeping peacefully in their bed. He slung his saddlebags over his shoulder; set his dark gray, wide-brimmed fedora firmly atop his head; and sauntered over to the corral to saddle his horse. Everett was just about to swing open the gate when the first gunshot rang out.
He instinctively dropped to his knees as more thunderous discharges sounded and bullets peppered the dirt around him. He heard Caroline shriek in alarm from inside the house.
“Caroline! Get down on the floor and stay there!” Everett vehemently instructed his wife. He hastily scanned the surrounding prairieland in an attempt to determine where the barrage was coming from. His wandering gaze fell upon where the road leading away from his cabin dipped down into a slow running creek some three hundred feet to the northwest. Everett could see the glint of sunlight on steel and the flashing muzzles of numerous rifles from the nearest creekbank.
Caroline, too, had guessed at the source of the fusillade, for she smashed out a window and was returning fire with the Henry rifle Everett always left behind for her.
“Dammit, woman! I told you to stay down!” Everett howled. Splinters erupted from the solidly timbered dwelling as the attackers redirected their broadside. Caroline yelped and ceased her own salvo. Righteous indignation burned inside Everett Brooks, and his sense of self-preservation evaporated in an instant when he saw his beloved wife’s wellbeing in jeopardy. He leapt onto the bare back of his chestnut gelding, grabbed a handful of horse mane, and spurred the animal into a frenzied gallop towards the creek.
Everett expertly guided his mount using only his legs as he brandished both of his revolvers. He bore down with vengeful fury on his and Caroline’s assailants, his guns spitting hot lead until they were empty. Just as he was about to reach the creekbank where the villains were taking refuge, Everett’s horse took a gun blast to the chest. The animal screamed in pitiful distress and stumbled, pitching its rider forward.
Everett tumbled through the air over the gelding’s head. Pain radiated throughout his body as he was deposited with an agonizing jolt into the creek bed. Cold water soaked through his clothes and down into his bones, preventing him from swooning into darkness. Gingerly, he opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by a half dozen of Jack Skinner’s Regulators. Black spots blurred Everett’s vision, but he recognized among them the ringleader from the previous afternoon’s confrontation, a cold and cruel smirk splitting the man’s goateed face.
“Don’t seem so tough now, does he gents?” Mocking laughter rippled among the crowd of bushwhackers. Everett struggled to rise, but a swift and powerful kick to his face from a sturdy boot sent him sprawling again.
“Not when it’s six on one,” a mysterious tenor unexpectedly cut in on the Regulators’ gloating. “Don’t seem like very sporting odds to me. What do you think, honey?”
“Not very sporting odds, indeed!” enthused a charming, feminine voice bearing a posh English accent. Every single Regulator swung around in surprise to face the interlopers.
“This ain’t your concern, whoever the hell you are! Get yerselves gone, or we’ll deal with you next!”
“You’re right. It is none of my business, but your boy there happens to be an old acquaintance of mine, and me and the lady have come a hell of a long way to say hello.”
“I don’t give a good Goddamn about what you and your bitch are up to!” Goatee Face sputtered furiously. “Jack Skinner’s got unfinished business with this bastard, and we aim to put an end to it.”
“You lot work for Jack Skinner? Hell, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” There was a faint creak of leather, the telltale click of a hammer being thumbed into position, and a series of gunshots booming in rapid succession. Five Regulators fell to the ground, dead before they could bring their guns to bear. Everett Brooks sprang to his feet and rammed his knife deep into the neck of the lone remaining mercenary.
The Regulator collapsed, as blood gushed from the wound and frothed from his mouth. Everett went down with him. He was overcome with blind rage, and he repeatedly plunged the blade into the increasingly mangled corpse.
“Everett! Hey, Everett! Goddammit, Everett Brooks, listen to me!” The sharp voice cut through his fury and snapped Everett’s senses back into focus. Disgusted with his gruesome handiwork, he dropped the gore covered knife with disdain. Blood spattered his leather vest and white button down shirt; dripping from his face as he looked up to acknowledge the speaker.
Everett could only see the man’s shadowy profile - framed as he was by the rising Sun - but he recognized his fringed buffalo leather attire and wide-brimmed, low-crowned hat.
“It can’t be…” Everett Brooks murmured incredulously. “What in all of God’s creation would bring Boone Cantrell to my doorstep?!”
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