Remarque's Law

by Will DuRey

  ‘I brought Mrs Tippett,’ he said. ‘It seemed a good opportunity to introduce her to someone who’d met her son.’

  The women exchanged smiles and Ben ushered them into the house, with assurances for Lottie that as soon as he’d un-harnessed the horse from the buggy he would take over the tasks that needed doing to strengthen the farm’s defences.

  Jonas Petterfield rode up to the Skivver farm in the early afternoon. He had come to assess the extent of Drew’s recovery after a night’s rest and to undertake any tasks that were proving too difficult for Lottie and her mother. Finding Ben Joyner already at work in the yard surprised him but heartened him, too. It meant that the absence from his own farm wouldn’t be as lengthy as he’d envisaged. Still, when Ben set aside his hammer and pail of nails and joined him at the water butt that stood in the shade at the side of the house, he tried to keep his surprise hidden.

  ‘What brings you out here?’ he asked.

  Ben wondered if he was still under suspicion, if the accusation that he was a spy for the Long-R had prompted the question. ‘I brought Mrs Tippett out to learn whatever she could about her son and brother. Figured I’d give Lottie a helping hand while I’m here.’

  ‘Throwing in your lot with us?’

  ‘Trying not to pick sides.’

  ‘You intending to hang around Pecos?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Well, if you do, you won’t be able to sit in the middle of the storm that’s coming. There aren’t many smallholdings in the territory at present but none of us intend to surrender our land. We’re here and we’re staying.’

  ‘Mr Remarque needs the grass for his herd to survive.’ Ben didn’t know why he’d put forward the cattleman’s point of view even though he’d spoken the truth. Gus Remarque’s needs weren’t the issue; it was the violence he was prepared to unleash upon law-abiding citizens that Ben was opposed to.

  Jonas Petterfield fixed him with an intent stare. ‘Well,’ he said eventually, ‘if you stay you’ll have decide where you stand. Things have gone too far to avert conflict.’ He turned away and began to move towards the house door.

  ‘You can tell Mrs Tippett I’ll be through here in an hour.’

  ‘You’re not staying here at the farm?’

  Ben understood Jonas Petterfield’s concern. With a broken arm, Drew was virtually incapable of protecting his family if Gus Remarque launched an attack. ‘I’ve got to get Mrs Tippett back to Pecos,’ he said. It was a reply that was as unsatisfactory to Jonas as it was to himself.

  Lottie Skivver was in conversation with Jonas when he left the farmhouse at the end of his visit. They talked earnestly until Jonas climbed into the saddle. Out of the corner of his eye, Ben could see both of them casting glances in his direction but he kept at his task until Jonas rode away. Lottie closed the gate then crossed the yard to join Ben.

  ‘Almost finished,’ he told her and took a look around at the results of his labour and knew that despite the hours he’d spent repairing fences and fixing the doors on the barn, the Skivver home was no safer than it had been before he arrived. Nothing anyone could do would make the place impregnable to an attack by armed men. He began expressing his concern for the safety of Lottie and her parents but she interrupted him before he’d uttered many words.

  ‘We aren’t leaving,’ she said, locking her eyes on his in an effort to forbid argument.

  Nonetheless, Ben spoke his advice. ‘You should get your father onto the wagon and go and stay with one of your neighbours.’

  ‘Mr Petterfield wanted us to go back with him,’ she confided, ‘but Pa won’t go. We’ll have no home to return to if we leave it empty for a day. You know that as well as I do.’

  ‘Let me talk to your father.’

  ‘It won’t do any good. He won’t change his mind, and Ma and I won’t let him stay alone.’

  ‘Lottie! At the moment, your father isn’t in any position to stand up for his principles.’

  ‘You want him to run away?’

  It seemed to Ben that the flash that showed in her eyes was one of anger, as though she was holding back the additional words, ‘like you.’

  ‘Life is cheap to people like Col Brodie,’ he told her, ‘and the weaker their quarry, the easier the kill and the greater their enjoyment. I’m just suggesting that you band together. Individually, you’re not a match for their strength. They’ll pick you off one at a time.’

  Lottie lowered her gaze and fixed her eyes on the ground at her feet. When she raised her head again some of the colour had left her face, marking her understanding of the severity of the threat faced by her family: that all of her family faced death if they remained in their home. A slight tremble of her lower lip betrayed a natural nervousness and the bright light of anger that Ben had observed only a moment earlier had been extinguished, lost behind a cloudiness that seemed to threaten rain. But it never came. Lottie pulled her shoulders back. ‘My father won’t surrender this land without a fight and my mother won’t leave my father. I wasn’t brought up to disrespect the decisions of my parents.’

  For the moment, it was clear to Ben that further argument was pointless. ‘I need to get Mrs Tippett back to town,’ he said, and went into the barn to harness the livery horse to the buggy.

  While he worked, Ben worried about the predicament of the settlers. As he’d told Lottie, unless they united and met the cattlemen’s force head-on they were unlikely to survive. He had sympathy with their determination to hang onto their homes but he was honest enough to admit that in other circumstances he wouldn’t even consider becoming involved. Lottie Skivver was the difference and he knew he couldn’t desert her and leave her to the villainy of men like Col Brodie. If he was able to talk to Drew Skivver it was possible that he could persuade him to quit the farm, at least until he was more able to protect his family. Ben resolved to return to the Skivver farm before nightfall. Previous attacks on the homes of the settler families had always been carried out at night, at a time when the tired farmers were asleep in their beds and unable to mount any kind of resistance until fences had been pulled down, livestock scattered and vegetable gardens ridden through and destroyed. Ben had no reason to believe that any raid to press home the need for the weakened Drew Skivver to leave his home would be any different.

  A brusque Gus Remarque had spoken to Col Brodie, Jarvis Wilson and Gatt Stone when they rode into the Long-R yard. He didn’t even give them time to dismount.

  ‘A man with a hole in his gun arm is no good to me,’ he’d snapped at Gatt, who still carried his left arm in a sling.

  ‘It’s not my gun arm and I’ll be rid of this sling in a day or two.’

  ‘This business might be over in a day or two and I’m not using you or paying you until I’m sure you’re capable of completing any task I give you. So you might as well go back to Pecos and stay there until you’re useful to me.’

  ‘If he goes then I go too,’ Jarvis Wilson said.

  ‘Fine, but no work no pay.’

  ‘We’ve come a long way on a promise of two hundred dollars each,’ Wilson said. ‘You owe us that for what we’ve spent to get here and for rooms and meals in Pecos.’

  ‘Cost of your rooms will be covered but only for three days unless you turn up here fit to do the work you’ve been hired for.’

  ‘We’ll be back,’ Jarvis Wilson promised.

  ‘Could be you won’t be needed. Things are going so well that Brodie here might put an end to it today.’

  Jarvis Wilson and Gatt Stone glowered at the rancher then turned their mounts and rode away.

  The rancher had then turned his attention to the remaining hired gun. Col Brodie’s face showed amusement at the exchange to which he’d been listening. He leant forward with his hands folded and pressed on the saddle-horn.

  ‘You did well yesterday,’ Gus Remarque said. ‘I’ve got your bonus ready for collection whenever you want it, but first I want you to ride out to the Skivver place. My boys gave him a taste o
f the trouble that could come his way if he hangs about on that plot of land he’s farming. He’s the kingpin of the settler’s resistance. No one will hang around if he’s persuaded to leave.’

  Brodie nodded slowly, assuring the rancher that he understood the situation.

  ‘No need to be too heavy on this visit,’ continued Gus Remarque. ‘He’s probably unable to defend himself or his family, and a visit from the man who killed his neighbour might prove persuasive enough for him to load his wagon and get out of the territory. That’s all that’s needed this time; we can get rougher if it becomes necessary. If you get rid of him and the rest follow, you’ll be richer by a thousand dollars.’

  It was a generous sum for a job that had turned out to be easier than Brodie had anticipated.

  ‘And if they’ve quit the territory without any need for me to use Wilson and Stone then you can have their bonus too. Another five hundred dollars.’

  ‘Reckon I’ll beat a trail north,’ Brodie said. ‘No time to lose.’

  So he’d cut a trail that kept him on the east bank of the river, kept him clear of the town of Pecos and brought him to within four hundred yards of the farmhouse via a cleft between low-rising hummocks. He paused, watching the yard and buildings for movement but it wasn’t until he began to move forward that he saw the motionless figure leaning against the yard rails. His immediate suspicion was that a guard had been posted. He eased the Colt in the holster tied to his right thigh, letting it slip back into position after assuring himself it would come clear of leather if that became a necessity.

  It wasn’t until he was halfway to the rails that he dismissed the idea that the person in the yard was a lookout. Although he was walking his horse so that its footfalls were almost silent on the grassy pasture, any vigilant person would still have seen him. He was twenty yards short of the gate when he realized that the slight figure beyond the rails was neither a man nor showing concern for anything beyond the confines of her railed compound. In fact, it was only a snuffling sound from his horse that drew her attention to him. She jumped back a step when she was aware of the rider’s sudden closeness and, rather than being calmed by the action, her alarm grew when he pushed his hat up off his brow and grinned. ‘Well, well,’ he said, ‘now I know why this stretch of land has such a high value.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Lottie wanted to know.

  ‘Just open the gate and I’ll introduce myself.’

  Lottie didn’t move. Strangers never travelled in this direction. Other settlers were the only people who called at their home. In addition, there was something unsettling about this man’s manner.

  ‘You must be Drew Skivver’s daughter,’ Brodie said. ‘Reckon your pa will be expecting me.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Lottie asked again.

  ‘I’m the man with the answer to all your family’s troubles. You go and tell your pa that Col Brodie is here to see him.’

  Lottie had never seen the man before but his name had bounced around their house when their neighbours had gathered the previous night. ‘Go away,’ she told him.

  He laughed and leant forward to open the gate into the compound.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ a voice ordered. Ben Joyner had finished tying the shafts of the buggy to the harness on the horse when the low voices had reached him, and it had taken only a glance to identify the horseman beyond the rail. In Pecos, Ben had been amused by Elsa Tippett’s insistence on bringing with her the rifle that had belonged to Mr Raine, but now, as he stood outside the barn door, it was held purposely in his hands.

  Col Brodie saw the rifle and lifted his hand from the gate. Then he looked at the man behind the gun. ‘Mister, I don’t like people who point guns at me.’

  ‘Then take the young woman’s advice and go away. You’ve got no business here.’

  Slowly, Col Brodie straightened his back, his right hand now poised somewhere close to the butt of his pistol, threatening.

  Ben Joyner moved his rifle slightly to make it clear to Brodie that the barrel was pointing at his belly. ‘If you attempt to draw that gun, you’ll have about the same chance of success as you gave the Dutchman yesterday. I don’t think you’re as brave as he was.’

  Brodie stared at Ben Joyner. ‘Tell Skivver that the beating he took yesterday will seem like a pat on the back compared to the landslide of trouble that’s going to hit him and his neighbours if they don’t leave this territory. You’ve got until tomorrow night. Then we’ll see how brave you are.’

  Brodie tugged at the reins, his horse stepped backwards and its head turned to the right as though about to turn away from the fence. Brodie kept his gaze fixed on Ben. ‘I’ll remember you,’ he said. He turned his attention to Lottie. ‘And you.’ He raised his hand, removed his hat and executed an elaborate bow, sweeping his arm back at shoulder height and lowering his head until it almost touched his horse’s neck. As he came upright he brought his arm forward and when it reached his waist he dropped his hat and pulled his gun from its holster. The manoeuvre had been enacted to throw Ben off-guard, to allow his own speed with a handgun to dominate their argument.

  Ben’s wartime experiences, however, had taught him never to relax until certain that the enemy was incapable of fight. He remained alert, ready for every ploy of his opponent. When he saw Brodie discard his hat to leave his hand free to grab for his weapon, Ben didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger. The bullet ripped into Brodie’s gut, as did the second one. Brodie squealed and slumped forward, hanging precariously around his horse’s neck. The animal turned and Ben and Lottie could see the tatters and bloodstains around the points on the rider’s back where the bullets had exited. Ben fire a third shot that passed close to the animal’s tail, sending it galloping towards the low mounds from which it had emerged earlier.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ben Joyner stood beside Lottie Skivver watching the running horse with its rider slumped forward on its neck. How far Col Brodie got before he fell off or was found was immaterial to Ben. He knew that Brodie would not survive the shooting and that he would suffer great agony before death claimed him. He wasn’t troubled by that knowledge; Col Brodie would have dealt out the same to him if he’d been allowed to gain the upper hand.

  Before the horse was out of sight, Drew Skivver had made his way awkwardly onto the porch of his small house. His wife and Elsa Tippett were with him, all three anxious to know the reason for the shooting. After listening to Ben’s account, he expressed concern that Gus Remarque would seek retribution by launching an assault on his home.

  Ben tried to quell his fears. ‘Wherever the body is found there won’t be any proof that Brodie ever came here, and even if it’s suspected that he did, he’d only been sent to scare you, to give you a couple of days in which to pack up and leave the territory. The loss of his gunman won’t please Mr Remarque, but he has other men to do his bidding so he has little need to change his plans. A raid tonight seems unlikely.’

  It was Ben’s hope that the Skivver family would use the respite to find refuge with the Petterfields or one of their other neighbours but the determination that was etched in his friend’s face told him that that was not an option under consideration. Lottie, too, who had been quiet since the shooting, was as unwavering in support of her father’s decision as she had been earlier. Her resolve to protect her home showed in the steady manner in which her pale blue eyes met his own. Given time and opportunity, he thought, he might be able to persuade Drew that, currently, he wasn’t able to protect his family single-handed.

  ‘I’ll be back before nightfall,’ he said, and when he received no argument, added, ‘I’ll keep watch in the barn overnight and hope to foil any raid by Long-R riders.’

  Elsa Tippett nursed her rifle all the way back to Pecos, running her hands along the barrel as though the retained heat was a source of comfort. Most of the journey was conducted in silence. Even though Elsa had confirmed that the Skivvers had been acquainted with her kin, her mood had been little affected by the knowledge
. She had learned that Henry and Lottie, being roughly the same age, had spent a lot of time together and that his oft-proclaimed pride in his home state had earned him the nickname the Ohio Kid, but if she’d gained any satisfaction in the knowledge that Pecos had, indeed, been the proposed destination of her men-folk, she was keeping it tight within. Ben could envisage possible enquiries she could make at hotels and stores, and conversations she could conduct with lawmen and tradesmen that might jog memories. They might progress her search for Henry and Carlton but, against that, the two-year void was probably a more definite indicator that they would never be traced.

  ‘Is Mr Remarque the only cattleman opposed to the families that are settling in this area?’ she asked Ben as they approached Pecos.

  ‘All the cattlemen want to keep the grazing land for their herds.’

  ‘But he’s the only one trying to force them off their land.’

  Ben figured that all the ranchers were in agreement with Gus Remarque’s tactics but, for the moment, weren’t prepared to dirty their hands with deeds of violence. They would happily reap the benefits of his success but, if things went wrong, they would have no awkward questions to answer if officers from Fort Worth came to investigate. That was a situation that wouldn’t cause Gus Remarque to lose sleep. He saw himself as the prominent man in the area and not only was leading by example second nature to him, but he had grown pompous enough to regard the passivity of his neighbours as a show of respect, obeisance to his right to carry out his plans without interference.