Renewal 3 - Your Basic Swiss Family by Jf Perkins

Bill said, frustrating the Judge by failing to be upset or intimidated.
    Kirk walked out the door. It was the first time Terry had really looked at the man, and now he could see what everyone said in quiet voices when they talked about Kirk Carter. He had an oddly graceful economy of motion, almost feline, and a distant look in his eyes that would make any man think twice, lest they see whatever Kirk saw on the far side of some hidden veil. He carried a leather document folder, held closed by a piece of rawhide.
    When Kirk stopped next to his brother, no introductions were made. He simply untied the folder and handed it to Bill.
    Bill held it out for the Judge to see, and said, “As you can see, Mr. Jenkins, we have a prior legal claim to this land, over 2200 acres of it, granted by the State of Tennessee over eight years ago. As you must know, these claims supersede any other claims, by the law passed in 2039.”
    “I don’t happen to agree with that law,” the Judge growled.
    “Well, I’m sorry that’s the case, Judge, but you have no authority to overrule the State.”
    “I’m here now, and the state isn’t.”
    “Word has it that the state would be very interested in how you use your authority, Mr. Jenkins. Maybe you and I can take a ride up to Murfreesboro and talk it over with a state judge.”
    “That won’t be necessary.”
    Bill had his indication that the Judge had no real pull with the state. If he did, he would be happy to throw Bill to his friends, the lions of state government. “So, what I’m gathering is that you intend to ignore the law, and simply take our land.”
    “That’s about the size of it,” the Judge responded, unconsciously sliding his hand towards a revolver.
    “Well, Judge, and I use the term loosely, I am truly sorry that you feel that way. I’d prefer not to fight.”
    The Judge actually rested his hand on the grip of his gun. “That’s not your choice to make.”
    “Do you drink coffee, Judge?” Bill asked.
    “Wha...?”
    At the word “coffee,” the judge’s trucks started and pulled away. The entire line of his men turned in surprise, and watched with open mouths as their rides disappeared down the road. When they turned back to face the houses, they were greeted with open windows, twenty-one of them in all, each with a pair of gun barrels protruding far enough to make sure that the Judge couldn’t miss them.
    “You really need to take the keys with you, Judge.” Bill said, all pretense gone. “I’ll give you a single chance. It’s only five miles back to town. We’ll keep the trucks for all the trouble you’ve caused.”
    At that, men and women began to appear in the gaps around the fences, and the Judge’s men were casting glances in every direction, trying to see all the threats at once. Dusty and Terry were easing backwards, like a baseball player leading off to steal a base. They were ready to run out of the crossfire.
    The Judge was staring into Bill’s face with open hatred. He said, “I’ll give you one chance. Bring back my trucks, and throw down your weapons, or I will see you all hang. Every last one of you.”
    Bill, still completely calm, said, “You know... I knew your father. Fought beside him in the Tullahoma war. He was a good man. What happened to you, Judge?”
    Jerry Doan Jenkins fought for composure as his face turned a dangerous dark shade of red. “My father spent his life giving away the farm. I’ve spent mine getting it back.”
    “And look what you’ve got. A county full of starving people who would be happy to watch you burn, no friends except for the dirtbags on your payroll, and a wife who spends her time trying to avoid you so she can play with that good looking brother of yours. Word has it that he loves to talk about what she does to him when you’re not looking.”
    The Judge knew he was being baited, and struggled to keep the top of his black hat from blowing sky high from sheer steam pressure. He turned to the man