Country Lovers by Rebecca Shaw Page B

their shotguns into the air. This brought the Veterinary Service’s vehicles to a grinding halt. A great roar of delight went up from the Bridges family. In the midst of it all Mrs. Bridges quietly and calmly began kneading a great mound of dough on her kitchen table, her small, floured hands working it with furious energy.
    Dan said hesitantly. “I say, you wouldn’t actually…you know, fire at them? Properly, would you?”
    â€œTry me,” came the grim reply from Mr. Bridges.
    Matters intensified when Mike Allport gingerly got out of his car, stepped onto the garden path and shouted, “Now, Mr. Bridges, you know it has to be done. Put the guns away and let us get on with it.”
    â€œOne step nearer…” Everyone heard the cocking of his trigger.
    Mike Allport shouted, “Don’t let me have to get the police in.”
    â€œGet who the hell you like, you’re not slaughtering my flock. Get off my premises, you’re trespassing. Fire!” Mr. Bridges fired another shot into the air, which prompted the other four guns to go off and Mike Allport to get back into his car. The noise was stunning and served its purpose in warning Mike they meant business.
    Give him his due, thought Dan, Mike Allport isn’t backing off. But he was phoning someone on his mobile. He was getting the police, no doubt. It occurred to Dan that this put him in an awkward position. Aiding and abetting? Or innocent bystander held at gunpoint? “Shall I go out and have a word? See what I can do?”
    Mr. Bridges turned the gun on him. “Don’t move, unless you want a barrel load from this in your backside. You’re here and here you stay.”
    The kneading stopped and a quiet voice said, “Steady, Billy, Dan’s not the enemy.”
    Mrs. Bridges’s moderate tones cooled the hot atmosphere a little, but Mr. Bridges kept the gun trained on Dan. “I mean it. They are not ruining years of careful breeding all because they think they have a right. Not one of my birds has died, and if they were going to, they would have done so by now. So you keep right out of it.”
    â€œCan I phone the practice? They’ll be wondering where I am. I’ve calls to make.”
    â€œVery well.”
    Dan went by the window to get a better signal and dialed in. It was Kate who answered his call. “Hello, Kate. Dan here. I can’t do my calls for the forseeable future today. Can Colin or Zoe do them for me?”
    â€œAre you ill?”
    â€œNo, I’m at Bridge Farm and we’re under siege.” As casually as he could, he whispered, “Guns, you know.”
    â€œOh! my God! Guns! You mean you’re being held hostage?”
    â€œWell, not quite, but I can’t get out and I think Mike Allport has sent for the police.”
    â€œI thought your voice sounded funny. Right. We’ll reorganize things. Let us know as soon as the situation frees up. Take care, Dan. Shall I tell Rose?”
    â€œUnder no circumstances. She mustn’t be worried. Do you hear?”
    â€œRight. We won’t phone her. Take care, Dan. Bye.”
    The situation didn’t free up, as Kate had put it; in fact, it became worse because the police arrived and Dan pointed out to Mr. Bridges the penalty of threatening a police officer with a firearm.
    â€œTo hell with that. This is bureaucracy gone mad, and someone has to take a stand.”
    â€œWhere are the chickens?”
    â€œShut in the big barn at the back with Ben and Gideon on guard. Crack shots they are, like all my boys. Fire!” The salvo of five guns firing at once was deafening.
    Mrs. Bridges, placing baking trays and loaf tins in the Aga, said, “Heed what he says. Don’t loose your head, Billy.”
    â€œBetter that than dying of shame.” He opened the window farther and shouted out to a uniformed inspector, “These guns will be put away when those so-and-sos leave my farm. Tell