He raised the barrel of the pump-gun until it was pointing at the ceiling, although she tried to resist him. He looked her straight in the eyes and said, ‘You understand? Because this is the time when people are going to start making their own laws, like they did in the frontier days.’ Della didn’t answer, and lowered the gun. Peter Kaiser, from his place on the sofa, watched them both closely, but said nothing at all.

*

That night, Thursday, Ed was woken up by the deep, distant coughing of shotguns. He sat up in bed, and listened. There was another shot, and another. He shook Della’s shoulder, and said, ‘There’s a firelight going on out there. Can you hear it?’

She raised her tousled head from the pillow. ‘It sounds like it’s coming from the main gate,’ she said.

Ed swung out of bed, and switched on the light. He tugged on his jeans and a T-shirt, and opened the top drawer in his rococo-style bedside table. Della, pulling on an old red sweater of Season’s, watched him sharply as he took out a Colt .45 automatic, and checked the magazine.

‘What’s that?’ she asked. ‘A family heirloom?’

That’s right,’ he told her. ‘My father bought it to keep my mother in line. Now, let’s get out there and see what’s going on, shall we?’

Peter Kaiser was already on the landing when they opened their door, in a large pair of blue undershorts with green flowers splattered all over them. Blinking at Ed, he said, ‘I heard shooting. Did you hear shooting?’

‘Just keep your head down,’ said Della. ‘Don’t forget you’re a valuable witness.’

‘For God’s sake,’ said Peter.

Ed ran ahead of Della downstairs, and opened up the front door. They crossed the verandah under a sky that was dark and windy and heavy with cloud, and Ed led the way across to the farm’s Wagoneer. He swung himself up into the driver’s seat and started the engine without even waiting for her, or opening the passenger door to let her in.

‘There’s no mistaking that you’re the boss around here,’ she complained, as she clambered up, and laid her pump-gun down on the Jeep’s floor.

Ed twisted the Wagoneer around the asphalt in a squittering curve, and then roared off towards the entrance road and the main gates.

‘They’re threatening my farm,’ he snapped, thrusting his hand into his hair and brushing it back off his forehead. ‘Don’t you understand that? Or have you never owned anything you cared that much for?’

Della said, ‘I’ve never owned anything. There never seemed to be any point to it.’