WHO MAKES THE LAW?

Clara woke up from her bed with a splitting migraine.

For five solid days, there was nothing but the clanging echoes of metal yelling out from John Humphrey’s barn.

A constant chorus of,

CLANG-CLANG

CLANG-CLANG

CLANG-CLANG

Well, Mrs. Humphrey had enough of it.

“John!” She shrills. “John, that’s enough!” Running into his shop with wild arms waving.

“I can’t take it anymore!!” She cupped hands over her ears, elbows out.

John’s lips move with no sound. The proud have forged a lie against me

John continues to work.

CLANG-CLANG

Clara steps towards the workbench and yells, “I’ve sent for Sheriff Carson to lock you away for disturbance of the peace!”

Their heart is as fat as grease; but I delight in thy law.

CLANG-CLANG

Clara slaps him hard across the cheek, “WHY AREN’T YOU LISTENING TO ME!?”

It is good for me that I have been afflicted; that I might learn thy statutes.

CLANG-CLANG

She’s had enough. Clara forcibly grabs John by the wrist to stop the banging, and a struggle begins. Fighting for control. Of the hammer, yes, but its not just about the hammer. They’ve been having spats for months now. The bruises and scratches on John’s body confirm it.

“JOHN! JOHN, LET GO!!”

Suddenly, Sherriff Carson bursts through the entryway of the barn, sliding on his boots and holding onto his Stetson. “What’s with all this commotion!”

John releases his grip on the hammer, “So glad you could make it, Sherriff.” John notes the Sherriff’s trousers and belt are undone and his shirt not entirely tucked in. “Boy, you sure did get here fast.”

The wicked have waited for me to destroy me: but I will consider thy testimonies.

The Sherriff with twang, “Law declares I need bring you in for assault against your wife and for disorderly conduct.”

“The law!?” John eye-rolls, “Whose Law? There is no law in the West! The ‘law’ that you, man, have created, is not GOD’S LAW. Your law is merely the consensus whim of the citizens, blown in today, and will be gone like a tumbleweed tomorrow.”

Depart from me, ye evildoers: for I will keep the commandments of my God.

“I made this specially for you.” John pats a steel-plated revolver at his waist, with the Sixth Commandment carved into the handle. And two bullets loaded into the chamber—one for each of them.

“Now, John.” Sherriff thrusts one palm straight out and the other goes to his own holster. “Think about this.”

Psalms 119.

Both men ready to fire. Both ready to enforce their law.

But Clara, quietly now behind John and with the hammer, brings the metal tool down onto John Humphrey’s skull with full force.

CLANG-CLANG

John’s body slumps onto the two large metal slabs that was his project for the past week. A statuesque Ten Commandments etched into iron and ready for display outside the Nevada County courthouse.