The Sand Jungle
The sun was just starting to set on the vast, open desert somewhere
in Nevada. A small sized tumbleweed brushed past an old and forgotten
wrecked stagecoach. The huge Rocky mountains stood out from the large,
Rat and wide wilderness. Smoke signals could be seen from nearby Indian
tribes. In the desert badlands, small sagebrush could be seen from miles
around, and right in the middle of this sand jungle was a town with the
rightful name Dead Creek. A rifle shot was heard in the distance and the
sound bounced off canyons to make the shot seem enormous.
"Dang Cavalry!" cursed a torn up gunslinger.
"Hey Bob, ya think the Cavalry will catch us?"
"Shut up Cal!" said a man who looked like a cowboy gone mad.
"Shut up you two bad land buffaloes!" yelled the gunslinger. "We're
supposed to be the smart criminals, but I can tell we ain't ever gonna
reach the list!"
"Da da da da daaaaa!" called bugle coming from somewhere inside
the stampede of law enforcers.
"Cal, Scott, this will take some planning. With the cavalry 100
horse steps behind us we need us a place to hide."
"Hey Bob?" asked Scott.
"Shut up, I'm trien' to thinka' somethin." said Bob as he rubbed his
stubbed chin. "We gonna' need us a good plan."
"I thought I told ya to.... Hey, that's it!"
"What's it boss?" asked Cal.
"We can bury us in this here sand!" said Bob excitedly.
"Bob!" yelled Scott.
"What is it you water trough." asked Bob, turning towards the overexcited Scott.
"There's a ghost town over there!" said Scott almost screaming.
"Well...Um.... Well, lets go then. Now!" yelled Bob as he rode off into
the town followed by Scott and Cal.
They galloped into town and hid just as the cavalry rode past them,
not noticing the small, but big enough town named Dead Creek.
"We were lucky on that one," said Cal.
"Lucky on what boys?" asked a harsh voice from the shadows.
"You've tricked em' cavalry huh? I reckon we don't pay kindly ta that in this here town."
"Don't listen to the geezer boys. We can take this guy down." said
Bob, trying to boost their spirits.
"You make one move and you'll answer to Sheriff Peters," replied
the harsh voice plainly.
"Really..." Scott began.
"I'll knock you varmints off your behinds so fast your horses think you be a fly."
"is that right... geezer. You think you can get us?" asked Gal.
Then with one flick of the sheriffs wrist, he pulled out a whip and
slapped Cal off his horse so swiftly and quietly that Bob and Scott didn't
know what happened till a moment later. Gal's body lay motionless on the
ground. Blood oozed where the whip had cut a gash right over Gal's rib
cage. The rib appeared to be broken.
"Why you son of a gun! Cal was one of my best men!" yelled Bob
"You think you can just kill one of my partners and walk away?" gambled
Bob ,jumping out of his saddle, stirring up a dust cloud on the ground.
"I ain't walking away. I reckon I take you've two to this here jail."
said Sheriff Peters, stepping out of the shadows. What was revealed to
the bandits was a sharp faced cowboy with coarse golden hair. He looked
very muscular . He carried a horse hair whip in this left hand and with his
right clutching a holster which apparently held a gun. To top it off, he had
a neatly polished sheriff badge pinned to a leather vest.
"We ain't dealing with any normal sheriff here." whispered Scott to Bob.
Bob gave Scott a dirty look and said to the Sheriff, "Let's draw!"
"My pleasure," said Peters, making a path for Bob to get through.
Bob walked out into the open. When he was out into the road Scott
leaned over to him and said.... "I can't believe he challenged Bob the Bandit."
"Was' sorta dumb wasn't it?" said Bob plainly.
"All right, the game is to kill. We walk ten paces, draw and shoot.
First one dead.... Loses."
Bob and Scott then turned around to look at the sheriff. They turned
just in time to see the sheriff's mean grin.
"Do you want to leave or walk out of here in a coffin you varmint." asked the sheriff,
pointing his remark at Scott.
"I'm goin' ta hold out," said Scott, backing away with his hands up.
"The sheriff and bob turning their backs to each other started
counting off as Scott hid inside a nearby tavern.
...8...9...10", counted Bob. He then turned around as did the sheriff in
front of him. Bob smiled the sheriff an evil grin. He noticed the sheriff
clutching his gun.
Behind Bob, a snake slithered out from under a porch step towards a horse.
Bob got into his stance. The snake was now about an inch from the horse behind Bob.
The sheriff drew.
"Rrrrarrrrrer!" screamed the horse as he noticed the snake and caused a panic.
The bullet went speeding through the air and Bob's shoulder suddenly
swerved turning to look at what was happening. The bullet made impact
burying itself into the flesh on Bob's shoulder.
"Arrrghhh!" cried Bob out in pain.
Just then, in front of the horse, the doors of the tavern swung open.
"What's wrong with Charcoal!" yelled a young man running out to pet
his riled up horse.
"You all right?" asked the sheriff, walking over to Bob.
Bob started cursing to himself.
"Well, if you're all right, you're going to jail now," said the sheriff humorously.
Bob cursed to himself again.
"is there anything wrong with Charcoal?" asked the panicked
cowboy as he stroked Charcoal's dark black coat. The horse now quiet and
with his master.
"Your horse is fine...... mister?" asked Sheriff Peters.
"John, cowboy John, and this here is Charcoal." said John.
"Cowboy John, huh?" asked Bob to himself in his hear. "I'm gonna get him!"
"So Mister John, are you new in town?" questioned Peters as he
lugged Bob to his feet and removed his weapon.
"Yep, I was passin' through and I said to myself, I reckon I rest here awhile."
"Okay, Cowboy John, see you some other time." said the sheriff,
turning his head to direct Bob into the town jail.
"Sure thing sheriff!" shouted John to Sheriff Peters. John then
thought to himself he better get some dinner, then rest up. He brushed his
hand through his dark black hair, then walked up to the front to the porch
after giving Charcoal a drink from the water trough. His dark leather
boots clanked as he walked up to the porch, took one last look back into
the desert and turned back into the tavern, his green eyes giving off a
"Yaaaawwwn", John started to adjust his eyes before waking up.
His room seemed to be hotter than normal. He opened his eyes and noticed
he was outside! He tried to get up and saw he was tied down by a thick
rope. Then all of a sudden.....
"Hello!" Bob the Bandits face was right in front of him. His brown
eyes were darker than the sand. His reddish nose was long and skinny. He
had stout eyebrows and a very large mouth.
"How did you get out of jail?" yelled John, glancing around at his
surroundings. It appeared he was in an Indian camp. There were about five
tribe colored teepees placed in a circle with a large fire lit in the middle
of the teepee circle. Indians were walking all around. Some were just
leaving to hunt, and others were coming in from hunting with their prize.
The women and children were either washing clothes or cooking.
"Well, my partner Scott escaped the sheriff and got me out during
the night. Then we snatched you up and traded you for money." said Bob,
his face looked more twisted than ever.
"I'm their slave?" yelled John, this time louder.
"That's right. Now I reckon we have a bank to rob, in ... Dead Creek maybe?"
"And you ain't wrong," laughed Bob as he climbed onto his horse along
with a guy with coarse light brown hair, a stout nose and dull pink lips.
He wore a dark maroon vest and blue jeans. John figured this was Scott.
Then they road off, leaving him there for the Indians to do with him as
"You be white man?" asked a voice. John thought it sounded like a
mix between Indian English and cowboy talk. The voice then came into
view. It was definitely an Indian.
"You be white man?" he repeated.
John searched for words.
"Yes, yes I am white man."
"Good, you be now Indian slave. Should start jobs soon?" questioned the Indian.
"Yes? Okay, I am Red Skin Bear. I be slave instructor."
The day went on, and with each new task it seemed that.... well....
they were becoming a little bit of friends. John learned that Red Skin
Bear was 25 and that he was second in command if ever their leader
Tomahawk was killed or died. John also started to notice how he looked,
his skin was on the line between red and pink. His dark hair, (as dark as
his) was tied in a knot so it would not get in his way. Also he wore a slip
on type of leather sandal that looked like it had been through it all, wars,
stampedes, and more. Later that day John asked Red Skin Bear something
as he was doing a task.
"Do you think I could.., maybe possibly, leave for awhile?" asked
"Why does white man leave?" questioned Red Skin Bear.
"Well, you know those people who brang me here? Well they ain't no
saints. I reckon they're robbing that bank now."
"Red Skin Bear had no idea. You wish catch him?"
"Yes!" said John excitedly.
"Me no like cheaters. Let's go white man, we catch cheater."
"Thank you!" said John to himself.
"I know shortcut,"said Red Skin Bear, getting onto a horse.
motioned for John to do the same. He did.
"Let's go get cheater!" yelled Red Skin Bear.
And with that both of them rode off to get to Bob the Bandit, and his
partner Scott the Scoundrel, from robbing the bank of Dead Creek.
"All right you, reach in that safe and bring out the money," snarled
Bob, blaring down the frightened bankers throat. "Well, just don't stand
there!" yelled Bob.
"It's smoky. I'm allergic to smoke," said the banker in a nerdy voice.
He wore small wire frame glasses which perched on his large
pinkish nose. His narrow head turned to look at Bob. His black and green
stripped button up shirt rustled when he turned.
"Well, just do it anyway, or we'll kill ya right here!" yelled Scott chipping in.
"Good job Scott! I think you're finally starting to take after me."
Bob looked over at the banker who still stood in the same spot. "All right,
you're dead!" screamed Bob, reaching down to his holster to draw his gun.
Bob looked up to see a gun pointed right at his head, and behind that
gun was none other than.... Cowboy John.
"How the ...."
"Shut up Bob!" said John as he motioned for someone else to come in.
"What you want white man?" asked Red Skin Bear, walking into the room.
"Hold off this guy for me will ya?" asked John.
"Sure thing." said Red Skin Bear, getting out a bow and arrow and
aiming it at Bob.
John turned to the banker. "The Cavalry is on it's way. Get out of here.
This might get nasty."
"You bet it is." said Bob to himself.
"What was that?" asked John in a higher tone, shifting his weight
"I meant, this is his," said Bob. He held out in his hand a small bit of
money. "I figured I should give it back now. After all, it ain't mine."
John reached over to pick up the money in Bob's hand. Then.... a
twisted grin, worse than them all, came over his face. He grabbed John's
hands and flung him over his shoulder, while Scott tackled Red Skin Bear
to the ground.
Pretty soon everyone was fighting, except for the banker who was
retreating out the back.
"You'll never get away you tumbleweed!" yelled John.
"Oh ya, why?" asked Bob as he got slammed into a table.
"Da Da Da Da Da Daaaa!" called a bugle.
"The Calvary!" yelled Scott as he slammed down Red Skin Bear,
knocking him out cold. He ran out the door followed by Bob, who had
shoved John down on to a pile of broken tables and chairs.
"Hold up," said Bob to Scott. He took out a stick of dynamite and
placed it on the step.
"Party time!" yelled Bob as he took out a match and lit the bomb.
John heard this so he ran over to the unconscious Red Skin Bear and drug
him to his feet and jumped out the window with the Indian on his shoulders.
"That ought to get'm!" said Bob and Scott together as they got onto
their horsed and rode off not knowing that John had made it out of the
bank before it exploded.
"Well, that was just great!" cursed John to himself. It was getting
late though so he thought he would go inside and take a nice long rest for
at least a day or two. Then he would take Red Skin Bear back to his camp
whenever he woke up. After all, a cowboy can only do so much.
The Calvary on the other hand......
"The Calvary is 100 horse steps behind us and there's no where ta hide!" cursed Bob.
"Bob! There's a old ghost town over there," said Scott.
"Well let's go then!" said Bob as his horse galloped to the town
followed by Scott. Scott caught up to him and said...
"In theory, in four days we both will be dead," said Scott
"Since when did cowboys use theory?" asked Bob as they hid in the town.
"Well..." started Scott.
"Never mind," said Bob as he noticed a shadow appear in front of him.
"What are you up to boys?" asked the shadow.