Lone Ranger, The (Disney Junior Novel (ebook))

by Elizabeth Rudnick Disney Book Group

  Suddenly, Tonto stopped. Standing right in front of him was Dan Reid’s horse.

  “All right there, little brother?” Dan asked, trying to hide his amusement.

  “I’m taking this man into custody,” John said, looking up, his face covered with dirt.

  Dan was quiet, his expression unreadable, as he eyed his brother and then Tonto. Finally, he spoke. “What do you say we give the Indian a head start, considering what he did for the passengers?”

  Tonto nodded. That sounded like a good idea to him. At least one of the brothers seemed rational.

  Getting to his feet, John shook his head. “He was on the train for a reason, Dan.”

  “Probably,” Dan replied. He turned his attention back to Tonto. “What’s your crime?”

  Tonto shrugged. “Indian,” he said.

  “And a man in the eyes of the law,” John added. “Now, throw me your cuffs.” He held out his hand toward Dan. His brother didn’t make a move. “Dan…your cuffs,” John repeated.

  Finally, Dan dropped the cuffs into the dirt. “Whatever you say, little brother.” He turned and he began to ride away. His brother had a lot to learn now that he was back.

  Inside the Colby jailhouse, John shut a cell door with a clang. On the other side of the bars, Tonto glared at him—an expression he was growing all too used to. But John was a man of the law. And while his brother seemed to think that the law could be flexible, he knew there was just the right way and the wrong way. He wasn’t going to feel bad for doing the right thing.

  “Dan?”

  The sound of a woman’s voice—a familiar woman’s voice—made John turn. Standing there was Rebecca, her beautiful face both the same and so different from the last time he had seen it, many years before.

  Realizing he was not her husband, Rebecca paused. “John,” she finally said. “They said there was an accident. Someone fell off the train?”

  “Actually, that was me,” John explained. “Dan’s all right. Saved the day, same as always.”

  Rebecca took a cautious step forward. “My God,” she gasped as she took in the cuts and bruises. “Your face!”

  Leaping into action, Rebecca gathered some water and a clean cloth. Pushing John into a nearby seat, she began to wash his wounds. As she worked, she smiled. “It’s good to see you,” she said. “What’s it been? Nine years?”

  “Eight since you stopped writing,” John replied, his voice strained. He hadn’t planned on seeing Rebecca so soon. And definitely not like this.

  “We were just kids back then,” she said softly.

  Noticing the new scarf tied around Rebecca’s neck, John tried to change the subject. “He takes good care of you, I see.”

  “In his way,” Rebecca answered. She turned to get more supplies, the smile fading from her lips momentarily. If only John knew…Steeling herself, she continued cleaning. “He spends most of his time over in Indian territory these days.”

  John cocked his head. “Indian territory? Doesn’t sound like my brother. Doing what?”

  “Whatever it is, he doesn’t talk to me about it,” Rebecca answered sharply, putting an end to that conversation. “So, you got a place to stay?”

  “Not as yet,” John answered.

  “Then you stay with us at Willow Creek,” Rebecca said. She dabbed his cheek with some more water. He winced. “Look at you…city boy. Why would you ever want to come back here?”

  John didn’t say anything for a moment as he watched the emotion flicker across Rebecca’s face. “It’s my home,” he finally answered aloud. Or at least it was, he added silently.

  A child’s voice interrupted the moment. “Who are you?” the voice asked.

  Turning, John saw a young boy standing in the doorway. “Danny,” Rebecca said, “this is your uncle John.”

  John stood up and walked over to his nephew. “How old are you?” he asked, smiling.

  “Seven,” Danny answered cautiously.

  “You look just like your dad did when he was your age,” John said, trying to sound like an uncle, even though he had no idea what that sounded like.

  Ignoring John, Danny turned to his mother, his expression serious. “They’re going out again,” he said.

  Without a word, Rebecca stood up and walked out of the jailhouse. A moment later, John followed. He wasn’t sure what was going on exactly, but he wanted to find out.

  Behind them, in his cell, Tonto continued to chant, his body crouched low. As his chanting intensified, he raised his arms and his shadow seemed to stretch across the floor and up the walls of his cell.

  On Colby’s main street, Dan and his rangers were saddling up. They loaded their guns, checked their supplies, and tightened the girths on their horses. Turning to retrieve his rifle, Dan saw Rebecca and John walking toward him.

  “Going already?” Rebecca said when she reached his side.

  Dan nodded. “If we want a chance at catching them before they hit the territories,” he explained.

  “I’m coming with you,” John stated. “He deserves a trial.”

  Ignoring his younger brother, Dan turned and slid the rifle into the saddle holster. “Two rangers are dead,” he said gruffly. “Didn’t get no trial.”

  “It’s the law,” John insisted.

  “Law looks different on the ground,” Dan replied, his voice weary.

  John knew he was pushing Dan’s buttons, but he wasn’t about to just let Dan leave him behind. True, he hadn’t been around for a long time. And true, he hadn’t faced off against outlaws as his brother had. But he had learned the law. And it was his duty to follow it. “It doesn’t include vengeance, no matter where you’re standing,” he said. He paused before quoting, “‘Wherever men unite into society—they must quit the laws of nature…’”

  “‘And assume the laws of men,’” another voice continued. “‘So society as a whole can prosper.’”

  Turning, John saw that they had been joined by a man in an expensive suit and another man who appeared to be his assistant.

  “John Locke,” the man in the suit said, acknowledging the quote. “Though I never thought I’d hear the likes of it in Colby.”

  “Mr. Cole,” Dan said, doing the introductions, “my brother, John. New county prosecutor.”

  “Latham Cole?” John said, reaching out his hand eagerly. “It’s an honor, sir. I read about you during the war.”

  Cole nodded. He was used to the recognition and expected nothing less. But he hadn’t come onto the dirty, dusty street for idle chitchat. Turning to Dan, he asked, “You after Cavendish?”

  “Collins picked up a trail,” Dan answered, nodding toward a huge bearded ranger. As they watched, the man picked something out of his beard, popped it into his mouth, and began to chew. John smiled. He had grown up with Collins and was used to his rather uncharming charms.

  “Trust him?” Cole asked.

  “Well enough,” Dan said. “Tracked for my father.”

  “Make sure of it,” Cole said seriously. “The railroad promised these people a hanging.”

  Dan paused before speaking. “Didn’t know the railroad was in the business of keeping promises,” he finally said.

  Tension filled the air as the two men eyed each other, an unspoken argument between them. It continued for a few moments, until Cole broke it. “A simple task. Collect the prisoner, deliver him to his execution. If you’re not up to that, Mr. Reid, I’ll find someone who is.” Tipping his hat at Rebecca, he turned and walked away, his assistant scurrying to catch up.

  John watched Cole’s retreating back. He didn’t understand why Dan hated the other man so much. He was a war hero and clearly an important figure in town. What could have happened between the two to put them at such odds? Turning to ask, John saw that his brother and Rebecca were talking in hushed tones. As he watched, Dan turned to his son and dropped down to his eye level. He took a slingshot from his belt.

  “Expect you to be bagging squirrels by the time I get back,” Dan said, p
lacing the slingshot in his son’s hands.

  Danny lunged into his father’s arms, fighting back tears. Dan squeezed him tight. Then he stood and mounted his horse. The other rangers did the same. Turning, he caught John’s eye. “All right, Mr. Prosecutor,” he said. “Let’s see how your due process fares on the trail.”

  Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a small object. Then he tossed it at John. Looking down, John saw it was a silver Texas Ranger badge. It was dull and scratched, the words barely legible. Flipping it over, John saw the name Reid engraved in the back. It was their father’s badge. “It’s Dad’s,” John said, almost in disbelief.

  “I hereby deputize you a Texas Ranger,” Dan said in all seriousness before adding, “Can’t help you with them clothes.”

  It was a good day for tracking outlaws. The sky was blue and cloudless and the desert floor dry. As Dan, John, and the other rangers galloped toward the foothills of a distant canyon, the horses’ pounding hooves kicked up dust and dirt.

  Astride his horse, John shifted in the saddle. Adjusting the brim of his hat, he noticed that there was a huge white horse pacing the group. As they entered the trees at the base of the canyon, the horse kept up, moving in and out of the sparse vegetation.

  Following his brother’s gaze, Dan saw the animal, too. He pulled up beside John. “Indians call that your spirit horse,” he explained. “Ready to carry you to the other side.”

  John rolled his eyes. “You can’t scare me with your ghost stories anymore.” As he spoke, a beam of sun hit a silver Comanche totem Dan was wearing around his neck. “Since when did you start wearing Indian jewelry?”

  “Since my kid brother became a lawyer,” Dan answered.

  “World needs lawyers same as it does rangers,” John pointed out.

  “Reckon so,” his brother replied. Then, with a smirk, he added, “Nice hat, by the way. They didn’t have a bigger one?” With a laugh, he kicked his horse and rode ahead, leaving John behind.

  John let out a sigh. Would his brother ever think of him as anything but a little boy trailing after him? He had seen things Dan could never imagine. He had lived in a city and become a lawyer, but still, Dan just saw him as his pesky younger brother. Nothing more.

  “He missed you,” a voice said, interrupting John’s thoughts. Turning, he saw that Collins had ridden up next to him.

  “Could have fooled me,” John replied bitterly. Shaking his annoyance off, he looked closely at the big man. Collins had been with Dan for years. He probably knew more about him than just about anybody. And that meant he might have an answer to the question that had been bugging John since they left Colby. “So, what is it between Mr. Cole and my brother?”

  “Dan did a little work for the railroad, forcing homesteaders off their land,” Collins explained. “Call it eminent domain. Just didn’t have the taste for it. Change don’t come easy for your brother.”

  “A man can’t stay the same with the world evolving around him,” John said after a moment. “No matter how much he wants to.”

  Collins tossed an empty bottle of whiskey over his shoulder. “That’s what your daddy used to say. He saw it coming. That’s why he sent you away to school.” Reaching into his saddlebag, he pulled out another bottle. Noticing John’s raised eyebrow, Collins shrugged. “Steadies the hand.”

  As the posse of rangers continued on, John stayed silent, listening to the other men chat and joke among themselves. They had an easy rapport, built from long days in the saddle and even longer nights under the cloudless, star-filled sky. Not for the first time, John wondered what he was doing there and how, or if, he’d ever fit in.

  The group made camp soon afterward and were up early the next morning. A short while later, they found themselves in front of the entrance to a narrow canyon known as Bryant’s Gap. Two jagged white rocks jutted straight up out of the canyon, their tips piercing the bright blue sky. The rangers sat on their horses, unusually quiet.

  “Could go by the flats,” Navarro finally suggested.

  Collins shook his head. “And lose a day. Maybe a day and a half.”

  “What do you figure, Dan?” Navarro asked, turning to their leader.

  “Figure Collins is going to go take a look,” Dan answered. “If he can stay in the saddle.”

  As if to prove he would have absolutely no trouble staying on, Collins let out a “Yee haw!” and spurred his horse forward. They thundered into the canyon, the sound of hoofbeats echoing off the rock walls before fading away.

  Riding over to John, Dan pulled a pistol out of his waistband and held it out. John shook his head. “Don’t believe in them,” he said. “You know that.”

  “Cavendish doesn’t care one way or the other,” Dan pointed out.

  “I’ll take my chances,” John said, trying not to shudder at the thought of Cavendish and his wicked grin.

  Just then, a whistle echoed from the canyon’s entrance. Looking up, John saw that Collins had returned and was waving them in. The coast appeared to be clear. With another wave, Collins turned and disappeared back into the shadows. Kicking his horse’s sides, John followed the rest of the rangers as they entered Bryant’s Gap.

  Inside the canyon, the air was chillier, the sun unable to reach the floor and heat the sand like the rest of the desert. The rangers rode single file along the bed of a dried-up river as above a lone crow circled ominously. The sound of the horses’ hooves echoed and bounced off the rock walls, eerie in the otherwise silent canyon. A shadow passed over the group. Nervously, the rangers unsnapped their holsters as Dan reached for his rifle. Something was off.

  “Where’s Collins?” Dan said.

  CRACK! A single shot rang out. A moment later, Navarro fell from his saddle.

  The rangers circled up just—CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!—shots began ringing out from every direction. Clayton fell, then Hollis. The gunfire continued, but the remaining rangers couldn’t see who was shooting. It was like being attacked by ghosts. Breaking formation, the rangers took off.

  But it was too late. In moments, Martin was shot off his horse. Then Blaine fell. As he struggled to stand, another volley of shots cut him back down. John kicked his horse, leaning low over the saddle. He could see the end of the canyon ahead. He saw Dan race through to safety. If he could just get to it…

  Suddenly, he felt a thud, and before he knew what was happening, his horse fell, pinning him beneath its weight. John pushed and shoved, but it was no use. The horse weighed at least a thousand pounds. He gulped as more gunfire rang out. He was as good as dead.

  “Take my hand!”

  Craning his neck, John saw Dan, his arm outstretched. He had come back for him! John reached out as Dan pulled him free and—

  CRACK!

  Dan’s horse let out a wild whinny and reared up. As if in slow motion, Dan slid from the saddle and crumpled to the ground.

  John scrambled over to his brother, picked up Dan’s head, and cradled it in his lap. A single splotch of red slowly grew bigger on Dan’s chest. He had been mortally wounded, and he knew it.

  “She always loved you,” Dan said, his voice weak. “Take care of her for me.”

  John shook his head as tears threatened to spill out of his eyes. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening. He had just gotten back! And Dan was the strong one. The brave Texas Ranger. He couldn’t be hurt. “Just hold on,” John urged, shaking his brother gently.

  “You shouldn’t have come back, Johnny,” Dan said. “I messed up…”

  Ignoring his brother’s protests, John lifted him under the shoulders, determined to get them out of there. But before he could even take a step, there was another loud CRACK. John felt a searing pain course through his body, and then everything went dark.

  Silence had fallen over the canyon once again. As the dust cleared, Cavendish and his gang made their way through the fallen rangers. Arriving at Dan, Cavendish paused. The ranger’s breathing was shallow and his face pale as he struggled for every breath.

>   “You’ve looked better,” Cavendish said, smiling cruelly.

  Summoning all his strength, Dan raised himself and cursed at Cavendish.

  “All heart, ain’t you?” Cavendish replied, relishing his opponent’s pain. Slowly, he pulled a curved blade out of his belt. “A year you took from me in that sweatbox in Tulsa. You take something from me, I’m going to take something from you.…”

  On the ground nearby, John struggled to regain consciousness. His eyes flickered open and closed, allowing him only glimpses of what was happening. He could hear the evil in Cavendish’s voice as he continued to talk to his dying brother. He could make out the outlaw as he lowered the curved blade, and saw as the other outlaws turned their heads, horrified. As John slipped into unconsciousness, the last thing he saw was Cavendish rising, a trail of blood across his brow, his hands red. With a silent cry, John let the darkness take him.

  As Cavendish wiped his hands on a handkerchief, one of his men stepped forward and kneeled next to Dan’s lifeless body. It was Collins. The big man had tears in his eyes. “Deal dies with you, old friend,” he said softly. Reaching out, he snapped the silver totem from Dan’s neck. He had shown his friend no honor in life. Perhaps he could find some way to do so in death.

  But before Collins could slip the totem in his pocket, Jesus snatched it out of his hand. With a greedy smile, he jumped on his horse. A moment later, Cavendish gave the orders for everyone—including Collins—to mount up. Then he let out a loud “YA!” and the outlaw gang took off, leaving the dead rangers behind.

  The sun was high in the sky, bathing the canyon with warm light. But that was the only nice thing about the scene. Vultures had begun to arrive, circling closer and closer to the canyon. Finally, several of the vultures landed on the ground, flapped their wings, and began to hop toward the body of a ranger.

  SWISH! A rock flew through the air, scattering the scavengers. A moment later, Tonto mysteriously appeared, having somehow escaped from jail. Behind him was a collection of newly dug graves. Six of them were already full. Reaching down, he grabbed the ankles of the ranger and then, as gently as possible, dragged him over to one of the empty graves.