The Warrior Sheep Go West

by Christopher Russell

  “We’re too late,” he explained unhappily. “There was a slaughter of rams here last night.”

  “Ohmygrass…” For once, Jaycey spoke for everyone.

  “Respect for the dead, man…” murmured Links.

  They all looked at their hooves in silence.

  “So I think,” said Wills, “we have to get to a place called Las Vegas now.”

  He’d seen a railway line as the helicopter was landing. The warriors, even Oxo, knew about railways as well as helicopters. They’d been on a train once, though only in the guard’s van. It was time to try again.

  Wills found a green man and crossed a road, then saw a sign to the railway station. The only problem was that it directed the sheep down a side street full of houses. Each house had a low white fence. And inside each fence was a well-watered lawn. After the desert experience, the temptation was too much.

  “Feed the fleece to fight the foe!” cried Sal.

  Oxo didn’t need telling twice. He skipped over the first fence and got his head down in the life-giving greenery. The noise of juicy ripping soon had the other sheep, even Wills, following his example.

  “Keep moving,” called Wills, between stuffed mouthfuls. “Eat on the hoof.”

  So the warriors shuffled through the gardens like four-legged lawn mowers.

  When they finally reached the station parking lot, Wills saw a poster with a picture of a strange-looking train.

  ALL ABOARD SNORTING SAM!

  FORT WILMOT TO GRAND CANYON AND BACK

  JUMP OFF FOR LAS VEGAS

  In the distance beyond the station, he heard a loud, slightly mournful whistle.

  “Guys!” he called urgently. “I think there’s a train coming!”

  The others dragged themselves away from their lawns and followed as Wills hurried toward the station and squeezed through a gateway on to the platform. A large crowd of people was already waiting, chatting excitedly, craning their necks to catch a first glimpse of the oncoming train.

  “Here he comes, Junior,” said a man, hoisting a little boy up on to his shoulders.

  “Is it Snorting Sam?” asked the boy excitedly.

  “The real deal,” his dad assured him.

  The whistle blew again and a huge cloud of smoke belched from the funnel as the train clanked into the station. It was a very old steam locomotive, with big wheels, high carriages, lots of shiny brass, and a huge metal scoop fixed to the front.

  “That’s a cow catcher,” the dad said to Junior. “They used to scoop away critters that strayed on to the rails.”

  The driver was standing on the footplate, pulling on the brake. He waved to the waiting passengers as the giant wheels ground to a halt. Beside him, sweat streaming down his coal-blackened face, the stoker leaned on his shovel in front of the open furnace. At the very back of the train, there was an open platform with a thick brass rail around it.

  People clambered eagerly up the steps into the carriages and found their seats. Junior’s dad made his way to the back, to the viewing platform, and stood leaning against the rail with his son.

  “Let’s follow him,” said Wills. “We won’t be so noticeable out there.”

  He’d remembered something about needing tickets. The sheep squeezed through and stood on the viewing platform, trying to look as if they weren’t there.

  “This is so much nicer than the last train we were on,” said Sal approvingly.

  “Yeah,” said Links. “Everything in America’s more modern, right.”

  The whistle screeched, jets of steam hissed out on to the platform, and the wheels began to turn. Junior waved excitedly and the train chugged out of the station.

  “Who brought the woollies?”

  A ticket inspector had appeared in the carriage next to the viewing platform. Everyone shrugged and looked at everyone else.

  “Aw, they’re not doing any harm,” called Junior’s dad. “Let ’em come for the ride.”

  The inspector shrugged. “OK,” he said. “I’ll give ’em a sheep day return.”

  He laughed, pleased with his joke, and slapped a ticket on Sal’s broad back.

  The warriors settled to chew the cud and look out at the scenery rushing past. The last of the desert soon gave way to fields, then forest, as the train climbed higher and higher. Soon, all they could see were pine trees on either side.

  An old man wearing a Stetson hat and carrying a banjo came and sat in the carriage next to the viewing platform.

  “Howdy, folks,” he said. “Y’all enjoying the ride?”

  Everyone said they were.

  He strummed the banjo. “I’ll soon put a stop to that.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “A few things I have to tell you first. When we arrive at the Canyon, there’ll be a bus waiting for those going straight on to Vegas. Don’t be late. The bus won’t wait.” He strummed a few more chords on his banjo. “Las Vegas…Funny kind of name for the place, ain’t it? It’s Spanish: means ‘The Meadows.’”

  Everyone laughed again, but Wills didn’t understand why.

  “Meadows? What? As in grassy fields?” asked Oxo eagerly when Wills told the others what the banjo man had said.

  “Got to be, man,” said Links. “Meadows have sheep, right. That’s why Red Tongue’s goin’ there. To carry on the slaughtering ting.”

  So Oxo shut up about meadows. But then the old man with the banjo strummed a bit more and started singing.

  “Oh, I’m a lonesome cowboy, and I’m a long, long way from home…”

  Links hunched his shoulders. “Man…where’s the ear protectors when you really need them?”

  The rest of the warriors weren’t so fussy. In fact, they all enjoyed the music.

  “Oh, Su-sannah…” sang the human passengers.

  “Baa…baa…ba-ba…” bleated the sheep.

  “Don’t you cry for me…!”

  “Ba, ba, ba, ba, ba…!”

  “For I’m goin’ to Grand Canyon with a sheep right on my knee!”

  They were all still singing when the train finally clackety-clacked to a halt. Wills watched as most of the passengers hurried excitedly away from the station.

  “They’re going to see the Canyon,” he said wistfully. “I wonder if we’ve got time?”

  “Don’t be late, the bus won’t wait,” chanted Jaycey primly. She could see it in the parking lot.

  “What is this Grand Canyon ting, anyway?” asked Links as the rest of the sheep followed Jaycey.

  “It’s like a valley,” said Wills. “But massive.”

  “What, bigger than Soggy Bottom?” said Oxo disbelievingly.

  Soggy Bottom was the valley in Eppingham where they sometimes went for a change of grass.

  “Much bigger,” said Wills. “I saw it on Tod’s TV. It’s miles wide and deep and it gets so hot and dry in summer that hardly anything can live there.”

  “So…correct me if I’m wrong,” said Oxo, “but you’re saying this Canyon thing is just a hot, dusty hole in the ground. With no grub?”

  “A special hole,” insisted Wills.

  But he’d already lost their attention. Jaycey and Sal had come to a halt beside the parked bus. The doors were open and the driver was asleep behind the wheel.

  “Is this the one we want, dear?” asked Sal.

  The driver snored loudly and shifted about in his seat.

  “Yes,” Wills whispered, reading the sign on the front. “It’s going to Las Vegas. Better sneak on quietly though. It says ‘No Pets.’”

  “Pets!” snorted Links. “Pets is cats and dogs. We’s warriors, man.”

  The driver grunted loudly and shifted his weight again.

  “Sshhh…”

  Wills waited for the man to settle and then sprang up the steps and into the bus. He tip-hooved p
ast the driver and ran lightly along the aisle to the back. He’d hoped they could hide behind the seats, but Oxo, Links, and Sal were much too big to squash in.

  “Perhaps if we sit very still on the back seat, he won’t notice us,” murmured Wills.

  So they scrambled quietly onto the back seat and sat in a line, facing forward, as if they were part of the bus.

  A few people from the train were hurrying across the parking lot now. The driver heard their trundling suitcases and shook himself awake. He took their money and handed them tickets as they clambered aboard. A few of them nodded at the line of sheep on the back seat. The sheep nodded politely back. They’d become acquainted on the train. The humans settled into their seats and the driver closed the doors.

  “Las Vegas only,” he called, without turning in his seat. “Las Vegas next stop.”

  And he drove off without noticing his extra passengers.

  ***

  A few hours later, the Fort Wilmot hospital doors hissed open and Holly Boomberg strode in. She marched to the reception desk.

  “I’m looking for a flock of sheep,” she announced abruptly. “Where are they?”

  The receptionist looked up. She’d developed a way of dealing with rude customers. It was called “being rude back.”

  “This is a hospital, lady,” she said. “The H is for humans.”

  Holly clenched her fists. And her teeth.

  “They arrived by air ambulance earlier today,” she said. “I know they did.”

  “Try the veterinary center across the park,” suggested the receptionist, no longer looking at her. “We don’t do sheep.”

  “We saw some, didn’t we, Dad?”

  The voice behind her made Holly spin round. A small boy was sitting on a chair beside his father. He’d fallen over and cut his knee when jumping down from a train, and was bravely waiting to be stitched.

  “Sure did, Junior,” said his dad.

  “Where?” snapped Holly. “How many?”

  “There were five,” said Junior, still excited. “On Snorting Sam. Then they got on the bus to Vegas. They were real cute.”

  “Sure were,” said his dad.

  Holly was already on her way out. The doors hissed shut behind her as she jabbed fiercely at her phone. Eventually, her husband answered. “Hi, honey,” he said cheerfully.

  He was back at base now, surrounded by computers and people in white coats who called him “sir.” He’d completely forgotten Tod and Ida.

  “Stanley, I’m going to Las Vegas,” his wife snapped.

  “Vegas?” Stanley tried not to snap back. What was she talking about now? “This is no time for a vacation, honey.”

  In the background an automated voice was chiming down the seconds: Ninety-two thousand, one hundred and fifteen…

  “Can you hear that?” demanded the Professor. “The countdown? Tomorrow is B-Day, remember. Where are my sheep?”

  “Stanley.” Holly’s voice was sharp. “Shut up and catch a plane. Your sheep are in Las Vegas. Meet me there. I need your help.”

  She switched off her phone and drove her golf cart to the airport.

  “You need my help?” muttered the Professor to his silent phone.

  For a moment the surprising thought pleased him, but then he remembered the countdown again and began to panic.

  ***

  Tod and Ida’s cell in Gunslinger City was clean and cool, with a dirt floor and white painted walls. There were two bunk beds, a chair, and a little stove with a pile of logs beside it. A door in one corner led to a tiny toilet cubicle. There was no window, but plenty of daylight from the sheriff’s office and the street beyond. And the prisoners were not alone.

  All day, they’d been rattling their cell bars and pleading with the tourists who wandered in and out of the jailhouse. None had taken them seriously.

  “Great act,” the man now standing by the sheriff’s desk called. “You sure look like the real thing. Wild Boy Billy and Granny Gunsmoke.”

  “We are not an act!” shouted Tod for the hundredth time. “We’re not even American. We’re prisoners!”

  The people in the jailhouse laughed and clapped.

  “Well done, son,” said the man as he turned to go. “You’ve got a great future in the movies.”

  The rest of the group followed him out, chuckling. Tod sighed and turned to Gran.

  “It’s beginning to get dark,” he said. “There won’t be any more visitors now. We’ll have to try again tomorrow.”

  Gran was looking thoughtful.

  “Is Sheriff Halfwit out there?” she asked.

  Tod peered through the bars.

  “I can’t see him. Why? Did you want more food?”

  They’d eaten the Gunslinger Gumbo that Tiny had brought them earlier.

  “No,” said Ida. “Help me move the bunk.”

  Tod looked at her, then dragged one corner of the bunk beds away from the wall. The floor behind it seemed a little less firm.

  “It’s worth a try,” said Gran.

  She picked up the little shovel that stood by the stove and handed it to Tod.

  “Get digging!”

  14

  The Meadows

  Sitting on the back seat of the bus, heading for Las Vegas, the Warrior Sheep were thinking of only one thing: Red Tongue.

  “We’re gonna have to be cunning, right,” Links was saying. “He must be quick on his feet the way he keeps movin’. Brute force won’t be enough.”

  “Will be when I catch him,” growled Oxo.

  Jaycey yawned. “What do you think, Wills?”

  But for once Wills couldn’t offer guidance. Exhausted by his efforts in getting them this far, he’d fallen asleep.

  “Such a lambkin,” sniffed Jaycey.

  But very soon she was nodding too. And so were the others. The bus drove steadily through the desert with its load of dozing people and sheep. The sun set and stars began to twinkle in the dark night sky.

  High above them, a plane began its descent into Las Vegas airport.

  ***

  “Wakey-wakey, folks,” was the next thing the sheep heard. “Welcome to Las Vegas! Wakey-wakey!”

  The warriors followed the human passengers to the front of the bus and waited their turn to get off. The driver was in mid-yawn when he noticed them. He finally shut his mouth then opened it again, blinking as he did so.

  “When did you guys get on?” he demanded.

  But the sheep were already jumping down from the bus into a hot Las Vegas night.

  The sky was darkest blue-black, but everywhere lights blazed and danced and twinkled. The bus had stopped in the main street, outside the biggest building the warriors had ever seen. Except maybe for the building next door to it. Every building on the street was enormous and they were all pulsing with colored lights and neon signs. Fountains sent jets of water almost as high as the buildings themselves, and thousands of people surged in and out of the open doorways. The warriors stood in a cluster, staring around, bewildered.

  Jaycey was the first to speak. “Ohmygrass…it’s…it’s fleecetastic…”

  Oxo was less impressed. He’d woken up looking forward to a quick snack.

  “Funny kind of meadows,” he grunted. “I can’t see a blade of grass anywhere.”

  Just then the ground beneath his hooves began to move. The sheep looked down. They were standing on a silvery metal strip that stretched from the pavement to the nearest huge building. And it was indeed moving, drawing them slowly past slanting glass walls toward an enormous doorway.

  “Whoa, man,” cried Links. “Where we goin’?”

  Wills looked up at the glittering sign above the doorway and read aloud as they glided beneath it.

  “Hotel English Meadows.”

  A huge fountain in the center of t
he reception lobby shot jets of purple and green water high into the air. Gentle music played and slot machines around the walls jingled and flashed. The space was filled with people: visitors with suitcases, coming and going, waiters dressed like shepherds, carrying trays of food, musicians in old-fashioned costumes, playing flutes, and girls in long skirts and bonnets, handing out flowers.

  “Well, at least it’s nice and cool,” said Sal, thankfully.

  Jaycey sighed again, starry-eyed. “It’s just…”

  “Fleecetastic,” grunted Oxo. “You already told us.”

  He’d just tried a nibble of the grass-green floor and discovered it was made of plastic.

  A girl in a floaty pink dress bent and tucked a flower into Jaycey’s fleece.

  “You are sooo cute,” she said, before strolling away.

  Then a waiter in a shepherd’s smock offered Jaycey a lettuce leaf from the silver tray on his arm. “Hey, you’re pretty,” he said.

  “I want to stay here for ever and ever…” breathed Jaycey.

  Oxo just spat out shreds of plastic.

  Jaycey had forgotten about Red Tongue. She’d forgotten about Tod and Ida and Eppingham. She’d even forgotten about Sal and Wills and Links and Oxo. So when a hand with lots of diamond rings and bangles tickled her under the chin, and its owner said, “You’re beautiful. Do you want to come for a little walk?” she followed the woman in the long blue dress and glittering jewels to the elevator.

  “You need to freshen up a bit, cutie,” the woman said. “I can fix that.”

  The elevator doors opened and the woman swept in with Jaycey at her heels. The other sheep looked round.

  “Jaycey! Come back!” they all yelled, and they galloped toward the elevator.

  The doors hissed shut in their faces.

  15

  Gamboling in Las Vegas

  As Jaycey was disappearing into the elevator, Professor Stanley Boomberg was appearing in the Arrivals Hall at Las Vegas airport. He’d had a short doze on the plane but felt worse for it. It was the night before B-Day, after all. He shouldn’t be hurrying to meet his wife in Las Vegas of all places. Panic had given way to sheer bad temper. And people were staring at him for some reason.