The Daredevil Desperados of Destiny

by Charlie Small

  At lunchtime, as I sat by the campfire, I told my new pals about my incredible journey. I told them everything: about leaving home and getting washed away on my raft; about the crocodile and the jungle; Thrak; the Perfumed Pirates and finally the evil Puppet Master.

  I didn’t think they would believe me, but the outlaws were amazed by my adventures and said I was the bravest Desperado of them all. They promised to try and help me get back home if they could – just as soon as I had helped them defeat Horatio Ham!

  Oh well, it looks like I’ve got a job to do before I can think about going home. I will have to prepare myself for the task and practise lassoing until I’m as good as everyone thinks I am! First, though, I really want to speak to my mum. Even if she does say exactly the same thing every time, it lets me know that everything is still all right at home. I wound up my phone charger and tapped in my home number on the mobile.

  ‘Mum!’ I said when I heard her voice.

  ‘Charlie? Is that you? Is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes, Mum. I’m safe … I’ve joined a gang of Desperate Desperados and I have to stay here until we’ve defeated a baddy called Horatio Ham!’

  ‘Sounds wonderful, dear,’ she replied. ‘Just get home soon, Charlie. You’re very late and your dinner’s quite cold.’

  ‘Mum?’ I called, suddenly very worried. Surely that’s not what she usually said. Has something happened; has something changed? ‘Mum?’ I cried again, but she had already hung up. I tried ringing back, but I couldn’t get a signal. I hope everything is all right – but the sooner I get home, the better …

  Wild Bob said he was going to be in a meeting most of the afternoon, planning the Desperados’ next move against Horatio Ham.

  ‘You’ll have to amuse yourself for a bit,’ he said. ‘But be careful; we sometimes get the odd mountain bear or cougar wandering into camp, and they can be a bit of a handful.’

  I didn’t mind being left to my own devices. I knew what I wanted to do. I had watched Yellow Bill, one of the Desperados, practising with his lasso, and I noticed how he turned his wrist over as he twirled the loop above his head.

  Well, it looks easy enough, I thought, and I went to practise with my own lasso, well out of the way of the others. I didn’t want anyone to see that I wasn’t quite as good as Wild Bob had led them to believe!

  I spent most of the afternoon trying to get the rope flying through the air and landing on a target and, oh boy, it isn’t easy. I think I lassoed myself a hundred times, and an innocent lizard once, before I somehow got the rope in a hopeless tangle and spent an hour untying all the knots! I’m never going to get the hang of this. Though at the end of the day, I did manage to lasso a stone about a metre in front of me. That’s real progress!

  More beans.

  Practise riding Freecloud. She’s still very disobedient, but I’m getting the hang of it.

  More practise with my lasso. (I need it!)

  Another singsong around the campfire (with bean supper).

  Beans, followed by terrible tummy ache.

  More practise on Freecloud. I think we know who the boss is now – she is, and since I’ve accepted that, things have been much better!

  More practise with my lasso – getting better.

  Multiple bottom explosions – tummy ache gone!

  I carried on practising my lariat skills. I am not doing too badly; all my experience of swinging on vines through Gorilla City and climbing the rigging on the Betty Mae has given me a feel for handling ropes and I soon had the lariat plopping onto the little rocks that I used as targets.

  As I practised, I noticed some really bizarre creatures living amongst the rocks, and although I am now a Desperado, I’m still first and foremost an intrepid explorer, so I have jotted down a description of a couple of the weirdest animals and named them:

  The Slam Dunk Toad

  A harmless and comical creature, the Slam Dunk Toad can really make you jump as its flat, fat body lands with a loud slap on a rock right next to you!

  The Galleon Lizard

  The Galleon Lizard’s body is the shape of a fat-hulled galleon, and its back is crested with spines and fans, like sails and rigging. Don’t be fooled if you see one lazily basking in the sun on a rock; they can move very quickly and their spines are deadly poisonous.

  Please excuse my wobbly handwriting, but my hands are still shaking with fear. It was nearly all over for me today. I didn’t know a lasso could get you into so much danger. If it hadn’t been for some double-quick thinking on my part and some real fancy shooting from Gentleman Jim Silver, I would be just a memory by now!

  After my usual morning chow-down (I’m picking up the Desperado lingo quite quickly) and checking the Desperado Notice Board for any new instructions, I took my lariat across to the practise area. I stood some stones on a large rock, took a hundred paces back and started to spin the lasso over my head. Once, twice, and throw. The rope snaked through the air and landed over the stone I had been aiming for. I tried again and succeeded again.

  Now I did the same, but this time on the move. I threw my lasso whilst running; I threw it as I span round from low down, left-handed, right-handed; I threw the lasso from the back of a galloping Freecloud, and every time I hit my chosen target. I was good; I finally felt I might deserve the nickname of the Lariat Kid.

  Feeling pleased with myself, I was just heading back towards the huts when a slight movement among the rocks caught my eye, and instinctively I turned and threw the rope. I thought it was a plant waving in the breeze, but as the loop of my lariat dropped over it and I pulled hard to tighten it, I realized there wasn’t even a breeze in the air. So what was making the plant wave?

  I gave the rope a yank, trying to pull the object out of the rock. Nothing happened so I yanked again, hard. Suddenly, and with a terrifying roar, a huge cougar leaped on top of the rock and I saw what I had done – I had lassoed its tail, which had been sticking up above the top of the boulder. BIG MISTAKE!

  Spitting and hissing, the cougar attacked, giving me little time to think. The animal launched itself at me with deadly claws extended and its huge fanged mouth open in a terrific and angry roar. I did the first thing that came into my head; reaching over my shoulder, I pulled the extending umbrella from my rucksack. As the animal dived towards me, I dropped to my knees, avoiding its razor-like talons, and thrust the umbrella into its gaping jaw while pressing the release button.

  I just managed to roll away as the lion landed heavily on the ground and my umbrella snapped open, forcing its mouth wider still. The spokes of my brolly dug painfully into the roof of its mouth; now the animal couldn’t bite, and in a mad frenzy the cougar ripped at the contraption, shredding the cover and pulverizing the wire frame. As I backed away trying to find a place to hide, the cougar spat out the remains of my umbrella and, with a satisfied look, started to creep towards me.

  Now what? I was all out of umbrellas; I was all out of Paterchak’s mint humbugs and pirate cutlasses. I was all out of ideas! Then, as I stepped back against the volcano’s sheer wall and realized I had nowhere to run, the ground in front of the cougar exploded in a puff of dust and the sound of a pistol shot echoed around the bowl of the volcano.

  I looked across to where the shot had come from and there, of all people, stood Gentleman Jim Silver, his hat pulled low over his eyes and one of his pearl-handled pistols smoking in his right hand. The angry cougar took another step towards me, and again a bullet ripped into the ground in front of it. Now the massive beast turned and, with a roar, charged at Silver, streaking across the ground in a blur of furious yellow fur. In an instant, Silver dipped his left hand, drawing his other pistol, and with his two guns spitting lead, he sprayed the ground in front of the charging beast, forcing it to turn away. A final shot cut across the animal’s rump, singed its fur and sent it racing for the rocks.

  The animal leaped across the boulders and, without stopping, climbed the cliff face higher and higher, finally disappearing into
the mouth of a cave that appeared as a tiny black dot high in the volcano’s wall.

  ‘Close call,’ drawled Gentleman Jim, and with a chuckle he turned and headed back to the huts. Incredible! The silent, stand-offish gunman had come to my rescue.

  ‘Thanks!’ I called after him. Gentleman Jim pointed towards the ground where the cougar had charged. ‘You can keep them as a souvenir,’ he said as he disappeared inside his bunkhouse.

  Keep what? I thought, and hurried over to where he had pointed. There, lying in the dust, were eight long cougar claws that he had neatly trimmed with his superb shooting. Excellent! These will be undeniable proof of my terrible encounter with a cantankerous cougar. Wait until I show my friends back at school!

  This evening we all sat down to our supper of beans and bacon (I never thought I would say this, but I’m getting a bit tired of the Desperados’ menu) and while we ate, Wild Bob told us the plans for tomorrow. He chalked a diagram of Trouble Town onto a painted board, and explained how we were going to rob Trouble Bank! I was appalled – surely we were supposed to be helping the people of Trouble, not taking their money!

  ‘Calm down, partner,’ said Wild Bob. ‘You heard what the storekeeper said. Ham has taken over the bank and won’t let the townsfolk have their own money. We’re not going to steal the money, we’re going to liberate it and give it back to the people who own it. That should set Ham’s blood a-boiling!’

  ‘Yee-hah!’ cheered the Desperados.

  ‘That’s brilliant!’ I cried. ‘Just like Robin Hood.’

  ‘I said we weren’t robbin’ anybody,’ said Wild Bob. ‘Now this ain’t gonna be easy, so everyone must be on their best form. I don’t want to have to go back for some straggler who’s got themselves thrown in jail.’ I don’t know why, but I had the feeling that Wild Bob was looking at me when he said that!

  Now I’m lying in bed, images of shootouts and chases flashing through my head as the sound of the Desperados’ snores shake our flimsy wooden hut. I must try and get some sleep, though. Otherwise I will be too dozy to take part in tomorrow’s raid. I will write more just as soon as I can.

  OH NO! After all our planning and Wild Bob’s warnings, I’m writing this part of my journal from inside Trouble County Jail! The only other prisoner is a young Indian brave, about my own age; but either he doesn’t speak English, or he’s not very friendly, because all he does is sit cross-legged on his bunk, silently staring into space.

  Apparently I only have a few hours left, for at sunrise tomorrow Horatio Ham and Mad Marshal Mickey McKay have promised me a big surprise. I don’t know what sort of surprise, but I know it won’t be nice; a while ago they got Nathaniel Slaughter, the town undertaker, to come and measure me for a coffin! Mad McKay has put extra guards on the jailhouse, but I do hope Wild Bob rescues me tonight. In the meantime I’ll tell you all about our bank raid.

  Six of us rode into town: Wild Bob; Gentleman Jim; Sneaky Pete; Jake ‘Pint-pot’ Penley; Yellow Bill, who shook like a leaf at the first sign of trouble but was really as brave as a lion; and finally myself, the Lariat Kid.

  Some of the other Desperados were waiting outside town as extra cover, in case we had to retreat, and the rest were back at Destiny guarding the hideout. My heart was pounding as we rode quietly down Main Street. I had never robbed a bank before, and I knew that Horatio Ham would not let us take the money without a fight. But I had sworn to uphold the Desperado creed and I was determined to do my best.

  There were only a few early risers about and the town seemed calm and peaceful. There was no sign of Ham, but all of a sudden a lone cowboy spotted us and raced down the sidewalk.

  ‘That’s one of Ham’s men. Take him, Kid,’ said Wild Bob, and I unhooked my lariat and in one fluid movement had it spinning over my head; with a flick of the wrist I sent it arcing through the air, falling over the man’s shoulders and slipping down to tighten around his ankles. I yanked and he came crashing down onto the wooden sidewalk. Brilliant, it worked! All my practising had paid off.

  ‘That was real sweet, Kid,’ said Wild Bob, and I beamed with pride.

  Sneaky Pete ran over to the floored man. With a thin cord he tied the man’s hands and feet and put a gag around his mouth. None of the townsfolk tried to stop us. They were firmly on our side, but they knew there might be trouble and started to head back home.

  ‘Good morning, Bob,’ said a lady in a bright crimson dress, smiling winningly. Her face was painted like a china doll’s and she fluttered her long eyelashes. ‘When are you going to come and see me, you big Daredevil Desperado, you?’

  Bob’s face blushed as red as the lady’s dress.

  ‘Well I … we’re here on business. Excuse me, ma’am,’ he stuttered.

  ‘Who’s that?’ I asked as she winked at Bob and hurried away.

  ‘Oh, er … local schoolmistress,’ said Bob, and I heard Sneaky Pete give a loud snort. Schoolmistress! I thought. She’s certainly not like any of the teachers at St Beckham’s.

  We carried on towards the bank where we loosely tied up our horses, ready for a quick getaway.

  ‘OK, this is it!’ said Wild Bob in a serious voice, and I pulled my neckerchief over my face for a mask, as I’d seen cowboys do on the telly.

  ‘There’s no point in that, Kid,’ smiled Gentleman Jim. ‘Everyone knows who we are!’

  ‘Is everybody ready?’ asked Bob. ‘Let’s go. Victory to the Daredevil Desperados of Destiny!’

  ‘Yee-hah!’ we all shouted, and with Wild Bob leading, we crashed through the doors of the bank, Bob and Gentleman Jim firing their pistols into the ceiling for effect. My heart pounded with excitement and fear, but feeling more confident after the success with my lariat, I raced in … and promptly fell flat on my face!

  ‘Mind the step,’ said a lone voice from behind a long counter. I scrambled to my feet with as much dignity as I could muster.

  ‘Nobody move. This is a hold-up!’ yelled Wild Bob, scanning the room with his pistol; but he needn’t have bothered because the bank was empty. All except for the dusty old bank teller who had told me to mind my step, and was looking at us over his half-moon spectacles as calmly as though he dealt with bank robbers every working day.

  ‘I’m sorry, Bob, you’re too late; the money’s already been stolen!’ said the elderly man.

  ‘Ham guessed you might be planning something like this and he took all the cash first thing this morning.’ And the teller pointed to an iron safe at the back of the room. Its heavy door stood open and we could see he was telling the truth. The safe was as bare as old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard.

  ‘Where’s he taken it?’ asked Wild Bob.

  ‘I’ve no idea, but wherever he is, he’ll be laughing his socks off. He thinks he’s got the better of you.’

  ‘We’ll soon see about that,’ said Bob, his hackles rising. ‘He won’t make a monkey out of me. Come on, boys!’ And Wild Bob turned on his heels and marched towards the door.

  ‘Good luck, Bob, but watch out. Ham’s got his men everywhere.’

  I don’t think so, I thought. We only saw one, and I caught him. We opened the bank’s door … AND WALKED STRAIGHT INTO A HAIL OF GUNFIRE!

  ‘Down!’ yelled Wild Bob, and we hit the deck and rolled behind any cover we could find. Bob and I crouched behind a wagon tied up outside. Gentleman Jim and Sneaky dived behind a stone water trough; Pint-pot and Yellow Bill had rolled back inside the bank and were at an open window, pistols at the ready.

  ‘There they are,’ said Wild Bob, pointing up at the rooftops opposite the bank. ‘They must have been hiding there all the time, waiting for us to make our move.’ The rest of the street was now deserted. Wild Bob poked his head around the side of the wagon, and another swarm of bullets ricocheted all around us, sending great splinters of wood flying through the air like deadly darts. Yikes, what had I got myself into?

  A whistle sounded from Gentleman Jim behind the water trough. He was pointing to a porch above the barber’s, where three of Ham�
��s men were crouched underneath its large painted sign. Wild Bob nodded, and as the gunfire lulled, both men rolled out into the open, crouched on one knee for an instant as they sent a spray of bullets zinging through the air, shooting away the brackets that held up the signboard. Then they continued their roll until they had changed places; Bob was now hidden behind the water trough and Gentleman Jim was with me behind the wagon.

  At the same time, CRASH!, the signboard dropped from its brackets onto the heads of the hapless hard nuts below, knocking them clean out!

  ‘Sweet,’ I said, and Gentleman Jim grinned. Then, ‘Watch out!’ I cried as two men came running across the sloping roof outside the saddler’s, guns cocked and ready to fire.

  ‘They’re mine,’ called Sneaky Pete, and he raised his buffalo rifle and fired. BOOM! The powerful rifle shot one of the supporting pillars clean away and the roof started to collapse.

  ‘Aaargh!’ the men cried as they slid down the disintegrating tiles. Boof! One man landed with a heavy thud on the ground below. Splash! The other fell head-first into a smelly waterbutt. They lay motionless, knocked cold, and Sneaky Pete snorted in amusement, though his face was still as mournful as a sad-faced clown’s.

  Ham’s men started firing at once, and within seconds it was complete chaos. They crouched on every rooftop and behind every sign; their guns spitting lead and sending out orange tongues of fire.