The Gunslinger

Wayne Johnson's Legendary Ride

Crack!

With a ring, two shots fired simultaneously, breaking the silence. I felt a trickle of blood join the sweat pouring down my face as the sound of gunfire echoed through the abandoned mining town.

Across the main street from me, Wild Weston collapsed to the dirt, a groan escaping his lips. As it turned out, being the fastest meant nothing if you weren't also accurate. Fortunately, I was both the fastest and most accurate shot in all the West. A hot, dry wind whistled through the small town as I crossed the street to where Weston now lay on the ground.

“You plan on talkin', or are you gonna make me guess?” I asked the prone man.

Weston pushed himself up on his elbows, just high enough to spit a wad of blood, phlegm, and saliva on my boot. “Go to hell, Wayne.”

“I see my reputation proceeds me,” I said, a grin crossing my face. “Good, all of malintent ought know and fear the name of Deputy Wayne Johnson. Now, how do your compatriots plan to remove the diamond from the country?”

Weston coughed a harsh, wet cough, blood mixing with his drool. “Diamond?” He wheezed a short laugh. “That's the decoy.” The man coughed again. “Nah, we have much more valuable cargo this run. And... we knew you were coming.” Another hacking cough. “I was... the decoy... More are coming... Yer dead this time Wayne.” The man began chuckling, which turned into a hacking cough. More blood was spilling from his mouth, too much. Weston was drowning.

I grimaced as the man's coughs died out and the light dimmed from his eyes. Wiping my boot of blood and phlegm on the man's nasty shirt, I turned to return to my noble steed, Denver.

Here, I should explain for a moment. You see, I am told that my world differs from yours in one very important way. Here, the dinosaurs did not die out. And, I don't mean that they left descendants among the birds, we have those too. No, I mean we have dinosaurs.

I stop to explain this because my steed, Denver, is a Dilophosaurus. For those that still don't feel that clears anything up, imagine a creature about the size of a horse, though with a tail giving it extra length. Experts would probably give me grief for comparing it to a Tyrannosaurus Rex, but its general shape is close enough. Imagine a T. Rex with longer arms, and about the weight of a horse. Oh, right, and it has a bony crest on top of its nose. If you imagine that, you're close enough to a Dilophosaurus.

Anyway, I strode across the town to where I had left Denver hitched. While I walked, I considered what Weston had said. What cargo could be more valuable than the Chauser Diamond. The gigantic gemstone had been found in a small private mine a few decades ago, turning the Chauser family from a group of unknowns, to some of the most famous people in the West. While they had sold the gemstone, its reputation kept the family's name.

Unable to come to any conclusions, I swung up into Denver's saddle. Denver set off across the abandoned town, passing Weston where he lay in the dirt. As we left town, I guided Denver northward. We would head back to Goldlake, a town named after the now tapped gold mine on a sizable lake that was the only reason the town hadn't dried up alongside the mine. Sheriff Ansen held office there, overseeing many deputies, like myself.

While I rode, I continued to ponder the mystery of the outlaws cargo. No matter which way my mind turned, nothing made sense. Gold would be valuable, of course, but per weight, diamonds were worth much more. I considered drugs, but that seemed to mundane, and there would be no reason for Weston to sound so secretive. And so it was that I arrived in Goldlake, a couple hours later and still quite stumped.

I stopped outside Sheriff Ansen's office, tossing Denver a cut of raw beef from a hook inside the feed closet. I was briefly tempted to step inside for a moment — the closet was chilled to help the meat keep longer — but I didn't have the time to waste, and we did get admonished for such frivolous type actions anyway.

I strode into the office and ran straight into a wall of noise. Sheriff Ansen was at a chalkboard with Deputy Ansen, his son, Deputy Colrige, and Deputy Lin. Both Ansens and Colridge were debating in passionately raised voices, though a quick read of their faces told me they were not particularly angry at each other. Lin glanced towards me as I entered, his already narrow eyes crinkling further into a smile.

At Lin's look, Sheriff Ansen also turned. “Wayne!” he shouted over the racket. “You better have a good report.”

“Sir!” I replied. Sheriff Ansen didn't seem too angry at us right now, but using good respectful formalities seemed a right cautious course of action. “I ran down Wild Weston in an abandoned town south of here, and engaged in a shootout. Weston's dead.”

“Good work. He's been a serious thorn in my side longer than his tenure as a member of these Chauser thieves. Did you get any information outta him before he ate dirt?”

“He mentioned they had cargo more valuable than the diamond.”

“Shit!” Deputy Colridge spat.

“Colridge, language!” Sheriff Ansen said.

“Sorry sir...”

“That settles it then, doesn't it?” Deputy Ansen asked, turning towards his father. “They have the kids.”

My mind tuned out the conversation as I digested what Deputy Ansen said. Kids? Did these outlaws take kids? If that was true...

“Catch me up,” I demanded, cutting through the conversation.

Lin gestured at the chalkboard, where notes had been taken and some pictures of a crime scene had been tacked up. “Ms. Ellen Ivy and her children were kidnapped this morning. The eldest son was found dead at the scene, presumably he attempted to stop whatever befell his family.”

“Those bastards...” I muttered moving towards the record cabinets. I vaguely heard the sheriff admonish my language, but ignored it in favor of riffling through the cabinet, looking for a particular map. I felt my blood pressure rising as anger took me. How dare they touch poor Ms. Ivy? She was a widow, her husband dead in a rail accident.

Speaking of rails, I found the map I was seeking, and pulled it out of the cabinet with a flourish. Spreading it on the desk before the chalkboard, I began searching it quickly.

“Wayne? Wanna clue us in?” Colridge asked, peering over the map as well.

“With captives, they won't have enough steeds. They're on a train somewhere. I'd bet a round they're headed out of country; they'll wanna be able to offload the diamond in a less scrupulous market. Same goes for human cargo. And, if they're going to highjack, or even just smuggle aboard, a train, they're going to need the train to stop. Like here.” I pointed to spot on the map.

“A water station...” Deputy Ansen breathed. “Yeah, that'd make sense. How many are there in the area?”

“They boarded there,” I said, still pointing at the first water station.

“Doesn't matter,” Sheriff Ansen said. “The train's too fast. It'll be out of the country before you could even think about catchin' it.” I heard the sheriff as he was speaking, but ignored him. I had already begun to gather my things from my desk, extra ammunition, a fresh water canteen, and other things for a lengthy trip. “Wayne? Where are you going?”

“I'm gonna rescue the kids, boss. Don't try to stop me.” With that, I strode out of the office. I knew then that if I returned empty handed, it would mean my badge, but so be it.

On my way out, I snatched a few more cuts of beef and tossed one to Denver. The others I packed into one of his saddlebags, packing my things opposite. As I was mounting up, the others filed out of the office. I gave Sheriff Ansen a wink. “Back soon, sir.” I rode off, blocking out whatever the sheriff was shouting behind me. I could deal with the fallout when I returned.

Out on the open road, I pushed Denver towards his top speed. When he full out sprinted, he could exceed even a train, though he wasn't really built to maintain that speed for long. For now, I had him trotting in a light run, enough to keep pace with the train. I would have to catch up as it made water stops.

I was so deep within my thoughts that I did not even notice the water station as I approached. Of course, this also meant that I did not notice the thugs that had been stationed there, presumably for just this sort of situation.

Fortunately, Denver is smarter than me and was paying attention. Thanks to his quick evasive motions, weaving back and forth, the first volley of bullets missed me entirely. This, of course, had the side effect of snapping me right to attention. I had counted four... no five shots. I pulled my revolver from the gun belt. If I didn't want to reload, I couldn't afford to miss.

Here, I will pause my story once again to explain something you likely weren't aware of. Shooting from horseback is a pain, especially whenever travelling any faster than a walk. The gait of a horse necessitates that its back cycles through an up and down motion, making aiming a real chore.

However, I do not ride a horse. I ride a dilophosaurus. The gait of this particular dinosaur, like others of a similar build, does not bounce up and down nearly to the same degree. This makes aiming much simpler. Why do I explain this? Well, while I like to brag as much as the next guy, I want my feats of glory told in the correct context. When your reputation gets overhyped, that is when your opposition over prepares and you wind up dead. And I would rather not get dead.

Anyway, that all explained, and my attention now fully on the outlaws lying in ambush at the water stop, I took aim. Remember what I said earlier in the story, about being fast to draw not being enough. Well, perhaps I did not emphasis just how accurate my shot is. This may get the point across though.

Before the outlaws could load a new shot into their muskets, I fired, once, twice, thrice. The first shot took the bandit standing atop the water tower just under the ribcage. He folded over the railing, and plunged to the ground. The next took a bandit among the water tower supports in the right shoulder, forcing him to drop his gun. The third pinged off of another support, ricocheting into a third bandit for a grazing shot.

Well, nobody is perfect, I suppose, and two out of three when traveling twenty five miles per hour isn't too bad.

As my third shot landed, the other two bandits, who had hidden on the other side of the track behind a small rise had reloaded. I took the obvious course of action, and dismounted, jumping to the far side of Denver from the two bandits. I hit the ground in a roll, hand on my hat to prevent it from flying away. As I came to a stop, another shot hit the dirt where I had been. The remaining bandit under the water tower had recovered from his flinch.

I paused a moment to aim, time granted while the man reloaded. Another shot, another hit, this one in the upper chest, certainly hitting a lung, if not his heart. As the man collapsed, I heard a shriek from the left. Denver had jumped the men in hiding, and was in the process of mauling the first with his powerful hind limbs. The second was backing away, eyes wide. I considered for a moment, before dropping that man as well, granting him mercy.

“Denver, finish!” I commanded. The dinosaur obliged, finishing the man beneath him with a snap of his jaws, cutting the shrieks short.

I began reloading my revolver as I rounded to check the dropped bandits. One bullet left was close. If any of these idiots had had a revolver like me, they may well have gotten a lucky hit. Well, no time for reminiscing. Four of the five men were dead, but the one with a shoulder wound was still conscious.

“How long?” I asked, prodding his side with my boot. The man was sitting against the water tower support, clutching his shoulder, and hissed at me. “How long since the train departed?”

“You think I'd tell you?” the man asked, spitting.

“Well, I'll give you a quick death if ya do. If not...” I glanced back towards Denver as I trailed off.

The man followed my gaze, his eyes widening and face going white. “You wouldn't...” I just shrugged at him, starting to rise. “No, wait!” I turned back to the bandit. “An hour, tops,” the man sounded desperate now.

“Good, see how easy this is? Now one more. How many more are there?”

“Seven.”

“And the leader? Anybody notable?”

“Jack.”

“Jack the Butcher? What's he doing so far south?” Jack had been involved in a long series of ranch attacks that left cattle, hogs, and other livestock butchered, carrying off only the best cuts of meat for himself. He had also been in a few shootouts, evading the law each time.

“Dunno, he just began roundin' up a crew for a massive heist.” Denver had, by this point, walked up behind me. The man was watching, wide eyed over my shoulder.

“Oh, all right. I s'ppose you have given me what I need. I smashed my pistol into the man's temple and he collapsed to the ground. He would likely bleed out there, so I mounted Denver and we set out after the train.

If we were truly a mere hour behind the trains departure from this water stop, we should be able to catch it at the next, if we pushed our limits. I set Denver in at a fast pace and the two of us barreled along the track.

Due to the relatively flat terrain, there were no serious curves that I would be able to shave time on; the rail was a straight away south, headed into the next country. That meant this was a test of speed and endurance, flesh versus steel.

As we covered ground, I would let Denver go all out for a bit before slowing his pace for a bit. Swapping like that was aggravating, but it did keep his stamina higher from dropping too low. I had lost myself in the trance of riding once again, so, once again I did not spot the ambush until it was sprung.

Three shots pinged into the dirt, but a fourth struck true. It bit into my left thigh, but my adrenaline spiked to dull the pain. It did not, however, dull the shock at what I saw. An honest to goodness Tyrannosaurus Rex was barreling down the track towards me, carrying four bandits on its back.

Now, Denver is a big dinosaur, longer than a horse. He is big enough to fit a grown man's head in his mouth. A Tyrannosaurus Rex on the other hand, is big enough to fit nearly my entire body in its mouth. And, further, they are rare. As in, I have seen one once before kind of rare.

I said the one thing that came to mind. "Shit." I know, eloquent. You try coming up with something clever when a five ton beast that can swallow you whole is bearing down on you. Once again, Denver saved me. He made a hard veer to the right, dodging around the T. Rex's bite.

The good thing about a beast that size is that they are slow to turn. I came to my senses at this point, pulling my revolver. I popped off a couple of shots; one dropped the front bandit on my side of the T. Rex, but the other only received a flesh wound.

These bandits were better equipped, and the wounded one pulled a revolver to begin firing back. In response, I pulled Denver into a a hard turn under the T. Rex's tail. Another two shots took the bandits on that side by surprise, dropping them both. Now I just had one more bandit to deal with. Oh, and a T. Rex.

Speaking of, the T. Rex had skidded to a stop and was rounding on me once again, turning such that the remaining bandit was shielded with his body. As it was finishing its turn, I spurred Denver into motion. The T. Rex bite down at us, but Denver had already passed under its mouth and popped out on the side with the bandit. I turned and fired off my final two shots, nailing the bandit in his right arm and throat. The man gurgled as he fell from the saddle.

Now I just had a T. Rex to deal with. As if it would be as easy as that made it sound. With that thought, a bolt of inspiration hit me, and I leapt from Denver's saddle to begin pulling myself into the T. Rex's saddle. Mounted up, I tugged the beast around until it faced into the wilderness, then gave it a sharp push to run. The T. Rex began lumbering off, and I dismounted by sliding off its tail. As I watched it go, I thought to myself 'Huh, maybe it is that easy.' I suppose it is a good thing the bandits were at least good at training their beast

Shrugging, I mounted back onto Denver's back, and had him set out following the train tracks once more. I pulled some bandages from a saddlebag as we rode and began wrapping my leg. The bullet had pierced through, and hadn't hit anything vital, so it was really just oozing, but better safe than sorry. After I was bandaged up, I reloaded my revolver as well. By the count of the man at the previous water stop, there should only be three thugs left. With six bullets, I liked my odds.

My ride continued fairly uneventfully for the next couple of hours, until I saw the water station ahead. As it came into view, I heard the shrieking whistle of the train, and it began to move once more. Spurring Denver into a sprint, we caught the train quickly while it was still accelerating. I jumped to the last car, a passenger caboose, landing good leg first. “Stay 'longside the train!” I shouted to Denver, indicating with my hand. The dinosaur kept pace with the rear car where it could see along both sides.

I pulled myself up to the roof of the caboose, and began walking towards the front of the train, favoring my right leg. The short hops between cars were hell on my wound, but I managed to make it to the coal car, just behind the engine. I could see the engineer and fireman in the train engine, so I called out, “Stop this train! I'm a licensed deputy and you are carrying stolen goods!”

In response, a couple of shots were fired. Two bandits stepped into view. Well, this wasn't great. I was going to have to be especially careful not to hit the bystanders. I squeezed off a shot before throwing myself backwards to avoid further fire. I heard a shout of pain, so I must have hit something important.

It was then that I noticed the real problem. Another man, a giant really, had made his way onto the roof alongside me. He was carrying a huge knife in one hand and loomed over me. I rolled to the side as he stabbed downwards, and then pushed to my knees. I leaned away from a slash and used my right leg to push back. I was closer to the edge than I remembered, and stumbled into the heaps of coal in the next car.

The giant man, who must have been Jack the Butcher, crashed into the mound of coal next to me, sending chunks flying. I shot twice, missing once and scoring a hit to his left arm that he ignored. Seeing my hit not affect him at all, I scrabbled to avoid the man as he stabbed again. I was not quite so lucky this time, as his knife bit flesh, tearing a long but shallow wound into my side.

A couple of shots from behind me reminded me of the bandits in the engine. I managed to make some space between Jack and myself, and turned to face the shooter. I saw that indeed one of the men had gone down, and a quick shot took out the other.

As the second gunman dropped, a blow struck the back of my head, and I crumpled back into the coal. I twisted to fall on my back and took aim to fire my last shot, but Jack slapped the gun from my hand.

“Seems all you've managed to do is increase my share of the pay, foolish lawman,” Jack gloated. “Your reputation has grown considerably the last few years, Wayne. Killin' you will add to mine.”

I gave a low whistle. “I didn't know my name had gotten so big in the underworld. I suppose my cred will go up for finishing you off.”

“I have you weaponless, injured, and at my feet. What makes ya think you can stop me now?”

I gave him a cocky grin. “Well, you see, a good lawman never goes in alone.” As I spoke, Denver leapt, grabbing the edge of the coal car with his powerful hind legs to pull himself up and in. Called by my whistle, Denver had hustled to where I was in distress. And, I now have evidence for the fact that Jack is objectively a very large man. After all, he is the first person I have ever seen whose head has taken Denver more than one bite.

With Jack out of the way, I called down to the engineer and fireman. “Right, now can ya pull this thing to a stop?”

A few minutes later, the train was stopped, and I found Ellen Ivy and her children tied up and huddled in a cabin within the caboose. “No worries,” I declared. “I am Deputy Wayne Johnson, and I have come to rescue you. Your captors are all dead, and we'll have you back in Goldlake before the mornin' sun breaks.”

I did my best to receive the tears of gratitude and relief graciously, but, if I may be perfectly honest, this sort of situation was not my strong suit. Shooting bad guys dead, easy. Emotions, hard. So, I awkwardly hugged Ms. Ivy and her children.

As I was finishing comforting them, the train began moving back the way it had come. Based on what I had been told, it was best to run a train slower in reverse, so it would indeed take until morning to make it to the Goldlake station. Then, a quick sweep of the caboose found the diamond in another compartment with the bandit's luggage. After securing the diamond, I slept the rest of the way back.

The return trip was uneventful. As I strolled back into Sheriff Ansen's office, I found him waiting for me. He began to chew me out, but it was pretty halfhearted when he realized I had returned with the Ivy family and the Chauser diamond in tow.

Now, I hear it said that in many a Wild West story, as you might call this very one, they end with the rugged hero riding off into the sunset. Well, I can't just do that, I'm not some wandering hero, I have a job. And, so I got back to it.

Thank you for reading the story of Wayne Johnson. Now, I have a further request for you. The movie, Sound of Freedom is currently in theaters, and deals with the real life story of a man who rescues children from trafficking. I would like to encourage you to, if you have not yet, go see the movie. It is not graphic in nature, merely a heavy topic. This is a bit of an unusual request from me, but I am strongly opposed to the widespread crime network that makes it possible for a child to disappear into Hell on Earth and would like to see all people of good character standing as one against this abomination. Thanks!