Previously: “I don’t think so, Boomer,” Sarah laughed, “It’s true, she has an itchy trigger-finger, but you have to know she will temper that with her common-sense.”
“You know I was teasing.”
“You were?” Jay cracked, “Who knew?”
A little closer to the front of the column Linda was practicing her quick-draw, “Be careful, I’d rather not get any holes in my buckskins.”
“Ralph!” Linda laughed, “I’m not drawing back the hammer!”
“Good to know,” Ralph grinned.
Hour after hour they continued their journey and their conversations dwindled. The monotony was eventually broken when Flutters rapidly returned, “RIDERS—A LOT OF RIDERS—DEAD AHEAD!”
Season 12—Adventure 6—Saskatchewan! Episode 9… The marshals’ sentient horses quickly jumped the high fence (hey—they’re sentient—they CAN do things ordinary horses cannot accomplish) and knelt-down so as to be hidden from view. The dog-people stayed back even further as they’re useless in a gun-battle.
After several minutes of waiting—the riders hadn’t approached, “Just how far is ‘dead ahead,’ Flutters?”
“Master says ‘dead ahead’ for a bird flying at 30mph,” Flutters replied, “Is a bit more distant than for humans and horses traveling at 3mph—my apologies, Chris, they’ll arrive in ten minutes.”
Daisy, lying in the weeds, could be heard chortling, “Bird-brain scores—again!”
“Master says I should laugh at the Brow & White’s attempt at a joke.”
About ten minutes later, as the riders approached, one could be heard, “I thought you said there were travelers on the road for us to rob, Farley—where are they?”
“That’s what I was told,” Farley replied, “Mebbe they stopped somewhere ahead.”
“Yeah-yeah,” McCoy snorted, “How many times to we hafta chase ghosts on this road?”
The riders stopped to continue their discussion—which soon devolved into a shouting match.
“Arturo told us we’d find riders!”
“Arturo is an idiot—he’s sent us out before, and we found nothin’!”
“Miles agreed with him—and Miles is always right—you fellers know that!”
“Yeah—well where are they?”
“Maybe they stopped, or maybe they turned on to the fork up ahead a mile or so?”
“I reckon we can ride to the fork and see.”
“We’ve ridden far enough I say.”
Chris ended their discussion, “Howdy fellas—drop your guns—NOW!”
At Chris spoke, the sentient horses quickly rose to their feet—and the riders froze momentarily in surprise. They outnumbered the marshals 11:9, and made the decision to reach for their guns.
That was a truly bad idea.
A really—REALLY bad idea.
To be CONTINUED…