The Lone Ranger Part 1 Chapter 1

Part I: The Dawn of the Legend

Jimmy Loong

Feb 20^th, 2016 / Re-write on 20th Jan 2020

0.

The the young lady was transfixed by the movement of the paddles at the stern of the boat. She had been from the coastal towns and it was her first trip inland. She stood far from the splashing water although she had seen the high waves on the beaches there was nothing compared to the churning of the paddles. She was mesmerized by the water being dragged out of the river and then it was thrown to the rear. Her hands twitching from the long inactivity. She reached out with both hands to rub it warm.

“Are you feeling fine?” The younger lady reacted to the touch on her left shoulder. She looked to the side and saw the older lady which was one head higher than her. The older lady who was her mother dressed in the tight gown with the stitched bodice and the wide skirting that was formed with the hoop inside. The younger lady turned to her mother and hugged the older lady. When she was hugging the mother, she saw the group of well-dressed men at the portside. There were six of them there with the stove hats and tailored fitted suits. They were waiting for the steamer to dock at the jetty. 

It was not the men she was curious about but the long crate that was guarded by the six men. It was a long rectangle wooden box but there were special clasps on the sides to hold it the cover firm. There were also the layers of tar coated on it. She knew of that when her father had told her of it. He was curious why the tar was used there when it was normally used to coat the ship hull. The lady stares caught one of the men who looked over at her. The expression on the face was grim and the eyes were piercing into the young lady.

“Mother, can we leave now?” The younger lady tugged at the lapels of the older lady’s dress to move away. The duo then stepped away from the stern of the boat and proceeded to the cover of the upper hulls where the cabins were located. When the duo stepped into the covered cabins area, a tall figure stepped out to approach the six men at the portside. The figure was also dressed in a stove hat and tailored suit. He stepped aside for the two ladies. He did a curtsy bow towards them and then proceeded to the group of men. One of the six men then nodded to the new arrival. He motioned to the jetty where the steamer was soon to dock.

“Is the wagon ready?” The newly arrived man enquired. He had seen the wagon was there on the jetty as per the instructions but he was keen to leave the jetty area once they had loaded the crate. He saw the fishes were surfacing on the river as if there were a mass poisoning or sacrifice about to take place. He then placed his right hand on the wooden crate. It was secured but he could feel the vibrations from inside. He then looked up at the dipping sun on the tree lines horizon at the river. It was another hour to dusk and that reinforced his confidence that he could handle the situation if needed.

The the crate was soon transferred to the wagon which took off with an escort of the six stove pipe men. Their destination was the train station heading for the inner lands of Arizona.

The Prince was at a new home then.

Part I

1.

The Stonecast Town was named by the mason who founded the place when he accidentally discovered the rail tracks were passing the land of his. He bought the neighboring pieces and then cleared the valley of the trees to make the logs. He started off with the lumber yard and then expanded with the stores and then the saloon. The last was needed for the cowboys were herding their cattle past the valley to the market place in the bigger town on the plains. The town grew from the few shops he built on a single street to five more streets with more than fifty stories in five years. The farms soon appeared and the local township had then a local sheriff to maintain the law and order. That growth stopped since the local law officers suffered no results of any offenses, and the officers left the job. The town founders then formed a committee of enforcers but the town was suffering from a drain of inhabitants. The town was renamed the Stone Throw by then when the population dwindled to half its inhabitants.

“I can throw in the morning meals if you choose to extend for three more nights.” The hotelier had on his best smile while his right hand was pulling at the bowtie on the neck. He had on his best suit daily despite the numbers on his hotel guests were dwindling. He felt that the impression was important. He was handling the guest that had booked in for one week then. 

The guest was a fine gentleman with a finer taste in the suit. It appeared to be handmade and the Stetson hat angled at the side gave him a handsome look.

“I doubt so.” The guest replied with a twitch to his upper limps where his pencil mustache gave out the masculine streak to the expression. “My cattle passed here since last night. I …”

“I I am sorry for your loss …I heard of the cows.” The hotelier gave out his best of “I am sincerely sorry’ expression.

“Yes, it was but with a thousand of them I am sure I could spare a few. My bank account won’t feel the shortage.” The guest smiled back at the hotelier but the later smile had slumped into a slight frown.

“Thank you, Mr. Smith.” The hotelier stepped back while reaching for the walking cane with the leaded cane top. “I do appreciate your stay here. I will have your charges taken care of in the morning.”

“Good day, Mr. Smith.” The hotelier then moved to the office behind the reception counter. Mr. Smith then turned to move back up to the best suite in the hotel. He was paying good money for the best. It was the best of the better rooms with the wider bed and dresser with a deep bathtub. He had rejected the Mexican maid for the extra services although he tipped her well. The guest closed the door and then proceeded to remove the suede jacket before he removed his sweaty shirt. His upper body was a marvel to look at with the inkling of the tattoos over it. It was not any typical motifs but intricate designs of unknown origins.

“Kemosabe, am I to stay here forever like being dead inside the ground? Or perhaps I am to find a spot to ink more on you?” Mr. Smith looked towards the spot next to the bed. The figure was a bronzed hunk with a bare chest and the bead chest plate. He had sneaked in by the window when the man was talking to the hotelier.

“You could sleep on the bed. I did tell you the right side by the window.” The man heard the bronzed hunk. The later was used to sleeping under the stars.

“Kemosabe, I can’t sleep there. I may ruin my posture and you won’t allow me to wear my moccasins on it.” The Native Americans rose up from the flooring. He had hidden under the bed. He then reached for the hand-sewn blanket and slung it across the room onto the chair there. The bronzed figure was a native of the land. Mr, Smith had then folded his shirt.

“Well, hang onto your pants I am sure the demons will be here.” The one named Mr. Smith was named Kemo-Sabe by the Native American. The man then reached for the towel to wipe the sweat off his chest. The tattoos on the body were swirling when he wiped it then as if it was alive.

“That made my day.” The Native Americans stepped to the door. He opened it and looked outside. “Can I go outside? I need to you know release myself. It’s the beans I guess.”

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Without a word, the native sneaked off and leaving the tattooed guest alone. The figure alone in the room then reached for a fresh shirt from his duffle case. He saw then the gun belt that held his double guns with the twenty-five holders for cartridges. The holster was held in place by an elongated slot sewn to the belt. The holsters were angled slightly forward for a faster draw. The holsters were hung low on the belt tab. He reached for it and held one of the cartridges there. It was not a typical cartridge for those were made from silver. It was the only material that will wound or kill the demons. Silver was considered pure metal and demons when ingested with it will react to it like poison. Whatever it may be, it kills demons.

“Shucks! Don’t tell me you are not dressed yet?” The native had appeared in the room then. “I am hungry.”\

“Soon but I need to use the privy.” The tattooed man picked up the sweaty shirt. “I hope you did not dirty it.”

“Me, Kemo-Sabe? You might want to check it out. I was not even near it at all. I have my own spot with the coyotes.”