3.
The rider on the white
horse heaved his body up from the long hours of riding. His thighs felt numb
slapping the leather. He looked at the
departing figure on the downward slope into the valley. He liked the Native American
ever since they met in the most unusual situation. He then pulled at the rein
of the white horse to make the ride towards up the hill. His ride was short
before the horse reached the stone hut by the forest. The stone hut was
previously a hunter lodge when they needed shelter. It had a porch and two
windows on the front with another on the rear. It had a living area, the
kitchen and the sleeping berth for two. There was the fireplace by the kitchen
and the gun cabinet was above the living area seating. That was the original
layout but now the living area was a gun room with the equipment to cap the bullets
with silver. There were two changes there and one was the wooden stake next to
the two Winchesters and the Sharps. It had stains of blood on it. The other was
the numerous inklings on the walls that were to protect the occupants. The
rider left his horse in the corral next to the stone hut after unsaddling it.
“You are finally back.
“ The figure seated there at table making the silver bullets looked up. His
face was covered with the mouth piece but his dressing spoke more of him with
the white collar on the shirt lapels.
“Lance, I have done up
to sixty more cartridges for you.” The religious man continued on. “I also
re-stocked the pantry. Since you are back can you tell your friends to leave me
out of their meals discussion? I am without the meat and my blood is purified
that it may choke them.”
“Thank you, Father
Dennis.” The one named Lance aka Kemo-Sabe left his gear by the doorway. He
then proceeded to help himself the coffee by the fire place.
“I heard of your
exploits at Far Creek and Dan Town. Those bank robbers will not be a threat
anymore.” Father Dennis stood up from the table. He shook off the silver dust
from his frock. “I was also told that they will repent for their sins. Your
mode of justice had been persuasive.”
Lance smiled on the
incident at Far Creek. The Lone Ranger was not only hunting the demons but also
the outlaws. He had not killed any of the outlaws but he had brought them back
to the house of the Lord. He had placed the fear of God in them once more. He
recalled the day he was to become the Lone Ranger. It was terrifying and above
all scared himself.
Lance Wayne Bernard was
in the heydays in the darker continent then as an adventurer providing works
for the needed audience in the affluent society. He was hunting the lions then
at the savannah not kill but to draw the pictures while in their natural
habitat. The wild creature was standing at three hundred feet beneath the lone
tree there while his pack of care was lying nearby. The wind was in his favor
then, and he had made the last hundred feet with confidence. He sensed the
instinct on his spine that his luck was not going to hold. He felt the wind had
dropped and his body perspired more while his hands went cold. He blinked his
right eye which was on the make shift branch that served as his camouflage. He looked
again. The lion was not there. Neither was the pack. There were no trees
either. Lance lowered the pencil and peeked out. He was most certain that he
could feel the mane of the lion then but it was not there anymore. He rubbed
his nose for the fresh scent of the breath of the creature on his face but
there was nothing. He felt a shiver down his spine and on instinct, he rolled
over and over with every roll, he was anticipating the paws of the creature to
halt his movement. Then he stopped and crouched up. He was still on the
savannah but the lions were gone. Instead there was a circle of natives there
doing the step dance there. He looked around him and found his entourage was
not to be found. He stood up and then approached the natives. They were clothed
only with the loin cloth but their body was covered with dried white clay that
was indication of some wild creatures. The natives have a tall head dress made
of bird feathers and in their hands was the shield and spear. One of them
turned to see Lance.
“White Ranger, your
destiny will be known soon.” The native spoke to him. Lance shook his head and
assumed that the heat had got into him.
“You cannot escape the
destiny.” The native then handed him a mask made from the dark shade creature
that lurks the dark forest on the branches of the tall trees. “You can see
better with this.”
Lance placed the mask
over his eyes and saw a different landscape which was never seen by the normal
person. He saw then was a red sky with the darker clouds, and the horizon was a
series of low standing alone structures instead of hills. The structures were
laid out like the tree trunk with the canopy of leaves high above but they were
not leaves and if it was, the canopy of leaves was on flame. He removed it and
then heard his name called.
“Bwana Bernard, there
is a message for you.”
It took him three
months to travel across the sea and land before he returned home. Home was a
large mansion with twelve rooms and lawn that was triple the house. There was
also the rich silver mine near it that was under the family trust. The funeral
was over by then but the grieving was still current. Father Dennis was there
for the young man who had returned to the family home.
“Lambert died from the
wounds of a gunfight. He was in Arizona.” The priest explained the cause of
death. Lance asked him why was his brother was in Arizona. He knew his brother
was taking care of the family business and that included the mining of the
silver from the mines on their land. He as unlike his brother and decided to
travel. He also questioned the priest of the silver bullets found on the gun
belt.
“Lambert was the
vigilante that roams the lands then. He was named the Lone Ranger. Most of the
people heard of the Lone Ranger. He was a bane among the outlaws but he never
kill. He will wound his capture and then headed them to the jails. He was good
but he came across a new set of outlaws. The issue was they were not that easy
to wounds and he learned it too late.”
“Have the law caught up
with the killers?” Lance asked then.
“The laws do not care
for those who were vigilantes. Since the Lone Ranger came into notice, there
were a few more did the same and when they died, no one cared.” Father Dennis
concluded on the cause of death. “But they were different from Lambert. The new
outlaws he was hunting then was more deadly. They were not your normal bank
robbers and thieves but the off springs of Hell.”
“Spare me your Sunday
teaching, Father Dennis. I have seen more than any of you had.” Lance had
brushed off the older man.
“I am telling you the
truth. Lambert was working with the House of the Lord. It was brought to our
notice by the leaders in Rome that this new threat needed to be handled before
it spread.”
“And I was to continue
where Lambert had failed now.” Lance retorted back. He was told to be what his
brother was but he refused the offer to be the new Lone Ranger. “Lambert was the
David in the House while I am…”
“Alike to Micheal the
Angel. You are always the gifted one. The special one.” Father Dennis looked to
the young man whom he was with since birth. You are the Avenger of God.”
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