Perchance to Dream
"No more gettin' shot. No more gettin' knocked down a flight of stairs by some stupid criminal type with more muscles than brains. No more of ya'll fussin' over me like I was some invalid." Vin Tanner announced his New Year's resolution firmly. He wanted there to be no doubt of his sincerity.
"Uh huh. That's what you always say."
"I hate to be the one to point this out, but you are an invalid at the moment."
"Oh geez, is he starting this again? I don't see anyone treating him like no invalid, do you? And by the way, Vin, you need another pillow? You look kind of uncomfortable."
"Eat some more of that soup now. You need to keep your strength up if you ever want to get out of here."
"Yeah. And if you're not gonna eat the rest of your ice cream, can I have it?"
"Well, tis the season for miracles. You just keep on believing, Brother." Vin glared at the six men sprawled around the small room. "Ya'll think you're pretty funny, don't ya?" Chris Larabee hid a smile at the ill tempered question. It always riled Vin to be helpless. He decided it was time to go and give the sharpshooter a bit of rest.
"Ok, boys. Time to get back to work." he ordered. With much grumbling and complaining, the other men gathered up their things and bid goodbye to the sharpshooter before filing out the door. Chris was the last one to leave.
"You get some rest, cowboy. We'll be back." He gave Vin a brief pat on the shoulder before he went.
Vin watched them exit with a sulky frown still on his face. Friends. Hah! They'd all be singing a different tune if it was them layin' here. He didn't need to be in no hospital. He was perfectly fine now. Well, close enough anyway. But did any of them listen? No. They sided with the doctors and nurses who were constantly in here poking and prodding at him like he was some sort of human pincushion. Damn traitors. He picked up the remote and began flipping through the channels. As usual, there wasn't anything good on. Just talk shows and them soap operas JD watched. Even though he tried to say it was Casey that liked them. And some stupid movie about... Hey. Wait a minute. He knew this movie. He loved this movie.
+ + + + + + +
"I work for Mr. O.H. Travis of the Pacifice Union Railroad." The nervous, rather high pitched, voice could be heard by the long haired, rangy young man as he approached the group of men standing outside the railroad car that contained the safe. And the money. And apparently, the owner of the nervous voice. Who worked for Mr. O.H. Travis.
"Would you shut up about that O.H. Travis stuff already?" The leader of the little group rolled his eyes in disgust.
"What's the problem?" The long haired man asked as he approached the others, gun held at the ready.
"That's young JD Dunne. He's awful dedicated." The bewhiskered fella standing to the right of the group's leader nodded his head sagely as he informed them of this little tidbit of news. The leader glanced at the man who'd just joined them and gave him a lopsided grin. Then he turned his attention back to the railcar, which remained stubbornly locked and shut. With safe, money and young JD inside.
"JD? You know who we are?" The tall, blonde leader of the outlaw gang asked patiently.
"Yes. You're The Hole In The Wall Gang. I know that, Sir. But Mr. O.H. Travis himself gave me this job. I gotta do my best. It just wouldn't be right otherwise."
"Your best don't include getting yourself killed."
"I can't help it. You just don't understand. Mr. O.H. Travis..."
"Open the door or that's it, JD!"
"But I work for Mr. O.H. Travis. He entrusted me..." BOOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The dynamite tore open the side of the car and the men swarmed in, eager to get to the money. The leader of the group paused beside the still figure of JD Dunne lying near the edge of the car.
"JD? You all right?" He knelt and began examining the young man's injuries with a critical eye. His long haired companion watched from a position at his elbow. Finally, the outlaw leader shook his head and patted JD's shoulder before getting to his feet.
"Whatever they're paying you, it ain't enough."
+ + + + + + +
The two men took cover in the shadow of the large rock. The younger one was checking the bullets in his gun. The older one was leaning with his back against the solid wall of rock. He appeared to be contemplating the sheer drop just a few feet away. The sound of rushing water could be heard from the river below.
"I just knew I should have joined the army. I'd be Major Larabee by now."
"Huh?" The younger man glanced up, frowning in confusion.
"Chris Larabee. That's my real name."
"Oh." His companion pondered this for a moment. "Mine's Tanner. Vin Tanner." He offered.
"I like Butch and Sundance better."
"Yep. Me too." The long haired man, who preferred to be called Sundance, peered carefully around the edge of the rock. Looking for the six men who seemed dead set on tracking the two friends, to the ends of the Earth, if need be.
"They're gettin' into position." he informed Chris, who preferred to be called Butch, with a scowl.
"Better get ready." he prodded his companion, who hadn't moved. The older man was staring, transfixed, at the raging waters below.
"No. We'll jump." He sounded perfectly sane. Except for what he was saying.
"Like hell we will."
"No, really. It'll be ok. Long as we don't get squished on the rocks. They'll never follow us." He positively glowed with enthusiasm, did Chris...uh Butch.
"How do you know?" He had every reason to sound suspicious, having been witness to some of his companion's so called ideas in the past.
"Would you make a jump like that if you didn't have to?"
"I have to and I ain't gonna." Bad things happened to him every time he got near water. And then there was that other little thing too.
"Well, if you don't, we'll be dead. Now let's go."
"No. I just want one clear shot." He glowered at his companion who was getting to his feet and moving towards him.
"Get away from me." he warned.
"I'll go first."
"No."
"Then you go first."
"No."
"What the hell's wrong with you?" The older man threw up his hands in frustration.
"I can't swim." The words were a near unintelligible mumble. His companion stared at him in astonishment before bursting into hearty laughter.
"Hell. The fall will probably kill ya." he gasped, still laughing. The long haired man considered that carefully for a moment. Then he slowly climbed to his feet. The two friends exchanged a LOOK. Then, as one, they ran straight towards the edge of the cliff.
"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SPLASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"Let go of me. What are you trying to do? Drown me?"
"I told you I couldn't swim."
+ + + + + + +
Two men are sitting inside a small adobe house somewhere in Bolivia. They are shoulder to shoulder, leaning back against a wall. Blood soaks their clothes, but they refuse to surrender to the hundred or so Bolivian police who surrounded the house.
"I got a great idea where we can go next time." The long haired man didn't even look up from his gun. He just continued to load the bullets into the chamber.
"I don't want to hear it."
"Yes you do."
"Nope. If I never hear another one of your stupid ideas it'll be too soon."
"Ok. Fine."
"Fine."
"Tascosa. I knew you secretly wanted to know so I told you." The older man stared at his companion innocently.
"Uh Huh. Why in the world do you want to go to Tascosa? Ain't no better than here." He finished loading his gun and began binding the wound in his companion's leg, ignoring his own injuries for the moment.
"Anything is better than here."
"Hmmmm... You got a point. What are the women like in Tascosa?"
"Lively. And the banks are easy."
"Shouldn't that be the other way around?"
"Does it matter?"
"Guess not. You ready to go?"
"Yep." Both men climb painfully to their feet. They exchange another LOOK.
"You didn't see Josiah Sanchez out there did you?"
"No. Why?"
"Cause for a minute there, I thought we might be in trouble." The two men take a deep breath and charge out the door, guns blazing.
+ + + + + + +
"Don't look much like Robert Redford, does he?" A voice asked critically.
"Naw. Well, maybe the eyes. They're the same color."
"Yeah. But Chris don't look nothin' like Paul Newman. I would be much better in that part. If Chris had to smile as often as old Butch did, he might hurt himself." Vin opened his eyes, hoping he was still dreaming. No such luck. Buck, Ezra, JD, Nathan and Josiah were all standing in a ring around his bed. All wearing identical expressions of unholy amusement on their faces.
"Uh...where's Chris?" Vin asked feebly. Hoping to at least be spared that much.
"Right here, Sundance." The smile Chris gave him spoke of payback sweet and pure. Oh yes. Vin groaned silently, wondering how much longer til visiting hours were over.
END