Author's Note: Hey guys, if there is actually anyone out there, this is my first Lone Ranger fic. I am so incredibly nervous. I hope you guys like it.

Thank you to AlElizabeth for being my beta, even though this is totally not your fandom. I appreciate it.

I do not own Lone Ranger, I wish, and only the OCs are mine.

Anyways without any further ado, I present to you "Badlands Rendez-vous."

Badlands Rendez-vous

Chapter 1

The Lone Ranger tied the reins of his trusty stead, Silver, to the hitching rail behind the jailhouse. He calmly untied a long rope from the saddle and pulled on it sharply, sending the small group of criminals attached to it stumbling after him in surprise.

The Ranger allowed himself a small moment to smile and proceeded to walk towards the back entrance. "Let's go gentlemen. I haven't got all day," he said, pushing open the door to the jailhouse.

"Yeah. Come on boys, the Ranger wants to get back to his redskin," the leader of the Roderick Thieves said, a grin spreading across his face.

John turned sharply to respond but was interrupted by a loud voice behind him, "Can I help you gentlemen?"

John turned to the voice, keeping his head down. "Hello Sheriff. I have the Roderick Thieves."

"Uh-huh? The Roderick Thieves?" The Sheriff asked, bringing up a wanted poster to the leader. "Well, he sure does look like Roderick. Why don't you lock 'em up, son?" The Sheriff said, gesturing to the cell.

The Ranger looked to the single cell that already had a man inside, bound and gagged. "That sure is a small cell for this large group, Sheriff. Are you sure you want all of them together?"

The Sheriff shook his head, "Well Ranger, we are a small town, we ain't used to getting criminals. Usually just got a rowdy drunk or Injun makin' trouble. This is all we got, so it's gonna have ta be good enough."

John grit his teeth and nodded. "Alright, Sheriff. But I expect you to keep a guard on them at all times," he said before pulling them towards the cell door.

"Of course Ranger. We'll keep 'em nice and cozy here until execution time," the Sheriff said, handing John a cup of water. "Now, will you be spending the night in our town, Ranger? I can get you a nice price at the saloon if ya like," the Sheriff offered.

John shook his head, "Well I appreciate that Sheriff, but I have a friend out in the desert waiting for me."

"Yeah, that's right! He got a damn redskin waiting for him out there!" Roderick yelled out, shaking his cuffed fists angrily.

The Sheriff turned to the men in the cell, "Now, y'all better behave. I don't want none of ya making trouble for me after this here Ranger bothered to catch ya."

John nodded and set his empty cup on the desk. "Thank you Sheriff. I had best be on my way now." He swept out of the jailhouse and jumped up on Silvers back.

"Ranger," he heard behind him, "What's with the mask?"

John turned and smiled before heading into the desert without another word.

John had been riding Silver through the desert for the greater part of three hours without a sign of his angry, half-crazy Indian companion. He knew that Tonto was angry with him; after all, they had had another fight about the proper way to dispense justice. Despite everything they had been through while trying to catch Butch Cavendish, Tonto was still convinced that it was perfectly fine to deal out your own "justice" in the middle of the desert.

It had been quite a fight, on the edge of town, yelling at each other, neither willing to back down, right in front of the Roderick Thieves Gang.

Tonto had made it quite clear that if John was unwilling to simply finish the thieves rather than bring them into town, then John would be going alone into town.

When John had left the town, he had expected to find Tonto waiting for him, perhaps feeding that damn bird, but when John had gotten to the edge of town there was no one waiting for him.

It wasn't the first time Tonto had gone off on his own and expected John to catch up eventually, but usually they had found each other after an hour. John had turned to look at the sun at his back, frowning when he saw how close it had come to the horizon. He didn't want to be the one to set up camp. It wasn't his turn, but if he didn't find Tonto soon then that's exactly what was going to happen. H pulled out his canteen and took a sip of water, it being such a hot commodity in the desert he was never sure when he would be able to find more.

With a sigh, John turned Silver towards a series of outcrops, planning on having a serious talking to with Tonto about staying closer to town. The sun was just beginning to set when John rounded the outcrop. He could hear the sounds of people fighting and urged Silver to run towards a group of men, kicking and punching someone at their feet.

"Hey! What are you doing?" John demanded, pulling out his gun. The group stopped their attack on the person on the ground and turned, confused.

"What's eit ter ya, outlaw?" One of the men asked. "Eit's jus' an Injun," he said, and aimed a hard kick into the person again.

John looked down at the person on the ground and felt his blood pressure rise instantly. He could recognize that black and white paint anywhere. John turned his hate filled gaze on the group of men, "I'm no outlaw. I am a Texas Ranger," he informed them. "And that man is my partner," he hissed, aiming his gun at the apparent leader of the group.

"Ranga?" The man asked, eyeing the mask.

"That's right. Now I'm going to give you the count of ten to get out of my sight or I swear to God you will regret the day you ever decided to pick a fight with my friend," he told them, cocking back the hammer. "One… Two… Three…" He began, watching with satisfaction as the men started backing up.

"Four… Five… Six…" He continued, steadying his hand. The man started running, hell bent on escaping the mad man. "Seven… Eight… Nine…"

The men were rounding a corner, fleeing the reach of a bullet.

"Ten," John whispered, putting away his gun. Nodding to himself, he turned to the injured man on the ground, the man that he had prepared to, possibly, kill a man for. "Tonto?" He asked, crouching down next to his friend. He gently reached out and felt for a pulse, his own pounding in his ears. He was so used to the sarcastic man with his snide comments he half expected Tonto to say something about him counting to ten like those men were children getting a warning from their Mama.

After a terrifying moment, John felt the other mans' pulse and breathed a sigh of relief. "You couldn't have stuck closer to town could you?" He asked, looking round the area and deciding that it was as good a spot as any to camp for the night.

John whistled for Silver and Scout to come closer and grabbed the reins of both horses, tying them to a small bush nearby. He gathered the blankets from the horses, using one as a cushion for his friends head. He moved a little further away, grabbing what had fallen during the apparent scuffle that had taken place. When he returned to Tonto's side, he had a new bandana, knife and that damn bird, which he laid at his friends' side.

"Alright boys, you keep an eye on him," John ordered the horses. He didn't want to leave Tonto lying there alone, but he had to gather firewood, otherwise they would freeze through the night. He didn't wander far from the camp however, preferring to gather an armful of small dried pieces of wood, hoping they would last the night.

When he got back to camp, John checked Tonto's pulse again, releasing a great sigh of relief when he felt a strong beating beneath his fingers. John built up the fire and checked the suns position, reckoning he had about ten minutes to check on Tonto's injuries before it became too dark to see. If that happened they would just have to wait for morning.

John carefully moved aside the hair pipe breastplate and immediately saw a bullet wound oozing blood from Tonto's right shoulder. John sighed and opened his saddle bag, pulling out a pair of foreceps. He took a deep steadying breath and started digging around, only receiving a soft groan from Tonto for his efforts.

"You know, it's weird being the one doing the healing. Usually you're the one that has to patch me back up. I don't think I've ever seen you get hurt, unless I was the one doing it… You remember when I smacked you over the head with that shovel? I kind of feel bad for that," John spoke simply to calm his nerves. There was a reason he became a lawyer and not a doctor. "It was awfully inconsiderate of you to go and get hurt. This was your turn to set up camp and have first watch. And now I'm stuck doing all that. How is that fair, hmm?" John continued.

After a couple agonising minutes, John was able to pull out the bullet with a wet pop and had wrapped the wound the best her could in the failing light. He gently felt for any broken ribs but thankfully didn't feel anything shift in Tonto's chest.

He rolled Tonto onto his stomach and had to wet the bandana he found to help clean out the small pieces of gravel from his friends back. He laid down his jacket so that Tonto's ruined back wouldn't be resting on the sand.

After the sun had set and John could no longer clearly see what he was doing, he carefully checked the back of Tonto's head and could feel the crunchy hair that foretold of a head wound.

Now that his adrenaline was running low, John could feel his exhaustion creeping back up on him. He really had been looking forward to having the second watch. He had been looking forward to any kind of sleep he could get actually.

When he left the town he had been regretting turning down the offer of a bed and a full night sleep. Now, having seen his friend in such mortal danger, thanked God that he had turned down the Sheriff. With a shake of his head, John realized he had dozed off sitting where he was without noticing.

John covered up Tonto and pulled out some old dried bread and salted meat before he leaned back and made himself comfortable for the long night ahead of him.

Author's Note: If anyone bothers to read the author's note at the end, which I tend not to, I have a Lone Ranger joke told by my dad who used to wake up early Sunday mornings to watch the original Lone Ranger:

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the Lone Ranger, not knowing that Tonto was disguised as a door, shot off his knob.