3. Hands up that's a… whatever
The train continued diving to north. The ride was quiet and a bit choppy at times. The rat musicians had withdrawn on the other side of the compartment and passed the time with card games. But Bill didn't notice any of this at all. He sat quietly in the corner and stared straight ahead. Chorizo looked at him sideways for a while longer. Only when he had finished his bottle of tequila, he stood up and pull out a large matchbox from behind a wooden box. He opened it and rummaged around happily. For a rodent like him, a matchbox was the size of a suitcase and could store all kinds of things in it. But with all the jingling of glass that could be heard in it, the shrew had obviously only stored bottles there. The mouse took out proudly a new, full, small tequila bottle.
His gaze wandered back to Amigo Bill.
"Aren't you a little sed ... uh ... thirsty?" the shrew asked.
The lizard's glassy, indifferent stare gave him the silent negative answer again.
With a shrug, the mouse tucked the bottle under his hat.
"Well, it's still a long way to San Francisco. I'm surprised that you have no luggage. What brings you to San Francisco?"
When he received no answer, as it did all day, the shrew simply continued with its babbling. "Well, I'm actually only going there to visit the brother-in-law of my 16th cousin. He just wrote to me once, make a change in the air. So I packed my tequila and got into this tren."
He grinned at Bill. But he had lowered his eyes and seemed to have dozed off.
Chorizo turned back disappointed. "Well, you're tired. It's also maldito calurosa ... hot here."
He wiped over his forehead. Then he leaned against one of the many boxes and sank to the floor. "Okay, a little fiesta shouldn't hurt. But wake me up when we are there."
With these words he pulled his big Mexico hat over his eyes and lolled into his poncho.
For a while everything was quiet. Nobody bothered the other and nobody wanted to hear from the other. So it happened that no one noticed the faint rumble on the roof of the train, followed closely by quick steps. Shadows flitted across the cracks in the wooden walls. A moment later a head peeked through the crack in the train's sliding door. Then several dark figures scurried into the compartment until...
"Ouch!"
One of them had slipped and hit the wooden floor. That woke the Mexican. Wearily, he lifted the brim of his hat. "¿Ya llegamos*?"
"Give me your money!"
This request from the other side of the train compartment made him sit up and took notice. That couldn't be the greeting for San Francisco.
He peeked carefully over the box. Several other figures stood in the shadow of the compartment. There were five of them and they wore masks. They had surrounded the rat musicians and held up their revolvers.
"Take a look over there!" a dark voice ordered.
Two masked men broke away from the group and marched straight in the direction of Chorizo. Frightened, the shrew hid behind the rearmost box.
"Hey, amigo," he hissed at Bill. But the lizard didn't react. So Chorizo had no choice but to watch the two masked men walked straight towards the lizard.
The two bandits were initially surprised. They hadn't expected a sleeping victim now. But then one of them shrugged and gave his colleagues a side nudge. Then both of them raised their revolvers and pointed them at the lizard, and one of them kicked the lizard in the legs.
"Hey, fat one! Bedtime is over. Now it's payday!"
The lizard woke up with a groan. His empty eyes went up to the two armed masked men. There were two hares. One had a humpback, wore blue jeans and a holey shirt. The other one was of average stature, a little shorter than his colleague, and wore a shirt with a revolver belt.
"Money or life!" the smaller one demanded.
The hunchback next to him nodded. "Yes, exactly... yes... that's how it called, right?"
"Shut up," the smaller rabbit hissed at him. "We agreed that I would speak."
The hunchbacked rabbit sighed, but said nothing anymore.
"Well?" The average hare turned back to the still sitting lizard. "What is it now? Come over with the dough!"
Bill drew up his legs, leaned his elbows on his knees, and let out an indifferent snort. "Sod you."
The two masked rabbits hadn't expected this answer and darted furtive glances at each other.
"And what now?" the hunchback asked.
His masked rabbit colleague frowned and considered.
"Well, in that case we have to fetch it."
But just as the rabbit was about to reach into Bill's pocket, he was brutally pushed away by Bill and landed with his butt on the bottom of his pants.
"Get out of here!" the Gila lizard growled sullenly.
The rabbit snorted angrily and gave the hunchback a venomous look when he had started giggling. With a jerk he got up again.
"Oh, you want the hard way, don't you? Well, you can have that! Hold him tight."
Immediately the hunchback rushed to the lizard and grabbed him by the shoulders while his buddy reached into Bill's pockets again.
Suddenly Bill brutally grabbed the two of them by the collar. "You want something from me?! You can have that! My fists!"
Both rabbits didn't know what happened to them when the big Gila lizard straightened up and threw both of them against the wooden wall with a single throw. But the masked rabbits weren't so easily intimidated. But before they could pick up their revolvers, the lizard attacked them again and knocked the guns out of their hands. The next blows hit them in the bellies or faces.
Chorizo, who crouched behind a box, watched the scuffle with amusement. "¡Sí, muy bien! Hit him the cráneo. ¡Bueno! ... ¡Cuidado, amigo!"
But Chorizo's warning came too late. Suddenly the lizard hit a heavy blow from behind and Bill sank to the ground. The two masked hares straightened up, intimidated, when another large lizard reared up in front of them, which, like them, was also masked. He was wearing jeans, a white short-sleeved shirt and a white liana-shaped tattoo on his left forearm. A metal chain flashed around his neck and he wore a gray and dark slate hat of the Baker Boy type on his head.
"Can't you do anything right?" the other lizard snapped at them. "Take everything out of his pockets!"
The two rabbits nodded and started to rummage through the pockets of the passed out lizard. There they found an old handkerchief, a pen, small matches...
"Voila," the smaller rabbit announced and pulled out a little sack. He pulled it open and a couple of tiny nuggets of gold rolled out.
"Give me that!" The lizard leader took the little gold sack from him and put it in his trouser pocket. Then his eyes fell on the matchbox.
"What's in there?"
The smaller rabbit shrugged. "I don't know…"
"There is no "Don't know" in my area!" the masked lizard snapped at him. He opened the box and reached inside.
"¡Oye! ¡Quita las manos de mi tequila!"
Chorizo had jumped on the wooden box and pointed menacingly at the gang leader. The lizard pulled out his revolver. "What do you want, you dwarf?"
The shrew's tail trembled with anger. "¡Nadie toca mi tequila!"
With that, he tore his poncho aside. Below were two revolver belts with bullets and two revolvers in his hands.
"Get away from my tequila!"
The shrew shot around like a madman. Everyone immediately took cover. This shooting sound woke up Bill. Groaning, the lizard rubbed his head.
"What the…?"
Hastily he felt in the robbed empty pockets. His searching gaze fell on the two rabbits who had sought protection from the bullets behind a box.
"You damn thieves!" Bill yelled at them.
The two masked rabbits waved intimidated at him.
Chorizo, on the other hand, didn't stopped shooting.
"Come on, let's get out of here!" the leader shouted and raced to the door. The other gang members, the two rabbits and a few other animals, a raccoon, a scrawny desert cat and a rat, followed him.
"Hey! Give me my money back!" Bill yelled after them.
The masked leader grinned under the scarf. "Oh, do you mean this?"
Triumphantly he waved the bag of gold back and forth. Bill flushed with anger. Snorting angrily, he grabbed the matchbox.
Chorizo turned pale. "¡NO! Not my tequila!"
But Bill just threw the box at the leader. However, he moved to the side and the improvised projectile missed its target. The box fell off the train, where it shattered somewhere on the ground.
"Missed!" The leader put the sack back in his pocket. "Come on, get out of here!"
One by one the animals jumped out of the moving train.
"Come back right now!" Bill yelled after them and ran to the open train door. In the next moment someone grabbed his suspenders.
"¡GILIPOLLAS! ¡ERES UN IDIOTA! ¡CABRON!" Chorizo yelled at him. "¿En qué estabas pensando?** That was my tequila!"
But the Gila lizard wasn't listening to him at all. Angrily, she looked back where the bandits had jumped in the desert.
"Give me my money back!"
Bill jumped. Chorizo, who was still pulling on Bill's suspenders, was swept away and both landed roughly on the desert floor next to the train tracks.
Both of them struggled to their feet. Chorizo didn't think that was funny at all.
"¡Oye! ¡Mio My tren... train!"
But the Gila lizard didn't care about that damn train. His gaze was only directed in the opposite direction. In the distance he heard the clap of chickens and saw the bandits jump on roadrunners and riding away. Apparently, the chickens had been running beside the train the whole time.
"HEY!"
At the next moment a small fist hit him in the face.
"¡IDIOTA!" Chorizo yelled at him. "You will replace my tequila for me!"
Bill rubbed his face angrily. "I'm not interested in your tortilla. I just want my money back."
"¡TEQUILA!" Chorizo corrected loudly. "That was the best tequila I had!"
For a while the lizard and shrew glared at each other. But then the lizard shrugged and just walked past him.
"Then look for your tequila. I'm looking for my money."
Chorizo snorted. "Guaton***."
Immediately Bill turned to him. "Don't call me like that! I can speak a few words of Spanish, comprende?!"
"Mexican!"
"Wa'ever!"
With grand strides and his head held high, Bill marched off.
"Adios, no amigo!" Chorizo snapped after him.
While Bill was walking to the place where the roadrunners had ridden towards the desert, the shrew marched along the tracks. It wasn't long until he found the spot where the box of tequila had thudded. The Mexican raced for it hopefully, but to his horror the box was empty. All around the floor had covered with shoe prints.
"¡Malditos ladrones!" he cursed when he realized that the bandits had now stolen all of the tequila from him.
He kicked against the big empty matchbox, then he leaned against it and pulled his tequila bottle from under his hat and took a sip.
Bill scrutinized the desert floor, which had littered with roadrunner tracks. Then his gaze wandered further into the desert. He stamped with his foot resolutely.
"Nobody steals my money! Not with me!"
On the spur of the moment, he followed the trail, further and further into the desert, without knowing what to expect there.
* Are we there yet?
** What were you thinking?
*** fatso / fat man