A Map Made in Heaven
part 7

Wild Will Hiccups' Wild West Town
Greene River, Youtah
Thursday
Day 6

Wild Will Hiccups' Wild West Town was a mockup of an1860s frontier town located in the middle of the hot desert. It was an overpriced, overdone, overwhelming tourist trap designed specifically to rustle money from unsuspecting greenhorns.

Among those greenhorns was a family of five bears. The von Bruinwalds traversed the board sidewalk bustling with both tourists as well as actors in period costumes, walking past authentic reproductions of log buildings. They stopped in front of Buttons 'n' Bows gift shop at the corner of Nowhere Junction and Buckboard Road to get their bearings.

"Okay, what's next? We've seen the marshall's office, the jail, the bank, the barbershop, and we've ridden on the stagecoach," Kit said, pulling a map of the town from his pocket. In keeping with the western theme, the map had been printed on yellowed paper at the town's own newspaper office.

"Not to mention Ye Olde Gift Shop," Baloo mumbled. He was holding a large sack containing souvenirs.

Rebecca shifted Cassie to her other hip. "Molly wants to see the livery stables."

"Me and Cassie wanna take pony rides," Molly added, peeking over Kit's arm at the map.

"Boo!" Cassie chirped. "Boo!"

"What's 'boo', baby?" Rebecca asked with a smile.

"Boo!"

"Do you know what she means, Baloo?"

Baloo shrugged. "Nope." When Rebecca was distracted by Kit mentioning, "Here's the livery stables, by the blacksmith shop at the end of Gold Strike Street," the big bear whispered in Cassie's ear, "We'll play later, okay, Bugaboo?"

"Boo!"

"So, what do you want to do, Baloo?" Rebecca asked, catching her husband unawares; he was blowing a raspberry on Cassie's round cheek.

"Uh, nuthin', honey," he stammered, blushing furiously.

From the familiar guilty look on his face, Rebecca suspected that Baloo was hiding something from her, something that had to do with 'boo'. She quirked her eyebrows with amusement. "What do you want to see here, flyboy?"

Baloo cleared his throat and winked at Kit and Molly. In a thick southern accent, he drawled, "Waaaaaallll, how's about me an' Kit'll moseyin' on over to the saloon an' wettin' our whistles while you women-folk frolic with the horseys."

"Okay," Rebecca said, taking hold of Molly's hand. "Meet you in front of the Trading Post General Store in a half hour?"

"We'll be there with spurns on, ma'am." Baloo tipped his hat politely as Rebecca and the girls headed down the street.

"That's spurs, Papa Bear," Kit corrected with a laugh.

"C'mon, pardner," Baloo drawled, clapping Kit on the shoulder. "Let's go belly up to the bar."

Father and son waited until the Bells Fargo stagecoach had thundered by, then crossed the street to the Dry Gulch Saloon.

Baloo, getting into the spirit of the place, flung the swinging doors open wide, inciting a pained "Ow!" from the man on the other side of the door.

"Sorry, pal." Seeing who was squished behind the door, Baloo cried, "Well, jumpstart my heart! It's you!"

It was Burt, Sr. The rabbit patriarch looked as if he hadn't slept in weeks, which was probably the case. "H-hello," he stuttered, rubbing at the large knot forming on his forehead.

"Hey, Burt, ol' buddy," Baloo boomed. "Are ya followin' us?"

"Uh...no," Burt said nervously.

Suddenly, there was a mighty crash and a smash behind him.

Burt winced and reflexively reached for his wallet. "They're at it again."

Bewildered, Kit stared at the chaos in the saloon. Two rabbit children were 'riding' on a saddled sawhorse and shouting "Yee-haw!" at the top of their voices. One boy was pouring peanuts down his gullet as fast as he could remove them from the shells. Three girls were doing a cancan atop the bar. Four children were playing cowboys and Indians with their popguns and whooping. The eleventh was pounding away merrily on the player piano. All wore coonskin caps.

"Oh, man! Where's the wife?" Baloo yelled over the deafening din. Kit's hands flew to his ears.

"What?"

"Where's your wife?"

"Life? I don't have a life," Burt said in a small, defeated voice. "They've sucked it all out of me."

Just then, to Burt's relief, his wife returned. She blew a large, shrill whistle that made all of the bratty youngsters stop whatever they were doing and put their hands over their ears. "Everyone outside now!" she screamed.

Baloo, Kit, and Burt were nearly trampled by the stampede of running, hopping, skipping rabbit children. They watched as the noisy procession disappeared down the street.

"Relax, man," Baloo said, slapping Burt on the back, startling him.

Burt murmured wearily, "I only wish I could." He trudged slowly in the direction of his brood.

"Kinda jumpy, even for a rabbit," Baloo remarked.

"Where'd you meet him?" Kit asked as they entered the saloon.

Baloo swept peanut shells from a bar stool and sat down; Kit did likewise. "Ester's Park. Those kids of his scared the bejeezers and the coat off a Santy Claus."

"I'd believe it," Kit said.

Baloo set the shopping bag on the floor, then tapped the bald head of the barkeeper, who was crouched behind the bar. "They're gone, Mac."

"T-they are? Are you sure?"

"Yup. They're solid gone."

Warily, the canine with black handlebar mustaches stood up. He straightened his red and white striped bow tie and brushed peanut shells from his shoulders. "What'll it be?"

"Two sarsaparillys, my good man. Uh, you got any money, Kit?"

Kit let out an exasperated sigh and reached into his pocket.

Just then, Weazel cautiously emerged from around the corner of the saloon. His eyes darted from side to side, scanning every inch of the town. Several times, he spun around to see if anyone was following him. His sanity was at the breaking point and his nerves were as raw as meat in a butcher's window. "No chipmunks here," he said, breathing quickly. "But I must keep a lookout. Oh, yes, I must. Chipmunks are sneaky little devils. Almost as sneaky as Jerry the Nipper and Mickie Finn. Sneak up with no warning. No map yet. Heimlich must be mad. Not mad, furious. I bet he sicced them on me. Them or the chipmunks, nasty little things. Could be anywhere."

His left eye twitched nervously as he pressed his nose to the saloon's large window. A crazed smile lit up his face when he saw Kit spread a yellowed piece of paper on the bar.

"The map! The map! At long last!" he said with a maniacal chuckle. "Those bears have slipped up this time. Thinking they could hide it by keeping it out in the open. Clever. Very clever, but not too clever for Weasel. Weazel. That's me. Weazel."

He hurried over the saloon's swinging door, crouched down, peered in. Seeing that the saloon was free of chipmunks and Heimlich's goons, Weazel crawled under the door. When a peanut shell crunched under his feet, he immediately stopped in his tracks. He looked down, trembling. "Nuts! Chipmunks have been here! I've gotta get outta here." He then looked at the map, lying a few feet away on the bar. "Must get the map for Heimlich." He glanced down. "Chipmunks." He looked at the map. "Map." He was truly in a quandary.

Gathering up all his courage, he ran across the saloon to the bar and scrambled onto the barstool beside Kit.

Baloo was saying, "There's nothin' like an ice-cold sarsparilly to quench the thirst."

"Yeah, it's pretty good," Kit added, taking a sip.

Weazel reached a shaking hand over towards the map and pinched the corner between his thumb and forefinger. He quickly drew his hand back, shivering with fright, when Baloo cracked a peanut.

"We've gotta go, Papa Bear," Kit said, picking up the map, "if we're going to meet Mom and the girls."

"All right, pardner." He drained the bottle and set it down with a contented sigh. He picked up the shopping bag. "Thanks for the sarsparilly, mister."

"Anytime, sir." The barkeeper turned to Weazel, who was watching Baloo and Kit leave. "What'll it be, sir?"

"So close! So close!" Weazel whimpered. He hopped off the barstool and chased after the bears. "Must get the map! Chipmunks everywhere!"

The barkeeper shook his head. "Odd little weasel."

"That's Weazel!"

Weazel trotted down the board sidewalk, simultaneously keeping the two bears in his sight while watching for chipmunks and Heimlich's goons. All the while, he muttered to himself.

Finally, Baloo and Kit stopped in front of the general store where they met up with Rebecca, Molly, and Cassie.

"Just in time," Rebecca said with a smile. "The show's gonna start any minute."

Kit asked Molly, "How were the horses?"

"They were great! The one I rode on was brown and white. What did you and Daddy do?"

Kit's reply was cut short by twangy banjo music blaring from the loudspeakers.

Weazel, who was right behind the von Bruinwalds, jumped and stared at the sky to see where the music was coming from.

Over the loudspeaker, the announcer said, "Ladies and gentlemen, Wild Will Hiccup's Wild West Town proudly presents the rootinest, tootinest hootenanny this side of the Pecos. Get ready for the Big Bank Stickup!"

"Jack 'Dead-Eye' Bowser an' his gang are robbin' the bank!" wheezed an elderly actor, waving his arms wildly as he ran full-tilt out of the bank. "Flee for your lives!"

Men, women, and children in period costumes ran screaming throughout the streets and barricaded themselves in stores and buildings. One woman, an elephant, even 'fainted' and had to be dragged off the street.

Kit laughed when the old man shook him by the shoulders and said, "Better skedaddle, young 'un, before Dead-Eye an' his gang turns ya inta Swiss cheese."

His laughter turned to confusion when Weazel snatched the map from his hands. "Hey!" he cried. When he turned around, he saw the thick tail of a short man disappear into the crowd.

Meanwhile, Weazel ran behind the crowd that was riveted to the mock bank robbery, towards the parking lot.

"I'm a-callin' you out, weasel," the actor marshall said to Dead-Eye.

"Ah!" Weazel yelped, halting in his tracks. Wide-eyed, he scanned the area anxiously. "It's Jerry the Nipper and Mickie Finn!" He ran around in a tight circle, saying, "Gotta hide! Gotta hide! Gotta...eek! Chipmunks!"

He had mistaken the coonskin caps that Burt's kids wore for chipmunks. Then, the kids, who were acting out their own bank robbery, started shooting off their popguns.

"Chipmunks with guns!"

Weazel pushed his way through the crowd to get to the one person who could help him - the marshall. He latched onto the actor's legs, trembling with fear. "You've gotta help me! The chipmunks are after me!"

"What?" the marshall whispered in a British accent. "Go away, man, you're ruining the show."

"Please! I beg of you!" Weazel whimpered. "Help!"

From inside the bank, Dead-Eye snarled, "I've got a present for ya, Marshall Don Dwayne."

The marshall trained his twin six-shooters on the bank. "Oh, yeah?" he drawled, cocking the revolvers. "Come an' get the wrappin' paper, you lily-livered desert snake."

Weazel screamed when the marshall and the bank robber shot blanks at each other, filling the air with gun smoke. He took off down the street and ducked into the first building he saw. He stood, panting, against the closed door. When his eyes had accustomed themselves to the darkness, he saw that he was surrounded by metal bars. He was in the jail.

Babbling incoherently, he escaped the jail by running out the open back door. He stopped in the middle of the near-deserted street, doubled over, panting with fright. The map was clutched tightly in his fist.

Then, came a low rumbling. Mixed with the rumbling was a steady, metallic 'chink-chink'. Weazel looked up when as sound grew louder.

The Bells Fargo stagecoach was headed right for him. Before the horses could stomp on his toes, he jumped out of the way and into a horse trough. A moment later, Weazel emerged, spluttering and coughing. "I've got the map. It's over!" he laughed in relief. "It's all over!"

He scooped up the map that was floating atop the scummy water, but when he fingers touched it, it disintegrated.

Pop went Weazel's sanity.

Weazel let out a chuckle of disbelief. The chuckle turned into crazed laughter. "It's all over for me! I killed the map. Heimlich's gonna kill me! And I don't care! Come and get me, you goons! I'm going to a nice, quiet sanitarium far, far away from chipmunks, maps, and those blasted bears!"

He climbed out of the horse trough. The dripping wet Weazel skipped down the street, singing lustily, "Home, home on the range. Where the weasels chase the bears all day. Where seldom is 'round a map to be found. And I'm going nuts-y all day, hey! Just the crazy guys! Home, home on the range..."

Cape Suzette
Higher for Hire
Friday Afternoon
Day 7

It was a bright, sunny day in Cape Suzette. The von Bruinwalds had gotten back from their vacation earlier that day, and Baloo and Kit were unloading the car. Lugging suitcases and souvenirs to the house was hot work, but it was preferable to explaining to Molly why Goldie the goldfish had died because well-meaning Wildcat had fed it jellybean omelets.

While they worked, they listened to a baseball game from Kit's portable radio sitting atop the car's roof. The announcer was saying, "Bottom of the sixth. Two men out. The Sox lead the Cubbies three to one. Johnson checks the runners on first and third. The windup...and here's the pitch. It's going up, up, up, and it's outta here! Home run for the Sox! And the crowd goes wild!"

From underneath the backseat, Kit pulled out a yellowed piece of parchment. He unfolded it and looked at the hieroglyphics, thinking, It's the map again. Perplexed, the teenager walked around to the trunk where Baloo was picking up a suitcase in one hand and five sacks of souvenirs in the other. "Take a look at this, Papa Bear. I don't remember picking this up anywhere."

Baloo lifted his heavy load with a grunt of exertion. "Becky dragged us to so many gift shops, I can't keep 'em straight, either, kiddo."

"But I don't think this is a souvenir. It looks more like a treasure map."

"Treasure map? Yeah, right. We don't need any more junk," Baloo said, staggering to Higher for Hire.

Newsman Dog Rather disrupted the baseball game with, "This just in. Uslandian officials have just apprehended Abdul Kazim for the theft of the ancient Babbleonanonian treasure map once belonging to Emperor Karat. There is sill no sign of the map, which was stolen from the Aridian museum by Kazim last Friday night. Dr. Myra Foxworthy, curator of Aridian's Museum of History, has posted a two thousand dollar reward for any information about the map. Now, we return to the regularly scheduled broadcast."

Stopping halfway from the car to the house, Baloo's ears perked up. "Did you say 'treasure map', Li'l Britches?"

"You don't suppose...?" Kit murmured, staring with amazement at the map in his hands. "B-but what would an ancient Babbleonanonian treasure map be doing in our car?"

Baloo dropped everything and snatched up the map. He smiled. "Makin' us rich. Vacations might not be that excitin', but they sure are profitable." He hurried into Higher for Hire with Kit on his heels. "Hey, Becky, how's 'bout takin' a trip to Aridia?"

The End