A/N: Alright. Whatever. Fine. Don't review. See if I care. Thanks for reading at least. This fic is only 5 chapters long btw.
Thanks to my beta; AlElizabeth
Enjoy
Chapter 3
When the Lone Ranger awoke it was not because of his horse Silver nudging him again, but rather, from the light of the morning sun glaring down on him. John groaned and rubbed his tired eyes before staggering to a vague standing position.
"About time, Kemosabe," Tonto greeted from where he sat hunched over, poking the embers with a stick.
"Tonto? What are you doing up? I thought I told you to rest," John chastised and staggered over to where his friend sat.
"Already rested. Ready to keep moving," Tonto informed him, not moving.
John gave Tonto a skeptical look that the Indian didn't see since he still had not looked up from the coals. "If you're ready to keep moving then stand up and get on Scout," John told him.
"Of course," Tonto replied but made no move to stand. John waited for a minute and was about to tell Tonto to stop being so stubborn and get more rest when the Indian hissed and got his feet under him.
Using the stick that he'd been poking the fire with as a cane, Tonto managed to stagger to his feet, a grimace on his face.
John nodded, "Well alright. So you can stand, but can you get on Scout?"
Tonto glared at the Ranger before slowly hobbling over to the paint and resting his hand on the horses' solid neck. "Be gentle, Scout," Tonto whispered to the horse and fit his foot into the stirrup. He reached over to pull himself up onto the horses' back but cried out when he put too much strain on his shoulder and fell back, his foot still stuck in the stirrup.
John walked over to the fallen Indian, "I think you need some more time before we move on."
Tonto huffed. "Maybe you are right, Kemosabe," he admitted.
"Course I am," John answered and walked away, returning soon afterwards with two long branches.
"What are you doing?" Tonto asked suspiciously.
John lashed one of the ragged blankets to the branches and turned to his friend. "Well, Tonto, since you clearly are going to be unable to ride Scout, I am going to have to pull you behind in a travois to town," he informed his friend.
Tonto's eyes went huge. He knew this was some kind of revenge. Spirit Horse must have told Spirit Walker about what happened when he was in a travois and now Spirit Walker was going to try the same thing. "No, Kemosabe. I will not go to town," Tonto answered, crossing his arms, which would have helped him be taken more seriously if he wasn't still flat on his back with his foot stuck in the stirrup.
The Ranger ignored what his friend said and proceeded to hitch the travois to Silver with another lead for Scout to follow along by. "You need to rest more, Tonto, and I don't want you passing out if you ride with me."
"I will not go," Tonto said refusing to look at his friend.
John crouched down next to Tonto, his hands on his knees. "I think you will Tonto. And do you want to know why?" He asked.
Tonto looked up at his friend, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion, before a fist landed hard and he was knocked unconscious.
"Because you don't get a say in the matter," John said. He pulled his friends foot from the stirrup and dragged the smaller man to the travois.
"Dick! What'r they doin'?" Bogs demanded from where he sat, picking his teeth with a knife.
The man, Dick, looked down from his vantage point, "That Ranger just punched the Injun out cold. Looks like they're gonna head back ter town."
Bogs leaned back, resting his back against a large rock and laughed. "Good, let 'em be. We'll see 'em in town. Saddle up tha hosses boys," he ordered.
One of the men, Carson, his second-in-command, came up while the others were preparing the horses. "Bogs, why don't we just kill 'em now? It's only the Ranger. The Injun's not gonna put up any fight," he suggested.
Bogs sneered, "Carson, let's say ya was Roderick. An' let's say ya thought ya was goin' ta town thinkin' ya was gonna hang. Now wha' betta present could ya ask fer than ter be able ta kill tha Ranga that locked ya up? Now stop questnin' me or Ei'll make sure ya walk the desert withou' yer hoss."
Carson nodded and backed away quickly, heading for his horse.
Bogs turned in the direction of town, "'Ere we come."
Several hours later, the Lone Ranger rode back into Cold Creek, exhaustion from the long night of lack of sleep and the long day of riding slowly and making sure Tonto didn't fall off the travois. He had woken up at one point during the ride and put up a hell of a fight, forcing John to tighten the restraints holding Tonto onto the travois.
When they arrived in town, there was barely anyone outside. A young woman moved quickly along the boardwalk and ducked into the general store, and an older man stood in front of the livery stable, chewing tobacco.
The Lone Ranger looked around the town, confused. He figured with a town that size the streets would be bustling with children getting under feet and running around the horses. Hell, he'd even expected to have to chase off kids who were curious about Tonto.
John looked up at the sun and shrugged. Maybe the town took a siesta around noon. It wouldn't surprise him. Often towns closer to the border of Mexico would pick up some of their habits. He turned Silver towards the building clearly marked Doctor and Apothecary and left the horses waiting for him, certain that they wouldn't wander too far.
John swung Tonto's good arm over his shoulder and drug the yet again unconscious Indian into the building. John frowned when the doctor wasn't there to greet him when he walked in, but he lied Tonto down on the bed and went to the stairs leading to the next floor.
"Doctor? Are you in?" He called up and was instantly greeted by the sound of someone walking along the squeaky wood floors above him.
"Be down in a minute, son! Just you wait!" A voice called and John went to sit near the bed he'd left Tonto on. After a minute, a man adjusting a black vest came down the stairs, his suspenders hanging loosely at his hips. "Yes son. What can I do for you?" The man asked.
John stood up, "Are you the doctor?"
The man stood up straighter, "I most certainly am. And apothecary, if that's what you need. Name's Pickett."
"I need whatever you think my friend here needs," John told the man, indicating Tonto on the bed.
"An Indian, huh? Well, I won't make no judgement. Everybody gets the same treatment here, don't matter the colour of skin," the doctor said. "But I need to ask, son. Are you an outlaw? We've been having a whole heap of trouble with outlaws lately and I don't want more."
John shook his head, "No sir. I'm not an outlaw. I'm a Texas Ranger. The mask is to protect someone important to me."
The doctor nodded excitedly. "A Ranger, huh? That means you carry a gun right? Well you better keep that close, you might need it soon," the doctor said, glancing up at the ceiling when it creaked.
John frowned, "Do you have a rodent problem or something? My gun isn't going to be much help unless you want the floor full of holes."
The doctor sighed. "No, Ranger. I don't have rodents. Let's take a look at your friend shall we?" He gathered up several bottles nearby and motioned for John to move Tonto's breastplate.
The doctor clucked, "I've never understood why Indians insist on wearing those things. Sure, I could understand if they stopped an outlaw's bullet, but they're more fancy than functional. Shot, huh? Probably an outlaw I bet. Maybe one of the Roderick boys?" The doctor suggested.
The Ranger shook his head. "I brought the Roderick Thieves into jail around noon yesterday. This happened sometime afterwards," he told the doctor.
Pickett raised an eyebrow, "You're the one who brought them huh? Well they've been causing no end of trouble for the Sheriff since they got here."
"They have, have they? That's a shame. I thought the Sheriff could handle that small gang," John answered. "Now, Tonto here looks like his horse dragged him. His back's a mess. And the back of his head was bleeding quite a bit last night," John said, hoping to steer the doctors attention away from outlaws for a minute.
The doctor frowned, "Yeah huh?" He bent over the bullet wound, ignoring what the Ranger had mentioned. "Seems like someone dug around quite a bit," Pickett mentioned.
"Uh yeah, that was me. I couldn't find the bullet," the Ranger admitted.
"Typical" the doctor muttered and poured some foul smelling liquid on a cloth and patted the wound. "Roll him onto his stomach, would you?" The doctor asked sitting down and pouring a mug of some kind of red liquor from a giant pitcher.
"What's that for?" The Ranger asked as he rolled Tonto over.
"Drinking. What else would you do with sangaree?" The doctor asked taking a deep drink from the mug. He set down his mug and made an irritated sound as he moved Tonto's long hair out of the way. "Yup, you were right. Looks like he was drug," he announced and splashed that foul smelling liquid across the Indians back.
With a gasp, Tonto sat up quickly, smashing the doctor in the nose with the back of his head. He looked around the room for a moment before turning furiously to John. "I said no town," Tonto growled, forcing himself off the bed.
John opened his mouth to answer, when; suddenly the room was the scene of a firefight. And for the next few seconds that place was Armageddon.
The door to the doctors swung open and Roderick and Bogs entered, guns drawn. The doctor was on the ground, his hands covering his head. They advanced carefully through the room. On the other side of an overturned doctors bed, lied the Indian and Ranger, a pool of red spreading out around them.
A/N: So originally I had intended for Bogs' accent to be Texan. That did not pan out well and turned into this monstrosity for an accent. I don't even know where he would be from. Oh well.