Update 2024: Hello, primordially, this story was supposed to be just a simple little story with Rattlesnake Jake and a few little OCs, but now this story has been added to the Rango Project and will be part of the special series "Tales of Dirt". This series will include several stories of Rango and other characters (similar to a TV series). However, a few prequels still need to be added to this Rango Project (such as "The Legend of Rango" [not published yet], "Dirtdown" etc.) to complete the series. Likewise, changes to this story are still possible, as I am not yet sure what the prequels will contain exactly. On my profile you can read how the Rango Project and the chronological order of the stories will be structured. Take a look and "Tales of Dirt" is unfortunately still in the distant future. So the continuation of this story will be delayed a little longer. Until then, the work on this story will be stopped for the time being, until the writing work for the other previous stories is finished. If you have any questions, please feel free to send me a message.
I hope you will enjoy reading the previous stories. :) Have a good time!
1. Dance With Death
Usually, Rattlesnake Jake avoided the public. Today as well. But sometimes he was there there in secret. This usually happened at night, in the dark. That wasn't to say that Jake, the most dangerous gunslinger in the West, was afraid. But even a legendary killer wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet. Although someone couldn't really speak of peace at a funfair. Just sometimes, Jake wondered what it would be like to saunter carefree through the crowd without turning heads in horror at him. That was the price he paid for being a killer, but it could only be fine with him. Rattlesnakes have almost always been avoided by the general public. Whether by humans or animals.
Jake snorted at that train of thought. He was getting old, but he was still in the prime of his life, as he called it. Grumbling, he lifted a bottle which he'd secretly "borrowed" from a liquor stand with the tip of the cannon tail and drank it down in one gulp. For once, it wasn't cactus juice or whiskey. It was pure water. Something alcoholic would probably be more appropriate for tough guys, but in a densely populated town like this, he preferred to remain completely sober. Many security guards, so-called deputy sheriffs, patrolled here, taking care of the drunk spectators. He didn't want to run the risk of encountering one of them unprepared.
He let his gaze wander over the still brightly lit area. He was near a western town called Dusty Stone. Various stalls stood in the streets of the wooden houses. Whether for food and drink, or games. Jake had peeked in here and there in the shadows of the houses, amused by the carefree, sometimes naïve life of the city animals. Some lived so day to day that he got bored just looking at them. Ladies discussed the latest gossip, gentlemen fought for the outhouse, and children played with marbles or dolls and all sorts of odds and ends.
Jake yawned at the thought. Such a banal life would not be for him. Although his life was not without mortal danger, perhaps the life of a western hero would have been more respectable, but his looks, appearance and reputation had never allowed that. Especially not because he carried death in his mouth. No one wanted anything to do with a rattlesnake. And because of that it was a bitter fact that had shaped his way of life, he became what he was: a killer.
Jake retreated deeper into the dark alley as a drunk visitor staggered between the houses at the back. Eventually, the guy fell over and landed next to a garbage can.
Jake wrinkled his nose. "Dweeb," he muttered. Some people just didn't have the brain quality needed for a reasonably sane existence.
He left the alley and crawled almost silently, he crept past the drunk sleeping man, who didn't even notice the "death" crawling by. Jake could easily wolf him down, but he didn't feel like it. If he killed, he usually killed for money to make it worthwhile. This would only cause unnecessary fuss, but today he wasn't "working".
In the shadow of the houses and the night, he meandered towards the city limits. The desert was only sparsely lit by the moon, but it was cloudless and a tepid wind swept across the landscape. There were several gates for herds of peccaries and roadrunners. But today most of them had been moved to the most remote part because a traveling circus was not far away in this area. It wasn't a big one. It was just a collection of several small tents and booths, showing an artist or an attraction here and there. Jake paid little attention to this colorful hustle and bustle and the cheerful sounding music. He found some of it embarrassing. Standing in front of a crowd and playing the clown was, in his opinion, just demeaning. Nevertheless, before he wandered back into the deep west again, Jake wanted to take a peek inside to see what the desert animals were doing to waste their time.
The performances were given several times a day. Although, it was late in the evening, the evening performances seemed to attract most of the animals. Jake had to be extremely careful not to be spotted by a passer-by and stayed at a safe distance behind the tents and caravans. Between the booths, he spied juggling artists here and there and even a fire-eater.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" someone suddenly shouted through a megaphone. "Come closer and see our last shows. Meet the strong Alonzo, who could even lift a car. The brave tightrope walker Fiorela, who can even do a somersault without a net..."
Jake turned away, uninterested. It couldn't get any more ridiculous.
"... and Ramirez's dance with death," the announcer continued.
Jake twisted his mouth mockingly. Sounded like a cheap bag of tricks. If anyone did a "dance" with death, it was with him, usually he was setting the "beat".
"A dangerous show with real venomous snakes!"
Jake stopped when he heard this loud announcement. Was that just a figurative figure of speech, or was the screamer serious? Next he wondered what stupid snake would allow itself to be persuaded to take part in such a ridiculous performance.
The announcer had finished his announcement and went into one of the small tents. Jake thought about it. The longer he thought about it, the more curious he became. Finally, his front body muscles twitched. Why shouldn't he take a look? He had enough time. So he postponed his intended departure and crept along the tents. Since he couldn't read the event signs at the tent entrances, he just followed the smell. This was no problem for his forked tongue, and he soon caught the scent of other reptiles. His gaze wandered to one of the small tents. He glided towards it and very carefully, he pushed the tarpaulin up a bit from below. He got lucky. His place was directly behind a tiered row of benches, allowing him to peek between the legs of the lowest spectators. Inside the tent was a small arena. Spectators stood or sat around, chatting or chewing popcorn.
It didn't take long and African drum music started playing from a cassette recorder. The conversations fell silent. Then clouds of smoke rose in the tent. Shortly afterwards, a dark figure appeared in the dense fog.
Jake narrowed his eyes. The silhouette formed into a corpulent bobcat in ranger clothes and a hat covered in a faux tiger skin.
Jake's scales stood on end. This bobcat, who was probably this Ramirez, had a snooty demeanor that he loved to scare. Ramirez raised his arms majestically. Then, as if out of nowhere, four small rattlesnakes appeared. Closely followed by flashing headlights, giving everybody goosebumps.
Jake held his breath briefly. For a moment, he was impressed by the feelings that could be created with simple light effects and music.
The venomous creatures curled up their bodies and positioned themselves two by two at Ramirez's side. He had now pulled out a whip and snapped it skillfully in the air a few times. The little rattlesnakes ducked their heads. But they were nowhere near as big as Ramirez. From the length, Jake guessed they are as long as Rango or a little longer. They must still be extremely young.
Ramirez swung the whip again. The rattlesnakes stayed silently in place, necks arched, keeping their distance from their handler.
Nothing special happened for the first few minutes. Ramirez made the little snakes jump over bars and through hoops. Jake thought, he was getting bored when the snake tamer suddenly swung his whip and struck one of the snakes hard. It reacted and bit his arm.
The crowd screamed briefly. But Ramirez remained calm. He even rolled up his sleeves and threw his arms in the air.
Jake's mouth remained open. The bite didn't seem to have bothered this guy, even though rattlesnakes have deadly venom in their teeth from a young age. But Ramirez grabbed another rattlesnake by the neck, pressed its head to the rim of a glass that he'd conjured out of thin air, and squeezed the venom out of it. Then he drank the venom.
Jake watched everything with a stunned expression. Again Ramirez held his fists in the air. He neither wobbled nor fell over.
Still thinking, Jake left the tent. How could it be that a creature could withstand a venomous snake bite? Either this venomous snake tamer was wearing bite-resistant clothing, or he was... Jake shook his head. No, this couldn't be. Rattlesnakes' teeth were too long for that. It couldn't be because of the fur like mongooses. He could actually rule out immunity. Apart from king snakes, he didn't know of any animals that were resistant to poison. Unless...
Jake frowned. There had to be a deception behind it. He couldn't think of any other explanation. But he'd seen him squeezing the venom out of the glands... It had to be a trick. Some cheap magic trick that this Ramirez had cleverly threaded.
The only thing that really annoyed Jake was that these venomous beasts were also playing this dirty game. That was against all serpent dignity. He hated it when snakes were ridiculed. His eyes darkened as he thought again of Rango, who had defeated him fairly, but still made him look a bit stupid in front of the townsfolk when he catapulted him into the sky with that water fountain.
Jake snorted in disgust. Either way, he really wanted to get to the bottom of this. He grinned. Maybe this Ramirez would even be willing to give a performance with him, but this time, he would show this know-all who was really deadly venomous here.
The place emptied. All town people had left the circus square. The artists had cleared all the booths and retreated to their mobile dwellings.
Jake had retreated behind a small hill and made himself completely flat. No one could see him in the darkness. He carefully observed the surroundings, his gaze mostly focused on the tent with the snake stunt.
It took a while until finally there was a movement on the side of the tent. Shadows flitted out. Jake narrowed his eyes. Someone was shining a very small lantern into the darkness. Jake recognized Ramirez, who was holding something in his paws that he tugged on sometimes. The ground shifted beneath him. Jake recognized the small rattlesnakes around him, their heads were tied to some kind of leash.
Not very worker friendly, Jake thought. Since they were still children, it verged on child slavery. He could conclude that the little rattlesnakes did not voluntarily submit to the will of their employer.
Jake continued to watch as Ramirez occasionally pushed the little ones forward with his foot and the one who wasn't fast enough, he tugged it with the leash.
At least, this didn't last long. He stopped at a small trailer and dragged the venomous train inside with him.
He stayed in the trailer for quite a long time. Jake was getting impatient. Was he eating dinner there?
Finally, the trailer door opened and Ramirez stepped out—alone.
"I wish you a good night," he called into the trailer. Then he pulled the door shut and locked it. Then he went into the tent, laughing and humming.
When Jake was sure he wasn't coming back, he crawled up to the small trailer.
Cautiously, he peered through the window. It was covered with a cloth, but through a gap, he could catch a glimpse of the interior. It was dark inside. In the faint moonlight, Jake saw long streaks hanging down. His pupils narrowed. The little rattlesnakes were tied to hooks with ropes around their heads and mouths, and hung from the ceiling with their tails pointing downwards. Even their eyes were blindfolded. Also, their little rattles were tied to each other with ropes, so they didn't even have the ability of moving their bodies independently. Jake listened up when he heard a quiet whimper coming from the trailer. His muscles tensed, so he couldn't avoid making a short but audible rattle with his cannon.
"Who's there?!" suddenly a voice called from a short distance.
Quickly, Jake turned around and scurried away through the darkness.
When Jake thought, he was far enough from the spot of his observation and he was sure that no one was following him, he stopped and looked down from a hill on the town, where a few lights were still burning in the houses. His gaze drifted to the traveling circus, where the little rattlesnakes were trapped in their helpless situation.
Jake curled up his body and scowled down at the plain with a grim expression.
After a while, he turned away, but then he stopped. Again he looked back. Then he turned away, snorting. But then he stopped again.
With a loud growl, he slid sideways and found a niche in a rock. He decided to stay close for now and keep an eye on the little circus. He didn't know what to do next, but something prevented him from simply leaving the little ones to their fate. With that thought, he dozed off.