“John!” Rebecca shouted. She stared at him, her eyes questioning. He couldn’t possibly mean it, could he?
Cavendish seemed to think so. With a shrug, he gave her one last shove. She let out an ear-piercing scream as she fell over the side…only to land on the back of the big white horse.
Above, Cavendish was unaware that his attempt at hurting the Lone Ranger hadn’t worked. With the girl out of the way, he was eager to put an end to the Lone Ranger and his stupid mask once and for all.
The Lone Ranger raised his gun.
“What are you going to do, counselor?” Cavendish said, letting out a laugh. “Shoot me?”
“That’s right,” the Lone Ranger replied, pulling the trigger.
Click. It was empty.
Gulping, the Lone Ranger took a step back as Cavendish pulled out his knife. The Lone Ranger raised his fists.
“Don’t tell me. You boxed in law school?” Cavendish said.
He started to laugh, again but then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a ladder rise from the Constitution. On top of it was Tonto. Taking advantage of the outlaw’s distraction, the Lone Ranger reached out and punched him square in the face. The outlaw buckled and collapsed in a heap.
Confident that Cavendish couldn’t cause any more trouble, the Lone Ranger helped Tonto off the swinging ladder, and then together they made their way down to the coupling that connected the passenger cars to the Jupiter’s engine. They needed to get the passengers safe.
“Where’s the girl?” Tonto asked as the Lone Ranger began fiddling with the pin.
“Where’s the silver?” he replied, not bothering to look up.
Tonto raised an eyebrow. That was a very good question.
Leaving the Lone Ranger to work on the coupling, Tonto raced back onto the roof of the Jupiter to take stock of the situation. It wasn’t good. While he could see the silver rocketing along on its own track behind the Constitution, he could also make out a bridge that was clearly still under construction. And from the looks of it, the Jupiter was going to go right over the bridge, while the runaway silver would follow its tracks under the bridge.
Breaking into a sprint, Tonto raced along the roof of the Jupiter. Then he threw himself into the air. The wind whistled in his ears as he soared between the two trains and then, with a thud, landed on the last silver car, his legs dangling over the edge. He hung there for a moment before pulling himself safely onto the roof. Staggering to his feet, he began to make his way along the silver cars. Up ahead, he could see that the two tracks were about to converge once more. He gulped.
Unaware of the pending collision, the Lone Ranger pulled the coupling pin free. There was a groan and then the passenger cars pulled away. Now there were five trains running along the two tracks—the Constitution’s passenger cars and the Jupiter freight cars on one; the silver cars, the Constitution’s engine, and the Jupiter’s caboose and passenger cars on the other. Standing up, the Lone Ranger turned to go help his friend when he heard the distinct click of a gun barrel. He slowly turned around. Behind him stood Cavendish, now back on his feet and with his reloaded gun in hand.
“This time,” Cavendish said, smiling evilly, “you stay dead.”
Just then, the two tracks came perilously close, and the silver cars clipped the sides of the Jupiter’s remaining freight cars. There was an ear-piercing screech as metal scratched along metal. Thrown off balance, Cavendish fired his gun wildly as the car began to pitch sideways.
Struggling to keep his footing, the Lone Ranger whirled his lariat in the air. Then he threw it, the end looping around a passing tree. As he was flung into the air, the Jupiter’s engine turned completely sideways and began sliding along the track. Behind it, the Constitution barreled along backward, heading straight at the crippled Jupiter. From the doorway of the Jupiter, Cavendish looked up just in time to see Captain Fuller. The man stood at the end of the other train, the distinct imprint of a shovel on his face. As the two men locked eyes, they both knew it was too late.
A moment later, the Constitution’s passenger cars slammed into the Jupiter’s freight cars. There was a huge explosion of pulverized wood and metal, and then a giant ball of fire burst into the sky.
The Lone Ranger watched it all unfold as he flew through the air. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of white. He let go of the lariat and fell, landing face-to-face with Rebecca, who was still riding the big white horse. He smiled. “Wrong brother?” he asked.
SLAP! Reaching out, Rebecca hit him across the face. “Not today,” she said, pulling him in for a deep kiss.
His cheek still stinging, the Lone Ranger kissed her right back. That day he most certainly was the right brother.
Inside the engine car of the Jupiter, Latham Cole had not given up on getting his silver. While he had lost Cavendish, the bridge had proved invaluable, because it had put him back on the same track as the silver. In fact, the freight cars were just behind him—and gaining fast.
With a thud, the silver car and the engine collided. Cole smiled. Now he just needed to make sure he’d gotten rid of that pesky Comanche and that annoying Lone Ranger.
The annoying Lone Ranger was, at that very moment, racing alongside what remained of the Jupiter. Getting his horse as close as possible to the big iron giant, he helped Rebecca swing onto the train. Making sure she and Danny were safe, he spurred his horse on. He needed to get to Cole.
It didn’t take him long to find the man. Unfortunately, when he did, he saw that Cole had a gun pointed right at Tonto. The impact of the Jupiter’s hooking up to the silver cars had thrown Tonto to the ground. Now he lay on the roof of the silver car, unable to escape.
“Time’s up,” the Lone Ranger heard Cole say.
He reached for his gun and flipped it open. Empty. How could he save Tonto now?
“Uncle John!”
Looking beside him, the Lone Ranger saw Danny leaning out a window. He was holding something shiny in his hand. It was the silver bullet! The Lone Ranger reached out his hand and Danny threw the bullet. Grabbing it, the Lone Ranger quickly loaded his gun.
The Lone Ranger raised his arm. It was a hard angle under normal circumstances. But now, while riding a galloping horse and aiming at a man on a speeding train? It was nearly impossible.
“I’m a Spirit Walker,” the Lone Ranger said. Then he closed his eyes. “I can’t miss.”
He fired.
The bullet whizzed through the air, hitting Cole’s gun. The weapon flew from his hand just as the Constitution’s engine slammed into the back of the silver cars. Now it was a giant two-headed iron horse. Racing into the engine cab of the Constitution, Rebecca and Danny slammed on the brakes. As sparks flew, the two trains engaged in a heavy metal tug-of-war, the silver cars stuck in the middle.
On top of the silver car, Tonto got to his feet. Picking up Cole’s gun, he aimed it at his head. “All these years, I thought you were Windigo,” he said sadly. “But you are just a man.”
Cole cocked his head. “Who are you?” he replied.
Tonto reached into his pocket and pulled out the watch. He tossed it at Cole. “Bad trade,” he said.
Cole looked down at the watch and then at Tonto, realization finally dawning. Before he could say another word, though, Tonto fired the gun at the coupling below. Stepping back onto the braking Constitution, he watched as the Jupiter sped ahead, a helpless Cole on board.…
“You let him get away!” Will shouted, outraged.
That was how the story ended? With the bad guy not getting justice? That wasn’t what was supposed to happen!
“No,” Tonto said, shaking his head. He had changed into the black suit and was now adjusting his hat in a handheld mirror.
Watching him, Will narrowed his eyes. What did he mean no? And then, he remembered. “The bridge!” he said, growing excited.
“What bridge?” Tonto asked, feigning ignorance. But Tonto knew exactly what bridge Will was talking about.
The image was
imprinted in his brain. And as he told Will what had happened, it was as though it were happening all over again.…
As Tonto had watched, the train carrying Latham Cole, his old pocket watch, and four and a half tons of silver had plummeted from the broken bridge. It fell down, down, down, crashing into the roaring river below. A moment later, the Constitution had screeched to a stop, the final car dangling over the river.
Leaning over to get a better look, Tonto lost his balance and almost fell into the ravine. But the Lone Ranger’s hand reached out and grabbed him just in the nick of time. The man had saved him. Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.
Together, they looked down. Slowly, the silver filled up the river, burying the remains of the train and Latham Cole. Soon all that could be seen of Cole was his hand. It reached into the sky still clutching the pocket watch. And as they watched, that too was caught in the river, and disappeared from view.
Justice had been served.
Promontory Summit was once again the site of a celebration. Though this time, they were not celebrating the meeting of two trains, but rather one man.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Habberman said to the gathered crowd. “We are here today to recognize something that has become far too rare. A genuine hero.” He paused, nodding to Rebecca and Danny, who stood in the crowd. “As chairman of the Transcontinental Railroad, I’d like to express our gratitude to this masked man, this…Lone Ranger.”
Walking onto the platform, the Lone Ranger approached Habberman.
“With a small token of our thanks,” the big man said, holding out the same watch box he had offered Cole not so long ago. “Time to take off the mask, son.”
Looking out over the crowd, the Lone Ranger hesitated. If he took off the mask now, there would be no more Lone Ranger. And there was still justice to be served. His eyes locked with Rebecca’s. He owed it to his brother’s memory to keep the Lone Ranger name alive. Looking back at Habberman, he shook his head. “Not yet,” he said.
Then he put his fingers between his lips and whistled. A moment later, the big white horse trotted up. Turning to Habberman, the Lone Ranger handed him back the box. The watch was gone. Inside was a handful of birdseed. With a tip of his hat, he hopped on his horse and rode over to Rebecca and Danny.
“Train’s heading west,” he said when he got to them. “Nothing holding you here anymore.” He gazed down at Rebecca, nervous and hopeful about what she might say.
“It’s my home,” she said, her words echoing the ones he had said not too long before.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Finally, the Lone Ranger nodded. He knew what Rebecca needed. “Man can’t stay the same with the world evolving around him,” he said, turning to look at Danny. “You’re not a boy anymore. Your daddy would be proud. Look after your mama.”
Danny nodded solemnly. He would do his best. And what he couldn’t do, Rebecca could. Plus, the Lone Ranger thought, he was never going to be too far away. Saying good-bye, he galloped out of Colby, heading into the desert.
It didn’t take the Lone Ranger long to find Tonto. The Comanche Indian was walking along, feeding his bird. Riding up to him, the Lone Ranger fell into step. “Thought I’d call him Silver,” he said, petting his white horse. Then he threw his watch to Tonto.
“Good name,” Tonto replied, trying the watch trick one more time. To his surprise, he got it! Finally!
Hiding a smile, the Lone Ranger nodded at the watch. “Just so you know, it’s not actually a trade unless both parties agree.” Tonto turned to him, eyebrow raised. “I mean, would you willingly trade a watch for birdseed?”
Tonto shrugged. “Bird can’t tell time, Kemosabe.”
The two friends continued on in silence for a while, each lost in his thoughts. Tonto could finally put his past behind him, while the Lone Ranger was uncertain of his future. But there was one thing the ranger wanted to get clear.
“Kemosabe?” he repeated. “You know, if we’re going to be outlaws, I think I’m going to need a better name.” He paused. “What about the Mask of Justice?”
“No,” Tonto stated.
“The Lone Rider of—”
“No.”
As the sun began to set on the horizon, the two men rode on, bickering back and forth. Finally, the masked ranger had had enough. As he kicked his horse, the big animal reared up. “Hi-yo, Silver—away!” he cried before taking off, the horse’s hooves kicking up a trail of dust. Behind him, Tonto patted his bird and then began to follow. Whatever happened next, it was going to be an interesting adventure.
It was time for the Wild West Show to close for the night. As the lights went off one by one, Will stood in front of the diorama, watching Tonto. The old man gazed out at the faux horizon, lost in thought.
“Guess I should be heading home,” Will said, wishing he didn’t have to.
“Home,” Tonto repeated. His voice was filled with sadness and longing. Slowly, he raised his hat to his head, covering the stuffed bird.
“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Tonto,” Will said, turning to go. Then he paused. Turning back, he eyed the Comanche. “So…the Windigo? Nature out of balance? The masked man? It’s just a story, right?”
Tonto said nothing.
“I mean, I know he wasn’t real…was he?”
Finally, Tonto spoke. “Up to you,” he replied, tossing something to Will.
Will looked down. In his hand was a silver bullet.
Gasping, he raised his head, but Will was now alone. Tonto was gone. Slowly, Will reached up and lowered his mask over his eyes. “Never take off the mask,” he said softly as he walked out of the Wild West Show and into the warm San Francisco night.
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