The Daredevil Desperados of Destiny

by Charlie Small

  ‘Your uncle! And he’s dangling you over a cliff as a treat for a monster two-headed bird? I don’t understand. He doesn’t look anything like a Rapakwar brave.’

  ‘His father was not a Rapakwar. His name was Uriah Ham, a snake-oil merchant and scoundrel from back east, but he married the first daughter of Rolling Thunder, the old chief of the Rapakwar nation. One day Uriah was caught stealing diamonds that came from the Rapakwar mines, and they were both banished along with Horatio, their newborn child.’

  ‘You’ve got diamond mines?’ I interrupted.

  ‘Yes,’ said Nagachak modestly. ‘The Rapakwar have mined diamonds for centuries. We only use the stones for ceremonial purposes, and only we know the exact location of the mine entrance.’

  ‘Wow! Oh, sorry, please carry on.’

  ‘Well, Rolling Thunder had another daughter, my mum, and when she married Sitting Pretty, my father, he became chief of all the Rapakwar lands; Ham has been busy stealing them back ever since. But we still own the diamond mines and of course that is what Ham wants more than anything; the trouble is he doesn’t know where they are. So he captured me and tried to make me give up our ancient Rapakwar secrets; but I didn’t and that’s why I am here now.’

  ‘Rolling Thunder … diamond mines … banished?’ I said. This was all too much and I was very confused. ‘Why didn’t you tell me all this before?’

  ‘We were too busy escaping,’ said Nagachak.

  Even now that I’ve written it all down, it’s hard to take in. Ham is Nagachak’s uncle! Not only does he want to run Trouble County, he also wants the Rapakwar Indian diamond mines. What’s more, he’s prepared to sacrifice his nephew, and me, to get them! Is there no end to his greed?

  Now my journal is up to date and Nagachak and I are waiting for the arrival of the Great Bird Of Death. I have no idea what to expect next. Will I end up as a piece of cuttlefish for an overgrown, two-headed budgie? How the heck are we going to escape from this?

  Just now we heard an ear-splitting screech echo around the valley. ‘Mapwai is coming,’ Nagachak said.

  Help! I don’t know if I shall ever make another entry in my journal.

  PHEW, we made it. Just!

  The screech echoed across the valley as Nagachak and I span helplessly in the metal birdcage, high above the valley floor. Again the screech came, and then a terrifying sound that reminded me of the sails of a pirate galleon thrashing to and fro in a full-blown gale. The next minute, I saw Mapwai for the first time, and it is one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen. Nothing had prepared me for the horror that came spiralling out of the sky towards us.

  The vulture was as big as a bus, its powerful body covered in tatty black and white feathers. Her legs were as thick as drainpipes and her feet tipped with twenty-centimetre-long talons. But the scariest things about the bird were the two viciously-beaked heads that were attached to the ends of her scabby pink necks.

  (Now that I have time, I’ve looked through my animal collector’s cards and, lo and behold, here is a card all about the Mapwai.)

  The bird dropped from the sky as fast as a stone. Not braking or checking her flight in any way, she slammed her feet into our cage, sending the whole crate rocking wildly on the end of its chain, and we banged against the cliff wall. No sooner had we regained our shattered senses than the bird attacked again. The crowd of Ham’s men cheered from the top of the cliff as we crashed and thrashed about.

  ‘So long, Nagachak. We’re leaving before the bird mistakes us for part of its treat. You should’ve told me where the diamond mines are, you silly boy,’ shouted Ham, peering over the cliff edge. ‘Oh, and good riddance to the Lariat Kid.’ With this parting message, Ham pulled a lever and, with the sound of squeaking metal, the floor of our cage fell open on two rusty hinges.

  YIKES!

  My stomach flipped as I dropped out of the cage! At the last second I managed to grab the bottom bar, leaving me dangling by one arm, hundred of metres from the ground with the vulture swooping in for another attack.

  I twisted around. Nagachak had grabbed the cage floor as he fell and was able to use it as a ladder and climb back into the cage to stand precariously on the frame.

  ‘Help, Nagachak,’ I yelled, wriggling in mid-air like a worm on the end of a hook.

  Nagachak leaped across the empty gap at the bottom of the cage and grabbed hold of my wrist. Just in time, I flipped myself back into the cage and stood alongside my friend as, BANG! The vulture hit us again, sending the cage dancing and spinning above the mighty abyss.

  Twice more she attacked, bending the cage’s bars and leaving gaps big enough to force her two deadly beaks through. Battered and bruised and breathing hard, Nagachak and I had hardly enough strength left to hold on. Now the great bird landed on an outcrop of rock about eight metres below us, stretched her necks, and darted her vicious orange beaks one by one up into the cage.

  Nagachak and I both leaped for the top bars of the cage, quickly pulling our legs clear of the clattering beaks; but my jeans were ripped and my shin pouring blood from where the vulture scored a hit. Our arms started to burn with exhaustion as we hung on for dear life, our feet just out of reach of the bird’s scything pecks.

  ‘I’m going to drop any minute,’ I yelled to Nagachak. ‘I just can’t hold on.’

  The vulture struck again, but as she forced her beak into the cage, a large stone whizzed through the air and – Whack! – it hit the bird hard on the side of one of her heads.

  Kwak! The bird screamed, withdrawing her beak and gazing down into the valley below. Another stone sailed through the air, hitting the vulture on her other head. Kwak! The huge vulture scanned the valley with her cruel eyes and, spotting something, spread her wings and silently glided away from the rock.

  Nagachak and I lowered ourselves until we stood on the frame of the cage once again, shaking with relief.

  ‘We’ve got to get down from here, before the vulture comes back,’ said Nagachak. I looked at the void below our feet, all the way down to the valley floor.

  ‘Any ideas?’ I asked. Just then, an arrow whipped past my ear and clattered through the bars. ‘Oh, brilliant, now someone’s shooting at us as well!’

  ‘It’s my father’s arrow,’ gasped Nagachak, squatting down and picking up the missile. A rope was tied to the shaft of the arrow and it passed back through the bars all the way down to the valley floor below. ‘What are we supposed to do with it?’

  ‘Look!’ I cried. ‘There’s a note wrapped around the arrow.’ With one hand holding the bars, I squatted down and tore the paper away.

  But the message was written in Rapakwarian again.

  ‘You’d better tell me,’ I said.

  Nagachak took the note and started to read.

  ‘ “Boys,” ’ he read aloud. ‘ “You must trust me. Tie the rope to your waists, cling together and JUMP!” ’

  ‘Jump!’ I cried. ‘Is he barmy? Can’t we just tie the rope to the cage and climb down?’

  ‘ “You can’t climb down,” ’ Nagachak continued reading. ‘ “It is too slow and the Great Bird Of Death will pick you off like caterpillars on a cabbage stalk. Trust me, and jump. Love, Dad (Sitting Pretty, Chief). PS Make sure the rope has passed over the frame of the cage before you leap!” ’

  ‘Let’s do it!’ cried Nagachak, and started to wind the end of the rope around his waist. It wasn’t easy, balancing on the narrow bar of the cage and tying the rope at the same time. He wobbled and slipped and at one point I thought he was a goner, but at last he succeeded. As soon as he had finished, I took the excess that hung from his waist and wrapped it around me, tying it off with a double heave-ho knot, taught to me by the pirate Rawcliffe Annie.

  ‘Ready?’ he asked. I checked the rope at our feet, making double sure that it had passed through the bottom rung of the cage’s frame.

  ‘Ready,’ I stammered, feeling anything but ready as we clung together.

  ‘JUMP!’ yelled Nagachak, and we jumped of
f the cage and out into thin air.

  ‘Aaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!’ We dropped like stones and I immediately wished I had not put my trust in Big Chief Sitting Pretty. I hadn’t even met him and here I was jumping from a cage at the top of a cliff, just because he’d told me to. Next I’d be sticking my head in an oven for him!

  Then, about halfway down, the rope tightened and our descent started to slow! How was that happening? And then I saw: Nagachak’s dad had tied a boulder to the other end of the rope, one just a bit lighter than Nagachak and I together, and it acted as a perfect counter-weight to us. We glided down to the ground as sedately as if we were on an escalator. Brilliant!

  As soon as we touched down, Sitting Pretty ran over to us and cut us free with a slice of his knife. He was reassuringly calm, seemed very strong and looked both fierce and kind at the same time.

  ‘Quick, boys, follow me,’ he said, and led us through a maze of rocks until we were standing at the edge of the vast valley floor. Galloping towards us at breakneck speed on his beautiful black stallion was Wild Bob Ffrance. With one hand he was leading a snorting, wide-eyed pinto pony, and in the other he was spinning a slingshot. Racing up the valley behind him, and no more than five metres from the ground, was Mapwai. Even as we watched, Wild Bob loosed the slingshot and sent a large stone whizzing through the air, to crash against the mighty bird’s skull.

  The vulture shrieked and turned away, dazed. Now Bob was upon us.

  ‘Quick, mount up,’ he yelled. ‘We’ve only got a matter of seconds.’ He was right. I leaped into the saddle behind him; Sitting Pretty and Nagachak mounted the pinto and we galloped off, just as Mapwai regained her senses and took up the chase once again.

  Then I saw our horses were each dragging the bloody carcass of an old steer as extra bait for the vulture.

  ‘Is that wise?’ I shouted at Wild Bob as we thundered over the rocky ground. ‘Isn’t that just encouraging it?’

  ‘Sure thing, Kid,’ Bob yelled back. ‘But don’t worry. The Chief and I have a plan, and it’s real sweet! Just sit back and enjoy. Yee-hah!’

  We galloped away, around a curve in the cliff wall and out across the open valley floor. I could hear the great scything beats of the vulture’s wings as she powered through the air behind us.

  ‘Faster,’ I yelled, urging Fortune on. ‘Faster, or it’s curtains for us all!’

  The black stallion’s hooves drummed on the hard mud, sending great billowing clouds of dust into the air. In front of me sat Wild Bob Ffrance, eyes wide with excitement. To our side raced Sitting Pretty and Nagachak. Behind each horse, the old cattle carcasses bounced and bucked in our wake.

  ‘Not much further now, Kid,’ yelled Wild Bob over the din of pounding hooves.

  I do hope not, I thought, as I looked behind me. Mapwai was right on our tail. Her two heads rolled from side to side as she swooped over the rust-coloured earth and I heard the clack of her beaks as she lunged at the bloody bait we dragged behind us. All of a sudden, Fortune reared as the vulture grabbed the carcass we were dragging, bringing us to a juddering halt.

  ‘Come on!’ cried Wild Bob, kicking the stallion back into a full gallop and snatching the meat out of the vulture’s beak. ‘Don’t give up now!’

  We raced away, and there directly in front of us was the great wedge of rock known as the Big Cheese. The rock rose sheer and high from the valley floor and tapered to a viciously sharp edge – and we were racing straight towards it. Again I heard the hollow clack of the vulture’s beaks right behind us and, as the bird let out an ear-splitting screech, I nearly fell from the horse in fright.

  I really didn’t think we were going to make it!

  We galloped towards the knife-edge corner of the Big Cheese. One head of the vulture snapped at the carcass Bob and I were dragging; its other head snapped at the carcass dragged by Sitting Pretty’s pinto. Still we galloped on, straight towards the huge rock.

  ‘Turn, Bob. Turn!’ I yelled. Surely we were going to be dashed against the lethal rocks that littered the ground around the base of the Big Cheese! ‘Help!’ But Bob didn’t turn and we raced on towards a certain and sticky end!

  Then, at the very last second, when the black stallion was already stumbling over a fall of loose stones and the Big Cheese loomed massive in front of us, Wild Bob yanked on the reins and our faithful steed turned and galloped madly along the side of the colossal outcrop. As we turned to the right, Chief Sitting Pretty turned to the left and hurtled along the other side of the rock. The monster vulture tried to follow both of us! Her right head, snapping at the steer that Bob was dragging, followed us to the right; the bird’s left head followed Sitting Pretty’s steer to the left, and at full speed the vile vulture hit the knife-sharp edge of the Big Cheese!

  With an awful Kreeeeeeech, the bird was rent asunder, splitting right down the middle, and her two halves dropped heavily to the ground on either side of the rock. There was a sudden silence except for our gasping breath. It was over! We were saved! Bob pulled his sweating, snorting stallion to a halt.

  ‘Ooee, that must have stung,’ said Bob, grinning, but strangely I couldn’t help feeling sorry for the creature. Yes, she had tried to kill me; she had tried to strip the flesh from my bones, but that’s only what vultures do, isn’t it? It wasn’t her fault. Then as we trotted alongside the remains of the monster and I saw her massive curved beak and her pitiless, wicked eye, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. No, I wasn’t sorry at all; hot-diggity-dog – she had tried to peel me like a banana!

  Sitting Pretty and Nagachak trotted around the edge of the Big Cheese to join us. Nothing was said; we were all a little shell-shocked and were only just realizing how close we had been to a very nasty end. We climbed a narrow path out of Death Valley and made our way back to Destiny.

  The Desperados all cheered as we rode back into Destiny.

  ‘How did it go, boss?’ asked Gentleman Jim.

  ‘It was real sweet, Jim, real sweet,’ replied Wild Bob. ‘Horatio Ham has been foiled again and what’s more, Mapwai, the Great Bird Of Death, has been slain!’

  The Desperados cheered even louder, whooping and hollering and firing off their pistols.

  ‘This calls for a feast,’ declared Cornelius Duff, who already had an extra large pot of baked beans bubbling on the campfire. Soon, with the help of a large bottle of firewater, the Desperados and Chief Sitting Pretty were dancing a Rapakwar victory dance around the roaring campfire, waving rifles and tomahawks, and chanting ‘The Mapwai is dead, the Mapwai is dead, Ee-I-Adio the Mapwai is dead!’ Then, when they were too tired to dance any more, Cornelius Duff dished out the beans and, as a special treat, a big bowl of cactus soup (yum yum, I don’t think!).

  We had speeches and songs and Chief Sitting Pretty told the whole saga of our fight with Mapwai (which was a bit boring as he spoke in Rapakwar, and I didn’t understand a word!). Then the pipe of peace was passed around, to strengthen the friendship between the Desperados and the Rapakwar nation.

  ‘No thanks,’ I said when the pipe was passed to me. ‘I don’t smoke.’

  ‘You must,’ whispered Wild Bob. ‘Otherwise the Rapakwar will take it as a great insult. Just take a little puff.’

  I put the pipe to my lips, and as the disgusting green smoke floated around my head, I sucked. The evil-smelling smoke hit the back of my throat. It was disgusting – hot, rough and sour – and I instantly collapsed in a fit of uncontrollable coughing. The Desperados roared with laughter, but as my head cleared and I could see their friendly faces through my watery eyes, I laughed too; it felt so good to be a Daredevil Desperado!

  All too soon, though, it was time for Nagachak and his dad to go. Chief Sitting Pretty, the proud and implacable warrior chief who looked as if he had been carved out of solid rock, put his hand on my shoulder.

  ‘Nagachak has told me how you helped him to escape, Kid Lariat. You have proved yourself a worthy friend and I now make you an honorary Rapakwar brave.’ With this, he took one of his many bead nec
klaces and placed it around my neck. ‘Good luck, brother. If you ever need my help, send a message and I will come.’

  ‘Wow! Thank you,’ I said, beaming with pleasure at this unexpected honour.

  ‘Goodbye, Kid,’ said Nagachak with a smile, and shook my hand. They mounted their horse; Chief Sitting Pretty flicked the reins, and amidst much cheering, the pinto raced out of Destiny.

  As I watched them go, I wondered how long it would be before I would be able to leave and continue my journey home. We had escaped the Great Bird Of Death, but horrible Ham was still about, lording it over the poor people of Trouble County. Before I could go I had promised to help defeat him. To be honest, I was beginning to wonder if that would ever happen.

  As I made my way back towards the bunkhouse, I glanced down at the necklace the Chief had just given me, and gasped. It was made up of hundreds of brightly-coloured beads, but there in the middle, sparkling in the morning sun, was a diamond as big as a walnut!

  Now my journal is right up to date, and it’s time for bed. I’m absolutely exhausted, and I ache all over. No one wake me up for a week!

  You’ll never guess where I am now. No, really, you’ll never, ever guess. I can hardly believe it myself. I’m deep down inside the bowels of the earth, looking through a crack in a rock at a scene illuminated by the glow of a thousand oil lamps!

  First, though, I must tell you all about the big showdown between the Daredevil Desperados and Horatio Ham’s Hired Honchos! All about my meeting with … No, let me continue from where I left off.

  ‘Kid! Kid Lariat, wake up.’

  ‘Wha …?’