by Chris Blake
The man raised his hat. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he shouted, “my name is Ben Hall. Some call me ‘Brave’ Ben Hall. You may have heard of me.”
“We’ve heard of you, all right,” yelled a man in the crowd. “You’re a thief and an outlaw. You’re under arrest. Come quietly and there won’t be any trouble.”
Ben Hall chuckled. “Is that a policeman?” he said. “I don’t much like policemen. Too busy hassling ordinary folk. Bill, Jimmy, take that man down the station and lock him up in his own cells. Make sure you throw away the key.”
Whooping and laughing, two of the outlaws pulled the policeman out of the crowd and pushed him roughly down the street. Tom glanced nervously at Zuma. With the town’s policeman behind bars, there was no one to help them now. He was surprised to see the Aztec girl smiling.
“Brave Ben Hall,” she whispered. “Maybe he’s the man who knows no fear.”
Tom’s eyes widened. Zuma could be right. Before he could reply, Ben Hall jerked his thumb towards the main door of the hotel. “Now we’ve got rid of the lawman, I’d like to invite you all inside,” he said.
The crowd of people had no choice. They filed into the hotel at gunpoint. Tom and Zuma followed everyone else. They found themselves in a large plain room with a long wooden bar. Ben Hall jumped on top of it and nodded to an old woman at a piano in the corner. Immediately, she began playing a jaunty tune.
“You can put away those guns now, boys,” Ben Hall called out to his men.
The outlaw gang grinned and stuck their guns in their belts. Tom frowned. What kind of robbery was this?
Pushing his hat back on his head, Ben
Hall reached into his sack and pulled out a fistful of money and gold and glittering jewellery. The crowd gasped in astonishment. Zuma’s eyes lit up at the sight of the sparkling gems.
“Good people,” yelled Ben Hall with a grin, “me and my lads just robbed a rich, greedy landowner. This wealth belongs to the entire town. To celebrate, I’m throwing a party!”
Dropping the money and jewels back into the sack, he tossed it across the room. Behind Tom and Zuma, Dusty Moore caught it. “Put that somewhere safe, Dusty,” Ben told him. “We’ll share it out later.”
The hotel shook with loud cheers and stamping feet. The old woman at the piano thumped the keys, filling the room with loud music. A fiddler joined in. Arm in arm, couples began dancing. Singing along to the music, Ben Hall jumped behind the bar and used his knife to open bottles, before handing out drinks to everyone. The kitchen door flew open and trays heaped with food were bought out for the partygoers.
Within minutes, the party was in full swing. Zuma, unable to resist, did a somersault and backflipped her way across the room. Tom stared at her. The Aztec girl really was a fantastic gymnast! Darting through the crowd, Chilli jumped up at the laughing townsfolk, wagging his tail until they rewarded him with chunks of roasted meat.
Only one person wasn’t smiling. Dusty Moore pushed his way through the crowd with a scowl on his face. In his hand was the precious bag of loot. Spotting a new friend, Chilli ran over and barked at him. Dusty’s foot lashed out. Tom’s jaw dropped open in shock as the little Chihuahua narrowly avoided being kicked. Chilli yelped, and dashed out of the way.
Zuma scooped him into her arms. “What did you do that for?” she shouted angrily at Dusty.
The outlaw stopped. He turned to look at her. “I hate dogs,” he snarled. “A dingo bit me when I was a boy, and I can’t stand the sight of them now.”
“But Chilli wouldn’t hurt anyone,” said Zuma, holding up the Chihuahua. “Look at him. He’s just small and friendly.”
“I don’t trust any dog,” said Dusty. For a second he looked scared. Then the look of fear disappeared, and with a fresh scowl he turned and stomped away.
Zuma gave Chilli a hug and returned to the dance. Tom found a chair and sat down to watch. Beside him, a grizzled old man strummed a guitar.
Leaning over, Tom asked, “I don’t understand how Ben Hall can be a thief but everyone still likes him so much.”
The old man gave Tom a toothless grin. “He’s a thief all right,” he said in a wheezing voice. “But he shares what he steals.”
Seeing Tom’s puzzled face, the old man slapped his guitar with a laugh. “You’re a stranger round here, aren’t you?” he asked.
Tom nodded.
“Well, stranger,” the old man continued, “maybe you don’t understand life in the outback. There’s a few rich folk who own all the land. The rest of us are as poor as dirt. It ain’t right and it ain’t fair! The law says that bushrangers are criminals, but Ben Hall takes from the rich and looks out for the common folk. That makes him all right, if you ask me.”
Before Tom could ask any more questions, the old man turned back to his guitar and began to sing:
“They said Captain Thunderbolt took a horse;
The judge sent him to Cockatoo Island, of course.
There he works under the blazing sun,
Breaking rocks for what he’s done.
Ten years’ hard labour – now that’s a crime,
Ten years of suffering heat, dust and grime.”
Behind Tom, someone began clapping along to the old man’s song. It was Ben Hall. Up close, the outlaw was a frightening sight. His face had been tanned to the colour of leather. His clothes were dusty. A gun hung from his hip. Nonetheless, the riddle had made it clear that ‘Brave’ Ben Hall would lead him and Zuma to the golden coin.
Tom gulped. He had to talk to the outlaw. “Excuse me,” he said politely. “Who’s Captain Thunderbolt?”
Ben Hall looked down at him. “Why, the captain is the ‘gentleman bushranger’,” he said. “His real name is Frederick Ward. Twice the police tried to send him to prison for petty crimes. Both times he was set free. In the end, they said he’d stolen a horse. The judge locked him away on Cockatoo Island for ten years.”
As Ben finished, a woman caught him by the arm. Together, they whirled away into the dance. A second later, Zuma spun past.
Tom grabbed her. “Hey,” he said. “We’re supposed to be looking for Tlaloc’s coin, remember?”
“But I’m having fun,” Zuma replied. She crossed her arms. A stubborn look appeared on her face. “It’s the first party I’ve ever been to. When you’re an Aztec slave, life is all work, work, work … and human sacrifice. Slaves are never allowed to have a good time.”
“Yes, but if we don’t find the coin, you’ll always be a slave,” Tom told her firmly. “Come on, we’ve got work to do. I want to take a closer look at Ben Hall’s bag of loot. Maybe the coin is mixed up with the gold and jewels in there.”
“Good idea,” said Zuma. Her face brightened at the thought that the third gold coin might be close by. She pointed across the room. “Dusty Moore went that way.”
They opened a door to a small, private dining room. Inside, Dusty Moore looked up and glared at them. Spread across the table in front of him was a heap of gold and jewels and piles of money. In one of Dusty’s hands was a leather bag. In the other was a fistful of jewellery.
Tom and Zuma gasped at the same time. Hanging from Dusty’s fingers was a necklace. Hanging from the end of the necklace was a gold Aztec coin stamped with an image of the sun.
“The third coin!” whispered Zuma, staring at it.
Dusty Moore ignored her. “What are you doing here?” he growled, dropping the coin into his bag.
“I could ask you the same question,” Tom replied, staring at the bag. It was already half full of Ben Hall’s loot.
A sneer crossed the outlaw’s face. “Brave Ben Hall might want to waste his swag throwing parties for the poor, but not me,” he spat. “I’m a real outlaw. The poor can stay poor. I don’t care. This swag will make me rich for life.”
“You’ll never get away with this!” Zuma hissed. “I’m going to get Ben Hall.” She began backing away, opening her mouth to call for help.
Dusty Moore pulled out a gun. He pointed it a
t Zuma’s face. “Say one word, missy, and both you and your friend are dead.”
Tom and Zuma stared down the barrel of Dusty Moore’s gun. The outlaw tipped the rest of the loot into his bag and backed towards an open door that led on to the street.
“Come here and keep your mouths shut,” he said, beckoning them outside. “I don’t want you hollering for help as soon as I’m gone.”
Tom and Zuma had no choice but to follow Dusty out into the empty street. The gang’s horses were tied to a railing outside the hotel. Dusty chose the biggest – a black stallion. He kept his gun on Tom and Zuma while he untied the rest, yelling and slapping their hindquarters. Whinnying, the horses galloped off down the street.
Dusty climbed into the saddle of the black stallion. With a cry of triumph, he kicked the horse’s flanks. A trail of dirt flew up into the air as the outlaw sped away.
“How are we going to catch up with him?” whispered Zuma through gritted teeth.
“I don’t know, but we have to try,” Tom replied. “Come on! We have to tell Ben Hall. He’s the only person who can help us get the coin back.”
Together, Tom and Zuma raced back inside the hotel. Ben Hall was still whirling his partner round the floor. They pushed their way through the crowd towards him.
“Mr Hall!” Zuma shouted over the noise. “We need to speak to you. It’s important!”
Ben frowned at her. “Not now, little lady. Can’t you see I’m busy,” he said, dancing away from her.
“Dusty Moore’s stolen your loot!” Tom yelled.
“What?!” Ben Hall immediately stopped dancing. He spun round to face Tom and Zuma.
“It’s true,” shouted Zuma. “We caught him red-handed. He’s stolen a horse and gone!”
Ben Hall’s tanned face grew even darker with anger. “That low-down dingo’s backside!” he bellowed. “No one cheats Brave Ben Hall out of his swag. I’ll track him down and make him pay.” He turned to his men, who had gathered round the piano. “Stay here and keep the party going,” he told them. “I’ll be back tomorrow!”
The bushranger stomped towards the hotel’s main door.
“Wait!” Tom shouted after him. “We’ll come with you.”
Ben stopped and looked back. “A couple of kids like you will just slow me down,” he said.
“That’s what you think,” Zuma replied, crossing her arms. “You may be brave, but I’ve escaped from being a human sacrifice. That’s not easy when you’re carrying a small dog and you’ve got twenty priests hot on your heels.”
“I’ve fought a ninja,” said Tom. “That was pretty scary, but we took care of him.”
“And Chilli’s the bravest dog around,” added Zuma.
Chilli barked and puffed out his chest.
Ben Hall stared at them both in confusion. “What in the blazes are you talking about?” he began. Shaking his head, he continued, “No, I don’t have time for you to tell me. Come along if you want. I’m thankful you raised the alarm and I suppose there’s a vacancy in the gang, now that double-crossing Dusty has disappeared. I’m warning you, though – if you fall behind, I’m not waiting for you to catch up.”
“Don’t worry about us,” said Tom. “I promise we won’t slow you down.”
Zuma dashed past him at top speed. “Just watch me go!” she shouted. Sprinting through the door, she took off up the road. Chilli was close behind, yapping with excitement.
Ben Hall followed at a run. “Hold up,” he called after her. “It’ll be quicker if we ride.”
“But Dusty let all your horses loose,” Tom explained.
Ben turned to him and winked. “That’s the great thing about being a bushranger,” he said. “If you lose your horse, you can always steal another. Follow me.”
“Wait a minute,” said Tom. “We might be desperate, but we’re not stealing. If it wasn’t for us, you wouldn’t even know your loot was missing.”
Ben Hall thought for a moment.
“Yeah,” Zuma continued, “we’re not as bad as Dusty Moore!”
That seemed to do the trick. “OK, kids,” said Ben Hall. “You wait here.”
A couple of minutes later, Tom and Zuma watched as the bushranger appeared leading three sleek horses behind him. “I found these tied up by the police station,” he said. “They’re racehorses, so we’ll catch up with Dusty in no time. And don’t worry, I gave that policeman we locked up in the cells a fair price for them.”
Tom and Zuma grinned.
“There’s no time to find saddles, though,” said Ben. “If you want to come with me, you’ll have to ride bareback.”
“I’m sure there’s nothing to it,” Zuma said. Tucking Chilli under one arm, she climbed up the fence and vaulted on to the back of a brown horse with a white stripe on its forehead. It reared beneath her, hooves pawing at the air. The little Chihuahua safely in her lap, Zuma clung on to the horse’s mane. The horse calmed down. “There,” she said with a grin. “It’s as easy as falling off a pyramid.”
“Or as easy as falling off a galloping horse,” Tom muttered to himself. He climbed on to his racehorse nervously. He had ridden many horses during his time-travel adventures, and Zuma had learned how to ride in the Wild West and when they visited Medieval Japan. Even so, neither of them had ever tried it without a saddle.
“It takes a while to get used to. Just relax and keep looking where you want to go,” Ben Hall told them. “If you look down at the horse, you’ll lose your balance.”
“Dusty went that way,” said Zuma. She pointed down the road.
“Come on then,” Ben said back. “I’m going to pull that good-for-nothing’s ears off when we catch him.”
At that moment, a shot rang out. The fence post next to Tom exploded in a shower of splinters. Zuma gasped at the loud crack. Chilli buried his face in her lap with a yelp.
Ben’s head spun round. “Behind you!” he yelled, pointing down the road. “Police – five of them! They must have heard that me and the gang were heading this way.”
Clouds of dust were rising up from the ground as more shots bit into the dirt. Tom was amazed to see that Ben Hall was laughing. The bushranger was obviously no stranger to danger.
Gripping his horse’s mane, Ben yelled, “Yah!” The racehorse reared and galloped away like a rocket.
“YAH!” yelled Zuma and Tom together.
Tom’s horse leaped forward with an excited snort. Zuma’s was right beside him. Bullets buzzed through the air like angry insects. Tom leaned forward over his horse’s neck. His heart beat like a drum. Around him, the craggy landscape whizzed by at breathtaking speed. Riding bareback was nothing like riding with a saddle. It was much more difficult keeping his balance, but it was almost like Tom was part of the horse. He could feel its muscles moving powerfully beneath him.
Holding on to the mane for dear life, Tom tried not to think about what would happen if the police caught up with them. They’d only been in Australia for a couple of hours, but already he and Zuma had managed to get involved with an outlaw gang and now they were being shot at by the police!
Tlaloc’s quests were getting more dangerous. If they were caught now they’d probably end up in prison on Cockatoo Island with Captain Thunderbolt!
Tom’s horse pounded the hard ground with its hooves as it put on a fresh burst of speed. Beside him, Zuma’s face was determined as she clung on to her horse’s mane. Behind them, the police shouted and fired more shots. Tom felt a tugging at his shirt. Looking down he saw a hole that hadn’t been there a moment before. One of the bullets had torn through the material!
“Yah!” he shouted into the horse’s ear. “Gee up!” Despite the danger, he felt a wild surge of excitement. Ben Hall had been right – the horses were amazing. Tom may have ridden horses before, but none of them had been as swift as a racehorse.
“That way!” Zuma shouted. Tom’s eyes followed her pointing finger. Ahead of them Ben had swerved off the road. Now he was galloping up a small track towards the distant hi
lls. Tom tugged on his horse’s mane and risked a glance back. Through a thick cloud of dust, he could see the police had fallen behind. Their horses couldn’t keep up.
Tom and Zuma continued to urge on their horses, keeping their eyes fixed on Ben Hall. The outlaw had turned his horse again and was riding in the direction of a narrow valley.
“Look out!” Tom cried a moment later. Ahead of them was a fence. Barbed wire was strung between high posts. The horses were galloping too fast to stop. Tom clenched his teeth, certain that they were going to be cut to ribbons.
Ben didn’t even try to avoid it. “Jump!” he yelled back. His horse leaped, clearing the fence easily.
Tom’s heart pounded. The fence was coming up fast. He squeezed his eyes closed. The horse’s muscles tensed beneath him. For a second Tom felt like he was flying. He gripped the mane until his knuckles went white.
With a jolt, the horse landed on the other side. Tom’s eyes snapped open. He’d made it! A moment later, he heard Zuma whooping with joy as her own horse cleared the deadly fence.
“We’re not safe yet,” Ben Hall called back. “Keep going!”
Eventually, the shots behind them stopped. Tom glanced round again. The police were nowhere to be seen. Ahead, the outlaw was finally slowing down. He stopped beneath a tree, and slipped off his horse’s back.
Tom and Zuma brought their own horses to a halt beside him. Both of their animals were panting, their coats covered in sweat.
Ben crouched down in the middle of the dry track until his nose was almost pressed into the dirt. “Dusty came this way,” he said, pointing to the ground.
Leaning over, Tom stared. He couldn’t see anything but cracked mud.
“I thought he’d get off the main road as soon as he could, and this is the only track round here,” Ben told him. “Now a horse is a heavy beast, especially when it’s carrying a man. Even when the ground’s as hard as iron it’ll leave tracks if you look hard enough.”