Member-only story
FICTION
Chasing Outlaws in the Wild West
A kid cowboy on a hobbyhorse named Silver
"There comes a time, Kemosabe, when a good man must wear a mask."
— Tonto from the Lone Ranger.
When I was a kid, I rode a wooden hobbyhorse named Silver, covered my eyes in black, and imagined I was the Lone Ranger. I pulled weeds from the backyard and pretended they were hay. I brushed Silver's long mane and hindquarters, whispering to relax. "A calm horse is better to ride than a nervous one," Tonto told me.
Tonto was my sidekick and spiritual advisor, always riding beside me on every adventure. When we needed to catch some outlaws, I whistled for Tonto, who had his own fast horse, White Feller, which he rode bareback.
"Hi-yo, Silver! The Lone Ranger rides again!" I shouted.
Tonto made a long, wavering trill, like a bird, signaling he was ready as well.
Tonto and I didn't waste any time. We knew where to go and how to catch the cattle rustlers, bank robbers, and the guys on the Most Wanted posters. Tonto took the lead because he knew the landscape better and could sense where the bandits were hiding. He was quick and clever with a knife, while I was good with a six-shooter.
