Here is the third part of "To Risk Death Daily". Sorry that it's taken me
awhile to post; I've been extraordinarily busy as of late; I recently
caught the flu, and I've been studying madly for midterms.
If you are missing parts I or II, do not hesitate to contact me and I will
send you the first two as quickly as possible.
Enjoy the fic, and as always, comments are appreciated.
--Dark Sentinel
Writer Of Jonny's Innermost Thoughts
Member #1 of the ANJTL
darksentinel@geocities.com
http://questors.home.ml.org
THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST
“To Risk Death Daily”
Part III
written by Dark Sentinel
“There’s important stuff in that there mochila, Jonny, real important
stuff! Make sure it gits through,” the station master told him.
Jonny mounted up. It was his first run. “What kind of news?” he asked.
“There’s a war! Between the North and the South! All over slavery, can
you believe it?! Now, git along there, you’ve got to av’rige fifteen miles
per hour...that’s GOT to git to Sacramento, man! Go...go!”
Every nerve within the boy tingled with excitement. He dug his heels into
the pony’s sides and was off at a gallop. “Godspeed, Jonny!” echoed after
the pair.
It was easy riding for a bit. Jonny continually checked to be sure that
the news and the mail was still in the cantina, the pouches on the sides of
the mochila, by feeling to make sure there was still the bulk of the mail.
The cantinas remained locked until the mail reached its final destination.
Jonny was amazed at how well the pony was able to navigate the rough,
barren terrain. She seemed to know every shortcut through the woods, and
Jonny barely had to do anything at all except hang on. They soon arrived
at the next station.
“Good goin’, Jonny!” the station master called, dashing out of his hut.
“Now hurry up...Bob will get your next pony in a hurry. Just watch she
don’t try to buck you off...she’ll do that.”
“Oh great,” Jonny moaned. He slid off the side of his pony, removed the
mochila from the saddle, then plopped it on the second pony’s back, who was
a striking piebald. He swung one foot up into the stirrup and was off
before he had even climbed atop.
And here Jonny’s first troubles began. Thunderclouds boomed in the
distance as they tore across the land. At first it looked as if they might
outrun the storm, but soon enough it started to drizzle. The drizzle
gradually increased into a downpour. Jonny was grateful for the
water-resistant finish on the cantinas.
His mare continued on doggedly, though every few strides she bucked, in an
attempt to kick him off. Jonny determinedly clung to her mane.
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning illuminated the sky with a bright fury. The
mare’s eyes rolled in fear, yet she galloped on.
Another flash; this time closer. Jonny squinched his eyes shut against
the rain that fell in nearly horizontal sheets into his face, but opened
them when he remembered one of the unspoken rules of being an Express
rider: keep your eyes open at all times. For all too many, danger lurked
around every corner. Jonny was thrown off guard by another buck, but
struggled until he was upright in the saddle once more.
“Almost there,” he told himself, even though he knew that at the next
station, there would only be relief for his pony.
A bright bolt of lightning crashed just a few feet to the right of them,
and struck a few withered plains grasses. “Oh, geez!” Jonny yelped in
fright as the grasses caught fire and blazed into an inferno. Fortunately,
the rain inhibited its growth somewhat, yet it spread about as fast as the
pony could run.
“Go, go, GO!” Jonny screeched at the mare, whose sides were soaking with
rainwater and sweat. He slapped her rump and she flew faster, her hoofs
churning up the mud. The heat from the flames scorched the rider, who
managed to keep his horse just far enough away from the fire to keep the
mail from burning. He had to remind himself that the mail always came
first, no matter what.
At last the rain fell hard enough to put out the fire. But although this
meant safety from burns, it also meant that neither horse nor rider could
see. Jonny slowed her to a fast trot and hoped she knew the way.
The rain started to let up at last. “Just a few more miles,” he said to
himself. Now that there was increasing visibility, Jonny decided that it
would be wisest to hurry his pony along, to make up for lost time. He gave
her another slap on the rump and clucked to her.
The trail was slippery with mud. Jonny was ignorant to the dangers this
posed, and urged her on, faster and faster. As they started to descend a
flat hill, the piebald lost her footing and fell to her knees, sliding down
the hill. She threw her head about violently and brayed. Jonny struggled
to pull his feet out of the stirrups before she slipped onto her side. If
she slipped with her back facing the bottom of the hill, it would be
tremendously dangerous for both her and Jonny.
Luckily, she managed to stay on her knees. Jonny dove off as they neared
the bottom of the hill. The mare shook herself of the mud and stood up,
unhurt. Jonny leapt onto her back and kicked her on.
The sun peeped from behind the storm clouds just as Jonny caught view of
the next station. They charged into the yard in a cyclone of muck. Jonny
recognized the station master who dashed out of the hut.
“Why, Mr. Nyeson!”
“Yes, son, how does it go?”
“Wonderful, sir!” Jonny grinned as he dismounted. “It’s time for my
break, right?”
“Sure, but only for two minutes.”
Jonny moaned as he entered the shack and sat down at a crooked table.
Corn bread, jam, milk, and an apple were set at his place. Jonny wolfed
the food down ravenously. Although his repast was simple, it was filling,
and it slaked his voracious hunger. “What’re you doing way out here?” he
asked between mouthfuls.
“Thought I’d help the nation stay connected, son. Besides, I used to live
way out here when I was a boy.”
“Did you?” Jonny looked up, then returned to his food.
“Yes. I thought it would be fun. Anyway, I suppose it’s time for you to
be getting along. I have a good, fast mustang waiting outside for you.
Old Gold’s his name.”
“Well-behaved, I hope?” the boy asked as he stood and wiped his mouth on
his sleeve.
“The best horse you’ll ever sit down on, I can guarantee it.”
“Terrific. Nice seeing you, Mr. Nyeson. I’ll be back in two days.”
“And I’ll look forward to seeing you, Jonny! Farewell!” Mr. Nyeson waved
out the door as Jonny mounted up.
With a smile, the brave Pony Express rider disappeared over the horizon.
And even though he kept a sharp vigil of his surroundings, he was unaware
of a pair of black eyes watching him from the timber.
__ __ __ __ __ __ __ __
Let me know what you think!
--D.S.
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