The bunny hopped with a straight literal take on the prompt. The story is a tad over but it' not for polling this month anyway.
The Road is Closed
Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry leaned forward in their saddles. They both were intently reading the hand painted sign propped against a log in the middle of the road.
“THE ROAD IS CLOSED”
“Hmm, it says the road is closed, Kid”
“Yep, it does.”
“Doesn’t say why the road is closed.”
“Nope, it doesn’t”
“We’re supposed to be in Tres Piedros tomorrow at the latest.”
“That we are.” The blond turned around in the saddle, looking down the long, dusty, and winding road that they had traveled upon. “If we have to go all the way back to Caliente and then go south to the next road that goes east to cross the river before we can ride north again that’ll take us another day, at least.” He informed his companion as he watched dust devils skitter across the road.
Heyes quickly scanned the countryside as he tightened his hat’s stampede strings against the strong wind whipping across the mesa. It was high desert country, densely covered with a variety of pricky vegetation crisscrossed with deep arroyos. “It’d be slow going if we try to pick our way through this and go cross country. I’d sure like to know why the road is closed before we ride that much out of our way. Whatdya say if we ride a little further on and give it a look?”
“Okay by me.” Curry nudged his dark bay gelding to a slow walk under the hot sun. Heyes followed on his chestnut.
The two riders slowly made their way along the road that was gradually losing elevation as it entered the canyon and headed towards the narrowest gap in the river gorge for quite some miles. Conversation was minimal as they kept their eyes peeled for landslides, rock falls, wash outs, or other reasons for why the road might have been closed. They occasionally glimpsed the railroad tracks than ran roughly parallel to the road, which offered no further clues.
“Well Heyes, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why the road is closed now,” Kid remarked as he helpfully but unnecessarily pointed to the obvious problem across the river gorge.
Heyes gave his partner a disgusted side-eye as they sat atop their mounts, starring at the uncrossable river gorge.
The existing suspension bridge was hanging from the opposite side, forming a nice cliff face decoration as it swayed side to side in the wind. The bolts anchoring the near side cables were still embedded into the rock that had once been attached to the their side of the gorge but had broken away and hung about fifty feet from the raging waters of the narrow river at the bottom of the canyon.
Heyes dismounted and stepped carefully up to the edge to take a closer look at the obstacle. He didn’t really expect to find an alternate route down and back up the canyon, but it didn’t hurt to at least look before he ruled that option out.
Curry waited semi-patiently while his partner assessed the situation, taking a drink from his canteen and habitually surveying the surroundings. Blue eyes widened as he looked to the right.
Heyes was now standing back from the edge with hands on hips and looking around, facing the Kid. He looked to his left and a dark eyebrow lifted in thought.
Brown eyes met blue. A brown head and a blond simultaneously looked up the river gorge and looked down the river gorge, lingering on the structure spanning the canyon in the distance.
“Most likely a railroad bridge.” The dark-haired partner observed.
“Probably for the line that’s been running more or less along the road,” Kid agreed.
“Wanna go see if we can cross it instead of riding way out of our way?”
“Can’t hurt.”
The ex-outlaws kicked their mounts into motion to pick their way through the inhospitable countryside in the direction of the railroad bridge.
Heyes and Curry stood by the side of the railroad tracks, evaluating the intact wooden trestle rail bridge. The bridge looked sturdy, although narrow with a wooden railing on each side about three feet up from the span. Kid Curry squatted down and examined the rails. “There’s no rust, little vegetation, and the rails are smooth. My guess is this line gets a fair amount of use. Did you happen to get a look at the train schedule while we were in town?”
The dark-haired partner untied his bandana from his head and wiped the sides of his face while he squinted into the distance, eyes following the tracks. “No, we weren’t planning on taking the train and we never robbed this line this far south that I recall. So no, I’ve no idea of the times the trains run.”
Kid straightened up and went to retrieve the horses. “Well, if we cross, we’ll have to walk the horses. Since we just bought them, we haven’t had the time to get used to each other. I don’t know how he’ll react to the swaying of the bridge in this wind plus the gaps between the boards and your chestnut seems a might skittish. Do we chance it?”
Curry handed Heyes the reins to his mount. Each man stood for a moment watching their four-legged companions with some regret for the old days of Devil’s Hole when they were able to keep and depend on trusted favorite horses that were more than a mode of transportation. Brown eyes met blue and a decision was made.
“Let me go first.” The Kid patted his dark bay’s neck before starting to walk forward. “This boy’s a little calmer and maybe if yours sees how it’s done, he’ll be a little easier to lead.”
The blond and his bay had cautiously traveled approximately twenty yards of the span, which they estimated to be a little over two hundred yards when Heyes pulled on the reins of his chestnut to start across. The chestnut placed his front hooves on the first board and then balked about moving further onto the bridge.
The dark-haired ex-outlaw spoke soothingly to his animal and gave him an encouraging pat. The horse stamped his feet and continued to refuse to move. Heyes tugged a little harder and kept up the soothing patter, while Kid and his bay continued slowly across the bridge. When the horse still refused to advance Heyes voice became deeper and louder to be heard over the gusty wind. The tug was a little sharper until they were finally on their way. The chestnut stopped every few steps and his brown eyes became a little wild as his flanks started to tremble slightly with nervousness or fear. The bridge, even though it was sturdily built, increased it’s swaying in the wind the canyon was funneling and intensifying. Vibrations of the wooden span became discernable.
Kid Curry had traveled about three quarters of the way when he stopped suddenly. The blond head cocked at the same time as the bay’s ears twitched upright as both man and beast stood listening. Boots and hooves were also registering the increased intensity of the span’s vibrations. There was a definite rumble coming straight at them. Kid’s blue eyes widened as comprehension hit him. A train was coming right at them. Curry didn’t need to hurry the bay along as the horse was starting to panic and its natural flight response kicked in. The bay took off, dragging the Kid along, straight at the oncoming train.
A loud whistle sounded above the ever-present roaring wind. Curry let go of the reins when he couldn’t keep up with the horse and narrowly missed stepping into the air between the gaps of the wooden bridge platform. He took a moment to look to see how far behind him Heyes and the chestnut were. Kid calculated Heyes had only made it about a third of the way across. The narrow bridge left no room on the sides, they either had to go forward or back and be really quick about it.
“HEYES! TRAIN’S COMIN’. GO BACK! GO BACK, NOW!” he shouted as loud as he could and hoped Heyes had heard him or at least the train’s whistle.
Kid knew the train would not be able to stop once it descended to enter the straight away for the trestle bridge. The engineer and brakeman would not risk a possible derailment and plummeting into the river gorge, by the sudden application of the brakes not even to save the life of man and horse, especially since the riders shouldn’t be on the bridge in the first place. He ran for his life, the jumping strides of his boots beating out a rapid cadence on the planks.
The loud clickity clack of the wheels rumbling along the rails grew louder. The dark shape of the steam engine came looming around the last bend before the train would start chugging across the trestle tracks. The steam whistle shrieked in warning blasts, louder and louder.
The bay’s hooves hit solid ground and the terrified animal veered sharply to the side of the tracks. His dark sides lathered with foam, heaving, and brown eyes rolling in distress. The gelding stopped some distance from the tracks as the reins snagged and tangled in a dense patch of cholla cactus.
Kid Curry looked up and saw the black and red of the train engine bearing down on him, nearly obliterating the view of the safety at the end of the bridge. Bile rose in his throat as his options flashed through his brain. With his heart pounding Kid jumped off the trestle platform, hoping to land on the rocky ledge that his peripheral vision registered and knowing if he timed it wrong or misjudged the distance he was leaping to his death. The roar of the train drowned out all sound as the cars chugged onto the trestle.
Heyes chestnut was in full uncontrollable panic. The horse stared wild-eyed across the span when the first blast of the whistle sounded. He reared, tearing the reins from the dark-haired former outlaw’s gloved hands. The terrified animal managed to turn himself around in the narrow space and bolted back the way he came, his hindquarters narrowly missing the man’s dark head but hitting into Heyes’ shoulder sending him to the floor of the bridge, precariously close to the edge. Dark gloved hands reached out for a secure hand hold and tan boots scrambled to get purchase to stand. His one hand missed the lone side railing and one leg slipped off the board and into the gap between planks. Brown eyes looked around to gauge the peril and widened in shock when Heyes realized he had only moments before he would be squashed. Despite his own desperate situation his mind registered his partner’s leap to the temporary safety of a ledge fifteen feet down from the edge of the gorge.
The nimble mind of the older partner discarded the option of up and moving off the span, leaving only one viable option. He rapidly peered down along the one dangling leg and knew his only option was to drop down between the planks onto the trestle structure and hold on for all he was worth. As he rolled his body into the gap, Heyes gave thanks for being thin as his sides grazed the wooden planks as he dropped. Grasping hands grabbed onto the first solid structure he encountered about ten feet down, and arms wrapped around the sturdy trestle beam while his feet sought a stable surface to brace himself with. One foot slid down the wood and an ankle lodged firmly in a V-shaped angle of wood with the pants snagged on a protruding spike.
The structure trembled and shook as the heavy engine and the following freight cars rumbled across the bridge towards its eventual destination.
The clackity clack rumbles faded into the distance, leaving only the sound of the still roaring wind creating eddies of blustering gusts blowing through the wooden trestle bridge. Heyes’ pounding heartbeat receded from his ears and his breathing slowed as the immediate danger passed.
Kid Curry had harrowing experiences involving trains before, more than he would have wished in his short life due to his overly clever partner having an abundance of confidence in the action partner’s athleticism to safely compete complicated plans. But this was the closest he ever came to actually being run over by a train, an ironic end for a former train robber. He was also no stranger to fear, having long ago learned to master that emotion in order to function. However, it took several minutes of quiet controlled breathing to recover his ability to move. He first looked for and spotted his partner, clinging safely to the under-structure of the trestle bridge. Curry slowly began the uphill climb, carefully planning his hand and foot holds along the cliff face.
The Kid reached the top and jogged over to his horse. He spent several moments calming the spooked animal before hobbling the horse in case it was able to free its reins from the cactus snag. Grabbing the lariat from the saddle, Curry set off to see about his partner, who had not moved any significant distance.
“Heyes? Heyes, are you alright?” The younger partner called down to the older man.
Hannibal Heyes peered up between the wooden beams and posts into the very worried face of his friend framed by the planks of the bridge platform.
“I think so, Kid. But my foot is stuck and I can’t move.”
Blonde brows drew into a tighter V and more furrows appeared in Curry’s forehead. “Did you break your leg or ankle?”
“No, I don’t think so, it’s just stuck on something. I can’t reach it without risking a fall off the bridge.”
“Oh, okay. I have an idea?’
“I’m the idea man. That’s our agreement.”
“Okay then, what’s your idea.”
“You come down here and help me.”
“That’s it, come and help. Gee, I never would’ve thought of that myself. Any particular ideas on how I should do that?” Kid didn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice.
“Your specialty is in the execution and logistics of my plan,” Heyes snapped back.
“Thanks for telling me. Give me a few minutes.” Curry tied one end of the lariat he was holding to the railing of the bridge. He firmly pulled on the rope to test the strength on the knot and of the railing. Then the Kid knelt on the floor of the bridge. A blonde head and faded red clad shoulders disappeared into the gap between the planks and blue eyes surveyed his partner’s position. Trusting brown eyes looked up.
“Heyes, I’m gonna drop a rope down that I’ve secured to the railin’. Do you think you can tie yourself off so if anythin’ happens you won’t fall off the bridge?”
“Yeah, I can do that.” replied the older man confidently. Then with a little less confidence a query drifted up, “What do you expect to happen?”
“Nothin’. Heads up.” A rope dropped down and dangled within arms reach of the temporarily trapped partner and was securely tied around a slim waist.
Kid nodded in satisfaction before he withdrew his head from the gap and stood up. He looked for the chestnut and was grateful the gelding hadn’t taken completely off but had stopped only a few yards from the spot by the bridge where they originally started from. He carefully trod across the planks to the end and calmly approached the skittish horse. It took him longer than he wished to get close enough to grab the reins and ground tie the chestnut. Kid then gathered Heyes lariat and returned to the spot directly over his partner.
Once again tying a rope to the bridge and testing its security, Curry then judged the distance he would need to travel before fashioning a harness of sorts and stepping into his creation. He took a deep breath and grabbed hold of a plank. It was a tight squeeze through but his gloved hands were able to control his descent to just below where Heyes’ leg was trapped.
“Glad you could join me.”
With just a hint of seriousness born out of the realization on how close death was cheated once again Kid Curry gave a quick nod of acknowledgement. “Me too.” The younger man then went to work on freeing his partner’s foot.
“Can you move your leg now?”
Heyes gingerly bent his knee and his lower leg moved freely and with relatively little pain. The partner’s shared a smile at the success.
“Whatdya say Kid, lets quit hanging around and get outa here.”
Blue eyes rolled but Curry heartedly approved of the idea. “Okay, let me go up first and then I can help pull you up once I’m settled up top.” The blonde placed his gloved hands on the rope and pulled himself up hand over hand until he was able to grab hold of one of the planks with one arm. Once he had a good hold on the plank and was able to squeeze back up through the gap Kid knelt back down to once again gage his partner’s position and the rope’s security.
“Hold on Heyes. I’m gonna pull you up now.”
It was slow going but eventually both ex-train robbers had both feet firmly on the sturdy bridge. They gathered up the lariats and looped them over their shoulders before walking slowly and steadily towards where Heyes’ chestnut was grazing on the sparse edible vegetation.
The gelding picked up his head and nervously watched the men approach. He backed up a way and bobbed his head up and down a few times, the red mane tossing to and fro with the movement and in the stiff wind. The men and horse eyed each other across the small distance.
It was a given that the chestnut was going to have to cross the bridge whether or not he wanted to. They needed to get back to the road and onto Tres Piedros and they needed both horses to do it. Heyes took the lead on how to coax the gelding back onto the bridge to join the dark bay on the other side. The two excellent horsemen, working together, used all their considerable combined horsemanship skills to cajole, prod, and lead the chestnut safely across the still slightly swaying railroad trestle bridge.
Horses and men survived the potential disaster to ride once again into the sunset. They mounted up and turned towards the direction of the road.
“Kid, whose idea was that to cross the bridge when a train was coming?”
Both men turned to each other, laughed, and yelled, “Yours, all yours!” They kicked their mounts into a trot and were on their way.
Mon Nov 01, 2021 1:24 pm
