Mission Upon A Setting Sun - II

Ben nudged Bill into the trapdoor as they followed Jo deep into the cellar.

Jo grabbed a lantern that hung on the wall and lit it. Bill recoiled when Jo struck the match. He needed to remind himself that the distillery was in disuse.

Once the lantern was lit, they could see certain images painted on the cellar wall. There was one that Bill could instantly recognize from some of the books he had read. A red cloud with a rocket flying through it was centered at the back wall of the cellar.

"Isn't that one of the symbols for Dreamlandism?" inquired Bill when he caught sight of it.

"You recognize the symbol?" asked Jo.

"I do," replied Bill. "It's meant to symbolize the exodus of Dreamlandism believers from this planet into paradise."

"Yes, that's right. If we all come together in peace, we can dedicate our time and resources to building the great ship that will take us away from this planet."

Ben folded his arms and bit his tongue. He decided it was better not to say anything about someone else's religious beliefs, no matter how nonsensical it sounded to him.

"What's the purpose of this cellar?" asked Bill. "Why do you have iconography belonging to Dreamlandism here?"

"My uncle and I keep this place as a small consecrated room for people who follow Dreamlandism," explained Jo. "We have to keep it a secret, though. Our religion isn't accepted in our parts of the desert. So believers are allowed to meet here."

Both Ben and Bill thought back to Marshal Lambert and his search for what he deemed to be cultists.

"With you two being from the outside, I was hoping that maybe you both were believers, too," continued Jo. "That may be the missionary had sent someone back for us."

"I'm not a believer," said Ben quickly.

"Neither am I," added Bill. "Who's this missionary anyway? Whom are you referring to?"

"Oh…" said Jo, slightly dejected. "The missionary I'm referring to was the woman who brought Dreamlandism to us months ago. She was such a nice person. It was really refreshing to meet someone like that. Especially when you never come across people like her out here."

"We aren't affiliated with Dreamlandism, but we don't have anything against people who believe in it," said Bill while giving Ben a knowing stare.

"We met someone on the way here that was looking for believers. A guy named Marshal Lambert."

"Ugh, the marshal," said Jo angrily as she shook her head. "He thinks we're just some evil cult. He's been after us ever since we were visited by the missionary."

"You guys aren't breaking any laws, though, right?" asked Bill. "Why is the marshal after you?"

"He says it's disrupting the natural order of things," replied Jo. "But in truth, it's personal with him and nothing more. We've never done anything to merit being persecuted."

"The laws of Nation-X allow for religious freedom," said Ben.

Ben may have disliked Dreamlandism, but he despised the idea that people were being hunted for their religious beliefs. The injustice of what Marshal Lambert and his crew were doing was beyond reprehensible.

"We don't follow the laws of Nation-X here," clarified Jo. "Seeing as we're autonomous, we just follow the law of our land."

Jo realized that the two were still standing there in their comical apparel. Her eyes widened.

"Oh, sorry, fellas. We need to get you into something more fitting."

She shined her lantern around the cellar. There were some wooden crates that were once used for storing moonshine lying about in a corner.

On top of the crates were various articles of clothing that obviously belonged to some of the members of the secret Dreamlandism believers.

Jo grabbed a long black duster coat, black trousers, and a pecan cutter hat. She handed them to Ben.

"Here, put these on."

"Wow, this is made out of really good material!" said Ben as he felt the clothes.

"They belong to my uncle," said Jo. "You're a little bit bigger than him, but they should fit you well enough."

"Thanks, Jo!" said Ben gratefully as he put the trousers on over his shorts.

Bill eyed Ben's new apparel enviously but also with excitement. He couldn't wait to see what he would be getting for his getup.

"We don't exactly have anything your size," said Jo as she eyed Bill. "Wait, I have an idea."

17

She rummaged through a few of the clothes atop the wooden crate until she finally found what she was looking for.

"Here, put this on."

Jo handed Bill an oversized poncho that was striped with every color on the color spectrum.

Bill held the oversized poncho out in front of him. A look of disdain was on his face.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously." Jo tried to hide her laughter. "It's the best we can do considering our circumstances."

Bill put on the oversized poncho and did his best to look grateful.

"Thanks, Jo," he said through gritted teeth.

"Come on, guys, let's see if anyone gives you any lip when we're outside."

They left the distillery and wandered about Alta Vista. There were a few stares in their direction, especially at Bill and his colorful poncho, but no one said a word.

Jo smiled with satisfaction. "I think we can call that a success."

Before either of them could say anything, the familiar loud murmur could be heard in the near distance.

"Is that a Percheron Thoroughbred?" asked Ben, wide-eyed.

"It is," said Jo, smiling. "We have a shop that looks after them here."

"Can we go see them? Please?"

"Absolutely," said Jo, beckoning for the boys to follow. "Just come with me."

After turning a few corners, they found an old shop with several Percheron Thoroughbreds on display. Ben couldn't hide his glee.

"I can't believe it! They're actually right here, right in front of us!"

"They're just motorcycles, Ben," said Bill, looking at the one closest to him.

"Just motorcycles?" asked Ben incredulously. "You'd need a ladder just to get on one!"

"Well, that's probably why they're discontinued," retorted Bill. "They didn't make them accessible for all riders."

"You're just jealous because you can't even ride this beautiful beast," said Ben as he stroked the Thoroughbred lovingly.

"Neither can you!" shouted Bill.

Jo shook her head, again trying to stifle her laughter. She walked over to an old prairie dog that was inside the shop. After a short conversation, he gave her a set of keys. She threw them to Ben.

"Give it a try."

"You mean it?"

"Yeah, just try it out."

Ben got on the Thoroughbred and switched it on. He revved the engine, then held the clutch and shifted the gear. Just as he got it moving, Ben underestimated the Thoroughbred's power and accelerated a bit too much.

It zoomed ahead and bucked him off. He landed on his backside, covering the back of his duster with mud. The Thoroughbred lay on the floor further ahead of him.

Bill and a few of the folks watching nearby had a good laugh. Jo walked over to Ben and helped him up. He looked sheepishly at Jo.

"Sorry about dropping the Thoroughbred and for getting mud all over this duster."

"Don't worry about it," assured Jo. "I'll smooth things over with the owner. Don't worry about the duster, either. Having mud on it actually makes it look like you've been outside doing something."

After dealing with the shop, Jo took the two back to their caravan. "I hope you two enjoyed your time in Alta Vista," she said warmly.

"We sure did," said Ben. "Thank you so much for your hospitality!"

"Yes, thank you," agreed Bill. "We never could've seen Alta Vista if you didn't help us out and show us around."

"You two take care," said Jo, waving as Ben entered the trailer and Bill walked over to the sedan. "If you go to Monteverde next, say hi to Uncle Harrison for me!"

"Will do!" shouted Ben.

"Bye, Jo, thanks again for everything!" said Bill before driving off.

With that, the caravan moved forward to Monteverde. Jo walked back into town. As the caravan disappeared into the distance, the susurration of several Thoroughbred engines could be heard moving toward the town.

"Who met with the outsiders?" demanded Marshal Lambert.

Lambert held the sand cat by the collar of his vest with one arm. He held a double-action revolver and put it into the mouth of the sand cat.

"I swear, Marshal, sir," pleaded the sand cat, trying his best to speak with the barrel of a revolver in his mouth. "I didn't treat with no outsiders!"

"Do you have a hearing problem?" asked Marshal Lambert, pulling back the hammer of the revolver. "I didn't ask if you met with them. I asked who met with the outsiders!"

"It was Josephine Prackett, Marshal," spilled the sand cat, tears in his eyes.

"Those Pracketts are always a thorn in my side," muttered Lambert.

He pulled the trigger. The force of the blast rocked the sand cat's head against the adobe wall. Lambert got up and spat on the floor. The Coyle Twins chuckled behind the marshal as they stared at the sand cat's lifeless body. Other members of Lambert's posse also smiled and nodded approvingly. Lambert turned to face the men.

"Find me Josephine Prackett!" he shouted. "I don't care what you have to do. Find her and bring her to me!"

The men split up and ran into the town. Lambert leaned against the wall and pulled a matchbook and a cigarette out of his duster. He lit the cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. A chorus of screams could be heard as the sounds of gunshots rang and reverberated throughout Alta Vista.

At last, the Coyle Twins dragged a helpless Jo over to the marshal. Her left eye was beginning to swell from blunt physical trauma. She turned her head and saw the lifeless body of the sand cat.

Marshall Lambert stood up from against the wall. He walked over to her as the Coyle Twins held her arms tightly. He tipped his hat to her.

"Now, why am I not surprised that you'd be the one who'd believe in this Dreamlandism nonsense?" asked Lambert malevolently.

"It makes us better people, Marshal," said Jo, struggling to speak after clearly being struck in the face by one of the twins. "The missionary told us about the tenets of Dreamlandism. They're about kinship and charity."

Lambert shook his head.

"Kinship and charity…did the missionary mention how that kinship and charity requires regular donations to build a rocket that doesn't even exist?

How it brainwashes people into joining a cult to forsake the natural order of things?"

Jo sighed. She tried to catch her breath to respond.

"It doesn't matter, Marshal. We need something to believe in. We need to know that there's something better in life than whatever this is supposed to be."

She paused to take in a heavy breath. "Something better than having to be under your rule."

"My rule has brought order to our desert," screamed Lambert, now cupping Jo's face with his hands. He lifted her head so that she could see his face clearly. "What does Dreamlandism do for our desert? Do you think this is the first time missionaries have tried showing up here? They took my wife and son away from me. I'm not going to let them ruin these lands any further!"

Jo smiled. She had already known what was coming the moment Marshal Lambert set foot into Alta Vista. She opened her eyes as best she could, swelling and all. She wanted to see the pure hatred and anguish on Lambert's face now that he admitted the real reason why he persecuted the followers of Dreamlandism.

She spat in his face. "Maybe you're the reason why they left."

The caravan was more than halfway to Monteverde. Bill stopped his sedan so that he could have a quick pit stop. He relieved himself near a cactus and looked out into the desert.

Ben got out of the trailer and walked over to Bill.

"You know, I'm sure glad you hired me to come along with you on this trip," said Ben. "This has been an awesome adventure!"

Bill was silent for a moment. At last, he spoke. "We should turn back."

"What? Why?"

"My sense of curiosity is putting us in danger," replied Bill. "We could've been killed at Alta Vista. Who knows what's waiting for us in Monteverde."

"Ah, come on, little buddy," coaxed Ben. "Nothing's going to happen. Jo helped us out, right? We blend in now! We can just go to Monteverde and act like we belong!"

"I don't know," said Bill. "I have this really bad feeling about Monteverde."

"It'll be fine, Bill," assured Ben. "This has been the funnest adventure I've ever had!"

"Yeah, all right," said Bill. "But we go to Monteverde, and then we head back."

They got back into the caravan and continued to Monteverde. It wasn't long before their caravan reached the small town. They both stepped out of the caravan and were immediately welcomed by a group of townsfolk with guns already out and aimed at them.

"Who are you supposed to be?" demanded a fennec fox, revolver in hand.

"Where did you come from?"

Both Bill and Ben had their arms up. Bill quickly glared at Ben and mouthed, I told you! As the townsfolk circled Bill and Ben, they began to part as a burly pronghorn with a fierce countenance walked over to the two. He looked at Ben.

"Why are you wearing my favorite pecan cutter hat? That's my duster you've got on too."

"Jo gave it to me to wear," said Ben nervously.

The pronghorn immediately struck Ben hard across the face.

"Ow!" screamed Ben, clutching his nose with his right hand, keeping the left arm still raised.

"Wait, you must be her uncle, Harrison, right?" asked Bill. "She told us to look for you!"

Upon hearing Bill, the pronghorn's eyes widened, and his expression softened. He turned to the other townsfolk.

"They're with me. I vouch for them."

Just like in Alta Vista, the crowd dispersed back into the town. Harrison snorted as the townsfolk walked away.

"You're lucky you didn't get shot coming here like that."

"We were lucky in Alta Vista, too," said Ben rubbing his nose. "Except your niece, Josephine, didn't punch me in the face!"

"Sorry about that, stranger," replied Harrison. "When I saw you with my clothes, I had to assume you were here in our land messing with my family."

He looked around after everyone had left. "Did the missionary send you two?"

"No," answered Bill. "Jo thought the same thing. We're just travelers from outside of Westland."

Harrison nodded. "Shame about that. You folks seem decent enough, but we were hoping we'd hear back from the missionary, especially now that more and more townsfolk are starting to believe in Dreamlandism."

"Are there a lot of followers here?" asked Ben.

"Not openly," replied Harrison. "There are still enough people living here that frown upon those beliefs. Most aren't afraid to pick up a gun and show someone exactly how they feel about their beliefs, either. Still, I've got enough people here that are beginning to trust in the word of the missionary. Jo's been working down in Alta Vista."

As they spoke, the familiar susurration of a distant engine was approaching the town of Monteverde. They stopped talking when the sound of the engine grew louder, and a Thoroughbred was seen in the distance. Harrison narrowed his eyes and pulled out a revolver from his side holster.

It was the prairie dog shop owner who repaired and refitted the Thoroughbreds. He stopped his Thoroughbred right in front of the trio, creating a cloud of dust. The old prairie dog looked to be out of breath and in complete distress.

"Bartholomew, why did you come here in such a rush?" asked Harrison as he fancily holstered his revolver.

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Prackett," huffed Bartholomew. "Marshal Lambert and his posse have stirred up all kinds of trouble in Alta Vista! They've been massacring a lot of innocent lives there!"

Ben and Bill looked at each other in shock. Bill mouthed, Was it us? Ben closed his eyes and shook his head, hoping it wasn't the case.

"What about my niece?" demanded Harrison. "Did anything happen to Jo?"

Bartholomew looked at the ground. It seemed as if he was fighting back tears.

"I'm sorry, Harrison. She didn't make it."

Perhaps it was the sight of Bartholomew racing into Monteverde or the cry of fury made by Harrison, but the townsfolk were very aware that something terrible was on its way. Murmurs turned into shouts as many gathered in the town center near the old well.

Harrison, in a fit of rage, came storming to the well. His face was contorted in pure anger. He raised his voice so that everyone around the town square and the buildings around it could hear him speak.

"People of Monteverde, Marshal Lambert and his posse of thugs were just in Alta Vista where they slaughtered the people over their religious beliefs! Right now, the marshal and his men are on their way to Monteverde to do the same thing here!"

The crowd of people began to chatter uproariously. A few considered leaving town. The vast majority understood what Harrison was implying.

There could be no running from this, and they would need to stay and fight.

However, a voice from the crowd addressed what was on the minds of many of the townsfolk.

"What do I have to worry about? I'm not a believer in that Dreamlandism nonsense. The marshal ain't coming for me!"

A few murmurs among the townsfolk agreed with this. Some believed that those who weren't believers in Dreamlandism would be spared the bloodshed.

"You think it's going to end once he gets rid of everyone who believes in Dreamlandism?" asked Harrison. "How many of our people has he killed because he felt they violated his natural law? Who else is he going to persecute after he gets rid of us? Maybe it's us today, and tomorrow he'll come for your parents, wives, or children!"

Harrison stared into the crowd with pure conviction.

"He's already claimed my niece, Josephine. Do what you want. Hide in your homes or run into the desert. But I'm staying. I'd rather be dead than live as a coward."

There were mutterings of agreement from the crowd, but Harrison didn't bother to wait for an answer. He turned his back on the crowd and walked to his home. After a short while, he returned wearing his leather duster and holding his rifle. Bill and Ben were watching in a mixture of terror and excitement. Harrison approached Ben.

"I'll need my lucky hat back, son."

Ben immediately took the hat off and gave it to him. Harrison placed the cap on his head and nodded.

"Much obliged."

He continued to walk over to the town center. As the crowd saw Harrison return, they all scattered to their homes to pick up their weapons.

Bill called out to Harrison. "Mr. Prackett, sir, what should we do?"

"Stay out of our way and find a place to hide. It's about to get real ugly here."

Ben and Bill ran into a nearby two-story adobe shophouse and hid on the second floor. The townspeople found cover around various places in the town center. Harrison stood defiantly in front of the old well. As they waited, many of the townsfolk made peace with what was to come.

As the sun began to set, the susurrations of the engines could be heard in the distance. Harrison loaded his rifle. Ben and Bill peeked out of the second-story window of the shophouse to try and see what was going on.

The sounds of the engines were now deafening as a group of riders in dark blue law enforcement uniforms rode into Monteverde. In front of them was Marshal Lambert, whose countenance was a mask of death. He parked his Thoroughbred and hopped off, repeater rifle in hand. The Coyle Twins and the rest of his men followed suit.

"Harrison Prackett!" yelled Lambert as he walked into the town center.

"I've come for you and the rest of your dirty cultist friends!"

"There aren't any cultists here, Lambert," replied Harrison as he stood and watched Marshal Lambert and his posse enter town. "Just people who finally have something to believe in!"

Lambert spat on the ground.

"Something to believe in? They took my wife and kid, Prackett! They took everything that I believed in! They took my family! None of you belong in my desert!"

Harrison gripped his rifle tightly. "And you took my niece from me, Lambert. She was the only family I had left. Now I'm done hiding from you and your gang. I'm done having to hide what I believe in."

He cocked the rifle. All he needed to do now was aim and pull the trigger.

All he wanted was to get one shot in.

"And I'm done dealing with you," shouted Lambert, cocking his rifle as well. "We've been going at it for far too long now. We were always going to butt heads eventually. Now I'm going to send you to be with your niece."

Before Harrison could aim his rifle and fire, one of the Coyle Twins

noticed both Bill and Ben peeking their heads out the shophouse window.

"It's an ambush!" he cried, pulling up his rifle and firing at the window.

Chaos ensued after the shot was fired. Lambert immediately ran for cover before Harrison could open fire. Harrison jumped behind the old well as members of the posse began to fire at him. Townsfolk, who were staying out of sight, now began to open fire at members of the posse.

Ben and Bill ducked under the window as bullets sprayed through it.

"We need to get out of here!" yelled Bill.

"I know!" screamed Ben as they lay prone on the floor.

Lambert, who was now hiding behind the corner of a nearby building began firing wildly at some of the townsfolk.

"Forget going after the cultists, just kill them all! Let no one leave alive!"

He saw the caravan parked just outside of the town center.

"You two, take care of it!" he yelled at the Coyle Twins.

One of the twins lobbed a lit bundle of dynamite at the caravan blowing up the trailer and badly damaging the sedan. Smoke filled the air as the caravan caught fire.

Ben and Bill ran downstairs. They peeked out of the door and caught sight of Harrison behind the well. Harrison turned and saw Ben and Bill peeking out the doorway.

"You two need to get out of here! Get to Governor George Whitman, and tell him what's happening! Tell him to send help!"

They nodded.

Harrison opened fire from behind the well to attract the attention of Lambert's posse so Ben and Bill could slip away. Lambert, seeing an opportunity to finally kill his rival, stepped out of his corner to aim at Harrison. Harrison seeing Lambert turned his rifle to take aim. They both opened fire.

Two bullets whizzed by each other. One struck a pecan cutter hat, and the other entered a golden six-pointed star. Lambert clutched his chest and fell to the ground while Harrison ducked back behind the old well. His lucky hat was off in the distance, still smoking from the hole the bullet had put in it.

Ben and Bill ran to the front of Monteverde and saw their caravan on fire.

"Holy smokes, what do we do?" asked Bill.

Ben looked around. He saw the Percheron Thoroughbred that Bartholomew used to ride into town.

"Come on," beckoned Ben.

He got onto the Thoroughbred with Bill hopping on the back. In Bartholomew's haste to warn the locals at Monteverde, he had left the key in the ignition. Ben closed his eyes. He started the engine and pulled in the clutch. He switched the gear. He knew the power that the Thoroughbred had, and he was ready for it this time.

There was a massive jolt when he started the ride, but they were off. In seconds, Monteverde was already well behind them. They both thought of nothing else but to get to Sand Hill; to get to the governor.

Ben smiled as he rode the Thoroughbred toward the setting sun in the direction of Sand Hill. As satisfying as being able to finally ride the Thoroughbred was, he was more satisfied with something else. He didn't like Dreamlandism and its wild beliefs, but he would not stop until the people in these parts of the desert had the freedom to believe in whatever it was that they wanted.