Gary Whitmore
This book goes out to my wife for being so sweet and understanding with me spending countless hours on my laptop. .
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events or places or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Old Western Town Image courtesy of: Witthaya Phonsawat at FreeDigitalPhotos.ne
Cave Image Courtesy of: www.123rf.com/
profile_igorkovalchuk' igorkovalchuk / 123RF Stock Photo Marshal Image Courtesy of: www.123rf.com/
profile_olivierl'_olivierl / 123RF Stock Photo Copyrighted @ 2017 by Gary Whitmore
This Crazy Hole time traveler's adventure starts off with John Mathers.
It's 1995 in Ohio, and eleven-year-old John Mathers has just returned home from watching the new Young Guns movie with his grandfather, Dr. Mickey Mathers, and John's best friend, Billy.
Mickey was the only father figure young John had during his youth since his father left when John was three years old. So John would spend countless hours fascinated with Grandpa Mickey's stories about old western outlaws.
Mickey also gave John old dime novels that he had read repeatedly. One of John's favorite stories was about an outlaw named Bart Stone, who had half of his right ear sliced off during a saloon fight.
Bart traveled with his sidekicks, Charlie Chandler, and Jimmy Templeton. They roamed around Arizona, New Mexico, west Texas, Colorado, and Nevada.
They robbed banks, trains, and stagecoaches from 1880 to 1883.
Jimmy was caught during one of the robberies in 1882 and sentenced to a year in Arizona's Yuma Territorial prison. He was released on September 1883.
Bart was also suspected of killing three men but was never arrested or went to trial, so it was all unsolved crimes.
After 1884, Bart and Charlie disappeared and were never seen again in the Phoenix area. Some heard stories of people moving to San Francisco and living the good life off all the money they stole.
Some heard stories they were shot and killed in the Superstition Mountains in 1883 after he buried their loot from robbing the Mountain Rock bank.
Hundreds of treasure hunters spent countless hours searching the Superstition Mountains for Bart's suspected buried
loot. They explored those rocky and dangerous trails and always came up empty-handed. This was a goal of Mickey's during his golden years of retirement from teaching history. He started research and hoped he could find the buried treasure. This would be an excellent find for the book he had in work on old western outlaws.
In the movie theater, John sat mesmerized and munched on popcorn. At the same time, he watched Emilio Estevez play Billy the Kid on the silver screen. This was the second time he saw this movie after it came out a couple of weeks ago.
John also wore a bullet on a gold chain around his neck.
He loved that bullet as his grandfather gave it to him last year and told him it was rumored to have once belonged to Billy the Kid. It probably didn't, but John believed his grandfather. So while he watched the Young Guns movie and when Emilio would shoot someone, John touched his bullet.
The movie ended, and Mickey drove John and Billy back to Julie's house. Julie was John's mother.
After Mickey parked in her driveway, John and Billy hopped out of his car.
"Let's play. Go get dressed, and I'll meet you in my backyard, Billy," John said while he ran to his front door.
Billy ran over to his house next store to John's.
Fifteen minutes later, John ran out the back door and into his backyard. He was dressed in a black cowboy outfit with a black hat and had a paper bag in hand. He had a cap pistol in a holster that hung off his belt. He pretended to look mean while strutting to the house's other side.
Up against the corner of the house were pieces of cardboard taped together and marked with a Sharpie. It looked like a bank teller's window from the Old West. John dragged the teller's window out to the middle of the yard and dropped the paper bag behind the cardboard teller's window.
Billy ran into John's backyard in black pants, a white shirt, and a black bow tie. He knew his position while he ran over behind the teller's window.
From the kitchen window, Mickey watched John and Billy play. Mickey smiled as he thought it was cute.
John walked twenty feet away from the cardboard bank.
He pretended he rode a horse into town and stopped.
He pretended he got out of the saddle of his invisible horse. He gave Billy the one-eyed evil stare, then whipped out his cap pistol.
He strutted over to Billy. He got inches from the cardboard bank and aimed his cap pistol at Billy, who raised his arms, pretending to shake in fear.
"Give me all your money!" John commanded.
Billy pretended to shake in fear while he held out a plastic bag full of pennies through the window.
John snatched the bag of pennies and shoved them in his pants pocket.
"Move just one inch, and the famous old western outlaw, John Mathers, will shoot you square between your eyes!" John snarled at Billy, then whipped out a piece of paper from his shirt pocket. The paper had a taped picture of John in his cowboy outfit with a handwritten "Famous Outlaws Of The Old West"
titled with drummed-up words about John's outlaw ways.
"See, I'm in the history books," John said while he shoved his pretend newspaper in Billy's face.
Julie walked up to Mickey from inside his house, who was still watching John from the kitchen window.
"What's so interesting, Dad?" Julie asked while she stood by Mickey's side and placed an arm around his shoulder.
"John's playing with his friend, Billy," Mickey replied.
Julie looked out the kitchen window and saw John with his cap pistol aimed at Billy. She gave a look that she disapproved, then glanced at her watch. "He needs to be doing something more constructive than playing those kinds of games," she said.
"Oh, he's all right. He's just doing this for fun," Mickey said.
Outside at the pretend bank, Billy scratched his nose. John saw this and pretended to be pissed while he closed his left eye, took aim, and fired his cap pistol at Billy.
Billy clutched his chest in extreme fake pain.
He staggered backward from the cardboard bank.
He twirled on one foot, then dropped to the ground.
He twitched on the ground. He went limp and pretended to be dead.
"Johnnie, it's time for your baseball game. The coach said you're pitching today, sweetie!" Julie yelled from the back door.
John got irritated at his mother and then looked back at Billy. "I'll rob the stagecoach after baseball, Billy," John told him.
Billy stood up. "Okay," he replied, then ran off to his house.
"Mom! Never call an outlaw, sweetie!" John yelled, a little embarrassed, while he ran to Julie.
During the next five years, John became increasingly infatuated with old western outlaws. It was because of the movies and books that glorified the lives of criminals, such as Jesse James and Billy the Kid, that infatuated him.
It was 2003, and John, now nineteen years old, moved to Phoenix, Arizona. His mother and grandfather had died, and he was on his own.
He found an apartment in Mesa, to the east of Phoenix.
John had his grandfather's uncompleted manuscript titled
"Arizona Old Western Marshals and Outlaws," the unfinished chapter of Bart Stone, which drove him to choose Phoenix as his new start in life.
He had grand plans to discover the buried treasure of Bart Stone, finish his grandfather's manuscript, and become rich off the sales of the book. John got an apartment and lived off the money from the sale of his mother's house and the money his grandfather left him.
John spent countless hours at the library, where he conducted research on Bart Stone.
He found a picture of Bart in a book titled "Outlaws and Lawmen of Arizona," it showed his right ear with part of it sliced off. But he could never find any leads on any buried loot from Bart Stone.
John eventually met Melvin (Mel) Lincoln, an eighty-year-old Apache Indian with a long white ponytail. Mel spent most of his free time reading newspapers and magazines at the library.
Mel befriended John and told him countless tales about the old west around the Phoenix area during the 1880s. His stories of the old west were passed down from Mel's grandfather Victorio and his great grandfather, Merijildo, a tracker during the eighteen-eighties. Numerous stories were about outlaw Bart Stone and his sidekick Charlie Chandler.
John's library research and stories by Mel also revealed information about numerous old towns near Phoenix during those times.
The town of Oak Creek was once located eight miles northwest of Miners Needle in an area a few miles north of the unincorporated area of Tortilla Flat. The town was close to Canyon Lake. Oak Creek was founded in 1867 and was abandoned around 1887. The only remains of Oak Creek are a few faded tombstones hidden amongst some bushes.
Stone Valley was located in what is now Desert Ridge. It was founded around 1869 and abandoned in 1895.
The town of Rattlesnake was once located near Sun City.
It was founded in 1873 and abandoned around 1892.
Mountain Rock was located in what is now Gilbert. It was founded around 1877 and abandoned in 1894.
And, of course, all these towns circled Phoenix, which was settled in 1867. This was where most of the residents of those abandoned towns moved for grander opportunities.
The Butterfield Overland Stagecoach made daily runs to all the towns as a trail linking all cities together. The main office of the Butterfield Overland Stage Company was located in Phoenix.
John also learned of a rail line from Dodge City to Albuquerque and Phoenix. By 1880, it had stops at Oak Creek, Stone Valley, and Rattlesnake before ending in Phoenix.
The Southern Pacific Railroad Company operated the rail line, with its main office in Phoenix. Greedy management
eventually bankrupted the company in 1902, and the rail line was abandoned after the train was sold.
John had previously hiked all over the mountains around Phoenix using the information he found at the library, the Internet, and Mel's stories. He never located Bart's buried loot and was extremely disappointed.
John also frequented all the antique stores around Phoenix and hoped to find some information on Bart Stone hidden in some old desk or other objects. He came up empty-handed but bought all sorts of old western junk that eventually cluttered his apartment.
In 2004, John's money was running out, and he had one thousand six hundred and ninety-eight dollars left. So he landed a job with the Western Snacks and Vending Machine Company in Apache Junction. He worked as a driver who went around and stocked vending machines in various businesses around the Phoenix area.
But John's obsession with old western outlaws continued, and he didn't give up on his grandfather's manuscript; he just put it on the back burner.
Also, in 2004, John met Angie Dawson. She was nineteen years old, beautiful, with shoulder-length hair. She started working at the Western Snack and Vending Machine company as a clerk in the accounting department.
It was Friday, August 18th, 2006, and John’s obsession with old western outlaws was still a burning desire.
At first, Angie thought his obsession, or interest as John described it, in old western outlaws was cute, but it had started to wear on her. She tolerated his passion, hoping John would grow out of it soon. But it was beginning to wear on her.
One restaurant John would frequently take Angie was the Outlaw Steak House. This establishment has the interior walls filled with old western memorabilia, old photos, and news articles on famous western outlaws and lawmen.
It was early evening on that Friday.
John took Angie to the Outlaw Steak House, and they sat in a booth. But this night, Angie appeared annoyed while they ate their steak dinners.
“John, this place is dumb, and I’m sick and tired of coming here! Why can’t we eat somewhere nice and romantic for a change?” Angie said, then sipped her iced tea.
“Are you kidding, Angie? Look at all the cool history this place has to offer,” he replied, stabbing his fork at a photo on the wall of their booth. “ Like Bart Stone over here. Legend has it that he and his partner Charlie Chandler shot and killed Town Marshal Clint Bartley after they robbed a bank. They later buried some loot in the Superstition Mountains and left the area.
Nobody heard from them again, and it’s still believed their loot is still buried somewhere in those mountains. My grandfather wanted to find that treasure, but,” John informed her.
Angie interrupted him. “Enough! You should be working on a college degree for a better-paying job.” “And what’s with that stupid necklace?”
John reached into his shirt and pulled out his bullet on a chain. “What’s wrong with it? It’s a bullet that came from Billy the Kid’s pistol right after he was killed. My grandfather gave it
to me when I was eight years old,” John said while admiring his bullet.
Angie rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised you don’t have his dirty long johns hanging above your bed. Listen, I hate to change this interesting subject, but since I came here, you owe me.” John frowned as he knew exactly where she wanted to go after this place. “I hate the mall!” he quietly muttered to himself.
Angie gave him a dirty glare, as she heard him.
They finished their dinner, and John drove Angie to the Paradise Valley Mall in his 1995 Mustang, which desperately needed a paint job and Bondo work.
John was totally bored while Angie dragged him by the hand through the Paradise Valley Mall.
They strolled through Dillard’s, and John paced, totally bored, while Angie looked at the woman’s clothes.
They left Dillard’s and walked around the mall.
Angie stopped at Macy’s, and John cringed. Then his eyes sparkled when he noticed the Western Antique’s store with a grand opening sign in the window.
“I’ll tell you what, I’m going to check out that new store while you go to Macy’s,” John said while he looked at the antique store.
Angie saw the store and rolled her eyes. “Don’t blow all your money on worthless old crap,” she scolded. “I’ll meet you outside Macy’s in thirty minutes,” Angie added.
A quick kiss, she walked off to Macy’s, and John strutted off to the antique store.
John entered the Western Antique store and loved the sight of all the old Western junk all over the place. He saw old western clothes, cowboy hats, wanted posters, etc.
John was in heaven while admiring the store’s old western junk. Something caught his eye, and he walked over and stopped.
He saw a small, old, faded wood chest with the initials
“PY” engraved on the top. The label on the chest stated that
the contents inside were guaranteed to be from around the 1880s and earlier. There was something about this chest that compelled John to check it out. The top of the chest creaked when John opened it. He peeked inside and looked through the cellophane covering preventing people from stealing the contents.
Inside the chest, he spotted an old journal from Peter Yoemans.
There was an old Weekly Phoenix Herald newspaper, an old, worn-out leather holster, numerous dime novels and other old newspapers from the Phoenix area.
He had to have this chest!
John smiled while he grabbed the chest and placed it under his left arm. He walked around the store admiring the other old western junk.
John walked by numerous cowboy hats on display on a shelf.
They were advertised as being remakes from the 1870 –
1890 era. John picked up and looked at a black Stetson. He placed it on his head, and it was a perfect fit then strutted off.
He walked around the store and saw old vintage cowboy shirts and pants.
John saw a glass counter by the cash register, and his eyes sparkled again. He rushed over to the counter.
He stopped at the glass counter and placed the chest and hat on it, looked inside the counter and saw numerous old pistols, and drooled.
A salesman walked over to John behind the counter. “Do you see one you like?” the salesman asked John.
“Oh yeah, John replied while he looked at all the pistols for sale. “I like that Colt Peacemaker,” he said while pointing at it.
“Excellent choice,” the salesman said, then unlocked the door at the rear of the case. He slid the door to the side, reached in, removed the pistol, and handed it to John.
John looked the Colt over. He aimed it, and thoughts that the pistol could have once belonged to an outlaw went through
his mind. “I’ll take it,” smiling, then handed the pistol back to the salesman.
The salesman walked over to the cash register and scanned in the items. “That’ll be one thousand, eight hundred twenty dollars and seventy-eight cents,” the salesman stated.
John removed his checkbook from his back pocket. He wrote out a check for that amount and left him with over thirty dollars in his checking account. But he didn’t care, as he now owned a piece of old western history.
Ten minutes later, John walked out of the antique store, proud of his newly purchased junk.
He walked over and stood outside the entrance to Macy’s with the wooden chest under his arm and a shopping bag containing the cowboy hat and pistol in his other hand.
John waited for Angie to come out of Macy’s.
Fifteen minutes later, Angie walked out of Macy’s with two shopping bags. She bought two blouses and one sundress then noticed John with the chest and shopping bag. “Did you buy more crap for your apartment?” she frowned.
“I bought it at that antique store,” John smiled and patted the wooden chest.
“How much did this cost you?” Angie inquired.
“One thousand, eight hundred thirty dollars,” John said under his breath, as he didn’t want Angie to hear him.
“How much?” Angie said, unsure she heard correctly.
“One thousand, eight hundred thirty dollars,” John said louder.
“Why in the world would you waste what little money you have on junk?” Angie said, then walked away rolling her eyes.
John could care less. He knew she would forget about it as she always did.
Later that day, John sat on his couch in his apartment. It had all kinds of old western junk on the wall - pictures of outlaws, copies of old newspaper articles, etc.
John looked at his new chest, cowboy hat, and pistol on his coffee table.
The Young Guns movie played on TV.
John looked at the carved “PY” on top of the chest. It looked like it was carved with a knife.
He got curious and reached for a book at the other end of the coffee table. It was his grandfather’s college textbook he used when he taught history. It was called “Old Western Outlaws” and had short biographies of all the outlaws from 1800 – 1900, complete with pictures if available.
John opened the book and looked at all the outlaws with a last name in the Y’s. He didn’t find any outlaws with the “PY”
initials.
“He must not be an outlaw,” John said quietly then opened the chest and remembered the cellophane that covered it.
He got off the couch, went into the kitchen, returned with a knife, and quickly cut the cellophane away.
He reached inside and removed the diary for Peter Yoemans, placing it down on the coffee table.
He reached inside and removing an old Phoenix Herald newspaper, a couple of dime novels on outlaws, with one of them being about Bart Stone, and placed them on the coffee table.
John picked up the newspaper and read it, dated September 25th, 1884. He glanced at the article titled “Marshal Clint Bartley Killed.”
“Bart Stone, Charlie Chandler, and Jimmy Templeton were chased by Marshal Bartley, Marshal at Oak Creek, and a six-man posse after they robbed the stagecoach en route from Oak Creek to Phoenix.
They chased Bart and Charlie into the Superstition Mountains, and a gun battle pursued not too far from Miners Needle. It is believed Bart fired the fatal shot that killed Marshal Bartley. Bart, Charlie, and Jimmy slipped away into the desert,”
John read the article out loud and then placed the newspaper on the coffee table.
John picked up the dime novel by Bart Stone, and he opened it up.
“Bart Stone was born around eighteen fifty-three on a farm in Texas. He was the youngest son, as his brother Willy was
older. His father was a drunk and would beat Bart to keep the young lad on the straight and narrow path,” John read aloud, then placed the book on the coffee table, as he already knew this information.
John picked up his pistol and looked it over. He aimed it and pretended to shoot it then placed the pistol back on the coffee table.
He picked up Peter Yoemans’s diary, flipping and scanning through the pages; then, he stopped at a page of interest.
“I talked today with Betty Grayson, now seventy-eight years old, and she’s the sister of outlaw Charlie Chandler. She told me on Charlie’s deathbed, he told her Bart buried their loot in a cave. It was a cave that scared him to death. But she didn’t know where this cave was located. She stated she didn’t approve of Charlie’s outlaw ways. March 12th, nineteen thirty-eight,” John read out loud from the diary.
John’s eyes widened with joy after he read that page, and he was so glad he bought this chest. He flipped and scanned through some more pages then stopped at another page of interest.
“I finally located some kin of Bart Stone. His older brother, Willy Stone, eighty-four years old, was a retired preacher and also disapproved of his younger brother being an outlaw. He told me Bart drew a map to the location of some buried loot in a cave called Crazy Hole. Willy let me look at the map, but I couldn’t copy it. I had to quickly redraw it from memory in my journal immediately after I met with him. Willy also stated he believed the map to be one of Bart’s many lies.
September 15th, nineteen forty-two,” John read out loud from the diary.
John noticed that the next page was ripped out of the journal. “Rats, he ripped out the map,” John said disappointed.
He flipped and scanned through some more pages. He stopped at another page of interest.
“I hiked in the Superstition Mountains with the treasure map I drew from meeting Willy. I couldn’t find the cave called
Crazy Hole. October 2nd, nineteen forty-two,” John read out loud from the diary.
He flipped and scanned through some more pages stopping at another page of interest.
“I paid some old Indian twenty dollars, and he told me the cave’s location was called Crazy Hole. I know that’s where Bart’s loot is buried, so I will keep it my secret. February 16th, nineteen forty-three,” John read out loud from the diary.
John’s heart raced as he found all of Peter’s entries interesting. He also was saddened that his grandfather didn’t discover this information before he died.
John flipped and scanned through some more pages stopping at another page of interest.
“I learned more about this Crazy Hole from an old Indian.
He said to go into the cave, and that right is the way. And if you say a particular month, day, and year before entering another tunnel inside Crazy Hole, you will arrive there. I think I know what that means,” John read out loud from the diary.
He turned the page and found another entry.
“I finally located the cave called Crazy Hole. I found a dead end with a tunnel to the right. I remembered what that Indian said and mentioned a month, day, and year. I entered that tunnel to the right. I discovered something so amazing. It’s so amazing that I can’t write it down; I want this to be my secret.
A secret that can make me richer than Bart’s buried loot. March 7th, nineteen forty-three,” John read out loud from the diary.
That was the last entry in Peter’s journal, but noticed that another page was torn out. He closed the journal and placed it on the coffee table.
“I believe he meant he knew the locations of other buried loot,” said John.
He looked back at the chest. Something felt odd as he stared at the chest, and he looked inside.
He felt inside the chest, looked at the outside, looked inside noticing the bottom was made from different wood from the rest of the chest. It wasn’t as faded as the rest of the chest.
He stuck his hand inside and measured the distance from the bottom of the chest to the top with his arm. He used his same arm and measure the bottom of the chest to the top on the outside. There was a three-inch difference, and that created some suspicion.
There's a false bottom. John thought to himself. He reached inside and tried to pry the bottom up, but it wouldn't budge.
John got off the couch and carried the chest to the middle of his living room.
He dropped the chest, and it hit the floor. John raised his cowboy boot, stomped on the chest, and some of the wood cracked.
He raised his boot again and stomped harder on the chest.
More wood cracked, and the chest came apart. He saw amongst the broken pieces of wood, was an old and yellowish in color and faded folded piece of paper.
John reached down and removed the paper from the broken pieces of wood. He unfolded the paper, and his eyes widened in joy. "I can't believe it!" John said in shock with what he held in his hands.
The paper was a map to Bart Stone buried treasure, so it stated. A trail was drawn on the map. Landmarks were drawn as the trail winded through the hand-drawn mountains. The path stopped near a mountain. A black circle is drawn and indicated a cave with the words Crazy Hole. Then the trail went inside the cave. A priest was drawn with an "X" over another tunnel to the right of it with a skull and crossbones by it.
John looked like he was in heaven while he kissed the treasure map then did a little victory dance around his living room.
John stopped his victory dance and looked at the map.
"Where the hell is Crazy Hole?" he said while he studied the map. John's eyes widened as he had an idea of how he could learn more about the crazy hole.
He glanced at his watch. "Too late," he said and decided to go in the morning.
It was Saturday morning, August 19th, 2006. John woke up, had his breakfast and some coffee.
He waited until it was time to leave.
It was time. He ran to his door and left his apartment with his treasure map.
John ran through the parking lot to his Mustang. He jumped in his car, started it up, and drove off through the lot.
John raced his Mustang down the Phoenix streets and eventually arrived at the Apache Junction Public Library and parked his car.
He rushed inside the library before it closed in twenty minutes.
He rushed over to the magazine section and smiled with relief when he saw Mel Lincoln reading a magazine on a couch.
John rushed up to Mel with a huge smile. "Hey, Mel. I was hoping you would be in here in the library," John said while he sat down next to him.
"John, I haven't seen you in a long time. Do you want to hear more stories?" Mel said and laid his magazine on the couch.
“Actually, I was wondering if you could tell me the location of a place called Crazy Hole," John replied while he showed Mel the treasure map.
Mel looked at the map and got bothered. "Here, we go again. You white people always trying to find the easy way in life," Mel said.
"But its Bart Stone buried loot! Do you know how many people for the past hundred years have been trying to find it?
And now I have a map. I can use this for my book," John cried out, excited.
"How do you know it's real?”
"My gut instinct tells me it's real," John said.
"You can't go inside crazy hole. It's way too dangerous,"
Mel stated.
"So there might be some bats or other critters. I'm not scared," John said with confidence.
"I don't know," Mel told John still defiant about giving up any information.
"Come on, Mel. You never refused me information in the past. This is important to me. Something my grandfather also searched for," John pleaded with a gleam in his eyes. "Please!"
Mel looked at John. “Okay. But it's not my fault if things get strange," Mel said.
John looked extremely curious. "What do you mean by strange?"
"I'll tell you, but you can never tell anybody about Crazy Hole."
"You have nothing to worry about. Nothing bad will happen to me. It will all be good, and I'll keep it to myself,"
John said while he silently prayed Mel would reveal the much-needed information.
"There was a white man way back in forth-three that disappeared while he searched for Bart's buried loot. He left behind a thirteen-year-old son and a wife. They never found that man," Mel said. "Then that thirteen-year-old boy grew up and went into Crazy Hole, oh around nineteen fifty. He came out crazy, and they locked him up in a nuthouse for many years,"
Mel added in an attempt to stop John with what he felt was foolishness.
"Don't worry Mel. Like I said before, nothing will happen to me. I won't come out crazy, and they won't lock me up in a nuthouse," John promised.
Mel looked at John's eyes and knew this kid wouldn't give up and would probably learn the location from another old fool.
"It's a cave located near the base of Miners Needle, at the southern part of that rock. But beware, my great grandfather believed if you entered, you'll come out loco with crazy talk of a strange land and people," Mel finally said.
That last statement made John even more curious about Crazy Hole.
John was nervous about pursuing the information he learned from Mel. But he finally got up the nerve after thinking about it all Sunday.
It was a beautiful cloudless blue sky in the Phoenix area on Monday morning. It was August 21st, 2006.
In John’s apartment, he woke up all excited. He jumped out of bed and grabbed his flip cell phone off his bedside table.
He opened it up and made a call.
“Richard,” his boss answered the call.
“Good morning, Richard. John Mathers here. I’m really sick today. I have a sore throat and a bad case of diarrhea,”
John lied through his teeth.
“Okay, John. Get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow,”
Richard responded.
“Yes sir,” John said, then disconnected his cell phone call.
John clicked his heels while he rushed out of his bedroom.
Later that morning, John drove his Mustang east on the Superstition Highway (U.S. 60) out of Apache Junction.
While driving down the Superstition Highway, he passed by a lovely red ranch house with a red horse stable and a white fenced yard for the horses to roam. The house belonged to Victor Lincoln, grandson of Mel Lincoln.
He eventually followed the signs for the Peralta Trailhead and drove through a housing development. The road eventually turned into a well-graded dirt road and drove to a dirt parking area at the dead end. He parked his car.
With the cowboy hat he bought at the antique store, a backpack with a shovel and handsaw tied to it, and a cell phone hanging off his belt, John headed down Bluff Springs Trail.
He hiked this trail until he came upon the Dutchman’s Trail. He headed down this new trail.
John walked through small streams.
He hiked by numerous Saguaro cacti.
He hiked by spring desert flowers.
John eventually hiked along Dutchman’s Trail until he saw Miners Needle. He removed the treasure map from his shirt pocket.
He looked at Miners Needle, then back at his map. The morning’s temperature rose, and John was sweaty, and it got into his eyes. He removed his hat and used his shirt sleeve to wipe the sweat off his forehead.
He put his hat back on and continued his hike.
While John hiked farther down Dutchman’s Trail in the direction of Miners Needle, he walked upon a section of old, rusted train tracks. They were once part of the old Southern Pacific rail line from over one hundred years ago. Parts of this former rail line paralleled Dutchman’s Trail as he walked in the direction of Miners Needle.
Twenty minutes later, he walked down the trail and got close to the base of Miners Needle. He looked at his map and back at Miners Needle, and no caves were visible.
He got curious when he spotted a big rock, approximately five feet tall by ten feet wide, to the right of two big scrub bushes. They were at the base of a rock wall at the bottom of Miners Needle.
JohnHe walked up to the big rock and set his backpack down on the ground by the big rock. He walked up to the bushes and looked around then peeked between the bushes.
“Hello,” he said and immediately heard his voice echoing inside a cave.
John smiled with joy while he believed he found Crazy Hole.
He rushed over to his backpack and untied his handsaw.
After rushing back over to the bushes he started cutting away branches from the left bush.
Twenty minutes later and with more sweat, John tossed the bush to his left and saw the partial opening into Crazy Hole.
He rushed back over to his backpack and grabbed it, rushed over to the big rock, laid his backpack, and handsaw next
to the rock. He untied his shovel from the backpack. He opened his backpack and removed a flashlight lantern.
He walked over to the cave opening when his cell phone rang with a cowboy ringtone of horses and gunfire.
“Hello,” answering his call.
“John, I heard from Richard that you called in sick. Do you have diarrhea? It must be from that steak at The Outlaw restaurant. Another excellent reason never to eat there,” Angie said from his cell phone.
“I’m not sick, Angie,” John confessed into his cell phone.
“What? You shouldn’t call in sick just to have a day off.
That’s not ethical,” Angie scolded.
“I know Angie. But why waste vacation time for a day off when I can call in sick?” he said.
“Whatever,” Angie replied.
“I wanted to stay home because I went hiking, and I found the cave, which I believe has the buried gold from one of Bart Stone’s robberies,” John told her.
“I hate to change this fascinating topic, but about this weekend, I called the golf course and reserved a ten o’clock tee time,” Angie interrupted.
“That sounds good. I’ll call you later, Angie,” he interrupted Angie, then immediately turned off his cell phone and hung it back on his belt.
Back at the Western Snack and Vending Machine Company, Angie sat at her desk in her office. She stared at her cell phone and was pissed. John cut off their discussion over a stupid cave.
Back at Miners Needle, John walked to the cave opening with his shovel and flashlight. He removed the treasure map from his shirt pocket, looked at it, and then shoved it back in it.
He turned on his flashlight just as he stepped into the cave.
It was dark and spooky inside Crazy Hole.
John illuminated the tunnel inside Crazy Hole with his flashlight while shoveling through the cave.
The path inside the cave snaked and curved underneath Miners Needle for five minutes.
John stopped as something felt wrong. It dawned on him.
“Ah, man, I forgot my backpack,” John said, and his voice echoed throughout the cave.
John’s echo spooked hundreds of bats that clung to the ceiling of the cave. He heard the echoing sound of the bats while they flapped their wings in fear of John. Within seconds, hundreds of bats fluttered over his head. He panicked and dropped his flashlight, danced around, swinging his shovel over his head.
“Ahhhh!” screamed John in fear of the bats while he swung his shovel over his head.
A thud sound echoed inside the cave, and down went a bat John whacked.
John continued to swing his shovel over his head. Another thud echoed in the cave, and another bat hit the dirt.
John continued this for another five minutes. The sound of the bats dissipated. The cave got quiet. John picked up his flashlight and illuminated the area inside the cave, and all the bats were gone.
John walked down the cave, relieved, and forgot about his backpack.
He walked down the cave for another five minutes. The cave dead-ended with another larger tunnel to the right.
John shined his flashlight on the tunnel to the right. It still remained dark and spooky, and the light from the flashlight, for some strange reason, wouldn’t illuminate the inside of that tunnel.
He removed the treasure map from his shirt pocket and shined his flashlight on it. On the map, he saw the drawing of a priest to the left of the dark and spooky tunnel.
He shined his flashlight at the left of that spooky tunnel and saw a stone embedded in the cave wall with a carved image of a priest holding a cross.
John had a huge grin and strutted over to the priest carving.
John set his flashlight down, illuminating the ground under the priest carving. He grabbed his shovel, dug under the priest’s
carving tossing dirt near the spooky tunnel, and didn’t notice the blue plasma flash while dirt flew inside.
John dug for three minutes, and then his shovel hit something soft. He cautiously shoveled some more dirt off this soft object, seeing a brown leather in the hole.
He cautiously shoveled more dirt off the soft brown object. It became apparent what was buried in the ground; an old leather saddlebag with the initials “B.S.” branded into it.
“Yeah!” John cried out, and his voice echoed in the cave.
At the same time, he threw his shovel unknowingly into the dark, spooky tunnel to his right and again didn’t notice the blue plasma flash.
John dropped to his knees and dug around the saddlebag with his hands. He got a hold of the bag and tugged on the bag, it moved an inch, and pulled harder.
It moved some more.
He tugged harder, and it broke free from the bonds of the earth. John flew backward and landed on his back.
John got back on his knees and quickly opened the right side of the saddlebag. He grabbed his flashlight and shined it on the bag. Inside it, he saw hundreds of 1883s gold and silver coins still in mint condition.
He reached in and pulled out a handful of coins, smelled, kissed then dropped the coins into the saddlebag.
John opened up the left side of the saddlebag, shined his flashlight inside it, and noticed numerous gold and silver coins in mint condition.
John stood up. “I’m going to be rich! I’m going to be rich!
With all these old western coins,” John cheered, and it echoed in the cave while dancing a dorky dance for joy around the dirt.
He stopped and cringed in fear of his echoing scaring more bats. He shined his flashlight on the ceiling of the cave.
No bats were visible, and he was relieved.
He glanced back at these pristine old coins. “Man, I would love to go back to eighteen eighty-three,” he said while glancing at that old bag. “Maybe September 2nd, eighteen eighty-three,”
he said, picking out a date for fun.
John shined his flashlight around the ground and looked around the area. “Where did I throw my shovel?” John looked at the tunnel and figured it went there.
He walked over to the tunnel and entered it.
In the split second he entered the tunnel, blue plasma light flashed and illuminated all around him. It stung his whole body.
“Ahhhh!” John cried out in pain while he walked through the tunnel.
Within a split second, John was back outside the cave where the dark, overcast sky with a hint of rain was a little cooler.
John looked around and saw his shovel three feet away.
He walked over and picked it up. He looked around, a little confused. Then it dawned on him that he was now back outside the cave opening he entered. But the cave opening looked different. The other bush that blocked the cave entrance to the right was gone. He noticed a four-foot gap between the big rock and the rock wall that the other half of the bush hid from his view.
He walked over to the big rock and peeked behind it.
“Where’s my backpack?” he asked while he looked around the base of the big rock.
He looked back at the cave opening. “How did that other bush disappear?” he asked while he got even more confused.
The sound of horses galloping nearby, about twenty feet away, caught his attention
John looked in the direction of that sound and saw four rough-looking cowboys on horses racing in his direction.
Two of those cowboys turned around and fired their pistols behind them.
That scared John, and he squeezed behind the big rock into that four-foot gap.
He peeked over the top of the rock and watched the cowboys while they raced past him on their horses.
He heard other horses that galloped from the direction those cowboys came from. More gunfire and a couple of bullets ricocheted off the rock wall above John’s head. John
immediately ducked down. No more gunfire was heard, so John peeked over the top.
He saw Clint Bartley, a twenty-eight-year-old handsome man with a long scar on the left side of his face and a Marshal’s badge pinned to his shirt, as he covered the Phoenix area to enforce the law. He galloped his horse after those cowboys.
Clint fired his pistols at the four cowboys that raced away.
Clint raced his horse past the rock and was soon out of sight.
“He looks familiar,” John thought while he watched Clint race his horse after the cowboys. “Sorta looks like Marshal Clint Bartley.”
It was quiet, with no more gunfire or horses, so John cautiously stepped out from behind the rock. He looked around, confused as to what had just happened.
“A cowboy show with real bullets?” John looked around.
“Maybe they’re shooting a movie?” John looked around and didn’t see a movie crew with cameras nearby.
A train whistle was heard.
John looked and saw black smoke that billowed from an old western train off in the direction of the Dutchman’s Trail.
He looked baffled when he saw a Southern Pacific train while it raced north down the rails that he had hiked over earlier.
But he hiked over rusty old tracks abandoned one hundred years ago. John got even more confused while he watched the Southern Pacific train racing north up the tracks.
The bottom of the sky opened up, and it poured on John.
“I better get back inside,” he said while he grabbed his shovel and ran back inside the cave.
He cried out in pain while the blue plasma light illuminated the tunnel and stung the hell out of him.
In pain, John rushed out of the tunnel and stood still to collect his thoughts.
“What the hell just happened? And where was I?” John thought to himself as he glanced back at the tunnel.
He looked and saw the old saddlebag still on the dirt. He walked over, picked it up, and slung it over his shoulder.
He illuminated the cave and walked down the path away from the dark and spooky tunnel.
While John walked down the cave, he didn’t know what to expect when he got to the cave entrance or the other cave entrance. Or would he ever get out of this cave alive?
John exited the cave opening and stepped outside. He was shocked to see a cloudless blue sky that was hot. That bush still blocked the right side of the cave opening, but it was still there.
The bush he cut away was still on the ground. His backpack and handsaw were on the ground near the big rock.
He looked around the area, still confused with what just happened.
The memory of Mel’s voice while he said “strange land and people” echoed in John’s head.
John tied his shovel and handsaw to his backpack. He grabbed it and walked away towards Dutchman’s Trail with Bart’s saddlebag containing his loot slung across his shoulder.
John walked to the old, rusted section of the former Southern Pacific train tracks. He glanced back at Crazy Hole.
He rushed away down Dutchman’s Trail and started believing he might have made a huge mistake.
John continued his trek down Dutchman’s Trail, and the past events of being inside Crazy Hole ran through his mind.
Later that day, he hiked back to the parking area and got to his car. He put his stuff inside and drove away.
While John drove his Mustang down U.S. 60, he thought about Crazy Hole. He thought about what Mel had told him.
He thought about the train he saw, and it was a train that doesn’t exist today.
He thought about the cowboys on horses shooting real bullets and how one of them looked like Marshal Clint Bartley.
He had a weird, eerie feeling.
“Did I go back in time?” he cried out loud in his car.
“That was the only explanation he could think just happened.”
John parked his Mustang in the parking lot of his apartment complex.
He rushed to his apartment with his backpack and Bart’s saddlebag.
Inside his apartment, John rushed over to his computer.
He dropped his backpack and saddlebag on the floor by his couch.
He turned on the computer, and while his old Dell booted up, John rushed over to the coffee table and grabbed his.
“Outlaw and Lawmen of Arizona” book. He opened the book and thumbed through it, stopping at a page, then his eyes lit up.
“I knew it,” he cried out excitedly.
The page had a short story and a picture of Clint Bartley, the Town Marshal of Oak Creek, and sixty-year-old Deputy Elmer Filson.
“Clint Bartley was Town Marshal of Oak Creek from eighteen eighty-one until eighteen eighty-five. He was killed along with his Deputy, Elmer Filson, on September 25th, eighteen eighty-four, when they tried to arrest Bart Stone and Charlie Chandler after they robbed the stagecoach in route from Oak Creek to Phoenix,” John read from the book.
John’s Dell finally booted up, and he rushed over to it. He opened up Yahoo, and he typed in “Time Travel in the Superstition Mountains” in the search block.
The first page had results for the Superstition Mountain Golf and Country Club, guides for tours of the Superstition Mountains, visiting Apache Junction, the Superstition Mountain museum, and other similar hits. John clicked on the next pages of search results.
John found a link to a website about time travel stories at the end of the sixth page. It was called “I Traveled In Time.”
John opened up the site. He scrolled down the links of stories and found something of interest. It was titled “Phoenix Man Claims He Traveled in Time To Old West.” He clicked on the link, and it opened up. It was an old Phoenix Herald article dated August 18th, 1950.
“Phillip Yoemans, age twenty, made a claim of time traveling back to eighteen eighty last week while hunting for buried gold in a cave in the Superstition Mountains. Authorities discounted Mister Yoeman's claim of time travel and requested an immediate psychiatric examination,” John read the Internet article.
There was a black-and-white picture of Phillip Yoemans while he was being interviewed by Phoenix Detectives.
John got a huge smile, as he knew Phillip was related to Peter Yoemans. He was the son Mel mentioned in the library.
John’s cell phone rang while he stared at the article.
“Angie,” John answered
“Why did you disconnect my call? Do you know how rude that is? What’s wrong with you?” she yelled from his cell phone, and it was so loud he had to hold his cell away from his ear.
“I’m sorry, Angie! Really sorry! But you’ll never believe what happened! I went hunting for Bart Stone's buried treasure, and I found it! He buried gold and silver coins, and they’re in mint condition. But the coolest part is, when I went after my shovel inside another tunnel, I found myself back in the old west! I actually traveled back in time. Exactly what time, I don’t know. But I actually traveled back in time to the old west. I saw the old Southern Pacific train as it ran down the tracks by Miners Needle,” John said and waited for a response from Angie.
There was silence from his cell phone. “Angie? Are you there?” he asked. Nothing but silence, then John realized she hung up.
He shrugged her off and set his cell phone by his computer while he continued to read Phillip’s article.
In her kitchen in her apartment, Angie slammed her cell phone down on the counter. She stormed out of the kitchen, furious with John.
Back in John’s apartment, he searched for Phillips Yoemans's address on the Internet.
One address for Phillip Yoemans showed up in the results with a phone number. John grabbed his cell phone and punched in Phillip’s phone number.
“Hello,” Phillip answered from the cell phone, and his voice sounded like he was an old man.
“Mister Yoemans, my name is John Mathers. I would like to talk to you about your experience you had way back in nineteen fifty,” John said into his cell phone.
“Leave me alone!” Phillip yelled from the cell phone.
John disconnected his call and knew he had the right Phillip Yoemans. He turned off his Dell by pressing the power button.
He walked over to Bart’s saddlebag and opened up one of the bags. He reached inside and removed eight gold and silver coins. He placed them in his pocket.
He rushed over to his coffee table and grabbed Peter Yoeman’s journal, then rushed out of his apartment.
It’s Monday.
John drove his Mustang down the Superstition Highway out of Apache Junction, heading west.
He turned off that highway and drove through numerous Phoenix streets until he ended up on the Phoenix-Wickenburg Highway.
John drove north on the Phoenix-Wickenburg highway and eventually got to Morristown.
He turned his Mustang to the right onto a dirt road from the Phoenix-Wickenburg highway.
Down that road were a couple of old run-down trailers called the desert their home.
John continued down the dirt road and came upon a run-down and shabby 1964 single-wide Fleetwood trailer with a rusty Chevy Vega parked in the dirt by one end of the trailer.
John parked his Mustang behind the Vega.
He got out and walked to the trailer door with Peter’s journal in one hand. He knocked and waited.
The door creaked open, and a double-barrel shotgun peeked out.
“Get the fuck off my property!” Phillip yelled from inside his trailer.
“I really need to talk to you about your experience in nineteen-fifty with Crazy Hole,” John said.
The end of a double barrel shotgun slowly peaked a little farther out the door opening. “Fuck off, or I’ll fill you with holes! Bloody holes!” threatened Phillip from inside his trailer.
John thought for a second and reached into his pocket.
“My name is John Mathers. I found Bart’s buried gold,” John said, then leaned down and tossed the gold coin inside Phillip’s trailer at floor level. “You can keep it,” John.
There was some silence, and then the double-barrel shotgun slowly went back inside the trailer. The door opened,
and Phillip Yoemans, a balding, frail seventy-year-old man with dirty gray hair and beard, and dressed in shabby clothes, appeared in the doorway. He had his shotgun in one hand and looked at the gold coin in his other hand.
“Please enter my humble abode, John Mathers,” Phillip smiled, showing off his rotten brown teeth, and stepping aside.
John entered the trailer.
Phillip’s trailer was filthy inside, and all the furniture was old and tattered.
Phillip eyed the gold coin while he walked over and sat on a lazy boy chair with duct tape over the rips.
John sat on a dirty couch and laid the journal beside him.
Phillip studied the gold coin and noticed the 1882 date on it. “Tell me how you found this coin?” Phillip asked.
“I was in the Superstition Mountains looking for Bart Stone buried loot,” John said.
“How did you know where to find it?” Phillip asked curiously.
John removed the treasure map from his shirt pocket and held it up. “I found this in an old wooden chest I bought from an antique store,” John said.
Phillip grabbed the treasure map, and his eyes welled up a little. “Did this wooden chest have PY carved on the top?”
Phillip asked curiously.
“Yes. Inside, I found a journal for Peter Yoemans. Is he a relative of yours?” John questioned.
“Peter Yoemans was my father,” Phillip answered.
“I read how he drew this treasure map from talking with Bart’s older brother,” John said, holding Peter’s journal.
Phillip got up from his lazy boy chair and grabbed the journal. He sat back down and opened up the journal. His eyes welled up some more while scanning through the journal. “I haven’t seen this book since 1950.”
“Dad was obsessed with finding the buried loot of Bart Stone. He heard about it from his father. Then, after he got fired from his job, he was determined to find the loot. He figured he could get rich and provide for us that way,” Phillip
said, then remembered something. “Where are my manners, would you like a beer?” he asked John.
“I would love one,” John replied.
Phillip got up and walked into the kitchen. He opened his old Fridgedare, removed two cans of Budweiser beer, and walked back, handed John his brew. They both opened them up and drank a little.
“As I was saying. After Dad drew that map from talking to Bart’s older brother, he hiked into the Superstition Mountains to find it. I remember that day like it was yesterday, March seventh, nineteen forty-three. He came back excited and told me he found something better than Bart’s gold. He found something that would make him richer,” Phillip said.
“What was that?” John asked, then sipped his Bud.
Phillip sipped his Bud. “He never told me. I figured he found tons of buried treasure. So the next day, he wore some old clothes, and with a small cloth bag, he took off into the mountains again,” Phillip said, then his eyes welled up. “But he never came home. Town folk searched the Superstition Mountain area for days but never found him. So later that year, they declared him dead,” Phillip said.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” John said.
“Thanks. I was thirteen years old at the time, and my mom was devastated. So the years went by, and when I turned twenty, I was getting some boxes out of the attic for Mom. While I was up there, I found Dad’s wooden chest. Inside was his journal.
So I read it and found the page where he drew the map to Bart’s gold,” Phillip said.
“Who tore the map out of the journal?” John asked.
“I did. I followed the map and hoped to find my father’s remains and maybe Bart’s loot. Mom sure needed the money,”
Phillip said.
“Did you?” John asked, interested in the story.
“No. I also didn’t find Bart’s loot. I found something else that nobody would believe,” Phillip said.
“You traveled through time,” John responded.
“I forgot you read the news article. So, why are you so interested in my time traveling experience?” Phillip asked.
“After I found the gold and silver coins. They were dated from eighteen eighty-three. I said. I wished I were in eighteen eighty some day in September. I then went inside a tunnel to the right. Then I suddenly appeared back outside. It looked just like the entrance to Crazy Hole but different. I saw the old Southern Pacific train as it went down the track. Later, I realized I had gone back in time. But I don’t know what year. I was hoping you should shed some light on that,” John said.
“Just before I went back through that tunnel, I said I wanted to return to July twelfth, eighteen eighty-three. I went through that same tunnel, and when I came out, I also saw that same old train. I knew about the Southern Pacific train line, so I followed the tracks, turned north, and found the town of Oak Creek. It was July twelfth, eighteen eighty-three, as was indicated on a calendar in the general store,” Phillip said. “But people gave me weird looks, so I thought I better leave,” Phillip added.
“I can imagine that happening with clothes from the fifties.”
“Yep, so I went back to Crazy Hole and said I wanted to go back to the date in nineteen-fifty,” said Phillip.
“Why did you say that?”
“The legend states that when in Crazy Hole, if you say the month, day, and year, you’ll go to that time after entering that tunnel time portal,” Phillip said. Then he paused for a few seconds while he took another sip of his Bud. “Plus, if one person goes back to a certain time, that portal stays open for that same day in time for around twelve hours. Meaning other people could follow your time travel adventure.”
“Wow! The old west, how cool is that!” John said with a sparkle in his eyes.
“I thought so, but after returning, I made a false bottom in the wooden chest to keep the map safe. I told a friend that I went back in time and was returning after I got some older clothes to blend in. Later that day, he squealed it to the police.
They came to my house, and I got hauled in for questioning.
They sent me to see a doctor, and he recommended they lock me up in a loony bin, and I got released in nineteen seventy-eight. Mom died in nineteen sixty- nine and sold her house, and I never saw that chest again,” Phillip said while his eyes welled up. “You never found out what happened to your dad? Or tried to back through that cave to find him?” John asked.
“Never did. And since I was locked up in the loony bin for so long, I decided it would be best to leave that cave alone. So I put it out of my mind until you showed up today,” Phillip said, then gulped down his beer.
John reached into his pocket and removed seven more gold and silver coins. “You can have these for talking with me,” John said while he handed Phillip the coins.
Phillip looked at the coins and laughed a raspy laugh. He looked at John. “Just think. You could go back in time through that cave and get more of these at a steal,” he told John.
John thought about what Phillip said while he gulped down his beer.
While John drove home, he continued to think about Phillip’s comment, “You could go back in time through that cave and get more of these at a steal.”
John went back to his apartment and sat down on the couch.
He looked at his grandfather’s outlaw book on his coffee table, looked at Bart’s saddlebag on the floor, then picked it up and left the living room.
John walked into his bedroom and went over and shoved the saddlebag under his bed. He left the bedroom.
That night, John tossed and turned, as he couldn’t sleep.
The events from today kept his mind active.
John spent the rest of the workweek thinking about his discovery and his talk with Phillip Yoemans. He had a plan in mind but chickened out a few times.
John woke up really early on Saturday morning. It was August twenty-sixth, 2006, and he decided to pursue his plans.
He knew exactly what he was going to do with his new find. After showering and dressed in Levi’s blue jeans and a western shirt, John ate a quick breakfast consisting of a bowl of Cocoa Krispies.
After he ate, he punched a phone number in his cell phone from his kitchen.
“Hey Randy, I was wondering if you’re still considering selling your pickup?” John asked into his cell phone.
“I am,” Randy replied from the cell phone.
“Good, as I was wondering if you would trade your pickup for my ninety-five Mustang,” John offered.
“Sure. I don’t see why not,” Randy replied from John’s cell phone, knowing that he would be getting the better end of the deal. “Great. I’ll be by your place shortly, and we can take care of the titles later,” John said, then disconnected his call.
John rushed out of his kitchen and ran into his bedroom.
He ran to his bedside table and clipped his cell phone to his belt, grabbed his cowboy hat off the top of the dresser, opened the bottom dresser drawer removing his Colt Peacemaker pistol from the holster.
He rushed over to his bed, reached under it, and removed Bart’s saddlebags, opened one of the bags placing his pistol and holster inside.
He rushed out of his bedroom with a smile as his plan was falling into place.
He drove to Randy’s house and left his Mustang there while he drove off with Randy’s 1985 Ford F150 pickup truck with a trailer hitch on the back.
John drove the F150 into Scottsdale and stopped at a coin shop. He was in there for thirty minutes and came out with a nice check for five thousand dollars for selling all those gold and silver coins. John felt rich!
He drove his truck to the nearest Bank of America in Scottsdale, which was opened on Saturday.
He went inside and deposited that check into his checking account.
After the bank, John drove his F150 to a Western clothing store in Scottsdale. He bought a new western shirt, a leather cartridge belt, a black bandana, a saddlebag, and some new cowboy boots.
John drove his F150 to a gun shop and bought some bullets for his cartridge belt for the show for that authentic outlaw look. While in his F150, he placed bullets in the cartridge belt.
He drove the F150 to Rusty’s Desert Ranch Horse Stables northeast of Apache Junction. Rusty had around twenty horses and trailers for sale. He had stables people would rent for their own horses, and rented horses for trail rides in the Superstition Mountains.
John walked up to Rusty Moore, fifty years old, with a rugged complexion in a cowboy hat while he groomed a horse.
“Excuse me, I would like to buy a horse and trailer,” John said.
Rusty looked over at John and instantly knew he had never ridden a horse before in his life.
“You know how to ride a horse?” Rusty asked John.
John hesitated for a second, then looked cocky. “Sure, you sit in the saddle, grab the reins, and it goes. Piece of cake,” he lied. John removed his checkbook from his back pocket.
Rusty looked at John. He didn’t care, as business was doing poorly, and the bank was about to foreclose on his property, so he really needed to sell a horse. “Follow me,” Rusty told John while walking away from his horse and down the stable. John followed.
Thirty minutes later, John stood by a horse trailer hitched to the F150. Inside the trailer was a horse with a saddle.
John wrote a check for two thousand six hundred and seventy-three dollars. He handed it to Rusty.
“You can use stall number eight, and that’ll cost ten dollars a day to board the horse,” Rusty said.
“I’ll be back later today,” John told Rusty.
“Where are you going?” Rusty asked.
“A little ride in the Superstition Mountains,” John replied.
Rusty looked doubtful John would return. He looked at the check. “I hope this will clear,” Rusty asked.
Don’t worry, it will,” John promised while he walked to the cab of the pickup and got inside.
John got inside his F150, put his checkbook in the glove box, and started up the pickup.
Rusty walked away while John backed up the pickup and almost jack-knifed. After three attempts, John finally backed the pickup truck out of the parking spot. He drove off.
“He’ll kill that horse for sure or cause a crash with that pickup and trailer,” Rusty thought to himself while he watched John drive his pickup away.
Later that day, John parked the pickup at the same place where he walked off to the Bluff Springs Trail.
He got out of the truck and put on his cowboy hat.
He strutted to the rear of the horse trailer and opened the gate. John looked at the rear end of the horse. It swatted its tail.
“Come out,” he instructed the horse after he whistled. The horse stayed in the trailer and swatted his tail.
John reached out and grabbed the horse’s tail. “I wouldn’t do that if I was you. That’s a good way to get your teeth knocked out,” a woman, wearing a Cowboy hat, said near John.
John immediately let go of the horse’s tail.
“Are you sure you know how to ride a horse?” the woman asked.
“Yeah. Just never had him in a trailer,” John replied.
The woman rolled her eyes, thinking John would kill himself. “I’ll get him out,” she said, walking to the trailer’s side and opening the side door near the front. She stepped inside the trailer, and the horse slowly backed out with the woman stroking its head to keep it calm.
She held the reins of the horse. “You can get on now,” she said. “One minute,” John told her while he rushed to the pickup truck. He opened it up and removed Bart’s saddlebags.
He slung it over his shoulder and then rushed back to the horse.
After securing the saddle on the horse, John made precise movements while he stuck a boot in the stirrup.
He got in the saddle and ensured his other boot was situated precisely in the other stirrup.
The horse looked back at John.
They stared at each other. John took the reins from the woman.
He moved in the saddle and got that perfect spot.
The woman looked at John knowing he was a fish out of water.
“Giddy up!” John said. The horse stood still. “Move!”
John said.
Six couples walked over and watched the show.
John leaned back and smacked the horse’s hindquarters.
The horse raced off.
John leaned over the side and smacked his head in a bush as the horse raced away.
Everybody laughed at the sight of John.
John struggled but eventually got upright. He bounced all over the saddle while the horse raced towards Bluff Springs Trail. John eventually pulled back on the reins and slowed down the horse.
A little later, John’s horse walked down Dutchman’s Trail, and he started to look like a cowboy. He was actually getting the hang of riding a horse.
John’s horse walked near Crazy Hole, and then his cell phone rang, startling him. He removed it from his belt holster and saw the Caller ID. “Angie,” John answered.
“Where the hell are you?” she yelled from his cell phone.
“I’m going back to the old west. I’ve decided to become a famous outlaw in the old west and run back to hide here,” John said excitedly.
There was a long period of silence from his cell phone.
“I’m sick of this!” Angie screamed at John from his cell phone, and then she disconnected her end of the call.
John looked at his cell then looked at the cave. He couldn’t resist and figured Angie would forgive him once she saw the money he would bring home. He turned off his cell phone, placed it back in its holster, and got off the saddle.
He grabbed the reins and walked his horse to the cave.
The second he got ten feet from Crazy Hole, the horse panicked and rose on his hind legs.
John dropped the reins and ran away scared.
After a few seconds, the horse settled down when it backed away from the cave.
John cautiously inched to the horse. He stood by his horse and looked at the cave. John realized Crazy Hole had spooked the horse and wondered how he could get it into the cave. His eyes lit up with an idea.
Angie stared furiously at her cell phone at the Painted Mountain Golf Course. She dropped it on the green. She whacked it with a golf club. Her cell phone flew in the air splashing into a pond.
She stormed off, furious with John.
At Crazy Hole, John walked his horse, with his shirt tied around its head covering its eyes, to the cave.
He removed his flip cell phone from his belt and placed it in the pocket of his left front pants. He left the belt clip on his cell phone.
He returned to Bart’s saddlebag and removed his pistol and cartridge belt.
He placed it around his belt and felt like an outlaw. That belt covered up his cell phone clip on his pants belt.
He reached back inside the saddlebag removing a small cloth bag. He tucked it into the waist of his Levi’s. He was ready for this adventure.
John walked his horse inside the cave, with just enough room for the horse.
He walked the horse to that dead end. He looked at the spooky tunnel to the right. “I want to go back to September tenth, eighteen eighty-three,” he said, and it echoed in the cave.
John took a deep breath and walked the horse inside that other spooky tunnel.
In 1883, John's horse gave a little cry from inside Crazy Hole while the blue plasma light stung both of them. John had a tight hold on the reins to prevent his horse from running off.
John rushed his horse out of the cave, and the horse quickly calmed down.
John walked his horse away from Crazy Hole. He looked, and Bart's saddlebag vanished. John looked around, thinking that it had fallen off. It wasn't anywhere around on the ground.
It dawned on John that the saddlebag now belonged to Bart, so he wouldn't have it in his possession in 1883. He got in the saddle on the horse.
He rode off and crossed a small creek that wasn't there in 2006.
He rode his horse to the north from Miners Needle.
John rode his horse like a pro through the mountains.
While riding his horse, he pondered how to act as an outlaw. He even whipped out his pistol a few times while he practiced.
John stopped his horse when he noticed Oak Creek fifty feet away. He looked in awe at a town that was alive but was long gone years before he was born.
Oak Creek had a dirt main street. In fact, all the streets were dirt.
It had a train station, cabinet maker, general store, barbershop, Court House, a Marshal's office with three jail cells, a doctor's office, a restaurant, a hotel, the Oak Creek National Bank, a saloon called the Prickly Cactus, a livery stable with a Blacksmith, a church, a dressmaker and suit shop, a schoolhouse and a graveyard to the southeast of the town.
To the northwest was a stockade with cows and pigs to supply the restaurant with food.
A smaller dirt street to the west had small homes for the town folk.
John rode his horse toward Oak Creek.
A little while later, John entered Oak Street from the east.
He rode the horse down the dirt Main Street into Oak Creek looking in awe at the sight of history before his eyes.
John rode past the train station to his right with Harvey Robbins' Cabinetmaker and Undertaker Shop across the street.
Behind that shop to the south was the graveyard.
He rode farther and saw Fred Boone's Barber Shop to the right and Gus Master's General Store across the street.
John rode past the Court House to his right with the Marshal's Office across the street.
Ken and Ester walked near John down the street by the Court House.
"Hey there, what's happening?" John said while he smiled at them from his horse.
Ken and Ester stopped and looked confused while watching John ride his horse down the street.
"What's happening? Why we're walking. That's what's happening. Isn't it that obvious?" Ken told Ester while they looked back at John while he rode his horse down the street.
Other people from Oak Creek milled around town and looked at this newcomer with curious eyes.
John rode farther down the street and passed a restaurant to his right with Doc Bartholomew's Office across the street.
John stopped his horse at the Oak Creek First National to the left and next to Doc Bartholomew's Office.
While he got off his horse, he heard the faint sound of a piano being played. It came from the Prickly Cactus Saloon across the street. Someone played a classical tune.
John stood by his horse and looked at the bank. He got nervous and started to chicken out. He took a deep breath of courage when he decided to go for it.
He loosely tied the reins of his horse to the hitching post.
A glance at the door to the bank had him debating if he should continue. John pondered for a few seconds.
Inside the Oak Creek National Bank, Sally Burns waited by the door. Sally's boyfriend, Danny Cook, was a skinny, mild, and meek man who stood in the front line for the teller.
Annie Nelson waited near Sally while her husband, Jacob Nelson, waited in line.
Buddy Woods, Jacob, Howard Jones, and Winston Smith stood in line at the teller's counter where the bank teller, Rodney Springer, a skinny, timid man, worked.
John entered the bank, looked around, and saw the
"Monday, September 10, 1883" on a calendar on the wall behind the teller.
John strutted over to the Rodney's window. The men in line looked pissed, as it looked like John was trying to cut in line.
"Ah, excuse me, but the line is back there," Howard said and pointed to Winston in back of him.
The bank teller, Rodney, looked up from his work and saw John, and he nodded in agreement that he had tried to cut in line in front of Ernie.
"Sir, you'll have to wait in line," Rodney told John. "Like everybody else."
John looked at the men in line, who looked back at John.
He looked at Rodney, who looked at John. They all waited for John to get to the end of the line.
John removed the cloth bag from the waist of his Levi's, holding it in his left hand. His right hand shook while he drew his pistol out of his holster. He raised his pistol, and his hand shook more. He aimed it at Rodney. His hand shook so badly he dropped his pistol on the floor.
Everybody stared at John, who looked down at his pistol.
They chuckled, and that pissed off John.
John thought for a second, quickly grabbed his pistol, and decided to find the courage to finish the job he came to 1883 to perform. He mustered the meanest look he could create and rushed over and pressed the barrel of his pistol into Ernie's temple.
"Remove your guns and throw them to me," John called out and pressed his barrel harder into Ernie's temple.
All the men removed their cartridge belts with pistols in their holsters and threw them at John's boots. John cautiously
bent down, picked up the three cartridge belts with pistols, and slung them over his left shoulder. He aimed his gun at Rodney.
"Give me," John said in a squeaky voice, then cleared his throat. "Give me all the money," John said, holding out his cloth bag at Rodney across the counter.
"I said, give me all your gold and silver coins, or this guy gets a bullet in his head," John yelled out while he shoved his cloth bag at Rodney, keeping his gun aimed at Ernie, who was about to piss his pants.
Rodney swallowed hard and got shaky and nervous, as he didn't want Ernie shot. He quickly opened his cash drawer, removed a handful of gold and silver coins, and dumped them into John's bag. He returned the cloth bag to John, who snatched it from his hand.
John pointed his pistol at everybody and felt like an outlaw.
Everybody got nervous and remained still.
John strutted backward like an outlaw to the door with his pistol aimed at everybody.
He stopped at the door. Then John thought about how he could go down in history as a unique outlaw. Something people would remember. He looked at Sally and got a grand idea.
He walked over to Sally by the door. He looked her square in her eyes. She shook. John smiled with an idea, grabbed the back of her head and gave her a romantic kiss on the lips.
Ernie got pissed but was too weak to come after John.
He released Sally from his romantic grip, turned around and faced everybody.
John tipped his hat and took a bow. "The Kissing Bandit alias John Mathers, thank you," John said politely.
Sally discreetly waved goodbye to John while he rushed out the door.
Anne got jealous as she wanted a kiss from that stranger.
John rushed over to his horse and eyed the area to make sure the Marshal wasn't coming after him.
He rushed over to the hitching post, untied the loosely tied reins, and held onto his bag of loot and stolen cartridge belts
slung over his left shoulder. John quickly hopped in the saddle of his horse.
He turned the horse around, galloped down Main Street, and headed out of town.
Inside the bank, they all looked at each other and wondered if it was safe to come outside.
Sally had a little satisfying smirk, and Ernie was again jealous.
Rodney walked out from behind the counter.
He walked to the window and cautiously peeked out the curtains. Everybody gathered behind him.
"Is it okay to go outside?" Jacob asked.
"Yeah. He's gone," Rodney said while peering out the window.
"We better tell the Marshal," Howard said.
Rodney opened the door, and they all exited.
They walked away from the bank and stood in the street.
They looked in both directions for John, and he was gone.
Sally looked sad.
They all rushed down the street.
In the Prickly Cactus Saloon, Clint Bartley, with his Town Marshal's badge pinned to his shirt, played a beautiful classical piano song and was an outstanding pianist. Two sexy saloon prostitutes, Karen and Jennifer, stood by the piano; they listened and admired him.
Three cowboys played poker with Elmer, Clint's deputy, at a nearby table.
The saloon doors slammed open, and Rodney and everybody from the bank raced to Clint.
"Marshal Bartley! The bank was robbed by some outlaw who kisses women!" Rodney cried out loud over Clint's piano playing and stopped at the piano.
Clint struck a lousy chord during his song. He jumped up from the piano and looked baffled as Rodney and everybody stopped at him. "What?" Clint asked Rodney as he now wasn't sure he heard him correctly.
"Someone robbed the bank, and he kissed Sally on his way out," Rodney said.
Sally had a little satisfying smirk, and Ernie noticed. He got jealous again but was too chicken to say something to her.
"He also stole our guns," Ernie said while he looked back at Sally, hurt that she liked John's kiss. "And he had his pistol at my head. I thought this mean outlaw was going to kill me,"
Ernie said and looked like he would piss his pants at any moment.
Everybody in the saloon looked curious.
Clint was pissed. "Was it Bart Stone? But he's never kissed women before. Or was it Charlie Chandler? He might do something like that," Clint asked.
"It wasn't Bart or Charlie. I never saw this kid before.
There must be some new outlaw in the area. He said his name was John Mathers, the Kissing Bandit," Rodney replied.
Everybody nodded in agreement that they had never seen John before.
"His clothes did look strange," Howard said.
"How strange?" Clint asked.
"I never saw that brand of Levi's before," Howard replied.
"Okay, an outlaw with a different type of Levi's. I better go hunt him down," Clint said. "He should be easy to find," he added with an air of confidence.
Everybody in the saloon watched Clint while he raced to the saloon doors.
"Clint will catch him," Winston said. Everybody nodded in agreement.
Clint ran down to his Marshal's office, untied his horse, jumped on then galloped down the street.
John galloped his horseback to Miners Needle. He glanced back over his shoulder. Nobody chased after him, and he felt safe. He rode his horse back to Crazy Hole.
John got out of the saddle of his horse and noticed the horse's tracks. “They’ll see these tracks.”
John ran over to the bush and snapped off a branch.
John rushed down twenty feet to a small creek he galloped his horse through, and erased the tracks with that piece of bush.
He laid the branch down, quickly removed his shirt, and used it to cover the horse's eyes. John walked the horse to the entrance to Crazy Hole, rushed back and quickly erased the horse's tracks. He rushed back inside the cave.
He walked his horse inside Crazy Hole, then walked his horse to the dead end and the other tunnel.
"I want to go back to Saturday, August 26, two thousand and six," he said.
He walked this horse into that tunnel, and that blue plasma light stung the yell out of him and his horse again.
Meanwhile, Clint rode his horse along the same path John used. He came to that small creek and lost sight of the tracks.
Clint walked his horse down the creek and hoped he would pick up John's horse tracks.
The Oak Creek Marshal's office was plain and simple, with a wood floor, two desks, and three small jail cells. A potbelly stove where a pot of coffee was always fresh and hot. One desk was for Clint, and another one was for Elmer.
Elmer relaxed with his boots kicked up in a chair at his desk with his hat tipped over his eyes while he slept.
The office door opened, and Clint entered, weary and disappointed. Clint noticed Elmer while he slept at his desk with an occasional snore. He slammed the door shut.
Elmer jumped up, his chair fell back, and he slammed hard on the floor.
Clint chuckled at the sight of Elmer.
Elmer saw Clint, stood up, and got his chair upright.
"Are you trying to give me a heart attack in my old age?"
Elmer scolded.
"Sorry, I couldn't resist," Clint responded.
"Well, I take it you didn't get this Kissing Bandit?" Elmer said while he looked at the three empty jail cells.
"Naw, it's like he vanished, Elmer. I lost him somewhere around Miners Needle," Clint said.
"You know what the Indians say about Miners Needle?"
Elmer said.
"That's nothing but hogwash," Clint said while walking over to his desk and grabbing his tin coffee cup.
He walked over to the stove, poured a cup of coffee, walked to his desk and sat down sipping his coffee.
"Oh. While you were gone, Sidney found some skeleton bones of a human and a leather bag about ten miles north of town," Elmer said.
Clint thought for a second. "I don't recall hearing about someone missing," Clint said.
"The name Peter Yoemans was marked inside the leather bag. Must have been some old miner," Elmer suggested.
"Maybe. Let's bury the bones at the cemetery," Clint replied.
"I'll get that in work tomorrow," Elmer said.
The office door opened, and Gertrude Perkins, a thirty-two-year-old plain and simple woman who desperately wanted to find a husband, entered with a freshly made apple pie under a cloth. She was the school teacher for Oak Creek.
Clint and Elmer glanced at Gertrude.
She gave Clint a bashful and warm smile while she walked over to his desk.
"Gertrude," Clint said politely.
"Marshal. I heard you chased after the outlaw that robbed the bank. I baked this pie figuring you might be hungry," she said, then laid the pie on his desk, removed the cloth, and revealed the apple pie.
"Mmmm! Apple, my favorite," Clint said while he sniffed the pie.
Clint opened up his desk drawer and removed a knife. He sliced a piece of pie, grabbed it, and took a huge bite.
"Mmmm. You always bake the best pies, Gertrude," Clint said.
"Thank you. I can bake you some sweet dessert any time you desire, Clint. If you were my husband," Gertrude said with a sweet tone, hoping Clint would accept her offer.
Clint chewed his pie and ignored Gertrude.
She took his non-response as a rejection and looked hurt.
Elmer glanced over at Clint, upset over his non-response.
Gertrude walked away, rejected, but she was still determined to get Clint to marry her one day.
Elmer watched as Gertrude opened the door and left their office.
"You chicken or something? Don't end up like me, old and alone. Go marry her and raise some little Bartleys," Elmer told Clint in a fatherly tone.
"The women here are too boring for my taste," Clint said while he gobbled up the rest of his slice of pie.
Clint licked the remaining apple pie off his fingers. He sat down and sipped on his coffee. He thought about the outlaw that slipped away.
Elmer rolled his eyes at Clint's refusal to get married.
"Howard said this outlaw wore strange-looking clothes,"
Clint said.
"That's what I hear," Elmer replied while he walked over and couldn't resist Gertrude's apple pie. He pulled out his knife and sliced a piece of the pie, grabbed the slice with his fingers, and munched on it.
"Reminds me of that kid that wandered into town on foot a few years back," Clint said.
"Yeah, the one that went inside the general store," Elmer replied with a mouth full of pie.
"Folks said he wore strange clothes and shoes," Clint said.
Elmer swallowed his pie. "I remember. Maybe these strange clothes are some kind of a trademark of some new outlaw gang?" Elmer asked.
"That's possible," Clint responded. Then, he sipped his coffee and thought about the outlaw, John Mathers, the Kissing Bandit.
Back on Saturday, August 26th, 2006, the blue plasma light illuminated the inside of Crazy Hole.
John walked his horse out of Crazy Hole, and Bart's old saddlebags mysteriously reappeared on his saddle. John noticed and smiled.
He removed his shirt off his horse.
He placed his bag of loot and the four stolen and his cartridge belts and pistols in the saddlebag.
John put his shirt back on, then glanced around realizing he was back home, safe and sound.
He quickly grabbed that part of the bush he cut away and propped it up to hide the entrance to Crazy Hole.
"I did it. I'm an old western outlaw," John joyfully said and did a victory dance and then dorky imitation of Michael Jackson's moonwalk. He noticed some hikers fifty feet away staring at him. John quickly stopped.
The hikers shrugged him off as being weird and walked away. "I think I got saddle sores!" he said suddenly in pain while he grabbed his butt cheeks.
John grabbed the reigns and limped his horse away from Crazy Hole. He got ten feet away from Crazy Hole and got in the saddle of his horse.
He rode his horse off and headed back down Dutchman's Trail. It was later, and John rode his horse back to his pickup and trailer. He got out of the saddle of his horse, grabbed the reins, and walked his horse into his trailer.
John got in the F150 and drove off.
After he drove back to the Desert Ranch Horse Stables. After parking his trailer, and removing his horse from it, he walked him to stall number eight.
John soon had his horse settled in his stall, and removed the saddle setting it on the ground. The stall door was closed and this outlaw left the stable strutting with the saddlebags in hand. John drove his F150 back to his apartment, rushed inside his apartment with the saddlebag.
He ran down his hallway and into his bedroom, ran over to his dresser and opened up his sock and underwear drawer.
The cloth bag of loot was removed from his saddlebag placing the gold and silver coins into the sock. But two silver coins were shoved in his Levi’s right front pocket.
John stashed that sock of coins in his drawer.
The three stolen cartridge belts and pistols, his cartridge belt and piston were stashed in the bottom drawer.
Bart's saddlebag was shoved under his bed.
John raced out of this bedroom, ran down his hallway and into his living room and up to his old Dell computer at his cheap pressboard computer desk.
He turned on his Dell and got frustrated while it took forever to boot up.
The Dell finally booted up, and John quickly typed "John Mathers alias the Kissing Bandit in 1883" in the search block of Yahoo. He waited impatiently for the results. They appeared.
"I can't believe there's nothing about me?" John cursed slamming his fist on the desk then looked determined to complete his plan.
John opened up a desk drawer and removed a piece of paper and a pen. He quickly hand drew a map of the 1883
Phoenix area, the cities of Oak Creek, Rattlesnake, Stone Valley, and Mountain Rock. An "X" was placed through Oak Creek.
John shoved the paperback in the drawer and closed it.
After a quick dinner, John relaxed in front of his TV
watching The American Outlaws movie. Those two silver coins he stole from 1883 were in his right hand.
Halfway during the movie, John called Angie on his cell phone wanting to make up.
In Angie's apartment, she sat on her couch and looked at her new cell phone while it rang and saw John called. She placed her cell phone down on her coffee table and walked away still pissed at him.
John disconnected his call and felt terrible that Angie was upset. But figured she would forgive him, as she always did in the past. He left his cell phone on his coffee table.
Later, John retired to his bed.
He slept like a baby that night and had dreams of being famous and in the history books.
The first dream was a movie about the life of John Mathers, alias the Kissing Bandit.
The second dream was him sitting in a movie theater watching the John Mathers, alias the Kissing Bandit movie. A smirk grew on his face as he watched his outlaw ways on the silver screen. Brad Pitt played John Mathers.
The third dream was him walking through a bookstore and noticed a book on his outlaw life was a best seller.
John woke up Sunday morning, August 27th, 2006.
He ate a quick breakfast of Cocoa Krispies and gulped down a cup of coffee. The decision was not to shave, as he wanted that rugged western appearance.
John ran out of the kitchen, down the hallway to his bedroom, grabbing his cowboy hat and cloth bag from his dresser.
The bottom dresser drawer was opened and removing one of the stolen pistols and cartridge belts, removed the bullets, then placed the pistol in its holster. He slung the cartridge belt over his shoulder.
It wasn’t long before John left the only western store opened on Sunday buying a new saddlebag.
After leaving that store, John drove his F150 east on the Superstition Highway with his horse trailer in tow.
He soon parked in the dirt parking lot after he followed signs for the Peralta Trailhead, parking his F150.
John got out with his new saddlebag and his cowboy hat, reached back in his F150 removing a large bottle of water he
bought before he stopped at the stables. After gulping down some water, he placed the bottle in his saddlebag, along with two more large bottles of water.
The horse was soon out of the trailer, and ready to ride.
John rode his horse off to Bluff Springs Trail.
Later that day, John rode his horse to Crazy Hole using the same routine to travel back in time through Crazy Hole.
It was Wednesday, September 12th, 1883.
John rode his horse north toward Oak Creek feeling like a big shot outlaw a pistol at this side.
He rode near Oak Creek and stopped glancing at the town and noticing the Butterfield Overland stagecoach as it waited by the hotel.
John didn't want to ride through Oak Creek and risk being arrested for yesterday's robbery, so he rode north of Oak Creek.
John rode for another hour with a couple of stops to give his horse a drink of water when he crossed a small creek, or he used the water from his bottles. He had his cloth bag tucked inside the front of his Levis’s.
John eventually rode to the top of a hill where below the Butterfield Overland stagecoach trail ran from Oak Creek to Stone Valley. An eye was kept on the trail down below suspecting the stagecoach should be coming any minute.
He got out of the saddle from his horse and walked around to stretch his legs. John stood by his horse on top of a hill. He removed his pistol and twirled it. It dropped his pistol into the dirt. He picked up his pistol, twirled it and it dropped it the dirt, again.
While he picked up his pistol, he spotted the Butterfield Overland stagecoach while it rode down the dirt trail to Stone Valley. The pistol was shoved back in his holster.
John quickly hopped back in the saddle of his horse, and as the second his butt hit the saddle, his face cringed. "Not now!"
John said and he quickly hopped out of the saddle of his horse.
He raced to a nearby bush, unbuttoned his jeans and removed his penis, and on the bush. Then the dangerous sound
of a rattlesnake was heard. “Shit!” John panicked and cautiously looked around noticing a rattlesnake five feet away, poised to strike.
John quietly inched away from the angry rattlesnake.
When he felt it was safe, he turned around, and high tailed it to his horse, jumped up like a pro hopping in the saddle of his horse.
He galloped his horse off the hill and down to the trail.
John raced his horse after the stagecoach in relief the rattlesnake didn't strike him.
He stopped his horse twenty feet on the trail in front of the stagecoach.
John quickly hopped out of the saddle of his horse and whipped out his pistol and aimed them at the stagecoach driver and the cowboy that rode alongside him with a Winchester rifle.
"Whoa!" the driver yelled out when he saw John with his pistols aimed at his stagecoach.
"Throw down your weapons, or you both will never see another sunset or sunrise," John yelled with the meanest outlaw voice he could muster up.
The cowboy with the Winchester leaned to his side and kept an eye on John while he spat out some chewing tobacco to the ground.
Then the cowboy moved as if he was going to shoot at John. The stagecoach driver noticed this and got concerned.
"I heard about this outlaw that wore strange clothes at Oak Creek yesterday. Look at him. Who in their right mind would rob a stagecoach like that? I think he's loco, so don't start anything," the driver told his partner and looked nervous while John kept his pistol aimed at them.
"Yeah, I think you're right," the cowboy said then he threw down his Winchester while the driver threw down his cartridge belt with a pistol. The weapons landed close to John's horse.
Jessica, Wilbur, Russell, and Anthony cautiously peeked out the stagecoach windows, as they were curious.
John rushed over and stood over the Winchester and pistol.
He aimed his pistols at the stagecoach. "Everybody out or the
driver and his partner get shot!" John yelled out and hoped they would believe his bluff.
The stagecoach door creaked opened, and Jessica, Wilbur, Russell, and Anthony stepped out. They stood by the door afraid of John.
"Walk over here with your hands up in the air," John instructed.
Jessica, Wilbur, Russell, and Anthony walked over to John with their arms raised in the air.
"Throw your pistols over here," John yelled out and pointed at the Winchester and the driver's cartridge belt on the ground.
Wilbur, Russell, and Anthony quickly removed their cartridge belts with pistols and threw them where John pointed.
"Put your money in my bag!" John ordered.
Wilbur, Russell, and Anthony looked at John. They're eyes widen in shock when they saw his penis poking out of the fly of his pants. They snickered at the sight of John.
John got pissed when Wilbur, Russell, and Anthony snickered at him as he thought they mocked his outlaw ways.
Jessica saw John's penis and quickly covered her eyes with her hands. She peeked through a finger as she was curious.
"What's so funny?" John asked.
Anthony discreetly pointed at John's crotch.
John glanced down and saw his fly was open, and his penis poking out. He turned all shades of red, gave a quiet scream, and quickly made himself decent. "I said, put your gold and silver coins and pistols in my bag," John yelled and moved to Wilbur.
The stagecoach driver and cowboy watched from the top of the stagecoach.
Wilbur reached in his pocket and dumped some gold and silver coins in John's bag.
John moved over to Anthony, who reached in his pocket and dumped his gold and silver coins in John's bag.
John moved over to Russell who had his gold and silver coins in his hand. He dumped them into the bag.
John moved over to Jessica, who opened her purse.
"No ma'am. John Mathers doesn't rob ladies," John said then he quickly planted a romantic kiss on her lips. She dropped her coins in the dirt. He released her from his passionate grip.
"I steal a kiss from your sweet lips," John smiled.
Jessica returned a bashful smile at John.
John bent down and picked up her coins and dropped them in her purse. "Ma-am," he said with another smile.
"John Mathers, alias the Kissing Bandit, thanks you. Now I want all of you to get back on the stagecoach," John ordered.
Jessica, Wilbur, Russell, and Anthony rushed back and got inside the stagecoach.
John quickly bent down and picked up the four cartridge belts and the Winchester. He cautiously walked backward to his horse with his pistol aimed at the stagecoach.
"Get out of here," John ordered the stagecoach driver.
The stagecoach driver snapped the reins, and they moved away down the trail.
John watched the stagecoach while it rode down the trail toward Stone Valley.
It was quiet inside the stagecoach while they rode away.
Jessica looked out her window, lightly touched her lips, and thought about John. She thought he was cute.
When the stagecoach was way down the trail, John shoved his bag and stolen cartridge belts with pistols into his saddlebag.
He got back on his horse with the Winchester and galloped it back towards the direction of Oak Creek.
John rode off in the desert and rode north of Oak Creek.
John rode toward Miners Needle.
A little while later, and it was back to Sunday, August 27th, 2006. The blue plasma light illuminated Crazy Hole while John walked his horse, blindfolded with his shirt out. He stopped, removed his shirt from the horse and put it back on his body.
John got in the saddle of his horse and rode off down Dutchman's Trail.
John rode his horse back to his F150 and walked his horse into the trailer. After putting his saddlebag and Winchester into the cab of his pickup John drove off.
After John settled his horse back in his stall at the Desert Ranch Horse Stables, he drove off in his F150 pickup.
On his way home to his apartment, John drove a different route home.
He passed by the Robert Home Ford dealership and saw a 2006 Mustang on display. After driving down the street a few blocks and drooling at the thought of a new Mustang. He turned around.
Two hour later, John traded his F150 in for a new Mustang.
He also wrote a check for a down payment for the car. He figured some more trips to 1883, and he would own it outright in no time flat. It was a red convertible with red leather seats, and the dealer install a trailer hitch. He placed the saddlebags and Winchester into the trunk and drove off with his new toy.
When John got back to his apartment with his saddlebag and Winchester.
He rushed over to his Dell computer and dropped the Winchester and saddlebag on the floor., turned it on, anxiously waited for it to boot up, then opened the saddlebag removing his cloth bag.
John check out his take for today's adventure and counted eight gold coins and nine silver coins. Not much but figured doing better with other banks he could rob.
He rushed to his bedroom and shoved the coins in his sock with his previous booty.
His Dell finally booted up, and John quickly opened Yahoo and typed "John Mathers alias the Kissing Bandit" in the search block. Nothing came up in the search except a bunch of irrelevant results. John was disappointed but looked determined to get placed in the history books and a movie made about him.
He walked away from his Dell and went to the coffee table, picked up his cell phone and turned it on. Angie hasn’t called and figured she was still upset with John.
It’s Monday morning, August 28th, 2006.
John woke up, and after his shower, he ate his standard bowl of Cocoa Krispies and sipped his coffee in his kitchen.
He wondered how he could sneak away to complete his mission of placing himself in the history books. The weekend wasn’t good as he’s already on thin ice with Angie. His eyes widened when he figured it out.
He ran out of the kitchen and into his living room, grabbed his cell phone off the coffee table, making a call.
"Richard here," John's boss answered the call.
"Hey, boss. John Mathers," he replied.
"Calling in sick, Mathers?" Richard asked.
"No sir, I would like to take the rest of the week off as vacation.” There was a moment of silence from John's cell phone. "I'm sorry for the short notice, but I really need to take some time off.”
There were a few more moments of silence on the phone.
"I checked on the computer, and you have four weeks of vacation on the books. Plus you haven't taken a vacation for a while. It's approved. So, what're your plans?" Richard said.
"Thinking of just hanging around the area. Nothing too exciting, as I just wanted some time off this week to take care of some personal business," John replied.
"Okay, Mathers. Get back here bright and early on Friday,"
Richard said. “We need to make sure our clients are stocked for the weekend."
"Yes sir," John replied, then disconnected his call and looked excited with having a week of becoming a famous outlaw.
John rushed down the hallway and went into his bedroom, rushing to the closet then removed a duffel bag.
He rushed to his dresser, opened up the bottom drawer, then shoved the eight cartridge belts with pistols and Winchester into the duffel bag.
After opening up his underwear drawer the sock of coins was dropped it into his duffel bag.
John left his apartment.
John jumped in his Mustang and raced off to a coin shop in Scottsdale.
Thirty minutes later, John walked out of that store beaming with a check for five thousand and six hundred dollars.
John jumped in his Mustang and drove off to the "Western Antique's" store in the Paradise Valley Mall.
He rushed down the mall with his duffel bag hung around his shoulder. Then rushed into the Western Antique's store and walked up to the counter with his duffel bag.
Another salesman behind the counter saw John and walked up to him.
"Can I help you?" the salesman asked while John placed the duffel bag on the counter.
"I believe you'll buy antique guns?" John asked.
"Yes we do," the salesman replied then looked at the duffel bag. "Do you have some in the bag?" he added.
John opened up his duffel bag and removed the Winchester then the eight cartridge belts with pistols.
The salesman picked up one of the pistols and studied it.
"Wow! All look to be from the eighteen-eighties? Where did you get them?" he asked.
John gave his best poker face. "They belonged to my great grandfather. My grandfather died three weeks ago. I found them stashed in his attic while we were moving his things out of the house," John fibbed.
"I'll give you forty-eight hundred dollars for the whole lot,"
the salesman.
John thought for a second, then smiled in agreement.
The transaction was completed. John strutted down the mall and had a huge smile with being four thousand and eight hundred dollars richer. Then he spotted Todd's Tobacco Shop nearby. He stopped and looked at the shop remembering the cowboy that rode shotgun. “That would complete me!”
John rushed into Todd's Tobacco Shop, and ten minutes later, he walked out with a small can of Skoal chewing tobacco.
John rushed out of the mall and to his Mustang in the parking lot then drove away.
He drove around Phoenix and stopped at a different coin shop. Doing this so the dealers won’t get suspicious.
Twenty minutes later, John walked out of the coin shop with another check for two thousand dollars. He strutted off away from the shop to his Mustang.
After a quick stop off at his bank to deposit his checks, John drove to the Western Snacks and Vending Company building.
In the payroll department, Angie worked on her computer.
John strutted up to Angie in his cowboy hat with his right hand behind his back.
Angie looked up and rolled her eyes the second she saw John. "What do you want?" Angie said, still upset over the weekend.
John's hand behind whipped out and revealed a dozen yellow roses, Angie's favorite. He handed her the roses, and she looked at them.
She hesitated and couldn't resist, so she grabbed them and smelled their aroma.
"Howdy Ma'am, may I take you to lunch? I have something to show you," John said while he tipped his hat at Angie.
Angie smelled her roses and nodded in agreement.
They left the building and walked over to John's new Mustang in the parking lot.
"How can you afford a new Mustang?" Angie asked John while she looked the car over.
"Easy. My outlaw gig is paying off big time!" he said while he opened up the passenger door for her.
Angie looked a little baffled while she glanced at John.
"Your what?"
"You know, I traveled back in time and became an outlaw robbing banks, stagecoaches and hopefully trains," he replied.
Then John looked determined with a new idea. "You know what, I should write a book about the old west. I can gather information about the towns that were around then. Maybe the
story can be about life as an old western outlaw," John said with thoughts of glory in his eyes.
Angie looked leery of John as if has a screw loose while she sat down in the passenger seat. John closed her door, rushed around, and got behind the wheel. He started up the Mustang and drove out of the parking lot.
He drove off down the street.
Five minutes had passed, and John turned the Mustang into the Outlaw Steak House parking lot.
Angie looked unhappy. "Not this stupid place again," she said while he drove around for an empty parking spot.
John parked his Mustang.
"Here's the deal. From now on, after we eat at this place, I get to choose the next restaurant," she said while he turned off the engine.
"It's a deal," John replied he reached around the back floorboard and grabbed his cowboy hat. He wore it while they got out of the car.
Angie rolled her eyes thinking he looked stupid.
Inside the Outlaw Steak House, John, with his cowboy hat still on, and Angie followed the hostess, Jenny, to an empty booth by the wall.
John immediately got preoccupied with the memorabilia on the wall at their booth.
Angie reached across the table and snatched his hat off his head. "Quit wearing this stupid hat," she said while she laid his hat on her seat.
John eyed the memorabilia on the wall by their booth and craned his neck to see the memorabilia on the wall by nearby booths. "There should be something here about me.”
"What does that mean?" Angie asked, annoyed.
"It means," John said but stopped then Jenny, their waitress, walked up to the table.
"Hello, I'm Jenny, your waitress," she said with a smile.
"Would you like to start off with a drink?" she added.
"I would like some ice tea, please," Angie said.
"I'll have a shot of whiskey, little lady," John said in a cowboy tone.
Jenny rolled her eyes as she often gets these city yahoos that think they're real cowboys.
Angie got irritated. "We'll take some water first," Angie told Jenny.
The nodded she got their drink order and walked away.
Angie looked at John, a little bewildered. "When did you start drinking whiskey?"
"Outlaws always drink whiskey," John replied then removed his can of Skoal, opened it and put a hunk of tobacco in his mouth.
A young man walked over to their booth with two glasses of water. He set the glasses down in front of John, and Angie then walked away.
John leaned across the table at Angie. He chewed his tobacco and dripped dark brown juice down his chin while he scanned an old news article on the wall behind Angie.
Angie scooted over to the side in her seat, bothered by John.
"What do you have in your mouth?" she asked.
"Tobacco," John replied.
"You're not kissing me until you scrub your mouth clean of that crap," Angie stated while cringing as the thought of that stuff in his mouth disgusted her.
John didn't hear her because he concentrated on finding an old news article on the Kissing Bandit. He searched, and none existed on the wall.
"Guess I'll have to do more robberies to become famous,"
John said disappointed while he looked at the items on the wall.
John's eyes crossed. He choked, and frantically looked around then he grabbed his glass of water and spat tobacco into it. Angie got up from the table, pissed.
"I'll be out in the car," Angie said while she stormed off.
John got worried watching Angie storm away, with tobacco juice dripping down his chin.
John grabbed a napkin and wiped the tobacco off his chin.
He scooted out of his seat and got his cowboy hat off Angie's seat.
He rushed through the restaurant after Angie.
Jenny stopped John at the front door.
"Is there a problem?" she asked.
John thought for a second. "My girlfriend suddenly got sick. Sorry," he said the rushed out the front door. Jenny shrugged it off and walked away.
John rushed to his Mustang, where Angie sat in the passenger seat and waited with her arms crossed.
John got halfway to his Mustang and stopped. He spat out the rest of the tobacco from his mouth on the parking lot.
He got inside his car and started it up, and hesitated on opening his mouth, knowing Angie was pissed.
John drove his Mustang out of the lot and back to Western Snacks and Vending Company.
After they were halfway there, Angie looked at John.
"I heard that you're taking most of the week off. Are you going to play outlaw?" Angie said sarcastically.
"I am, but you don't understand," John said.
"Whatever," Angie rolled her eyes.
"With all the money and pistols I stole and sold, I made twelve thousand, four hundred dollars so far. I'll be rich before too long, or I mean we'll be rich after this week. Then I'll write a book about the old west around the Phoenix area, and we'll make tons more money. Maybe a movie multi-million dollar deal!" John said proudly.
"Did you say you bought a horse?" Angie asked and wondered if she heard him correctly.
"Of course, an outlaw needs a horse," John said.
Angie looked at John like he's finally flipped his lid. "If you must play outlaw. Go ahead. But I want this stopped by this weekend," Angie demanded.
"Stopped by this weekend. I promise," John said and smiled as he couldn't wait to start his outlaw vacation.
It was quiet between John and Angie during the rest of the ride to Western Snacks and Vending Company building.
That night, John debated whether he should continue with his new adventure. He looked through the Outlaws and Lawmen of Arizona book, and he felt compelled to continue with his plan.
John woke up early Tuesday morning bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. It’s August 29th, 2006.
After he showered, he went to the sink to shave. He looked at the night’s growth on his face, then put his razor away. A tougher look makes him feel like an old Western outlaw.
He went into the kitchen and ate his standard bowl of Cocoa Krispies.
After breakfast, he went to his bedroom dressed in his cowboy outfit. John grabbed his cowboy hat and saddlebag and rushed out of his apartment. Bart’s old saddlebag was still shoved under his bed.
He stopped at a Circle K convenience store and bought two water bottles. He also made another quick stop at Wal-Mart, where he purchased two blankets, matches, and some bags of jerky for camping out in the desert.
He raced his Mustang to the stables, got his horse and trailer, and drove off.
John rode his horse down Dutchman’s Trail to Crazy Hole at Miners Needle. This would be an outlaw vacation to place him in the history books!
After his trek through Crazy Hole, John was back in 1883.
Thursday, September 13th, to be exact.
He rode his horse with his pistol in his holster for a couple of hours.
John arrived at the area where Sun City now exists. But in 1883, Stone Valley occupied that space, and time has erased all traces of that community.
John sat on his horse half a mile from Stone Valley. He glanced at the town, smiled, and silently prayed that this would produce a considerable booty.
He rode his horse off to Stone Valley. But unbeknownst to him, two other individuals on horses were a quarter of a mile
behind him. They were also headed in the direction of Stone Valley.
John rode down the main street of Stone Valley, and it looked peaceful, where a few people milled around the dirt streets. The town looked about the same size as Oak Creek but with a different layout.
John rode past the Sheriff ’s office and saw a “Went to Phoenix” sign on the door. He rode past it and felt confident this would go really smoothly.
John rode to the Stone Valley bank and soon got off his horse, loosely tied the reins to the hitching post. He looked around the town, and the coast was clear. John took a deep breath for courage, then walked to the bank’s door.
At the other end of town, Bart Stone, twenty-four years old, a mean and nasty famous outlaw, with half of his right ear gone, and sidekick Charlie Chandler, twenty years old, stupid, and Bart galloped their horses into Stone Valley.
Inside the Stone Valley bank, Greg, Henry, Mickey, Cindy, a young lady, and Betty, an older lady, stood in line at the teller’s counter where Sam worked.
John entered the bank and looked around. He didn’t see any threats, so he whipped out his pistol, walked over to the counter, and cut in front of Greg.
He aimed his pistol at Sam’s head. John opened his mouth to speak simultaneously when the door slammed with a bang, and everybody jumped.
Bart and Charlie rushed inside the bank with pistols ready for action. Bart fired his pistol into the ceiling. Everybody, including John, jumped a mile while plaster rained on everybody.
Bart strutted to Sam’s counter and stood near John, who lowered his pistol.
Charlie guarded the door with his pistol aimed at the patrons
“This is a holdup!” Bart yelled out and pointed his pistol at Sam’s head.
John stared at Bart in awe when he realized his idol was next to him.
“Oh, my God! It’s the famous outlaw Bart Stone. My hero!” John beamed loudly.
Bart looked irritated with John. “Excuse me, but I’m trying to rob a bank here.”
Charlie danced by the door, anxious to get this over and get out of town.
Bart, I’m John Mathers, and I’m also trying to rob this bank,” John said. Then, he got excited and raised his pistol.
“Can I join your gang?”
“Get a wiggle on! We don’t have time for this hogwash,”
Charlie yelled out, getting nervous.
John strutted over and aimed his pistol at Sam’s head. John handed Sam his cloth bag.
“Fork over your dough!” John yelled at Sam and cocked his pistol.
Sam almost pissed his pants with two outlaws ready to shoot him. He reached down, his hands shaking when opening the cash drawer, grabbing dollar bills, gold, and silver coins, then dropping them in John’s bag.
John looked at Bart and smiled. “This is so cool! Now I can go home and read about Bart Stone and me together in the history books,” John said with a proud smile.
Bart looked at John, baffled over his comment.
Sam handed the bag back to John.
Bart snatched the bag from John’s hand and walked to the door.
John tagged along behind Bart.
John stopped at Cindy. He grabbed her head and gave her a romantic kiss.
Bart and Charlie watched while John kissed the young woman.
Betty looked jealous.
John released Cindy and then smiled at Bart. “I’m called the Kissing Bandit,” John said. “Alias John Mathers.”
Bart and Charlie looked at John and then at the young lady, who smiled as she loved John’s kiss.
“I hear of you. Okay, kid, you’re in my gang,” Bart told John.
They rushed out of the bank.
Bart, Charlie, and John ran to their horses.
They quickly untied them from the hitching post.
Bart quickly placed the loot in his saddlebag.
John saw the “BS” initials branded into Bart’s saddlebag, which looked newer. A huge smile, knowing that bag was shoved under his bed back in 2006.
They quickly hopped out into their saddles and galloped down the dirt street out of Stone Valley, leaving a dusty trail behind them.
I’ll be in the history books for sure. John thought to himself while they galloped out of town with Bart and Charlie.
A few minutes later, the people in the bank cautiously walked out. They saw that Bart, Charlie, and John were gone.
They ran down the street to the Marshal’s office, forgetting that the Marshal was out of town.
Bart, Charlie, and John rode their horses north for a couple of hours and stopped just a short distance from Lake Pleasant at the base of the Hieroglyphic Mountains.
“Let’s camp here for the night,” Bart said while he got out of the saddle of his horse.
John and Charlie got out of the saddles of their horses.
They all tied their horses to some nearby trees.
“Get the fire going, Charlie,” Bart ordered.
Charlie went into the desert and returned with tinder and tree branches. He smoothed out a spot in the dirt and placed the tinder in the center.
Charlie removed a bullet from his gun belt and poured the gunpowder out of the bullet case onto the tinder.
He removed two flint rocks from his pants pocket and struck them, making a spark near the gunpowder. The fire started, and he placed the branches over the fire.
John looked amazed, as he’d never seen that before.
An hour later, they had a campfire, and their blankets were laid on the ground close to the flames.
Bart shot a rabbit earlier, and it cooked over the fire.
They sat on their blankets while the rabbit meat sizzled over the flames.
“So, Mister Kissing Bandit, where do you hail from?” Bart asked while opening a bottle of whiskey, probably stolen from some saloon.
John thought for a second to come up with a believable story. “Ohio. I rode into Phoenix last week on the train looking for new adventures,” John replied.
“Ah, from the old states,” said Bart, then he took a sip of whiskey and passed it to Charlie.
“Well, if you stick with me, kid, you’ll be rich,” Bart told John.
Charlie took a swig of whiskey and passed the bottle to John.
John took a big swig of whiskey and choked. Bart and Charlie looked at John.
“Are you sure you’re an outlaw?” Bart said, concerned about John.
“Of course. A couple of days ago, I robbed the Oak Creek National Bank and the Butterfield Overland stagecoach between Oak Creek and Stone Valley.”
Charlie got a massive grin on his face when he remembered something. “Oh yeah. When I was at the saloon in Rattlesnake checking out that bank, I heard about that stagecoach robbery,”
then he busted out in a gut-busting laugh. “You tried to rob them with your pecker poking out of your pants,” Charlie said, then laughed again and rolled on his blanket.
Bart busted out in laughter.
John got embarrassed. “I took a pee and almost got bit by a rattlesnake. I forgot to tuck it back inside,” John said.
Bart and Charlie rolled on the ground and laughed for a few minutes. Then they stopped and sat upright.
“I like you, Kissing Bandit,” Bart said. “What was your name again?” he added.
“Okay, John Mathers,” Bart said, then leaned over and opened his saddlebag. He removed the bag and opened it up.
“It’s time for your share, my outlaw friend,” Bart said, then reached inside and removed all the cash. He divided it up, and they all got their even share. John thought he could have made more by doing the robbery alone but hooking spurs with Bart Stone was way too cool.
The rabbit was now cooked, and they all filled their bellies.
“Let’s get some sleep. I want to hit the stagecoach from Rattlesnake to Stone Valley. They should have loot for the Rattlesnake bank,” Bart said.
It didn’t take long for Bart and Charlie to fall fast asleep.
John lay on his back and stared at the stars. He looked at Bart, who snored, then back at the stars. John smiled, thinking he made the history books by being with Bart. He also had thoughts of writing a screenplay about Bart. Maybe a novel and screenplay called “The Life and Times of Bart Stone!”
John was too excited to fall asleep, so he stared at the stars for hours while Bart and Charlie snored. He finally fell fast asleep twenty minutes later.
Hours later, John had a dream.
In his dream, John was at a bookstore signing his best-selling book, “The Life and Times of Bart Stone.”
He had another dream of the opening night of his new movie, “Bart The Outlaw,” based on his best-selling book.
It’s Friday morning, and the sun rose, and Bart was the first one up. He walked over and kicked Charlie, waking him up, then walked over and kicked John, waking him up.
They got up and rolled up their blankets.
Thirty minutes later, they rode their horses into Rattlesnake.
While they rode down the main street, they rode past Phillip Adams Photography Shop, giving John an idea.
“Bart, let’s get one of those pictures of us,” John said.
“Why?” Bart asked.
“So pe, people, a hundred years from now, will know what the greatest outlaws of the Phoenix area looked liked,” John replied.
Bart thought about what John said, and he liked the idea.
“Yeah, a fancy photograph would make me immortal,”
beamed Bart.
He turned his horse around and headed to the Phillip Adams Photography Shop. Charlie and Bart followed.
Fifteen minutes later, Bart, Charlie, and John stood in the main street of Rattlesnake. The photographer took two pictures of the three outlaws. John paid Phillip a little extra to develop the picture while they waited.
After the picture was developed, Bart shoved the picture in his saddlebag. They got in their saddles, and the three rode out of Rattlesnake and headed off into the desert.
An hour later, they stopped at a small ranch house in the middle of nowhere. Anna Tippins was a thirty-five-year-old woman who lived alone at the ranch.
John learned that Bart and Charlie befriended Anna, who would feed and sometimes shelter them during their travels through this area.
Anna’s husband was shot and killed by a crooked Marshal of Rattlesnake, so she hated the law. Besides feeding Bart, she would let him have his five minutes of sexual pleasure with her, as she still wanted to feel the love of a man, even if it was only temporary.
Hours later, Bart handed Anna a couple of gold coins.
They left her ranch and headed to the trail that connects Rattlesnake to Stone Valley. John had more information about Bart for his potential book. A story about Anna would be a nice touch. And that picture just taken would be great for the cover.
Hours later, Bart, Charlie, and John sat on their horses and hid behind a massive rock while they waited for the stagecoach.
“So Bart, where were you born?” John asked.
Bart looked at John. “Some crappy wheat field in Kansas.
Why do you need to know?” Bart said.
“Just wanting to get to know a little about the greatest outlaw in the world,” John said to butter Bart up.
Bart smiled as he loved that comment.
“Do you know what year?” John asked.
“Don’t really know. Guess around eighteen forty-something. The year I was born doesn’t matter,” Bart asked, then looked bothered. “Your questions are making me nervous,”
Bart added, touching his pistol with his right hand.
“I would like to write a book about you, so after you stop being an outlaw, we can make money from people buying it,”
John said.
Bart’s eyes lit up. “How much money?” he asked and drooled at the thought.
“More than what you take from banks and stagecoaches, and you can’t be arrested for it,” John said. “Or shot.”
“I like that,” Bart said with a gleam in his eyes while he thought of being rich without the threat of being arrested or shot. “Want to know where I was born?” Charlie asked. John looked at him.
“Sure,” John replied.
“Why, I was born out of my momma,” Charlie said, followed by a goofy laugh.
The stagecoach was heard way off in the distance.
“Enough of this hogwash; the stagecoach is coming,” Bart said. Bart peeked around the rocks and saw the dusty trail of the stagecoach five hundred feet away headed in their direction.
Bart rode off away from the rock.
Charlie followed, then John.