[Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?] The Case of the Phantom Riders, Ch. 3
Title: The Case of the Phantom Riders, Chapter 3
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Characters: The Dying Informant, the Snowball-gram Messenger, the Technet Techie, and the Freshnet Inspector
Table: 50 prompts
Prompt: contact
Rating: PG13
Spoilers/Warnings: Seriousness in a generally light-hearted fandom.
Summary: The Informant, the Messenger, and the Inspector get some help from the Mysterious Woman, but soon find things looking bleak for their lost friend.
Author’s Note: Crossposted to other LJ comms and the V.I.L.E. HQ fanfic forum
The train ride was being spent in utter silence, and the Messenger wasn’t sure he liked watching the Informant and the Inspector stare helplessly out the window.
“Hey, guys, lighten up!” he said. “We’ll find Techie; I know we will! And hey… do you smell popcorn…?”
“There’s a concession stand a couple cars down…” said the Informant, still staring out the window. “We passed it when we were trying to find our seats.”
“Well, then, I’ll go get us some popcorn,” said the Messenger, getting up. “We can even save some for Techie; think he’d like some popcorn?”
The boy finally looked at him, an amused expression on his face.
“Our Techie… eating unhealthy, high-caloric, butter-smothered popcorn?”
“…Good call…” grinned the older agent. “How about you?”
“Sure…” the youth answered, as the Inspector gave a curt nod.
The Messenger whistled as he headed to the concession stand, but stopped and sighed as soon as he was out of earshot of the others. It was difficult… He knew he had to be optimistic for the sake of his companions, but it was a façade that was beginning to weaken. He was worried about the Techie… so very worried… But someone had to be strong for the others and believe that they’d find him alive and well.
But he managed to put on a smile as he asked the cashier at the concession stand for three bags of popcorn. He looked around at the rest of the snacks, wondering what else to buy. His gaze fell on a basket of lollipops, and he picked up a cherry-flavored one.
“Now where have I seen this before…?” he mused aloud. He didn’t even pay attention to the saxophone music that had suddenly started.
“I see you like cherry lollipops, too?” asked a familiar voice. “Do all ACME agents take a liking to those?”
“Well, we just take a liking to junk food in general,” he replied, casually glancing in the speaker’s direction. “When you’re out on a case, you don’t have time for full-course meals…” He trailed off as he realized that he was talking to the Mysterious Woman. With a yelp of surprise, he stumbled backwards. “What’re you doing on this train!?”
“I could ask you that myself,” she said. “I’m a frequent rider on this train. But this is the first time I’ve seen you here.”
“Yeah, well… We’re on vacation,” he said, with a shrug.
“You’re a terrible liar…” the Mysterious Woman replied, amused. “You’re trying to find the Techie; he was on this train several days ago. I tried talking to him to engage him in conversation. He decided he’d rather take a nap”
“Is that all the information you have?” the Messenger inquired, though amused at the Techie’s shyness getting the better of him.
“That’s all the free information I have,” she purred in reply.
The Messenger sighed; he knew where this was going.
“How much is this going to cost…?” he asked, digging through his pockets to see how much money he had in his possession.
“Hey, Bro?” asked the Informant, as he and the Inspector came into the compartment. “Are you okay? You were taking a long…” He trailed off as he saw the Mysterious Woman. “Oh… hello…”
“So you’re all looking for the Techie?” she asked, a look of concern cross her features. “This isn’t some simple case of catching up with him, is it?”
The Informant nodded.
“He vanished in the middle of an assignment, trying to track down cattle rustlers,” he said. “All we have to go on is a grape vine, which led us here, and this model of the Texas state fish, with the word ‘Stockyards’ on it…”
“If I may…” she said, taking the Clue Fish in her gloved hand. She studied it for a moment. “The Techie was taking this train to the Fort Worth Stockyards.”
“That’s what the clue meant!” the Informant exclaimed.
“It certainly seems that way,” she agreed. “I spoke to him about the mysterious riders who were showing up there.”
“Was there a connection between the riders and the rustlers?” asked the Inspector.
“I’ve heard a lot of rumors about those riders,” the Mysterious Woman admitted. “One of them is that those riders aren’t even alive.”
“You mean… They’re really phantoms!?” asked the Messenger.
“And now they have Techie!?” cried the Informant. “I knew we should’ve ducked out days ago!”
“You mean that you aren’t supposed to be here?” she asked. “Boys, I’m shocked! You’re risking your careers!”
“We know that. And we’ll risk anything to find him-not just our jobs,” the Informant declared.
“I believe it,” the woman replied. “And if the rest of ACME finds out that you were here, it won’t be from me.”
“We appreciate that,” said the Messenger, still searching for money.
The Mysterious Woman smiled.
“Forget it; I’ll think of something I’d like the next time I drop by ACME,” she said. “After all… I’ll be back.”
The saxophone music filled the air as she slipped out the other door of the compartment.
“Hey, Infy?” asked the Messenger, as he watched her go. “Did you keep hearing that music when you went on that date with her?”
The younger agent nodded. The Inspector, in the meantime, realizing that the Messenger wasn’t having much luck in finding any spare change, paid for the snacks.
“I figured we’d get this nice, organic granola bar for Techie,” he said. “I think he’d appreciate that.”
The Informant smirked as the Messenger regarded the health food with a suspicious expression.
But the rest of the train ride passed by in near silence as the agents either ate or stared out the window in silence. The Messenger was trying to keep everyone’s spirits up, but he was soon becoming drained by the task. He didn’t feel optimistic anymore-not after hearing the Mysterious Woman’s serious tone upon realizing that the Techie was missing.
And he couldn’t get over the rumor she had heard about the Phantom Riders being actual ghosts. If that was true, and if the Techie had been at their mercy… what would they have done to him!? The thought of him being spirited away was too horrifying to wrap his brain around… And yet, after seeing what had happened to the Informant in Gettysburg, he knew that it was all too possible. And if that were the case, how on earth were they supposed to get him back!?
“Oh, Techie…” he sighed.
He was only too happy to disembark from the train as they reached a series of Old West-esque shops.
“These are some of the Forth Worth Stockyards’ shops,” said the Informant, as he followed. “They’re mainly for tourists who are visiting.”
“We can bring Techie here if… when we find him,” said the Inspector, catching himself. Of course they would find him! They had to; they couldn’t leave him to an unknown fate!
“I don’t know if he’d be able to eat anything here,” said the young agent, suppressing a laugh. “The majority of the restaurants are steakhouses…”
What was wrong with him!? The Techie was missing, perhaps gone for good, and he felt like laughing!? The boy felt sickened with himself.
The Messenger wasn’t aware of his brother’s turmoil at the moment; he was picking up a local paper, trying to find out at which ranches the Phantom Riders were spotted at.
“The riders have shown up a ranch not too far from here,” he said. “We can start our search there.”
******************************
They didn’t know what to expect as they approached the first ranch house, but the owner apparently was pleased to see them.
“And how can I help you young people?” he asked.
“We’re from ACME Crimenet,” the Messenger began. “And we--”
“ACME? Are you the backup sent to replace that feller who vanished last week?” he asked. “Oh, thank goodness… We’re had a bad time with those rustlers. Things were getting better when that colleague of yours stepped in to help--”
“You saw him?!” asked the Informant.
“Saw him? We gave him one of the guest rooms!” the rancher replied. “Anyone who’s willing to help us stop these rustlers is a welcome guest of me and the Mrs.! I’ve lost so many steers to those ruffians… Thankfully, the smart ones find their way back, and most of my herd are smart ones.”
“You mean the cows really do come home?” asked the Messenger, bewildered.
“I can’t explain how,” the rancher said. “It’s been going on for a long time, and it’s annoying. They go missing, some come back, they go missing again, and some come back… It’s an odd cycle, and we’re tired of it. But come on in; y’all can make yourselves at home in the guest rooms. Er… the other feller’s stuff is still up there; we didn’t have the heart to move it.”
“You don’t know what happened to him?” asked the Informant.
“He said he saw some odd lights in the night,” the rancher said. “He borrowed one of my horses and took off after them. A day and a half later, the horse came back… without him.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry to give you the news…”
“You don’t even know exactly where he vanished?” asked the Inspector, losing heart.
“He’s somewhere out there, if he’s even still alive…” the man sighed. “Ain’t much he can do without water. And to top it off, the rustlers struck the next night. They took half of what was left of my herd, and they took the horse your friend had been using. If you ask me, I think the rustlers didn’t want my horse to find him, or lead someone to him.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do?” asked the Messenger.
“Well, I can lend you three more horses to try to find your friend,” he offered. “I don’t know what you’d find without any food or water for him to go on with… But don’t stand out there all day! Come in; I’ll show you to your rooms…”
“This is very kind of you, Mr…” the Informant began, as they followed him.
“Just call me Hank,” the rancher grinned. “Hank Bradford.”
“Well, we owe you big thank, Hank!” the Messenger grinned, as the Inspector rolled his eyes at the rhyming attempt.
“Think nothing of it…” the rancher said, but then his expression turned to one of pity opening one of the guest rooms. “This one was his. Everything’s just as he left it…”
The Techie’s laptop was flickering its screensaver as it sat beside an empty box that had, at one point, contained a salad that had been topped with a dash of olive oil and vinegar (the pungent smell still there); a slide show of some of their pictures from back home in New York floated across the screen one by one.
“That’s how we recognized you,” the rancher’s wife said, as she passed by. “We knew you must’ve come to look for him.”
“Boys, meet Sally, my better half,” said Hank.
The agents greeted Sally, who smiled sadly.
“I wish we could have met under better circumstances. But you aren’t the first to look for your friend. There was another crew… a much more impersonal one, calling themselves ‘Search-and-Rescue-Net’…” She shook her head. “They wouldn’t even stay to listen; if they had, we could’ve told them all that we told you. Why on Earth did they go through so quickly…?”
“Because by the old rulebook, they’re supposed to be quick and efficient…” muttered the Inspector. “And Schwemphf would hold them to that…”
“We need to get that rulebook updated,” said the Messenger. “I wonder why we didn’t before…”
“We didn’t need to because the Chief knew what she was doing!” said the Informant, angrily.
“Infy…”
The boy swallowed hard. He had no right to take out his anger on him.
“I’m sorry…”
“We’re sorry, too,” said Hank. “You’re welcome to stay here until you give up your search…”
“Oh, we couldn’t impose…” the Messenger began.
“Nonsense,” said Sally. “You need to worry about finding your friend, not about paying for a room… The only thing is that we only have three guest rooms… One of you will have to take this one.”
The Informant clenched a fist and took a deep sigh.
“I’ll take it,” he said, throwing his bag down.
“You sure you’ll be alright in here, Infy?” asked the older agent.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he said, though he knew it was probably not true.
“Daddy!” a voice yelled from the hallway. A flustered young lady came running up to them. “They struck again; I heard it on the news. Davis just lost another dozen steers! They said he…” She trailed off as she noticed the ACME agents.
“Davis…?” Hank replied.
“He’s going to blame us again,” said Sally, bitterly. “Oh, Sarah, these are friends of of that young man who disappeared; they came to look for him and to put a stop to all of this cattle rustling.”
Sarah acknowledged them with a nod.
“I hope you find your friend and figure out who’s behind this,” she said. “Davis is my father’s rival, and he thinks that we’re behind the rustling; he thinks the Phantom Riders are a big hoax!”
“Maybe we can catch whoever or whatever’s behind it in the act,” said the Messenger, cracking his knuckles.
“Sarah, show these gentlemen to our best horses,” said Hank.
“Right away!” she said, and she took them to the stables. “Sam is actually our best horse, but he was the one who vanished. But we still have Frodo, Merry, and Pippin.”
“Naming horses after hobbits…” the Informant mused. “Cute.”
******************************
Within minutes, they were saddled up and riding off towards Davis’ ranch. Well, the Informant was, at least; the Messenger and the Inspector were having a bit of trouble getting their horses to go exactly where they wanted them to go.
“Come on, Guys!” the boy yelled. “The rustlers might have Techie with them!”
“Look…” said the Messenger, as Pippin took an unplanned detour to the right. “Why don’t you go on ahead? We’ll catch up as soon as we get the hang of this!”
The Inspector let out a grunt of agreement as Merry suddenly decided to pause for a snack at a small patch of grass.
“City boys…” the Informant muttered, urging Frodo on again. He had soon outdistanced them by a fair distance. He signaled his location via his communicator so that they’d be able to find him.
He brought Frodo to a stop as he spotted the fresh tracks of the cattle. They had passed by not too long ago… He was just trying to figure out the general direction they were heading in when a lasso came out of nowhere, wrapping around his chest tightly. A second pull sent him falling off of his horse and onto the dusty ground.
“I knew I should’ve kept my hand at the level of my eyes…” the Informant muttered, as he looked up at his assailant. And then he gasped, fear filling in his eyes. The man holding the lasso was on another horse. He was wearing old, torn clothing that looked like it had come from the 1800s. A bandana covered his face, and a hat covered his head, revealing only a little bit of chalk-white skin and his piercing, glazed eyes.
“Who are you!?” he hissed, his voice altered by the bandanna as he got off of his horse. His old spurs dug into the ground as he pulled the Informant up by the lasso. He seized the boy’s face, the eyes piercing into him. “You’re a trespasser. You don’t belong here.”
“I... Who are you…?” the boy asked, his voice quivering.
The man’s eyes narrowed.
“I am the mortal representative of the Phantom Riders.”
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Characters: The Dying Informant, the Snowball-gram Messenger, the Technet Techie, and the Freshnet Inspector
Table: 50 prompts
Prompt: contact
Rating: PG13
Spoilers/Warnings: Seriousness in a generally light-hearted fandom.
Summary: The Informant, the Messenger, and the Inspector get some help from the Mysterious Woman, but soon find things looking bleak for their lost friend.
Author’s Note: Crossposted to other LJ comms and the V.I.L.E. HQ fanfic forum
The train ride was being spent in utter silence, and the Messenger wasn’t sure he liked watching the Informant and the Inspector stare helplessly out the window.
“Hey, guys, lighten up!” he said. “We’ll find Techie; I know we will! And hey… do you smell popcorn…?”
“There’s a concession stand a couple cars down…” said the Informant, still staring out the window. “We passed it when we were trying to find our seats.”
“Well, then, I’ll go get us some popcorn,” said the Messenger, getting up. “We can even save some for Techie; think he’d like some popcorn?”
The boy finally looked at him, an amused expression on his face.
“Our Techie… eating unhealthy, high-caloric, butter-smothered popcorn?”
“…Good call…” grinned the older agent. “How about you?”
“Sure…” the youth answered, as the Inspector gave a curt nod.
The Messenger whistled as he headed to the concession stand, but stopped and sighed as soon as he was out of earshot of the others. It was difficult… He knew he had to be optimistic for the sake of his companions, but it was a façade that was beginning to weaken. He was worried about the Techie… so very worried… But someone had to be strong for the others and believe that they’d find him alive and well.
But he managed to put on a smile as he asked the cashier at the concession stand for three bags of popcorn. He looked around at the rest of the snacks, wondering what else to buy. His gaze fell on a basket of lollipops, and he picked up a cherry-flavored one.
“Now where have I seen this before…?” he mused aloud. He didn’t even pay attention to the saxophone music that had suddenly started.
“I see you like cherry lollipops, too?” asked a familiar voice. “Do all ACME agents take a liking to those?”
“Well, we just take a liking to junk food in general,” he replied, casually glancing in the speaker’s direction. “When you’re out on a case, you don’t have time for full-course meals…” He trailed off as he realized that he was talking to the Mysterious Woman. With a yelp of surprise, he stumbled backwards. “What’re you doing on this train!?”
“I could ask you that myself,” she said. “I’m a frequent rider on this train. But this is the first time I’ve seen you here.”
“Yeah, well… We’re on vacation,” he said, with a shrug.
“You’re a terrible liar…” the Mysterious Woman replied, amused. “You’re trying to find the Techie; he was on this train several days ago. I tried talking to him to engage him in conversation. He decided he’d rather take a nap”
“Is that all the information you have?” the Messenger inquired, though amused at the Techie’s shyness getting the better of him.
“That’s all the free information I have,” she purred in reply.
The Messenger sighed; he knew where this was going.
“How much is this going to cost…?” he asked, digging through his pockets to see how much money he had in his possession.
“Hey, Bro?” asked the Informant, as he and the Inspector came into the compartment. “Are you okay? You were taking a long…” He trailed off as he saw the Mysterious Woman. “Oh… hello…”
“So you’re all looking for the Techie?” she asked, a look of concern cross her features. “This isn’t some simple case of catching up with him, is it?”
The Informant nodded.
“He vanished in the middle of an assignment, trying to track down cattle rustlers,” he said. “All we have to go on is a grape vine, which led us here, and this model of the Texas state fish, with the word ‘Stockyards’ on it…”
“If I may…” she said, taking the Clue Fish in her gloved hand. She studied it for a moment. “The Techie was taking this train to the Fort Worth Stockyards.”
“That’s what the clue meant!” the Informant exclaimed.
“It certainly seems that way,” she agreed. “I spoke to him about the mysterious riders who were showing up there.”
“Was there a connection between the riders and the rustlers?” asked the Inspector.
“I’ve heard a lot of rumors about those riders,” the Mysterious Woman admitted. “One of them is that those riders aren’t even alive.”
“You mean… They’re really phantoms!?” asked the Messenger.
“And now they have Techie!?” cried the Informant. “I knew we should’ve ducked out days ago!”
“You mean that you aren’t supposed to be here?” she asked. “Boys, I’m shocked! You’re risking your careers!”
“We know that. And we’ll risk anything to find him-not just our jobs,” the Informant declared.
“I believe it,” the woman replied. “And if the rest of ACME finds out that you were here, it won’t be from me.”
“We appreciate that,” said the Messenger, still searching for money.
The Mysterious Woman smiled.
“Forget it; I’ll think of something I’d like the next time I drop by ACME,” she said. “After all… I’ll be back.”
The saxophone music filled the air as she slipped out the other door of the compartment.
“Hey, Infy?” asked the Messenger, as he watched her go. “Did you keep hearing that music when you went on that date with her?”
The younger agent nodded. The Inspector, in the meantime, realizing that the Messenger wasn’t having much luck in finding any spare change, paid for the snacks.
“I figured we’d get this nice, organic granola bar for Techie,” he said. “I think he’d appreciate that.”
The Informant smirked as the Messenger regarded the health food with a suspicious expression.
But the rest of the train ride passed by in near silence as the agents either ate or stared out the window in silence. The Messenger was trying to keep everyone’s spirits up, but he was soon becoming drained by the task. He didn’t feel optimistic anymore-not after hearing the Mysterious Woman’s serious tone upon realizing that the Techie was missing.
And he couldn’t get over the rumor she had heard about the Phantom Riders being actual ghosts. If that was true, and if the Techie had been at their mercy… what would they have done to him!? The thought of him being spirited away was too horrifying to wrap his brain around… And yet, after seeing what had happened to the Informant in Gettysburg, he knew that it was all too possible. And if that were the case, how on earth were they supposed to get him back!?
“Oh, Techie…” he sighed.
He was only too happy to disembark from the train as they reached a series of Old West-esque shops.
“These are some of the Forth Worth Stockyards’ shops,” said the Informant, as he followed. “They’re mainly for tourists who are visiting.”
“We can bring Techie here if… when we find him,” said the Inspector, catching himself. Of course they would find him! They had to; they couldn’t leave him to an unknown fate!
“I don’t know if he’d be able to eat anything here,” said the young agent, suppressing a laugh. “The majority of the restaurants are steakhouses…”
What was wrong with him!? The Techie was missing, perhaps gone for good, and he felt like laughing!? The boy felt sickened with himself.
The Messenger wasn’t aware of his brother’s turmoil at the moment; he was picking up a local paper, trying to find out at which ranches the Phantom Riders were spotted at.
“The riders have shown up a ranch not too far from here,” he said. “We can start our search there.”
******************************
They didn’t know what to expect as they approached the first ranch house, but the owner apparently was pleased to see them.
“And how can I help you young people?” he asked.
“We’re from ACME Crimenet,” the Messenger began. “And we--”
“ACME? Are you the backup sent to replace that feller who vanished last week?” he asked. “Oh, thank goodness… We’re had a bad time with those rustlers. Things were getting better when that colleague of yours stepped in to help--”
“You saw him?!” asked the Informant.
“Saw him? We gave him one of the guest rooms!” the rancher replied. “Anyone who’s willing to help us stop these rustlers is a welcome guest of me and the Mrs.! I’ve lost so many steers to those ruffians… Thankfully, the smart ones find their way back, and most of my herd are smart ones.”
“You mean the cows really do come home?” asked the Messenger, bewildered.
“I can’t explain how,” the rancher said. “It’s been going on for a long time, and it’s annoying. They go missing, some come back, they go missing again, and some come back… It’s an odd cycle, and we’re tired of it. But come on in; y’all can make yourselves at home in the guest rooms. Er… the other feller’s stuff is still up there; we didn’t have the heart to move it.”
“You don’t know what happened to him?” asked the Informant.
“He said he saw some odd lights in the night,” the rancher said. “He borrowed one of my horses and took off after them. A day and a half later, the horse came back… without him.” He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry to give you the news…”
“You don’t even know exactly where he vanished?” asked the Inspector, losing heart.
“He’s somewhere out there, if he’s even still alive…” the man sighed. “Ain’t much he can do without water. And to top it off, the rustlers struck the next night. They took half of what was left of my herd, and they took the horse your friend had been using. If you ask me, I think the rustlers didn’t want my horse to find him, or lead someone to him.”
“Isn’t there anything we can do?” asked the Messenger.
“Well, I can lend you three more horses to try to find your friend,” he offered. “I don’t know what you’d find without any food or water for him to go on with… But don’t stand out there all day! Come in; I’ll show you to your rooms…”
“This is very kind of you, Mr…” the Informant began, as they followed him.
“Just call me Hank,” the rancher grinned. “Hank Bradford.”
“Well, we owe you big thank, Hank!” the Messenger grinned, as the Inspector rolled his eyes at the rhyming attempt.
“Think nothing of it…” the rancher said, but then his expression turned to one of pity opening one of the guest rooms. “This one was his. Everything’s just as he left it…”
The Techie’s laptop was flickering its screensaver as it sat beside an empty box that had, at one point, contained a salad that had been topped with a dash of olive oil and vinegar (the pungent smell still there); a slide show of some of their pictures from back home in New York floated across the screen one by one.
“That’s how we recognized you,” the rancher’s wife said, as she passed by. “We knew you must’ve come to look for him.”
“Boys, meet Sally, my better half,” said Hank.
The agents greeted Sally, who smiled sadly.
“I wish we could have met under better circumstances. But you aren’t the first to look for your friend. There was another crew… a much more impersonal one, calling themselves ‘Search-and-Rescue-Net’…” She shook her head. “They wouldn’t even stay to listen; if they had, we could’ve told them all that we told you. Why on Earth did they go through so quickly…?”
“Because by the old rulebook, they’re supposed to be quick and efficient…” muttered the Inspector. “And Schwemphf would hold them to that…”
“We need to get that rulebook updated,” said the Messenger. “I wonder why we didn’t before…”
“We didn’t need to because the Chief knew what she was doing!” said the Informant, angrily.
“Infy…”
The boy swallowed hard. He had no right to take out his anger on him.
“I’m sorry…”
“We’re sorry, too,” said Hank. “You’re welcome to stay here until you give up your search…”
“Oh, we couldn’t impose…” the Messenger began.
“Nonsense,” said Sally. “You need to worry about finding your friend, not about paying for a room… The only thing is that we only have three guest rooms… One of you will have to take this one.”
The Informant clenched a fist and took a deep sigh.
“I’ll take it,” he said, throwing his bag down.
“You sure you’ll be alright in here, Infy?” asked the older agent.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” he said, though he knew it was probably not true.
“Daddy!” a voice yelled from the hallway. A flustered young lady came running up to them. “They struck again; I heard it on the news. Davis just lost another dozen steers! They said he…” She trailed off as she noticed the ACME agents.
“Davis…?” Hank replied.
“He’s going to blame us again,” said Sally, bitterly. “Oh, Sarah, these are friends of of that young man who disappeared; they came to look for him and to put a stop to all of this cattle rustling.”
Sarah acknowledged them with a nod.
“I hope you find your friend and figure out who’s behind this,” she said. “Davis is my father’s rival, and he thinks that we’re behind the rustling; he thinks the Phantom Riders are a big hoax!”
“Maybe we can catch whoever or whatever’s behind it in the act,” said the Messenger, cracking his knuckles.
“Sarah, show these gentlemen to our best horses,” said Hank.
“Right away!” she said, and she took them to the stables. “Sam is actually our best horse, but he was the one who vanished. But we still have Frodo, Merry, and Pippin.”
“Naming horses after hobbits…” the Informant mused. “Cute.”
******************************
Within minutes, they were saddled up and riding off towards Davis’ ranch. Well, the Informant was, at least; the Messenger and the Inspector were having a bit of trouble getting their horses to go exactly where they wanted them to go.
“Come on, Guys!” the boy yelled. “The rustlers might have Techie with them!”
“Look…” said the Messenger, as Pippin took an unplanned detour to the right. “Why don’t you go on ahead? We’ll catch up as soon as we get the hang of this!”
The Inspector let out a grunt of agreement as Merry suddenly decided to pause for a snack at a small patch of grass.
“City boys…” the Informant muttered, urging Frodo on again. He had soon outdistanced them by a fair distance. He signaled his location via his communicator so that they’d be able to find him.
He brought Frodo to a stop as he spotted the fresh tracks of the cattle. They had passed by not too long ago… He was just trying to figure out the general direction they were heading in when a lasso came out of nowhere, wrapping around his chest tightly. A second pull sent him falling off of his horse and onto the dusty ground.
“I knew I should’ve kept my hand at the level of my eyes…” the Informant muttered, as he looked up at his assailant. And then he gasped, fear filling in his eyes. The man holding the lasso was on another horse. He was wearing old, torn clothing that looked like it had come from the 1800s. A bandana covered his face, and a hat covered his head, revealing only a little bit of chalk-white skin and his piercing, glazed eyes.
“Who are you!?” he hissed, his voice altered by the bandanna as he got off of his horse. His old spurs dug into the ground as he pulled the Informant up by the lasso. He seized the boy’s face, the eyes piercing into him. “You’re a trespasser. You don’t belong here.”
“I... Who are you…?” the boy asked, his voice quivering.
The man’s eyes narrowed.
“I am the mortal representative of the Phantom Riders.”