Chris Blake - Outback Outlaw

The sun beat down and Tom was glad of the straw hat shading his face. As they got closer to the man, Tom saw he was holding a sheep between his legs. With expert hands he was snipping off the animal’s wool with large, odd-looking scissors. Next to him was a pile of fleeces.

“Hey there!” Zuma called, as they got closer. “We’re looking for the man who knows no fear.”

The sheep shearer looked confused. “You what?”

“The man who—” Zuma began.

“Maybe you could just point us in the direction of the nearest town,” Tom interrupted.

“It’s that way,” said the man. He scratched his chin and pointed. “You can’t miss it – it’s the only place for miles with more than two buildings.”

The walk took almost an hour under the hot Australian sun. Tom and Zuma often had to push through flocks of sheep that refused to move out of their way. By the time they arrived at the town they were thirsty and tired.

“I hope they have somewhere to cool off,” said Zuma, as they walked down the street.

“I’d love a glass of cold water,” said Tom.

“Forget a glass of cold water,” muttered Zuma. “I want to stand under a great big waterfall.”

Tom looked round, scratching his head. The Australian town was small and looked a lot like the places he and Zuma had seen in the Wild West. The shops and buildings were made of wood, and all had covered walkways in front to shade the townsfolk from the sun. The street was nothing but dusty, baked earth. It was completely empty.

“Where is everyone?” Tom asked.

Zuma shrugged. “Maybe there’s a waterfall round here after all.”

It wasn’t long before Tom’s question was answered. At the other end of the street a group of people appeared. They were walking slowly with their hands in the air. Behind them were three men wearing shabby, dirty clothes. All three looked like they needed a shave. And each was holding a gun.

“Listen up!” one shouted. “Do what you’re told and no one gets hurt.”

Before they could be spotted, Zuma grabbed Tom’s sleeve and pulled him into a grocery store.

“I think it’s a hold-up,” Tom whispered. “Those men look like they’re taking the whole town hostage! They must be outlaws. Let’s get out of here before they find us too.”

“But what about my coin?” Zuma hissed back.

“We’ll worry about the coin later,” said Tom.

Zuma nodded. With Chilli at their heels, they began to creep away. “Follow me,” said Tom, leading Zuma into a narrow alley. “We can hide here.”

“Sorry, mate. I don’t think you can,” said a gruff voice.

Tom gulped as a sandy-haired man with grizzly stubble stepped out in front of them. In the man’s hands was a pistol. It was pointing straight at them.

Tom and Zuma walked backwards out of the alley, raising their hands. “Don’t shoot, we’re just travellers,” said Tom quickly.

“You picked the wrong day to visit this town, traveller,” said the man, with a sneer.

“What’s going on?” asked Zuma. “Who are you?”

The outlaw spat on the ground. Turning his gun on Zuma he said, “Well, missy, I’m Dusty Moore. I belong to Brave Ben Hall’s outback gang. You and your friend here are my hostages. Now move it!”

Tom and Zuma marched down the main street with their hands in the air. Dusty Moore followed closely behind, keeping his gun trained on them. Halfway down the road was a large building. Painted on the wooden front was the word ‘Hotel’. A crowd of townsfolk stood outside, surrounded by the outlaw gang. On the steps of the hotel, Tom saw a tall man with a bristling black beard. He had a sack slung over his shoulder, and a knife with a gleaming silver blade tucked into his belt.

The man raised his hat. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he shouted, “my name is Ben Hall. Some call me ‘Brave’ Ben Hall. You may have heard of me.”

“We’ve heard of you, all right,” yelled a man in the crowd. “You’re a thief and an outlaw. You’re under arrest. Come quietly and there won’t be any trouble.”

Ben Hall chuckled. “Is that a policeman?” he said. “I don’t much like policemen. Too busy hassling ordinary folk. Bill, Jimmy, take that man down the station and lock him up in his own cells. Make sure you throw away the key.”

Whooping and laughing, two of the outlaws pulled the policeman out of the crowd and pushed him roughly down the street. Tom glanced nervously at Zuma. With the town’s policeman behind bars, there was no one to help them now. He was surprised to see the Aztec girl smiling.

“ Brave Ben Hall,” she whispered. “Maybe he’s the man who knows no fear.”

Tom’s eyes widened. Zuma could be right. Before he could reply, Ben Hall jerked his thumb towards the main door of the hotel. “Now we’ve got rid of the lawman, I’d like to invite you all inside,” he said.

The crowd of people had no choice. They filed into the hotel at gunpoint. Tom and Zuma followed everyone else. They found themselves in a large plain room with a long wooden bar. Ben Hall jumped on top of it and nodded to an old woman at a piano in the corner. Immediately, she began playing a jaunty tune.

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