The break is over! Below is my column from the Waller County News Citizen. It is cross-posted on my other blog. Since I will be writing about the Lone Ranger for a few weeks, I thought it should be posted here as well.
The name of this column is Faith, Family & Fun. For the next few weeks I’m taking a tangent on the fun side.
As most of you know, I own the Lone Ranger Fan Club (www.lonerangerfanclub.com). I got into that gig because I wanted to write a Lone Ranger novel. I have many ideas in mind. I simply lack the time to get them down on paper (or in Word on my computer). I’ve decided to do the proverbial killing of two birds with one silver bullet and hash out a condensed version of one of my story ideas here in my column.
All I’m asking of you is to be patient and to provide some feedback. If the Lone Ranger, or Westerns in general, aren’t your thing, that’s OK. There are plenty of other stories to read in this newspaper. But if you’d like to help me flesh out a really cool story, please read and respond. Please e-mail me at jsouthern@hcnonline.com or lonerangerfanclub@sbcglobal.net and let me know what you think of my little tale. It will appear serial-style over the next few weeks.
I figure the best place to start is with the origin story. As any fan knows, the Lone Ranger came to be when a group of six Texas Rangers pursued a band of outlaws to a canyon known as Bryant’s Gap. There, the Cavendish gang ambushed them and killed all but one. Unbeknownst to Cavendish, one Ranger survived the attack.
That evening, after the gang had gone, an Indian by the name of Tonto came upon the scene and found the one man still alive. He rendered aid and nursed the man back to health. Tonto buried the five dead men and made a sixth, empty grave so no one would know that anyone survived. Wearing a mask to hide his identity, the surviving Ranger – the Lone Ranger – dedicated his life to capturing the gang and serving justice throughout the West.
What follows here is a condensed version – an outline – of how I think the story should go down. I doubt the Disney version will be anything like this when the new movie comes out in a couple years, but at least I can put my spin on the legend.
From the Precipice
The Lone Ranger lay on his back, his head hanging over nothingness off the canyon rim and his vision blurred by sweat, blood and oxygen depravation. The two vice-like hands gripping his throat belonged to a madman – a man he once called his best friend. Hate and anger raged in the man’s eyes. The man’s teeth were clinched as tight as the death grip he held on the masked man pinned underneath him.
“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” he growled.
It was clear that the man intended to throw the Lone Ranger over the ledge into the rock-strewn canyon below, but not before choking the life out of him first. It wouldn’t be long before that happened. Darkness was creeping in around the Ranger’s peripheral vision, darkness as black as the mask around his eyes. All the Lone Ranger could think about was getting air back into his burning lungs. He made pitiful attempts to squirm and tug at the arms of the madman, but to no avail. The loss of blood and the lack of air coupled with extreme exhaustion had the Lone Ranger almost wishing the end would come – almost.
The Lone Ranger was not the kind of man to just quit. He hadn’t come this far and fought this long and hard to let it all end. Not here. Not now. The man on top of him may have been a trusted friend but he was also his most feared and deadly enemy. He was the man who had killed his friends; killed his brother – and left the Ranger to die. This man was the personification of everything the Lone Ranger had dedicated his life to defeating. If there had been any good in the man, it had vanished long ago. All that remained was hate-filled evil.
Thrashing now in what he felt for sure were his death throes, the Ranger grabbed a handful of sand and gravel and flung it with the last escaping ounce of his strength into the man’s face. It worked. The man howled with rage, and broke his death grip to wipe the grit from his bloodshot eyes. That was all the Lone Ranger needed to suck in a gulp of life-saving air and to reposition his upper torso enough to allow him an angle to throw a punch. His fist connected with the man’s nose and mouth. Before the man could react, the Lone Ranger followed with a second blow to the chin, stunning his assailant. The move was enough to allow the Lone Ranger enough time and space to roll the man off of him and break free. He rolled to his side and rose to a kneeling position, heaving and gasping for air.
The man stood fast, spitting blood and dirt.
“Butch,” the Ranger croaked. “Butch, it doesn’t have to be like this.”
A malevolent look crossed Butch’s face.
“Oh yes it does. You’re gonna die a slow, painful death, just like you left me to do when you put me in jail to rot. I’m free now, and you’re surely gonna pay!”
The two men contemplated each other from the top of the canyon. How had they reached this point? How had two friends as inseparable as brothers become such bitter rivals? Why was one of them about to die at the hand of the other?
Stay tuned next week for the flashback to a friendship gone bad.
(Copyright Joe Southern, 2010)
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