A Hundred Horses Snorting All at Once

The newly crowned King Benedict Blackwood had made his mark on the town of Pitchfork. On top of legalizing crime, he had closed all the shops and restaurants that he didn’t like and turned them into giant outhouses. If you don’t know what an outhouse is, consider yourself lucky. If you do, then you can imagine what the town smelled like now.

The weather in Pitchfork was apparently in tune with our mood. The lovely temperature P had raved about turned sour in an instant. A heavy rain began to fall as we were led from the Baron Estate to the Pitchfork jail down the street. We trudged through heavy mud and muck. I walked beside Rose Blackwood and tried to catch her eye, but she wouldn’t look up at me. She just kept staring at the toes of her boots with her shoulders slumped in defeat. I had never seen anyone look so sad and ashamed before.

Suddenly, I felt so terrible for Rose that I did something very foolish.

“Excuse me?” I said to Benedict Blackwood, who was leading us to the jail. “Mr. King Blackwood, sir? I think you should let Rose go.”

The criminals walking beside us froze with their mouths wide open. They couldn’t believe that someone would actually dare to tell the King of Arizona Territory what to do.

Benedict Blackwood turned to me with an amused expression on his face.

“What was that, pipsqueak?” he asked. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“I said you should let Rose go,” I told him.

“W.B., please, don’t—” Rose began, but then one of the criminals wrapped a gag around her mouth, silencing her.

“And why should I do that?” Benedicts asked me, taking a knife from his pocket and sharpening it against his scruffy chin.

“Because she was coming here to free you from jail. She kidnapped me and my family. She was going to rob us and force us to bring her here in our floating home to break you out of jail.”

“It’s not a floating home. That’s clearly a flying home, pipsqueak. A floating home would be a home that just rises up in the air without you being able to control it, like a regular balloon. A flying home is a home that you can control, like a hot air balloon,” Benedict informed me.

“Thank you!” my father said in an exasperated tone. “It’s really not so hard to understand, W.B.”

“But she was willing to break the law to save you,” I told Benedict Blackwood, suddenly feeling angrier than I’d ever felt before. “She hates breaking the law, but she was willing to do it because you’re her family. And now you’re just going to throw her in jail?”

“Well, yes, I am,” said Benedict Blackwood with a chuckle. “I’ve never liked Rose. No one in our family does. She’s not like us, and she never will be.”

“Well . . . then you’re . . . you’re . . .”

Benedict Blackwood laughed loudly, slapping his fat belly with glee.

“I’m what, pipsqueak?” he asked through his laughter. “You’re going to call me a mean name? Go ahead. You really think you can hurt my feelings? I’m the dastardliest criminal in the world! People tremble with fear at the very sound of my name! I’m the most terrifying human being on the planet. I once said ‘boo’ to a man and his knees fell off! There’s nothing you can say that can hurt me. Go ahead, pipsqueak. Do your best. What am I?”

“You’re a fustilarian, sock stinkin’, ear hair pluckin’, chipmunk kissin’, cream-faced genuphobe goon to the twelfth power!”

I had no idea what most of those words meant, but I remembered seeing some of them in a book in my parents’ garage. And some of them I might have made up. But even though I didn’t understand what I said, I meant every word of it.

All of the criminals took in deep breaths as their eyes darted over to their king. Rose Blackwood stared at me in disbelief. My parents crossed their eyes, confused by my string of long and confusing words.

Benedict Blackwood’s mean and rotten face stared at me blankly, and then I saw something that I never expected to see.

Two, big, fat tears poured from the villain’s eyes, followed by two more, and two more, and two more.

“Your Highness? Are . . . are you crying?” one of the criminals asked.

“No!” Benedict Blackwood shouted as he furiously wiped at his eyes. “I just have something in my eyes! Everybody stop looking at me. Now! I order you not to look at me! And I’m not crying! I think some rain just landed on my face!” He let out a sudden sob.

Everyone looked away from the crying king and pretended to pick their nails, scratch their toes, or fix their hair. Those of us who had our hands tied just looked around and whistled.

When the king finally stopped crying, he told us that we could look at him again.

“You’ll all be going to jail for the rest of your pitiful lives,” he told us. He blew his nose on one of his criminal associate’s sleeves before he turned towards me. “Except for you, pipsqueak. You won’t be going there. I have special plans for you.”

In just one week, I had angered the most dangerous man in the world, and I had knocked out the one man alive who could save me from him.

Yup, it’s been a busy week for good old W.B.

“Pipsqueak! Go stand against that wall!” Benedict Blackwood roared as he pointed to a large wall across the street.

I looked at my parents, who looked absolutely terrified.

“Just do what he says, my son,” said P in a shaky voice.

“Yes, just do what he says,” M whispered with tears in her eyes.

Rose pleaded with her brother, but no one could understand her through the gag tied around her mouth.

I crossed the street and stood against the wall, facing Benedict Blackwood.

The King of Arizona Territory reached over his shoulder and produced a crossbow. The rain began to fall harder. He took an arrow and strung the bow. My parents both cried out. Rose Blackwood fainted.

The strange thing was I didn’t feel afraid. When I thought about everything I’d already been through and all of the challenges I’d faced, how I’d hung out of windows hundreds of feet in the air, run from mad inventors, dodged bullets, and avoided wild pigs . . . this just didn’t seem that scary to me. I had grown brave, braver than I ever thought I could be. I was so calm that I actually yawned. This man was clearly just trying to frighten me.

And then one of the criminals put a little kidney bean on top of my head.

“What’s that for?” I asked.

Benedict Blackwood grinned, showing his mouthful of yellowing teeth. “Target practice,” he said. “I’m going to shoot the bean off the top of your head.”

“But . . . but that arrowhead is much larger than the bean. If you hit the bean, you’re probably going to hit my head too. And if that arrow hits my head, it’s goodbye W.B.,” I told him.

“I know.”

!!!!

Nope. Forget what I said earlier. I take back what I said about braveness. I was afraid. I was very afraid. I was just a coward, perhaps the most cowardly coward who has ever cowed. I was a yellow-bellied chicken who also has a yellow streak down his back, down his front, and running down the inside of his leg.

Benedict aimed his crossbow at my head, started to pull the trigger, and then, just before his very sharp looking arrow could find a new home in the middle of my forehead. . . I suddenly felt something powerful grab me.

I gasped, and then realized that I was moving. In fact, I was moving quite quickly, galloping across the town of Pitchfork at a breakneck pace.

“Climb up, Wide Butt!” a familiar voice cried. “You’re too heavy for me to hold for much longer!”

I looked up and saw a face that I had missed very much.

Magnus, our horse. Magnus grunted his hello, and then turned to face forward so he could continue galloping us to safety.

I looked up even higher and saw another face that I had missed.

“You’re pretty clever giving me that clue in your address. By the way, I found the horse thief who stole Magnus. The horse thief traded him to me in exchange for one of my fists to his nose. Come on, W.B., up you go!” Shorty said with a grin.

I crawled up onto the saddle behind Shorty, and she helped undo the ropes tying my wrists together.

“Thanks, Shorty. But how are we going to save my family? Benedict Blackwood still has them.”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “You’re the brains here. I’m just the muscle. If you’re really expecting to defeat Benedict Blackwood, you’re going to need an awfully brilliant plan. I heard he’s so mean that his own shadow won’t hang out with him.”

Drat. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to come up with a brilliant plan. I’m much better at silly ideas and idiotic suggestions. I wished my parents could help. They were the brilliant ones. They could probably use their knowledge of science to hatch a great plan for defeating Benedict Blackwood.

As we continued to ride, I could see the storm clouds moving quickly overhead. The rain was falling even harder now, and then I heard the first rumbling of thunder.

“You might want to think of a plan fast,” Shorty said through her chattering teeth. “I’m getting wetter than a toothless man bobbing for apples in a lopsided pig trough.”

I tried my best to think of a plan. My poor parents and Rose were being taken to jail by Benedict Blackwood and his criminal gang. But what could I do to save them? I was only one kid; I only had one other kid and a horse to help me. The criminals would have no trouble stopping us if we tried to break into the jail to free my parents. There were so many of them. It would take an army to defeat all of those criminals. I needed to come up with a plan, and I needed to come up with it fast. Fast . . . fast?

Fast! That’s it!

I’ve got it! I think! Maybe?

No?

Wait . . . do I?

Yes! I have it!

“Shorty!” I cried in excitement. “I have a plan! Magnus! I need you to start running as fast as you can in that direction, and when I tell you to stop, then stop! Okay?”

Both Magnus and Shorty looked at me as though I was nutty, but then they shrugged their shoulders.

“Alright,” said Shorty. She dug her heel into Magnus’s side and shook his reins. “I hope you know what you’re doing, W.B.”

I hoped so too.

Magnus began to charge, running as fast as he possibly could. He was helped by the electric horseshoes that my father had invented for him—they actually doubled his speed, making him the fastest horse alive. Magnus ran so fast that Shorty’s hat whipped off her head, and my handkerchief flew off my neck. He ran so fast that the winds almost ripped us from his saddle. Magnus galloped through rock and muck, his hooves echoing the thunder overhead.

“Faster!” I screamed. “Run faster, Magnus! Go as fast as you can, and then go twice as fast as that!”

I could tell I was annoying my horse with my screams, but he still obeyed me. It wasn’t often that Magnus was given the chance to run as fast as he could—he was usually forced to trot slowly when my parents rode him into town. But this was his chance to show just how fast he could go. He ran all the way out of Pitchfork and deep into the desert, where the sandy hills were turning muddy from the rain.

Soon he was moving so fast that the entire desert looked like a blur. Shorty tried to YEE-HAW in excitement, but we were galloping faster than the speed of sound, so her YEE-HAW couldn’t be heard until thirty seconds after she’d already said it.

Finally, when I decided that we had gone far and fast enough, I leaned forward and shouted into Magnus’s ears.

“STOP!!”

The horse came to an immediate stop, his electric horse shoes causing sparks to fly across the rocky ground as he skidded.

I shouted over the pounding of the rain, “Now turn around and start running as fast as you can in the other direction!”

Magnus was too excited by his amazing run to question why I’d want him to do that. He immediately spun around and began to run, galloping as quickly as he could. His legs churned like the pistons on one of my parents’ weird inventions. He was moving so fast that it seemed as though he was about to take flight. He looked like a grey streak of lightning tearing across the desert.

“Magnus, look out!” screamed Shorty.

There were more and more screams as Magnus, Shorty, and I all crashed into the previous versions of ourselves, the ones who existed in a slightly earlier time.

Are you confused?

Allow me to explain.

Magnus, Shorty and I had traveled into the east so quickly, then turned around and traveled into the west so quickly that we had gone ahead in time, then turned around and went back in time and crashed into an earlier version of ourselves who were still running into the future.

And the earlier version of Magnus, Shorty, and I had also traveled so quickly from the east to the west that they had crashed into earlier versions of themselves as well. And they had crashed into earlier versions of themselves. And so on, and so on, and so on. There was roughly one hundred of each of us lining the path in a crumpled heap from our terrible crashes.

Yes! It worked! It actually worked! I thought.

I told my parents that it was possible! They said it couldn’t be done! But I proved them wrong! I proved them all wrong! A hah! Ahahaha! Bahaha! Ahahah—ahem.

Excuse me. Sorry about that.

I now understand why my father does that. Sometimes laughing maniacally feels really good.

Though I was thrown from the saddle and was upside down in a muddy sand dune, I had a big smile on my face.

I now had my army. All of the earlier versions of me, Shorty, and Magnus were together.

“Golly,” said Shorty as she looked at the earlier versions of herself.

“You can say that again,” I said.

“Nayyyyy?” said Magnus.

While every Shorty stared in disbelief at every W.B., every Magnus looked around and exhaled in confusion, a hundred horses snorting all at once.