Rawhide / Wild Wild West crossover

Incident of the Night of the Catch-22

Note: 'Catch-22' means a no-win or hopeless situation. For example, there's a problem, then you try to fix that problem, then another problem comes from that one, then your try to fix that one, and then it takes you back to the original problem and so on.

Chapter 1

Rowdy Yates opened his eyes to a world of darkness and rock. What had happened? He groaned as renewed pain tore through his body. It shot up and down his legs and a gasp of pain escaped from his lips. He lifted his head saw that his legs were buried beneath a heap of rocks. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes against the pain. He remembered now. He had volunteered to scout around with Pete to look for a way to get the steers through the canyon. The herd had stampeded when person or persons unknown had set off a charge of dynamite nearby. No one had bothered to look for the culprit as they had been too busy trying to turn the herd. They were finally able to stop the herd when they had entered a small valley surrounded by rocks walls and canyons. There were several canyons and some were bound to have dead ends. The steers had stampeded too far for them to turn back now and waste precious time.

That was when Gil Favor, the trail boss, had asked for someone to volunteer to help Pete scout out the area. Rowdy had volunteered and they had mounted their horses and set off together. Rowdy had went on ahead at Pete's suggestion. He would scout around the canyon walls while Pete had a look farther in the valley. They agreed to meet at a large oak tree near the southern side of the valley.

Rowdy was just about to go back to the oak tree to meet Pete when he had noticed a sort of crack in the rock. It was well-hidden and he had almost passed it up. It was large enough so that one man could squeeze through, though it looked as though the path widened the farther you went. Overcome by curiosity and with time to kill, Rowdy had dismounted and found that he was right in his suspicions. The path eventually had led to a small, circle clearing and a large cave. With still more time on his hands, he had entered the cave to take a peek. That had been his first mistake. The second was going farther inside after discovering a torch and some matches.

He had just decided to turn back, not wanting to become lost in the tunnel's twists and turns, when it happened. An explosion had rocked the earth beneath his feet and then the rocks had started falling; the tunnel caving in around him. Then he had blacked out. A lump on the back of his head ached terribly; presumably from a falling rock and the reason he had blacked out.

He had no way of knowing how much time had passed since the cave-in nor if Pete would come looking for him. He himself had almost missed finding the fissure in the canyon wall. What if nobody could find him? No! I've got to keep hope. Maybe Fox found his way back to camp. There was a chance that the horse might lead help back to his master.

He sighed and even that slight movement caused him agony. It was possible that he could have a cracked or broken rib. Or it could be a bruise. Trying to sit up was almost unbearable but he finally made it. He panted from the exhaustion and the agony that plagued his body in doing so. Perspiration poured down his face; mixing with the blood and making the cuts on his face sting. After resting a few more minutes, he tried to move some of the rocks off of his legs. He found that the attempt was useless. The rocks had come down over his legs, blocking the exit and leaving too much debris on his legs for him alone to move. He called out for help a couple of times but soon gave up the attempt.

He slowly let himself back down again from his sitting position and lay on the hard, cold floor of the tunnel. He lay there in misery; hoping, praying that someone would find him….

Pete Nolan twisted in his saddle and scanned the area around him. Where is Rowdy? I told him we'd meet here. He shook his head and gazed up at the large oak tree. The scout had waited here for over two hours for the ramrod to show up. It was highly possible that Rowdy had forgotten about their agreement and headed straight back to camp instead of waiting at the appointed meeting place. But Pete wanted to be sure.

He waited for about a half hour longer then decided that Rowdy must have returned to camp. A quick look at the sun told him the time was nearing 6 o'clock. Early on, even before he had considered scouting for a cattle drive as a career, his father had taught him how to tell the time by looking at the sun. The first thing he was taught, was when the sun was directly above him it was 12 noon or near that. By just estimating, he was able to figure out the rest.

With a quick squeeze of his legs, he urged Spot into a canter toward the center of the valley where the drovers had set up camp. He saw the smoke and scented Wishbone's stew before he spotted the camp itself. The herd was exhausted after the run they had taken and had bedded down early.

Pete was surprised to see Gil Favor gallop toward him - and leading a riderless, Fox. Rowdy's sorrel gelding. He trotted his horse halfway to meet the trail boss. Gil Favor wore a confused expression on his usually firm features. Pete trotted his horse forward to meet the trail boss halfway. Gil Favor peered over Pete's shoulder. "Where's Rowdy?" He asked when they halted their mounts.

Pete shook his head. "I don't know, Boss. I thought he mighta come on back to camp ahead of me. We were supposed to meet at an old oak tree back there." He turned in his saddle and motioned behind him. "I waited almost three hours and he didn't show."

"He'll probably show up later. Could be he got careless and Fox got away from him." Gil Favor stated. It was possible, but both men knew that Rowdy was an excellent rider. They had seen him in action too many times to think otherwise. Fox was a spirited horse but Rowdy was equally spirited and determined.

"Yeah, you're probably right," Pete nodded, trying to assure the trail boss, "Well, I think I'm gonna go see if Wish has got any grub for me."

"Alright, Pete. You go ahead. I'll be there in a little while." Gil Favor answered, somewhat distractedly.

Pete nodded his thanks and started to turn his mount towards the chuck wagon back at camp. Favor stopped him. "Take Rowdy's horse with you. He's pretty spooked up. Must be the explosions. Hey Soos'll take care of him."

"Sure thing." Pete took the reins of the energetic sorrel and lucked to his own horse to move forward. Gil Favor watched him go and then turned back to the direction in which Pete had come from. He'll show up soon enough, he thought to himself. He watched the peak of the rise for a few more minutes, then turned and headed back to camp.

Gil Favor had to admit to himself that he was worried about his ramrod. Just a little. Maybe more than a little. When Fox had galloped into camp without his master astride, Favor had tensed and put away his dinner that he had just begun to devour. Fox had been lathered in sweat and his rolled in fear; but, otherwise, appeared to be unharmed. Right away, the trail boss had taken two men, Jim Quince and Joe Scarlett, with him to search for Rowdy. They followed Fox's tracks but had found nothing to indicate foul play; except for one point where the tracks showed that the horse appeared to have shied at something, then galloped off. They were unable to follow the trail any farther or to search for further clues as to what may have happened to the ramrod, because the ground turned rocky and hard. Favor had called off the search then; saying that Rowdy would find his way back to camp…he hoped.

This was unfamiliar territory to both Favor and Nolan. After a warning from the sheriff at the last town, they had taken a wide detour off the trail around an area suspected to be the hideout of some renegade Indians. A Marshal and two men were on their way to look into the problem. But the herd's sudden stampede had only taken them closer to the area. Though they had their maps, maps did not show the exact terrain or all of the many canyons that led in and out of the valley.

Favor could only hope that Rowdy would show up soon. He knew from experience and many years on the trail that renegade Indians could be unpredictable…and dangerous. They left their traditions and honor behind when they left their tribes.

When Favor got back to camp, Pete had already assigned several of the men, and some extra, their nighthawk positions. Favor nodded his thanks to Pete, for taking care of what Rowdy would normally had he been there, then strode over to the picket line leading his dappled bay gelding. Hey Soos was working his hardest trying to settle the horses down. He walked quickly from horse to horse speaking soft, sweet words to each one but to no avail. They settled for a few minutes once again they started up, pacing and snorting. "Problems, Hey Soos?" Favor asked.

Hey Soos let out an exasperated sigh and glanced back at the nervous horses. "It is Señor Rowdy's horse. He is in distress and it is making the others very nervous." He pointed to the end of the picket line to Fox. The sorrel horse was pulling at his rope and was lathered in sweat again. His ears were laid flat on his head and he whinnied piteously. "I think perhaps he misses his master."

Favor nodded slowly. "You're probably right. I'll take him off your hands, Hey Soos, and tie him away from the others." The trail boss thought he a look of relief sweep across the wrangler's face.

"Thank you, Señor Favor. That will help very much. When Señor Rowdy comes in, I am sure Fox will settle."

"Let's hope so." Let's also hope that Rowdy does show up…and soon, Favor thought to himself.