A Tale from Colby County

Hello everybody. So I decided to write this because I loved the new movie and I thought they did a great Job. Except for Rebecca's character. While it was, I suppose realistic. She bothered me and every other woman I talked to. So here is my spin on the Movie. Very AU, and added scenes. Please read, enjoy, and review.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the rights to lone ranger.

On board the passenger train from San Francisco two people stood out in the crowd of the rowdy car where they sat. A man, tall and broad at the shoulders, and dark blonde hair that came down to his ears with a slight wave took up so much room on the small train bench, that had the person next to him been any larger they wouldn't have fit.

His companion looked like a young boy or a short man with dirty brown breeches and a worn leather hat pulled over the face to block out the sun as he slept. A belt wrapped around the waist where the once white shirt was tucked in. There was a gun tucked into the belt and another wrapped around the thigh and small knives hidden all over. The bench opposite held (only?) one elderly lady, where normally two would have sat, and a pair of dust covered boots.

The box car was loud with gospel singing as the dark clad people throughout the cabin sang with Bibles tucked in front of them. One woman with a slight crooked smile came to the large blonde man's side and prodded. "Won't you sing with us young man? God's grace would shine on you if you did." She held up her tattered gray Bible and gave another smile.

The blonde man looked up from the small black book he had been reading with a large genuine smile of his own. It reached to his bright blue eyes that did not seem to mind the interruption. "That's all right Ma'am," he held up the book clasped in his hand, "this is my bible right here." He gave her another smile, which only served to confuse the woman as to whether or not he was serious.

"We're Presbyterians!" She said the words with such force that it sounded more like a defense than a statement.

"No thank you ma'am, I will stick with this."

With a last disappointed look she wandered back over to her seat. The man went back to his book, reading the well-worn words of John Locke. Still his companion slept.

A noise disturbed him from his book; a repeating thud. Looking around and out the window, a man's shadow was moving up the train, running on top of the cars. His eyebrows went up in puzzlement as anyone could have easily just gone from car to car on the inside.

With this thought in mind the man stood. He hesitated a second to decide whether or not to wake his slumbering companion. Deciding that there wasn't anything really wrong he left her there to sleep and went out the cabin door.

He stepped easily across the gap where the cars where connected and onto the next boxcar, which had been fitted to hold the prisoners on this run. He looked around but he could no longer see nor hear the man who had been on the roof. Still, he turned to the barred door in front of him and peered in through a slightly open look-hole.

Inside, he saw and the room in shambles what looked like two dead men chained to the floor. He took a step back and looked for a way in. The door was locked and he did not have the key. To his left he saw an axe placed for emergencies. Thinking that there was no time like the present, he grabbed the axehandle and two swift swings with his thick arms broke through the door. Axe still raise he charged in.

He stopped short in surprise. He had not expected anyone to be armed let alone with the gun pointing straight at his head. Looking past the gun he noticed the man: Butch Cavendish, half of his purpose for being on this train.

He had been charged with helping transport this villainous man to Colby Texas, but now he stood with the man pointing the gun at his head. This was unfortunate. Lee was definitely going to kill him for sure for not waking her before he left; that is if Cavendish did not first. He dropped the axe and lifted his hands in surrender.

To the surprise of both John and Cavendish, the other man he had believed to be dead earlier now held a gun upon Cavendish. The Indian had his face covered in black and white paint and he wore some type of woven-beaded breast place. It marked the tribe he belonged to, but John didn't know enough to know which.

The two men on the floor were completely focused on each other and he noticed Butch had dropped his gun directly at his feet. He pick up the gun listening as the Indian talked, thinking the man honestly did not make much sense, but it was plain enough to see that the man meant to kill Cavendish right here. Being outside jurisdiction, this was something that did not sit well with John.

He took a step back and pointed the gun at the Indian. "I cannot allow you to do that. I have been newly appointed as the district attorney of Colby County, and I plan to see this man there to receive Justice to the full extent of the law."

He was confident and slightly proud that he had handled the situation without the aid of his companion, whom for reasons unknown, believed him incompetent in anything beyond reading. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and gestured Cavendish back into the chains. As he watched the man close the irons around his own wrist, John heard a noise and felt a draft from behind.

Wincing he turned around, knowing whatever caused it could not be good. The boxcar door had slid open revealing at least ten armed men on horseback. He had completely forgotten about the man on the roof. He dropped the gun and held his hands up in surrender once again.

The next thing he knew he was the one chained the floor, watching as Cavendish road away with the men. Suddenly his companion burst into the cabin. The hat was no longer on revealing long blonde hair in a lose braid and soft feminine features screwed up into a scowl.

Before he could blink she had a pistol out and was firing out at the departing horsemen. She stopped after she emptied her chamber. Her scowl, if possible, deepened and holstered her pistol and strode into the car looking directly at John.

"Give me one reason as to why I shouldn't shoot you in the foot." Her voice which should have been soft, was a low growl.

He held his bound hands up in a placating gesture. "I didn't think that there was reason... and I know you were tired after-."

"Reason? Reason?! I told you to wake me if anything happened, and whenever you go off on your own something always happens. So you up and get yourself chained to the floor, while one of the most damning criminals this side of the country rides off after being reunited with his gang." She gave him one hard look before turning back the way she had come.

"Lee, Lee! Where are going?" he yelled after her.

She did not even turn as she answered him. "To stop this damn train before we all die."

With that she grabbed one of the side ladders and clambered onto the roof. He heard her footsteps pound across the roof then they were gone.

He jerked helplessly and the chains binding him to the floor. "Steel enforced, any attempt at escape would be futile." He knew they would be. The whole boxcar had been designed to hold prisoners. Lawyers would have no chance.

Movement from his right drew his eyes. The Indian had managed to get his hands on the broken axe head that he had used to break in. He watched incredulously as the painted man pried up part of the floorboards that held his chains.

Nodding, the man gathered his chains and stood up. Hope sprang into John, he could get out of this mess and help Lee with the train. He held his hands out.

Lee was furious as she ran across the roof of the train cars. She was more mad at herself then she was at John. She had known the man now for almost five years now, and she had learned very early on that he had a horrible tenancy to land himself in trouble wherever he went.

She gritted her teeth as she jumped the gap between the last boxcar and onto the first rack car, with all the lumber to fuel the engines, and stumbled on the wood.* As she got to her feet, the town of Colby and the train station passed by in a flash. The crowd at the station scattered in different directions as people realized that train was not stopping.

She took off running again, going much slower as she made sure not to trip herself on the uneven piles of wood. As she came to the end of the car she paused to gather herself before she jumped to the next one. The passenger cars and box cars where much easier since she could just take the gaps at a running jump, these racks forced her to stop and throw herself to the next car.

Two of the rack cars down, she only had this last one before she was at the engine. After she had landed she pulled out her six shooter, reloaded it, and crouched till she got to the engine car. She was only slightly nervous about one of Cavendish's men being there controlling the train. Her true worry was that there wasn't.

As she came to the end of the rack car she scanned the engine quickly; there was no one there. She holstered her gun and jumped down moving to the controls. She let out a low curse: the control levers and shifters had been chained together in high gear and full speed ahead.

She made a full circle scanning the cabin to see if there was any way to get the chains off, but found nothing. In normal circumstances, given a couple minutes she could get the chain off, but the problem for her was that she didn't know how to work the engine and she didn't have the time to learn.

In the distance, she could see a group of men who were working, laying down tracks. In minutes the train would reach them and crash. She scanned the console once more, she notice a red handle that wasn't bound in chain.

Having never seen a train engine room before, she could only guess at its use. She sent up a small prayer and jerked the handle down sharply with both hands. There was a harsh jolt and a tremble ran through the train. She had guessed right. The emergency break.

It still wouldn't do too much good but it may buy a couple more minutes. She hoped that's all it took. Turning around she scrambled back up the rack car and make her way quickly across. She watched as a man scrambled off his horse and onto the train at the first boxcar.

She leapt across a gap, not pausing to regain her balance and half falling as she ran across the next car. And as she came to another, she didn't pause before she jumped. She landed on her feet but stumbled as the piece of wood beneath her rolled under her weight. She felt her ankle twist.

She gritted her teeth and pushed herself back up, forcing herself to run. She was being extra careful not to fall again, but not slowing her pace either. She came to the next gap and jumped. Her ankle gave out and she fell heavily to the roof, winded. She scrunched her face in pain, waited for a second, then pushed herself up once more and limped to the end of the box car till she came to the edge and swung down on the ladder hopping down the rungs using her arms and her uninjured foot.

Finally off the ladder she had to dodge the Indian as he moved to where she had just been standing. She made the small leap to the other platform, grabbing on to the ladder as she landed so that she didn't fall again. She turned to stand next to the man whom she had seen jump on the train.

"What's wrong with the latch?" she shouted so she could be heard by all.

"Its jammed!" John shouted back to her. He grunted in surprise as the Indian suddenly swung under the hitch. John looked back up to Lee.

"What happened with the engines?"

She shook her head as she watched the man below arrange himself into whatever position he was trying to get. "The gears were all chai-." She looked up and froze in horror as she watched as John began to drift away from her.

His face soon took on the same look of panic. "Lee…" she heard him whisper as he moved further and further away. Apparently the latch had given and with it John. He had been on the wrong side with the engines, and was headed to the inevitable crash. Twin cries of "John" echoed after his diminishing figure. Ignoring the man beside, she turned from the departing engines in a rush. There wasn't anything she could do to help but she had to at least try.

Curses flew from her lips as she turned and jerked the door behind her open. Some luck at least had held and this was the stock car where the horses where kept, and she could already feel the train slowing down.

There were only four horses in this car, and she spotted Lan, her beautiful deep brown stallion standing in the middle of the floor. She moved to the side of the crate and with a hard shove flung the side door open large enough for a horse to fit through.

Lan had no saddle but he did have his bit in and she threaded in the reins and clambered on his back, her injured ankle only giving a little trouble. She waited for a moment until the train had slowed enough for Lan to get off safely. As it were, he still had to jump and land in a full gallop. She pulled him to a stop about ten feet from the slowing train. She looked up just in time to watch two of the cars come crashing together about half a mile away.

She pressed her heels into Lan's side and they rushed to the crash. She glanced at movement over her right shoulder and watched as a group of horsemen came around the crawling train and off toward the wrecked train. Leading them was the man who had been standing with her on the train.

Looking at him now she didn't know how she had missed it earlier. He looked so similar to John, and with all the stories he had ever told her of his childhood, she should have realized that it was his brother Daniel.

Dan had the same dark blonde hair, almost brown, just with a little more curl. Had the same jaw line, though he stood slightly shorter then John would, but he held himself and moved like that of a man who knew what he was about.

She turned her eyes from the riding party and looked once more towards the looming wreckage stopping a few feet short of one of the cars to watch the dust settle. She dismounted from her horse as the men rode up beside her.

Only Dan, John's brother got off his horse and followed her into the settling dust and smoke. She heard more then saw Dan gesture for the men to canvas around the wreck for his brother. She made her way through the wreckage he followed her through the opening between the two cars.

She walked steady but it was easy to tell she was favoring her left ankle. As she ducked around a beam sticking out of the ground she heard coughing and the sound of someone shifting in the dirt, then a groan. She made her way towards the sounds when she saw a tall figure stand slowly to his feet. "Reid?" she cursed silently in her head when she realized she had left her saddle on the train. It held most of her medical supplies, which were useless back on the train.

She closed the distance between them and stopped him from leaving the ground. "You hard case! Stop moving so I can see what you've done to yourself now." She growled at him, accent thicker with worry that he might upset any injury he may have sustained; if he broke a rib standing could kill him.

"Don't you have a lick of sense kid?" she knelt beside him turning his head over then running her eyes over him, scanning for any large injury. "Anythin' broken?"

As he shook his head negative and mumbled a "don't think so," she realized that Dan was standing a ways off watching them, not moving any closer. Ignoring him, she quickly ran her hands down his legs, arms and ribs, making sure he had been right in his self-assessment.

"Alright get up. Fools Luck. Looks like you just took a knock to your head s'all." She was never more glad to have the ability to treat injuries then when around John Reid. Her father had been a doctor and had had her help with patients from the time she was old enough to work. It had been a lot to take in.

She looked up just in time to see the Indian walk through the gap and out into the open. She moved around Dan, and made her way to him.

She caught up to him quickly even with her ankle. He seemed to be moving quite slow. "Are you injured?" she asked as she faced him, treating him the visual scanned she had just given to John. He seemed to have a small gash on his right arm and she could already see the red from oncoming bruises.

"Here," she reached over to the horse that was next to her and pulled out a small bottle of whiskey from behind the saddle, knowing it would be there. It was Daniel Reid's horse and whiskey she noticed with some satisfaction. Quickly she poured the whiskey onto the cut then handed the bottle to the man in front of her, before taking a small white cloth and jar from a small pouch on the back of her belt. She removed the lid from the jar and put some of the light brown goop onto the cut before wrapping it with the bandage.

As she tied it she looked at the woven breast plate that he wore instead of a shirt. This close see could see the intricate patterns beads and knots, telling her his tribe: Comanche. She had met a few from the Comanche nation before and knew them to be peaceful tribe, if not always sober. And they didn't much like doctors.

"How are you called?" she asked as she knotted the ends of the bandages together.

"Tonto." She felt along his scalp searching for signs of bruising and tenderness. He stood still and watched her as he let her examine him.

"You, very skilled." He told her to her surprise as she finished.

"And you are very lucky." She looked over her shoulder at the approach of the Reid brothers, and the returning Rangers.

"Both very lucky indeed to go tumblin' with a train and come out with mere scratches." She frowned as she stuffed the jar back into her belt, and moved to her horse.

"Good Drink," she heard Tonto say as he passed the nearly empty bottled of whiskey to the older Reid brother, and chocked down a chuckle at the startled look on his face.

Tanto then turned and walked into the dessert. "Wait, where are you going? You can't leave."

She closed her eyes in frustration as John spoke. His exuberance for the law is what had originally endeared her. That and his heart, which she knew was good and true; but sometimes, just sometimes she was tempted to wallop him in the back of the head.

"You are under arrest, Sir! As the district attorney for Colby County I'm taking you into custody." Tonto, unfazed barely looked at him and kept on walking. Nobody moved to help, so John kept at him.

Finally Dan Reid spoke, "What are ya doin, John?"

John whipped around to stare at Dan defiantly and Tonto stopped moving. "He was on that train for a reason, Dan." The older Reid brother shook his head and climbed onto his horse.

"What's your crime boy?" he Dan directed at Tonto.

"Indian." It was said simply enough, but it made Dan Reid frown. Lee could feel a mirroring expression on her face. She believed him. It wasn't uncommon when that sort of prejudice happened. It was rampant thought the whole damn country.

"Give me your cuffs Dan." John held out his hand.

Lee turned her horse rolling her eyes at John's stubborn ideals. She prodded her horse forwards away from the men back towards the stopped train to retrieve her saddle and luggage. Already a plan to get the poor man out when John was distracted was forming. With Butch Cavendish at large, he was sure to be plenty distracted.

*the use of coal to power trains wasn't fully established till the late 1870's. The actually used wood at the time.