The Falcon's Capture

Nighttime fell over the arid Montana plains. A cool, gentle breeze arrived from the distant mountainside. The little isolated town of Silent Run had settled down with the surrounding nature, the only sound in the air being the quiet chirping of crickets and whisper of the grass. Nobody dared interrupt the peace.

Only, upon a distant hill, a lone rider stood. Hooded eyes beneath a dark brow scanned the place where people lived like a hawk assessing its prey. Although the figure wore the all-black button up and hat typical of a sneaky outlaw, his white horse glowed in the moonlight, the shadows of her powerful muscles contrasting against her hide. She too stood perfectly still, patiently waiting for her rider's instructions.

That thin man of an infamous name drummed his index fingers on his horse's reins. With no visible effort, he carefully laid out the plan in his mind. In his many years of fighting the law, the town that laid before him looked comparatively tiny. He could very easily grab himself a modest sum of money with almost no risk. It would be a fast job, in-and-out, as was his game. But there was no reason he couldn't have fun while he was at it.

At last the horse's long ears would perk up at a whistle from her rider. "Come on, Sandy. Let's have ourselves a treat." She didn't need an extra push. As eager as he was, Sandy broke into a quick trot down the hill. Just in time, a black cloud drew in and covered the moon above, concealing the outlaw and his pale horse in shadow. His wavy hair blew in the wind and a confident smile rose on his face. As the town drew nearer, he pulled a hand back to feel his holster, finding that his gun was still there. He would strike the town quickly and deliberately like a falcon.

I'm coming for you, Silent Run.

~~~~~

In the midnight hour, a guard stood his post outside of the town bank. He yawned as he circled the dim lamp post light, keeping an eye out on the surrounding darkness. The smell of coming rain was faint in the air, just what the town would need right about now. So far the night had been very ordinary. He expected the rest of it to drag on just the same.

Suddenly, however, he heard a tiny click of metal from behind. When he turned around, he was greeted by the barrel of a small revolver right in his face.

"Surprise," a voice said, "Do you like my new gun?" Wearing a black hat with white studs along the brim and a bullet hole left unpatched, the stranger eyed the guard calmly, the very edges of his lips curled upwards in a smile. The guard recognized that wrinkled face and prominent nose. Frozen with fear, he didn't reply.

The Night Falcon.

There was only one name that spread quite as far as his. And with it, the frightening tales of a fierce man that could loot even the most protected of towns. The origin of his name was assumed by some to be merely exaggerated, but...

The outlaw heard the grass crunch behind him and saw movement in his peripheral. At a shocking speed, he whipped around and fired his revolver. The scared guard hadn't even noticed his colleague coming to his rescue until he had already collapsed onto the dirt. His gun slipped from his hand and clattered onto the ground.

So the legends were true.

Looking on in horror, the remaining guard was rooted to his spot. The Night Falcon turned back towards him, pressing his barrel against the trembling man's chest. His smile had disappeared from his hard face and his dark eyes bore into the other terrified ones.

"You look like you value your life more than that other fella," He said as a much more intimidating grin rose on his face, "How about you open up the vault for me so we can both get out of this easy?"

A gulp rose in the guard's throat and he nodded fearfully. "Y-Yes, of course," He squeaked out, lifting a small family of keys from his pocket. The Falcon let him go and watched impatiently as he scrambled to find the right one to the door. Before long, however, he was let into the bank.

Stepping into a dense metal vault, the outlaw smiled with pleasure. The bags of money piled against the wall were only vague forms in the near-darkness, but it was more than enough. He grabbed the nearest four, the most he could carry. A quick lift to his waists and a grunt of effort later, he was already approaching the open exit.

By now, more men had arrived, noticing the commotion outside the bank. Four or five were gathered outside, guns drawn. With his dark attire blending into the darkness, the Night Falcon appeared suddenly from the building.

"There! Get him!" One of them shouted.

The outlaw's eyes darted quickly over their weapons. Thinking fast, he dropped the bags with a clash, whipping out his revolver. He shot the gun right out of one man's hand and dodged a bullet from another. Darting behind a brick pillar, he fired blindly out, a scream signaling that he'd got one.

The townsfolk would no doubt be alerted by the noise. The Falcon himself had already hoped for something a little more clean than this. But he'd gotten himself out of worse before. Drawing two fingers to his lips, he let out a piercing whistle. Rushing back to the bags of money, he broke his cover.

Some bullets flew past him, splintering the doors of the bank, when the sound of horse hooves rose above the noise. Some of the men turned, distracted. Around the corner a white mare came galloping. Dust flew around the battlefield as she skidded to a stop.

With an experienced running jump, the Night Falcon mounted his steed. She broke into a run, slipping past the men while their vision was only just clearing. By the time they saw the thief again he was already making swift yards down the main road. A wild laugh followed shortly behind.

The same man who'd given orders before stood up and shouted at the others, "Quick- Call the main station! We can't let him get away!"

~~~~~

Hair blowing in the wind, the Falcon triumphantly grinned watching the guards scramble to fix their clear mistake. Those bumbling fools! When he turned his gaze ahead once more, he could see the buildings along the dark road beginning to thin. Soon the road would trickle away completely and Silent Run would be long gone. Escape was in his grasp.

But just as he was about to leave the town, long shadows fell over the dirt in front of him. From behind some trees a few gallops ahead, four officers riding horses appeared and began to draw a line right where his exit was. Metal glinted in the moonlight as they drew out their guns.

Sandy instinctively drew to an abrupt halt, the sheer speed causing her to slide a few feet forward, spraying dust. Under the sound of the gunfire, she neighed in panic, twisting to run the opposite direction of the fighters. The movement caused one of the bags of coin to fall on the ground, a lost cause. The Falcon's face tightened into a scowl as he looked behind him, two of the officers going opposite directions while the other two gave immediate chase.

"Damn it," He hissed under his breath, pulling his body closer to Sandy's as she picked up speed. His heart beat faster as he realized they were trying to block him in. How the hell did they even get there so soon? He should be miles away from the police station by now.

It didn't matter, though. She was a quick horse, easily outpacing the other two in spite of their minor slip-up. The Falcon's confidence began to return as he saw an intersection coming up. Two more officers showed themselves, one on the right and another straight ahead. But the outlaw was already turning the only other way, his form a black and white blur. They must've taken note of his speed, for they didn't try to fire at him then. They only joined the determined chase with the other two riders.

By that point, Sandy's pace was beginning to slacken just a little. The Falcon patted her shoulder encouragingly, sensing that escape was finally near. In the night he could see taller buildings on both sides, the main street. Only he didn't glimpse any citizens outside as would be typical. Behind him, though, the officers continued to drive him on. Horse hooves beat the earth like a war drum a few gallops away. Wind roared loudly in his ears.

He was just about to cross over another intersection of empty road, nobody left to stop him in sight, when all of a sudden a deafening shot rang out. Simultaneously, Sandy let out a sharp cry and stumbled. The Falcon's heart leapt into his throat as his world tilted, but he managed to control her by pulling on the reins.

"Sandy, move!" He snapped at her as she shambled a couple feet forward, the panic getting the better of his patience. In the shadow, however, he spotted a white front leg teetering from the ground under him. A dark spot welled up on her cannon as blood trickled down into her fur.

His eyes grew wide with horror, but before he could think of his next move, more gunshots rang out all around him. Sandy was only able to limp forward a little ways before two officers came and blocked the street ahead. Behind them, the other four slowed to a halt, widening out to create a circle around the outlaw.

His breath rushed in and out of his gritted teeth as he darted his gaze around. Horse wounded and no exit in sight, any other outlaw would fall down on his knees and plead for mercy. But the Falcon had made such getaways before. He could easily make it out again. He had to.

Pulling out his gun was the only thing he could think of. Raising it above his head, he shouted to all of them at once as other figures began to appear from the buildings.

"I ain't done here yet! I could shoot all of you down right now!"

As if to answer, metal clicked from the Falcon's left. An old but stern voice spoke, "If you don't get off that horse right now and throw your weapon, you'll have a bullet in your sorry head."

When the Falcon turned, he was greeted by the barrel of a shotgun five feet away. A tall man with a gray mustache and sideburns held it firmly, his furious, calculated eyes visible underneath his black sheriff's hat.

The outlaw hesitated just long enough. Sandy let out an alarmed neigh as her neck was suddenly pulled one way by a lasso. He turned to face the culprit, his lips drawing back in a grimace. But at the very same time, his gun was shot right out of his hand. More ropes came down, some of which tightened around his chest. With a half yell, the Falcon fell from the saddle, the measly three bags of coin coming down with him.

He hit the dirt hard, knocking the breath out of his body. Meanwhile his iconic hat slid ungraciously off of his head. Turning onto his stomach, he tried to get up only to be halted by a boot digging into his back. He groaned loudly in pain as he struggled against the ground. Only his hands had nothing to reach for except dirt and empty air.

"I got him down, boys," the same man from before called out, "Tie him up quick."

The nightmare became increasingly worse as several shadows loomed over him. He tried to fight back as they started to grab his arms and legs. Had he full stamina, however, he would still be hopeless. The outlaw was swiftly overwhelmed as they tied his wrists and ankles together, removing all possibility of escape. Only then did the sheriff remove his boot from the Falcon's back, dragging him up to his knees by the shirt collar.

"What do you have to say now, thief?" The old man asked severely as the Falcon tried to catch his breath, "Still think you can shoot us all down? You're lucky you're not a dead man."

Chuckles arose from the surrounding men. Slowly, the Falcon began to look up, his dark eyes meeting the sheriff's. When he looked upon his serious face, his blood began to boil. Yet he knew any attempt to regain his dignity would be pointless. For the very first time, the Night Falcon was defeated. The knowledge left a deep pit of despair in his chest.

As the sheriff stepped back, he addressed an officer standing off to the side, "Rory, we know this face, don't we?"

Rory was a younger man with a bushy mustache, tan suit, and hat. From the way he drew next to the sheriff, he appeared to be a second-in-command. He lifted up something black as he replied, "I picked up his hat nearby. Rhinestone rim, bullet hole- just like the tales said. It's the Night Falcon alright."

The sheriff hummed in thought as he returned his gaze to the tied-up outlaw crouched before him. "You'd think a man like that would have more caution tryin' to rob a town in a dip. On a white horse, no less. Copper, Jack, get him in a good strong cell for the night."

Two stronger men of the bunch nodded and bent down on either side of the Falcon. He grunted as he was roughly dragged up again by the armpits. All around he caught glimpses of citizens watching the scene come to a close, speaking in hushed voices as they moved out of the way.

Just as they were almost off of the road, however, a horse neighed loudly from behind. The Falcon immediately recognized it and twisted his head to see Sandy struggling in her own ropes, holding her head and injured leg high. Several men were shouting as they pulled for control of her. But one stood back with a whip held high, striking the terrified horse in the neck with a loud snap.

Red flashed in the Falcon's vision at the very thought of his beloved mare being tortured. The two officers holding him were caught off their guard as he struggled out of their grip with a new burst of strength. The cuffs held him back as he lunged forward, causing him to trip heavily onto his knees. But his wrinkled face tightened in fury as he shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Stop it! Leave my horse alone!"

Some of the men backed away, including the one with the whip. Many turned around in surprise. Meanwhile Sandy backed away some before stopping, her muscles still tense and whites of her eyes visible. For a moment the town was silent until at last Rory stepped forward, an open hand raised.

"You heard the owner. Drop the whip."

Although the wielder complied, another man gripping a rope spoke up.

"But sir, it's a mad animal! We can't control it!"

The others began to grumble in agreement, but Rory shook his head. "It's still a horse- severely wounded, no less. Would you treat your own animals this way?" He sighed and looked back towards the sheriff, "Sorry, Amos. I'll take care of this."

As the words left his lips, however, a droplet of water hit the Falcon's nose. Then, in a matter of seconds, rain was falling all around. Townsfolk and officers alike began to disperse, muttering to each other, looking for shelter. Puddles of mud quickly started forming in the dirt.

The Falcon's two escorts approached and picked him back up once more. Fight driven out of him, he hung limply as he was pulled away from the scene, his boots dragging on the wet earth. From the edge of his vision, however, he saw Sandy, her white hide unfading in the rain. She seemed to be looking back at him, terrified and begging for freedom just as he was.

"I'll come back for you, Sandy," He promised breathlessly, unsure if she heard.

To Chapter Two