and I spun around to leave his company and was confronted by an onslaught of approaching bandits.
" What spoils!" the bandits cried. " A teepee creeper and his squaw!"
" That ain ' t no squaw! That one ' s quite a looker! The boss ' ll be pleased!"
I have the distinct feeling " squaw " is not so much a noun as a racial slur around these parts. Well, I was in no mood to be accosted on all sides by men, and so I grabbed Thunderboy ' s hatchet. " I am a respectable English lady!" I roared. " Ha! Ha!" A bandit cried. " We ' ll get a nice ransom for that one!"
We fought back, wildly. I ' m certain that Thunderboy alone could have handled the men, if they had not been so well armed, but their steam powered devices made them too powerful. He fought most majestically and though we failed, each one of those bandits suffered from deep bruising, I expect.
However, they gathered us up in a little cage and rode off into the grasslands. I ' m not so sure they got as far as they wanted, though. After some miles we came to a set of two bridges, side by side, and hesitated. One was an old, decrepit bridge-- surely made by amateurs, and falling apart. The other was made of ironwork, but unfinished. It only stretched halfway across the expanse.
" There have to be other ways around," said one bandit.
" There ' s nothing there," said another. " It ' s gone now. It ' s day time."
But the men shrank back when a booming voice called from beneath the bridge, " Who ' s that tapping over my bridge?"
" We are Wesley Kyle ' s men," one bandit called out, with fear in his voice. " We ' re taking this woman back for ransom. The injun don ' t matter as much," he hastily added.
" Mmm," sighed the booming voice. " If you wish to cross the bridge, you must pay the toll."
At that, a monstrous mechanical beast heaved himself up the side of the embankment. It was so much like an automaton, but so much bigger! The head was iron wrought, and had features like a medieval executioner ' s hood. A large railing ran around it ' s neck and shoulders, and masses of ironwork armor wrapped it ' s gigantic limbs. Chimneys of smoke rose from its back and it held a massive staff which spat steam and sparks. The bandits drew closer together. " We have money," said the boldest, holding out a bundle which he seemed to think would do the trick.
The giant took it between his massive fingers and looked at it. Then with a dainty pinch he tossed it into the flames of his staff.
" I care not for money," the beast replied. " But I am in need of labor." The beast took a sweeping glance over the men. " We can sell you the redskin," a bandit said, pulling Thunderboy from the cage and pushing him in front of the monster. " Mmm," sighed the creature. " Sell?" " No," replied the bandit quickly. " I mean pay... for the toll." " Ah!" exclaimed the beast. " Yes. Very well." The bandits heaved a sigh of relief. " But that doesn ' t quite cover the toll." " Now, see here!" cried the bandit who had given the money. " That ' s a large enough cost."
The giant made a sweeping movement towards the bandit, pulled him ingloriously from his mechanical augmentation and cast the man aside. The monster then tore the mechanical pieces apart and threw the broken equipment in front of the other bandits.
" You can have the woman, too!" a bandit called out.
They began to argue over me like a piece of property. One claimed, " The money we ' ll get for the ransom..." and another, " He ' ll take us instead if we don ' t give him what he wants!"
And so they pulled me from the cage and