Well, here's the setup.  The kids have been shipped off to Grandpa Doug Wildey's Ranch, and... oh, well, you can read for yourself.

Disclaimer: Characters and associated details of "TRAJQ" are property of HB, those of "The Legend of Calamity Jane" are property of WB, and all are used for non-profit, entertainment purposes only.

Archiving permission granted.

THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST

Synopsis: The kids get more of the Wild West than they bargained for on a trip to the Wildey Ranch.

"BLOOD MONEY" - prologue

by Eric R. Umali

The town was all but deserted.  A warm, dry wind blew down the main street, stirring the long jackets of two solitary figures.  They faced each other a hundred yards apart, tall and silent, the dust crunching softly underneath their boots.  Doors and windows hung open, as if the entire populace had vanished.

One of the figures drew back the long duster jacket, revealing a holstered pistol, and waited.

The other figure spoke in a rasp.  "So, Bannon, you gonna skin that smoke wagon or--"

The first figure tittered.  "You can't be serious."

"What now, Jess?"

Doffing her hat, the first figure let a fall of fiery red hair fall from beneath it.  "Are you kidding me?  'Skin that smoke wagon'?  Do you think anyone actually talked like that?"

Her companion pushed back his own hat, revealing a few stray locks of blonde hair.  "Well, no, but... it was Kurt Russell from *Tombstone*!"

Jessie Bannon walked up to him, shaking her head.  "I know that.  But you could have picked something better.  That last one, for instance-- I liked that.  You even say it well."

On cue, Jonny Quest lowered his voice and launched into his best Val Kilmer.  "'I have two guns'," he intoned, "'one for each of you'."

"Whatever.  Anyway, other than a few exceptions, Hollywood's version of the Old West is a complete fabrication."

Jonny scratched his chin, nodding.  "You're probably right.  Well, if we're looking for reality, we're not gonna find it here."

"Good point," she replied, then tilted her head up to the Arizona sky.  "Okay, Hadji, take us home."

A disembodied, but friendly voice replied.  "Very well.  QuestWorld logging off."

The world around them twisted, and turned into a corridor of light.  When sight returned, Jessie and Jonny found themselves sitting on a bed, with the completion of their trio, Hadji Singh, sitting peacefully at the laptop computer.

Removing his QuestWorld headset, Jonny looked over at the clock.  "Eleven thirty already?"

As if in response, Jessie yawned.  Right on time, a gruff voice from the other side of the door called in.

"All right, kids, lights out.  That's enough virtual reality for tonight.  You'll get plenty of the real thing in the morning!"

Jonny yawned as well.  "Thanks, Grandpa Doug!" he called out.  "He's right, guys.  Time to turn in."  Inside of twenty minutes later, they were all fast asleep.

**********

They were up bright and early at six the next morning.  As usual, Jonny was the last to the breakfast table, and he plopped himself down in his seat.  He nodded sleepily to Jessie and Hadji.  Jonny's eyes widened when Grandpa Doug set a huge plate of breakfast in front of him.

"Wow," he said at first, then slouched.  "Wait a minute.  This much food only means one thing."

"What?" mumbled Jessie, her mouth full of toast.

"Grandpa Doug's culinary philosophy is the greater the task, the heartier the breakfast," answered Hadji.

The older man chuckled as he sat down to his own meal.  "Smart boy."

Jessie took a gulp of orange juice.  "Well, whatever you've got in store for us, Mister Wildey, we're up to it."

"Now I only want to say this once, little lady-- it's 'Grandpa Doug'.  I've finally got ol' Hadji here sayin' it, so don't make me go through it with you, too."

Jonny nodded.  "C'mon, Jess, he's right-- you're family."

She smiled.  "Okay... Grandpa Doug."

"So what _is_ in store for us today?" Hadji asked.

"Nothin' much," Doug grunted.  "Windstorm last week tore down some of the fence out on the North Forty.  Luke's out in the garage packin' the jeep with supplies.  I'd like you kids to take a drive out there and get it back into shape."

Jonny snorted.  "So what's up for _after_ lunch?"

"No one likes a smart aleck, kiddo."

"Sorry, Grandpa Doug.  Once we're finished with breakfast, we'll pack some sandwiches and head right out."

The older man smiled.  "That's what I like to hear."

**********

The jeep pulled back into the garage after six o'clock, and three bone-weary passengers got out.

"I don't think I've ever been this tired in my life," Jonny moaned as they headed back inside.

"I'm looking forward to getting some sleep," said Jessie, "but not waking up with a full-body ache."

Hadji rubbed his neck.  "I, for one, am ravenous."

"I second that," his brother agreed.

"So," Jessie asked, "if Grandpa Doug feeds us like that _before_ we work, what's his philosophy on rewards?"

The trio headed towards the main house, but found it nearly deserted.  They heard voices coming from the enclosed yard in the center of the building, and went to investigate.

As Hadji slid the glass door open, their nostrils were immediately filled with pleasant smells: the smoke from a large campfire and the sweet, pungent tang of barbecuing.  The half dozen ranch hands Grandpa Doug employed sat around the fire, while Doug himself tended the grill.

"Hey!" he cheered when the three teenagers joined them.  "Y'all look like you're ready for some dinner."

"We sure are, Grandpa Doug," said Jonny, rubbing his stomach.

"Good!  Then grab yourselves a plate,  'cause we've got plenty of grub."  He wasn't kidding.  On a long table beside him lay a western-style feast: plates of barbecued chicken, spare ribs and steaks, grilled corn and potatoes, several salads, biscuits...

Carefully balancing their heavy plates and glasses of lemonade, the teenagers sat down by the fire.  Bo, one of the hands, reached underneath the table and produced his guitar, which he began tuning.  Jessie, Jonny and Hadji did their best as a cowboy sing-along began.

After all the bellies were full, Grandpa Doug cleared his throat and stood.  "All right, kiddies," he announced, "story time.  What do y'all want to hear?"

"How about that story about Abilene?" one of the hands called out.

Doug laughed.  "Nah, we got minors here-- I can't tell that one."

"Tell us a cowboy story, Grandpa Doug!" said Jessie.

"As a matter of fact, little lady, I'll tell y'all a cow_girl_ story."  Grandpa Doug took a swig of his coffee and began pacing around the fire, it's red-gold light flickering across his weathered face.

"Now there are all sorts of legends about the time and place they call the Wild West.  Names like Billy the Kid or Wild Bill Hickock or Nat Love can bring to mind thoughts of gunfights and cattle drives.  But legends don't get born that way-- and that's the way it was for Martha Jane Canary, the woman you know as 'Calamity Jane'."

Jessie leaned forward, resting her arms across her knees, in rapt attention.

TO BE CONTINUED...