"Drako's Quest"
                            by Delta

 1 -

Drako wheeled his chestnut around, stirring up dust that clouded his vision, only temporarily. He pulled down his black Stetson over his peering eyes as he considered for a moment the direction in which he should take. His gut said west but his mind screamed south. Cripes, he thought. Since when do I listen to my head? He jabbed his shiny silver spurs into his horse's flanks and clicked him up to a gallop. Soon, in the oppressive sun, flecks of lather from his horse's skin sprayed on Drako's coat. He let up a little, letting his mount breathe. He scanned the horizon again and saw it- three tiny specks just over the ridge. That was his three. He spurred his horse on and once again the giant chestnut leaped into a gallop. The specks were looming larger. But he had an eye for just one of those specks... a man riding Mark's horse. He was going to get Blueboy back or die trying. Drako smiled, showing off a rarely seen dimple. His eyes danced with the pleasure of seeing his three targets. Soon, very soon. He followed Billy, Red and Mac to their camp site, throwing one long leg over his saddle and hopping off his tired horse. He looped the leather reins over a worn branch and his horse's head dropped to the ground to munch some sweet, tender grass. He paused when he heard their voices. Drako crouched down and watched, pushing his hat back on his head. He squinted through the leaves at the three men huddled around a roaring fire. Billy Graves, grunted as he plopped down beside a toppled limb. Drako watched his face break into a smug grin, that same smug grin that he saw when Billy challenged him to take on Lucas McCain. Drako’s hand touched his revolver, reassuring himself that he was ready for anything that could happen. The still night, quiet and serene was broken by his horse’s whinny. The men’s heads jerked up and they got up slowly, with their guns drawn. Mac and Red circled around the camp site while Billy disappeared through the brush. Drako felt the hair on the back of his neck stood up and a shiver ran down his spine. He hated that feeling. Something bad always happened right after he felt like this. “Well, well, well. Johnny Drako!” Drako turned slowly, dreading the look on Billy’s face. Billy waved the gun at Drako, directing him to walk ahead of him into the clearing of the campsite. Drako groaned, mad at himself for letting himself get caught. Mac and Red looked up, surprised to see Drako. "Lookee what we got here, boys!", sneered Billy. Mac and Red snickered appreciatively. Billy pushed Drako down and loomed over him while Mac tied him up. Red pulled out a pan, poured some beans in it and soon, a delicious smell wafted through the camp. Drako's stomach grumbled as he watched the three men slurp and gobble the beans. Finally after the entire pot was empty, Billy stood, pulled a piece of bread off the loaf with his grimy hands and shoved it into Drako's mouth. As hungry as he was, Drako had no stomach for Billy's food. He spit it out on Billy's boots. He stared up defiantly. Billy's sneer melded into rage as he kicked Drako's face. Drako felt blood spurt from his nose as he fell onto his side.

2 -

 Lucas sighed. He hated that Billy took off with Mark's horse, but he was proud of Mark. His son insisted that his horse wasn't worth a man's life. All the years he had worried and tried to do right by his boy seemed to pay off. Smiling to himself, he saddled up Razor. Still, he wished he could have gotten his son's horse back. With Mark at Micah's, Lucas headed north toward his ranch when he spied something metallic glinting in the grass. Lucas pulled back on the reins and swung off the saddle. He squinted in the bright sun and picked up a horse shoe. He recognized it as one of Nils's special shoes he made for BlueBoy. He pocketed the shoe and he swung back on the horse. He yanked the horse's head and swung him around. Maybe he can find his son's horse.

3 -

 Drako spit out the blood that dripped into his mouth. Anger seethed into every fiber of his body but he closed his eyes, attempting to quell it. The raucous laughter from the three pieces of trash sitting across Drako didn't help. The rope burned into his hand, ripping pieces of flesh from his fingers. With a minimum of movement he tried to free his hands but they soon became slippery with sweat and blood. He narrowed his eyes, thinking back at a time when he would have outdrawn the three men, taking them all down in the street. But the years aged Drako and out of the respect for his friend, Lucas, he refrained from his usual behavior. Now he wondered if he did the right thing. Hours later, as Mac and Billy snored and Red watched, Drako wondered why he even put himself in this predicament? He didn't owe Lucas anything. He certainly wasn't looking for a fight. He had planned on retiring in a small community until the day when a stray bullet that was faster then his own felled him. No, he quickly thought of Mark's face. The boy idolized him. Maybe it was wrong, Drako mused, but he did get a kick out of being someone's hero. He thought sadly that he could have had a boy Mark's age by now, if only... Drako shook his head. Dwelling on the past wasn't going to get him out of this scrape. A piece of a broken whiskey bottle laid by the root a tree some 10 yards from Drako. Slowly, he inched, painstakingly so, toward the glass. It was a tedious job, since every time he shifted, Red pulled his pistol. Using his legs, Drako slipped ever so slowly closer to the piece of glass that shone in the moonlight like kind of beacon. He had to get there.

4 -

 A sudden movement made Red jump, and amid howls, Drako saw Lucas suddenly looming from a nearby thicket of bushes. Using the butt of the gun, Lucas knocked Red cold. Before Billy and Mac could jump up, Lucas cocked his rifle and trained it on them. "Kick your guns over here." Lucas commanded. Drako leapt onto the glass and cut feverishly his binds. Just as he finished, Lucas strode over and helped Drako to his feet. He grinned his thanks to Lucas. "How did you trail me?" Drako stretched, trying to regain blood flow back to his limbs. "Actually I didn't. I saw the direction they took Blueboy and followed here. I was surprised they were holding you hostage." "Yeah, well... Billy got the jump on me." Lucas wisely said nothing but grinned at Drako. For a infamous gunslinger, it was hard for him to admit that anyone got the better of him. "Thank you, Lucas. I think this makes us even." "Don't forget to stop by North Fork next time you're in the area." "I'll do that. What are you going to do with this garbage?", Drako asked, indicating Mac and Billy. "I'll take 'em to Micah. You go on, alright?" "See you, Lucas. Oh... don't tell Mark I was here." Lucas frowned. "Why not? You helped recover his horse." Drako leaned over and took back his pistol from the pile and walked over to his horse. He climbed aboard and wheeled his chestnut to face Lucas. "Mark doesn't need to think he owes me. He doesn't need to hero-worship me. He's got the right father for him to do that to." Drako kicked the horse up to a lope and with a last wave, left Lucas behind in the spidery shadows of the night.     The End Delta

This is a story based on the TV series “The Rifleman”
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