ARTHUR ARCHIVES 4 - BILLY GRITT

A PRISON CELL.

A PIECE OF COAL WRITING ON A PIECE OF LEATHER.

ARTHUR

Dear Jack,

I'm afraid I have not found the gold from Sacramento just yet. In fact, I haven't even arrived at Billy's secret lair. I am still confident Buttercup can get me there! This is not her fault. It just so happens, I find myself temporarily... incarcerated.

Yes, I'm in prison! And no! I did not commit a crime! It's all just a big misunderstanding.

Buttercup and I had stopped at a watering hole in this one horse town called Buffalo Neck. We were about to head out of town when we suddenly hear a gunshot. When we stop and turn, we see the sheriff and two deputies blocking the road. Back in the direction we were going, another two volunteers had stepped into the road, brandishing rifles. One even had a sabre. We were surrounded!

The sheriff was this wide legged man with dirty spurs and chewing tobacco running down his chin.

"We got'cha!" he says, and I say: "Sorry?"

"You aint never killin' our gold and stealin' the barmaid and bonkin' my horse ever again!"

And I say: "Are you sure you don't mean that I'll never be stealing your gold and bonking the barmaid and killing your horse ever again?"

And he says "No."

And I say: "Well, either way I haven't done any of those things. I haven't bonked your gold or killed the barmaid or stolen your horse either."

And he laughs so hard he starts coughing. Streaks of chewing tobacco sputter out his mouth drenching a passing tumbleweed. And I think: "What a surprise! My joke made him like me!"

But then he says: "Don't try one with me, Billy Gritt!"

And that's when I realize that you were right and I was wrong: Using Billy's beard to make my disguise wasn't the best idea.

Now, I did of course try to tell Sheriff Gross of Grossville that Billy is dead. But, as it happens, the news of Billy's demise hadn't reached Buffalo Neck yet, and the sheriff didn't feel like trusting the news when it came from someone who looked just like Billy Gritt.

So...

There was a shootout!

Very exciting! Bullets flying everywhere. Pinging off signs, piercing holes in kegs of water, breaking windows, smashing lamps, sending chickens flapping away in fear!

Luckily, the sheriff and his men were as bad shots as me, so no one hit anyone and we're all still alive.

When our magazines were empty, the man with the saber grabbed me and dragged me to the sheriff's office. A tad anticlimactic.

And here I am, locked up in the sheriff's coal cellar. Such a small town, they don't even have a prison cell.

Now, I didn't want to bother you. I know you are busy teaching Billy manners. And I realize that is a tall order. So I have tried to escape by myself.

But Billy's method didn't work. I shouted out the window, loud as I could, but no one came. Probably because I am in the most stagnant place ever to earn the name 'backwater town'. There is no one here! I think apart from the sheriff, his two men, his two volunteers, the unfortunate bar maid and the unfortunate horse - literally no one lives here! And I don't have a gang. So there is no one to break me out.

Other than you.

So, Jack, could you please grow me a beanstalk to climb out of here on?

If you wouldn't mind... please take the first coach to Buffalo Falls, get yourself a horse and ride out to Buffalo Creek. And either bring with you a few sticks of dynamite or a very good lawyer. Thank you.

I am writing this with a piece of coal on the back of my leather coat. I sacrificed my leather coat! I think that speaks to the dire straits I'm in.

The sheriff and his men are bored. Nothing has happened here since the sheriff's gold was either killed, stolen or bonked, and they're gagging for a trial.

I'll send this message with Buttercup. Luckily she is tied up right outside the window. I should be able to roll up the coat, stretch my arm out between the bars and stuff the coat in Buttercups saddle. Then I'll untie her. If I can reach... and she'll be on her way to you!

Unless she runs straight to the secret lair.

I hope she doesn't.

She did smell you.

Follow the scent, Buttercup! Follow the scent!

Don't worry, Jack. The gold from Sacramento will be ours soon enough.

Here's to hope and other follies...

HE ROLLS UP THE COAT.

FADE OUT.