Cowboy Wannabe
Adrian’s Farm – Cowboy Wannabe
I was abruptly awakened by a shaft of light striking my face through the open van door.
“Wake up everyone. Here we are!” Mr. Silva announced while I struggled to keep my eyes open; and as they adapted to sunlight, I tried to yawn. Strangely, I could not open my mouth. Neither was I able to stretch my arms or legs. For a moment, I felt really scared; it was a new thing for me to wake up to realize I'm bound and gagged, practically kidnapped by a bunch of crazy kids eager to torture me. It felt like coming out of the dream world to face a reality just as incredible!
Hogtied, I strained to peer up around. Mr. Silva was gone. Phil, Adam and Chris had just woken up and rested lazily on their backs on the van floor. Tyler continued to sleep, snoring as loudly as always, which debunked another myth that gagging could solve this problem. Adrian, on the other hand, was already up, lacing his boots’ thick black shoelaces.
“Did you rest well, Nick?” he said in a derisive tone. I just grunted and mphhed in response.
“Good!” he replied, chuckling.
When our captors overcame their drowsiness, they started by unfastening Tyler from the bar and released his ankles. I was granted the same partial freedom and then helped on my feet.
As I stepped out, the sunny landscape of Silva’s farm was revealed: an impressive fifty-acre area of rich woodland and pasture distributed in small fenced portions where hundreds of portly purebred cattle grazed. They surrounded a large area which featured a farmhouse, two large dark red wooden barns, an official-sized soccer field and a pool. The forest was located on the east side of the surroundings, endowed with deep undergrowth, shrubs and high trees camouflaging the low cliffs.
“Well, what do ya think ‘bout it?” Phil asked in a strong southern accent.
“Mphhhhhhff.”
“Sorry guys, I forgot,” he said, pushing us rather harshly towards the house, “we’ll show ya around. But first things first: you must be thirsty.”
In the kitchen we were ungagged as promised, but since they kept our hands tied behind our backs, they had to hold the glasses of water to our mouths. Mr. Silva suddenly appeared carrying our bags.
“I am going to leave your belongings in the basement. After you unpack, you boys want to go horse riding?”
“Sure!” We all replied.
Adrian led us downstairs. The basement was a cozy, rather dim bedroom with two columns of three beds each, a sturdy closet and a bathroom. As soon as we descended the stairs, the boys each dashed to one of the beds, claiming it as theirs for the rest of the stay. Despite not being able to use our arms, we ran too, jumping on the two ones left on the far right corner.
Standing on the corridor, against the wall, I noticed a ridiculously big black wooden trunk that said “Houdini” on one side.
“Hey, is that what I think it is for?”
“Yeah. Wanna give it a try?” Phil asked with a mischievous smile.
I immediately regretted my curiosity.
“Not now,” Adrian interrupted as he walked to Tyler and me, “dad’s waiting for us. Turn around.”
We rubbed our wrists as soon as our upper bodies were untied, and after changing into t-shirts, long pants and boots while chatting, we headed outside to the barn. Three horses had already been arranged.
“Can you ride, son?” asked Mr. Silva.
“Yes, sir.” Both Tyler and I were used to this kind of activities.
In a matter of seconds we were up, our feet fast in the stirrups and soon started trotting down the path. All along the ride, Mr. Silva showed us his land, where it started, where it ended, how much livestock they had, etc. To sum it up, it was one hell of a farm.
After two hours, we arrived at what seemed to be a rodeo, got down and entered the arena. A bright sign displayed, “Silva’s Rodeo”. It was an enormous place, full with bleachers and a high iron bar, exactly like I had seen on TV. The place was empty, even though some litter and empty beer bottles amassed in a corner revealed that a show had taken place not long ago.
“Hey! Look what I found.” Adrian had grabbed an 8-meter or so lasso hanging from a post. He started waving it in the air.
“Bad luck we’ve got no calf to practice, bro,” Phil said and smiled.
“No. But there’s always you, bro,” came Adrian’s rejoinder in a defiant tone, their gaze locking at each other. Phil’s face instantaneously switched to panic as he realized the unpleasant scenario his evil brother wished to see him star in.
“Please, - Adrian, no – wait – wait!!!!!!!” Phil pleaded before he started running with all his might.
“Yeah! Go get him!” We started cheering Adrian. It was the classic big-brother-picking-on-little-brother-for-fun thing. I felt a grin spread across my own face as Adrian began the chase, after mercifully granting his sibling a 30-meter lead.
I was full of admiration for Adrian’s speed. In less than a minute, he had caught up with Phil and was already preparing the rope to attack. But he wisely maintained his rhythm, waiting for his prey to get tired and thus enabling him to perform an accurate ‘shot’. It was quite a show!
Then, with what seemed like magic - I’m still trying to figure out how he did it -, Adrian smoothly threw the rope circle one step ahead of Phil’s feet and quickly pulled when it had encircled the right ankle.
The little boy cried as he lost balance and fell hard close from where we stood, dirtying his impeccable white t-shirt on the sandy floor. Before he could react, Adrian reached down, turned Phil on his stomach and lashed his ankles together. Without delay, Adrian forced his brother’s lean arms behind his back; and holding with one hand, he used the remaining length of rope to bind the wrists. It had all been carried out with an astonishing dexterity and smoothness. After completing the hogtie, which I believe was the fastest one I have ever seen, Adrian knotted it off and stood up to grin victoriously at us.
“Whoooa!! Well done!” we said and applauded between gales of mirth as he bowed.
Adrian turned and asked, “Are you okay, bro?”
“Yea -- I think -- so,“ Phil answered, breathing heavily. He struggled and squirmed some just to prove it held and elicit a laugh from his captor.
“No use doin’ that, kiddo. Don’t you know those are a pro’s knots?”
Phil frowned at his brother and sighed, his sweat-damp body resting the little the bonds allowed. We were gathering around Phil making all kind of facetious comments when Mr. Silva spoke.
“Let’s get goin’, boys. It’s getting late and you must be hungry. There’s a good meal waiting for us back at the farm.” That said, Adam, Chris and Tyler mounted on their horses. Adrian and I were about to jump on ours.
“Guys! What about me?” Phil asked from the back.
Adrian turned and smirked ponderingly at him. “He shouldn’t have asked”, I silently told myself.
“You’re my captured lamb, bro. And I’m certainly not letting you go. Well, not yet.” He proceeded to unfasten Phil’s ankles, but tied instead his elbows in the small of his back. Since Phil was a slim flexible kid, his arms were brought and restrained together without much trouble.
“Do you really have to do this, Adrian? Just let me go, please?”
“Could you help me out here, Nick? I really don’t want him whining the whole trip.” Phil’s heart quailed by hearing his brother’s words.
“I won’t say a word, Adrian! I don’t want to be ga-mphhhhfffff…” the pitiful voice was smothered by Adrian’s clamping his hand over Phil’s mouth.
“Get me a stick about 20 centimeters long and I’ll show ya something cool.”
He triggered my curiosity. I found a clean barkless one, but it was excessively long, so I kneed it in half and handed Adrian one piece.
“Perfect! Now, use this,” he motioned a handkerchief he had taken out of his pocket, “to pad it. Just wrap it around few times, ‘cuz we don’t want our little lamb hurting his mouth, do we?
“Mpphhh!!” Phil frowned, visibly upset.
“To secure it we need some shoelaces. Do you mind if we use yours, lil’ bro?” Adrian forced Phil’s head to swing side to side.
“Thank for being such a good sport,” he said ironically and we all laughed.
I squatted down and started unraveling Phil’s shoelaces. With stick and cords in hands, I got up and positioned in front of the handgagged boy.
Adrian suddenly released his hand over Phil’s mouth.
“Open wide!" I said.
The boy reluctantly obeyed and I forced the stick between his teeth, finally tying it in place with the shoelaces.
“This gag is great, you know,” Adrian continued, “’cuz if tied tight enough, talking is impossible!” He grabbed his bro’s chin, moving his head from left to right, inspecting the gag.
“Mpphhhhhh..,” our buddy pleaded; it was effective indeed! The stick kept his jaws very firmly apart, thus disabling him to make a sound!
The gagging over, we helped our pal up the horse; I pushed his butt while Adrian positioned his legs to sit him astride. I mounted just behind him and encircled my arms around him so he wouldn’t fall and I could ride – he couldn’t do it with his hands tied behind him of course!
Tyler shared the horse with my cousin on the way back.
“Where did you learn the stick-gag thing?” Tyler asked.
“Last summer we were exploring the forest and we found a local scout camp. The boy scouts there agreed to play with us,” Chris started explaining.
“It was a basically us against them, nice game but we lost though. We spent many hours prisoners, tied and gagged in many ways,” Adam said.
“We learned it from our own experience, didn’t we Phil?” He nodded in response.
“We were outnumbered then, those cowards! But now we have Nick and Ty with us, so we can challenge them again!” Adrian added.
Boy scouts? Several hours tied-up? What have I got myself into?
***
At the farm, we dismounted and Mr.Silva ordered Adrian to untie his brother. Otherwise, I think he’d had left him there!
“I’ll still get you one day, Adrian!” said Phil noticeably mad as he got untied.
“Yea, right. If you ever manage to tie me up all by yourself, I promise I’ll be your slave for the whole day, Phil. Ha!”
They both knew the chances of a lanky boy submitting a wrestling champion like Adrian were nil, so Phil just made no more comments on his utopian revenge.
We all ate lunch right away. Afterwards, we played some cards and board games until we decided to dispute a soccer match outside. It began as normal, but near the end a few drops started falling with increasing intensity, wind and lightning building up a full-scale storm. In no time, we were soaked; our shirts and shorts clung to our body.
“Dammit! Stupid rain,” I said as I ran for shelter inside the house.
“Yes, it IS raining!” Chris grinned at us.
“All right!” Adam said, visibly excited.
“It’s raining!” Phil repeated blissfully.
Tyler and I looked each other in puzzlement.
“Okay… what is this all about? What happens when it rains, apart from ruining soccer matches?”
“You’ll see – Ha! Ha! Ha! - you’ll see..,” said Adrian with a grin.