Cowboy Showdown

“Your new what?”

The next thing Tom knew, the girl was shifting from foot to foot like a boxer – elbows cocked, hands curled into fists.

“Well, you can forget it,” she said. “I’ll never be a slave again. I’ll fight you for my freedom if I have to!”

Tom had no intention of fighting with this feathery blue stranger. “I’m not your master! I just banged the drum and the next thing I knew, you appeared.”

“Oh.” The girl dropped her fists and grinned. “Then I’m very glad you got me out of there. My name’s Zuma. I’m an Aztec slave. Or at least, I used to be.”

Once again, the museum was rocked by an ear-splitting thunderclap. But this time Tom and the drum had nothing to do with it. The little dog yelped and jumped into Zuma’s arms. Heavy rain began to fall … inside the museum!

Maybe something set off the sprinkler system? Tom thought. But since when did the sprinkler system include thunder? Something very strange was going on.

“Help me cover the artefacts,” Tom shouted. “We have to protect them!”

“You sound like a master,” Zuma grumbled. She put down the dog and dashed about after Tom, putting the ancient objects in glass display cases.

They only managed to rescue a few items before another rumble of thunder shook the room. A second stranger appeared before Tom. This one had blue skin and fancy feathers. Only he was enormous!

Zuma and the dog looked nervous. Tom could only stare.

“Please tell me this is your much larger, but extremely friendly, twin brother,” Tom whispered.

Zuma shook her head. “He’s Tlaloc, the rain god,” she whispered. “I was supposed to be sacrificed to him, but I escaped.” She rolled her eyes. “I can’t believe he’s still angry about that.”

“Take it from me,” Tom muttered, thinking of the Egyptian god Anubis. “These gods like to hold a grudge.”

Tlaloc picked up the wooden drum and the rain stopped.

“Zuma! You have escaped your prison after five hundred years!” Tlaloc roared. The clay bowls clattered on their glass shelves. “But you are not free yet!”

The rain god pointed one huge finger at the treasure chest. The lid lifted with a loud creak. Even though he was scared, Tom was impressed by the god’s magic. The chest was filled with gold coins, each bearing the image of an Aztec sun. Tlaloc waved his hand and six shiny coins rose out of the chest and sailed across the room. They landed with a jangle in his palm.

“You must find these six sun coins in order to earn your freedom,” Tlaloc announced. “When you have collected all six, you can return to your time as a free person.”

The god banged the drum and thunder rumbled. He waved his hand and a powerful wind gusted through the room, bringing with it a thick, white mist. Tlaloc tossed the coins into the mist. For a moment they spun, shining in the air. Then the wind howled again and they vanished.

“What’s happening?” Zuma cried, her feathered headdress flapping wildly.

Tom was pretty sure he knew what was coming next. Heart pounding, he reached down and scooped up the little dog as the mist surrounded them. “Grab my hand,” he shouted, “and hold on tight!”

“Where are we going?” Zuma cried.

The edges of the museum began to fade as the mist swirled into a whirlwind. “I’m not sure where … or when … we’ll land,” Tom shouted above the howl of the cyclone. “But one thing I do know – it’s going to be an adventure!”

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Tom and Zuma tumbled out of the cyclone and found themselves in the middle of a wood. Green pine trees towered above them. Here and there, beams of sunlight trickled through the branches.

Zuma scrambled to her feet. “Did that really happen?” Her voice was filled with panic.

“It certainly did,” Tom said. He hardly recognised Zuma. She was no longer covered in blue paint and feathers, and the only thing that remained of her Aztec costume was the black, mirror-like pendant that hung round her neck. Zuma’s long hair was almost as black and shiny as the mirror, and her skin was the colour of caramel. Right now, her dark brown eyes were darting nervously about the woods.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” said Tom. “But I’m pretty sure we aren’t in England any more.”

Zuma tilted her head, confused. “Where’s England?”

“That’s where I live,” said Tom. “Thousands of miles from Mexico, where you live. I mean, lived.”

The little dog scurried over and pawed at Zuma’s feet until she picked him up.

“He’s got a lot of energy for such a little thing,” Tom remarked. “What’s he called?”

“I don’t know,” said Zuma. “We’ve only just met. He was going to be sacrificed, like me. I saved him.”

“You should give him a name,” said Tom, and the dog let out a woof of agreement.

Zuma laughed. “OK. Well, let’s see … he’s pretty lively. Maybe we should call him after something that has a lot of zing. Like … Chilli!”

“Perfect!” said Tom.

The dog wagged his tail and licked Zuma’s cheek. He seemed to like his new name.

“It’s as if he understands,” said Zuma.

“Speaking of understanding … the two of us speak different languages, so we shouldn’t be able to understand each other, but we do. If it’s like the last time I went time travelling, we’ll understand everyone we meet too.”

“But how’s that possible?” asked Zuma.

Tom shrugged. “It must be part of Tlaloc’s magic.”

Now Zuma noticed Tom’s clothing and giggled. “What are you wearing?” She looked down at her own outfit. “What am I wearing?”

“They’re dungarees,” said Tom, brushing off the knees of his sturdy denim trousers. “And I think these checked shirts are made of cotton.”

“What about these strange sandals?” Zuma lifted one foot, then the other.

“Not sandals …” Tom corrected her with a grin. “Boots. Cowboy boots!” He reached up and tipped the hat on his head. “And cowboy hats.”

Zuma looked up at the wide brim on her own hat. “Well, it beats feathers!”

Now Chilli began pawing the dirt at Zuma’s feet.

“Good idea, Chilli,” said Zuma. “Let’s start looking for that first coin. The sooner we find it, the sooner I can be free!” While Chilli dug, Zuma began searching under rocks and round tree roots.

“You’re not going to find it like that,” said Tom. “We need a clue.”