"Welcome to Flight"

The sign they passed on their way into town said, "Welcome to Flight" but the faces of the old men watching them said something entirely different. And it wasn't "thanks for visiting!" or "how bout a cup of coffee, friend?"... Everett Marks prided himself on being a polite man so he tipped his dirty hat congenially anyway as he rode slowly past the mercantile storefront. A row of cranky old men sat in rickety chairs smoking and staring in disgust at the sorry pair of vagabonds. No one tipped a hat or even nodded to acknowledge the man and his sad excuse for a horse.

Everett couldn't really blame them though for their judgmental assessment. He knew they certainly looked a sight! Everett's clothes (and his skin for that matter!) were in need of a good boiling with lye. His horse was no better, caked in mud and limping heavily on his front left leg. Everett reached a hand down and patted Reverend Bill on the side of his muddy, sweaty neck. Reverend Bill snorted, blowing flecks of hot horse snot at the ground.

"Easy there, Reverend, don't you start defiling the sacred ground of Flight before we even get where we're goin'."

The sun-bleached, sorry-looking, chestnut colored horse halted, swished his tail like a flyswatter, and snorted again in reply. Everett smiled ruefully and shook the reins.

"Walk on, Reverend. We've got work to do."

Several minutes later, they limped up to their destination. Everett dismounted and looped Reverend Bill's reins once around the hitching post and patted his neck again.

"That's just for show, friend. You stay here, alright?"

"Pbbbppt" agreed Reverend Bill.

Everett waited until there was no one in sight before walking up towards the one story, unassuming (but somehow still rather imposing) building.

"Here we go..."

The afternoon sun beat down upon the vacant streets of the town. Dust devils swirled creating intricate patterns out of nothingness. No one paid any attention to the mud coated chestnut horse with a bum leg hitched out in front of the bank.

Fifteen minutes passed before Everett returned to Reverend Bill at the hitching post and loaded the saddle bags with everything he'd been able to take from the bank and jam into the sack he'd had tucked under his jacket. It was another fifteen minutes before the duo limped back by the crotchety old men smoking in front of the mercantile store. Everett tipped his hat again. They stared menacingly as before but this time a few shook their heads in disgust at the man riding the clearly lame horse.

As they approached the creaky old sign welcoming visitors to the town of Flight, Everett looked back over his shoulder and noticed a couple of riders finally trotting in their direction, waving rifles threateningly above their heads. He tipped his hat to the town one final time. Then he whistled shrilly once. Ten years and ten thousand miles seemed to instantly melt away from Reverend Bill. He dropped the injured bag of bones act, standing tall and strong and, other than the mud, suddenly looked every bit the stunning piece of equine machinery that he actually was. Everett kicked his legs against the Reverend's sides, urging the horse into a thundering getaway pace rather than the halting, painful limp that he had been exhibiting thus far in the town.

It had taken only a few minutes for someone else to enter the bank and discover the scene of the crime...only a few minutes more for them to untie the robbery victims and hear their description of the perpetrator...yet another few minutes passed before they could rustle up a few men and horses to chase down the pathetic robber with the sorry excuse for a horse. But that was a few minutes too many. No one had been in much of a hurry, and no one would ever catch them now.

Everett whooped and shouted into the wind as they galloped away, passing the sign...

"Let's fly, Reverend! Sky's the limit!"

***This is a story that "takes place entirely in flight"... I just couldn't help it. I'll try to get a more legit entry written too but this one just came to me and I couldn't stop myself.***