Chapter 2 of Caught Between A Dream and a Nightmare.
Read Chapter 1 at www.ranunes.com

Tony was an anomaly among cowboys, mainly because he looked more like a skater. He wore his hair shaggy, a few inches over his ears, and had only recently traded in his baggy pants for boot-cut jeans. All through high school and even into college he’d carried a skateboard and rode it to classes. He didn’t do that as much anymore for practical reasons, but still felt the urge to get on a board whenever he saw a big parking lot or a long hill. Tony believed that skateboarding and horseback riding went hand in hand, in that both required balance, patience, and passion. Because of this it was easy for him to make the transition from one to the other. In college Tony discovered his natural flair with horses when he signed up for horse-training 1010 because he’d thought it sounded fun. By the second week of the course he changed his major from engineering to agribusiness. Then by the end of his sophomore year he’d become assimilated into the cowboy culture, but still dressed more casual than most cowboys. During his junior year, he joined a country-western band and found it easier to fit in wearing Western clothes.
Tony knew he still had a lot to learn about ranching, but he hoped to prove to Jay, his boss at the Box C, that when it came to horses he had the talent and the desire to learn. He also knew the real reason he’d taken the job at the Box C in the tiny town of Grouse Creek was to be closer to his soul mate, Kelli Carson. Kelli didn’t know she was Tony’s soul mate, but he hoped she’d figure it out by the end of the summer.
Today, Jay sent him to check out a bay Quarter horse gelding. Tony tossed his saddle and bridle into the back of the pickup before leaving the bunk house. His plan was to take the horse out for a test ride to check his soundness, confirmation, and temperament before deciding if he’d be worth the effort it would take to train. He found the horse easy enough, ten miles east of Grouse Creek next to a dilapidated house, right off the main road, corralled and waiting for him. The neglected gelding looked gaunt and had overgrown hooves, but he liked the way the horse was built. And more importantly, he recognized something in the gelding’s eyes that told him the horse could be improved. He had spirit. It took Tony hours of groundwork before the horse trusted him enough so that he could lay a saddle blanket on its back, and another hour beyond that before he could saddle him. As he worked with the horse, the sun lowered in the sky casting an orange glow across the Grouse Creek Valley. He determined to ride the horse before calling it a day.
Tony eased onto the bay. The horse bucked a little and he jumped off, not wanting to push the horse until it was ready. Tony stroked the horse and whispered to it before trying again. Just as Tony stepped up into the saddle a second time, a garish pink car rolled into the drive and stopped near the backside of the house. He figured it must be James, the current owner of the horse, and continued maneuvering the horse around the corral, since it was finally responding well. But in a few moments Tony noticed a man getting out of the car. When the man appeared by the fence, he held a gun and pointed it directly at Tony.
As soon as Tony spotted the gun, his body tensed with fear. The horse, sensing the change in Tony’s demeanor, reared and hurled him off the horse’s backside. Tony landed on his back, curled into a ball, and rolled away from the nervous horse’s pounding hooves. When Tony looked up again, he noticed that the man wore only a baseball cap and some kind of linen pulled up around him for shorts. Tony laughed, thinking it must be some kind of a joke and that the gun was a fake. But the man didn’t laugh. His face was filled with fear, his eyes darted wildly from the horse to Tony.
“Sorry dude, but I need your clothes,” the man demanded, pointing the gun at Tony for emphasis.
“Say what?” Tony brushed the dirt off with his hands.
“Look, I’ve got to have some clothes.”
“No way man. What is that you’ve got on anyway? Hate to tell you this, but you look seriously deranged.”
The man glanced at the house and then at Tony. Holding onto the top of what Tony now could see was a pillowcase with two holes in the bottom for his legs, he motioned with the gun for Tony to come with him. Tony climbed through the pole fence and toward the house. The man poked him in the back with the gun barrel.
“I don’t live here,” Tony said, his voice shaking. “I don’t know if it’s open.” But as Tony pushed on the door hard, it swung open.
A putrid smell of mice and mold forced Tony to pause and put his hand over his nose. The man nudged Tony to move forward. Empty beer cans were tossed around the small kitchen and a dirty pan was left on the stove. In the next room an army cot and a bed with a bare mattress were the only furniture. “You want me to keep going?” Tony asked.
“Yeah, unless you’re willing to give me what you’ve got on.”
It surprised Tony when a peaceful calm replaced his initial fear. He’d had guns pointed at him before, but in those cases he’d known he was in great danger. This man seemed too ridiculous to be a terrible threat.
“Heck no,” Tony said while opening a closet. Filthy greasy overalls were heaped into the corner, but otherwise the closet was bare.
“Looks like you’re going to have to take off your clothes.” The man demanded.
“No way.” Tony said, horrified.
“Sorry dude,” the man said, “But look—there’s no way I’m wearing those things. And you can get you something else to wear without too much trouble. Besides, I’m in a hurry.”
“I really don’t want to give you my clothes.” Tony wondered how a man wearing a pillowcase with delicately embroidered lavender flowers could possibly have anywhere he needed to be. Still the man kept poking him with a gun that could accidentally or purposely go off at any second.
“Hurry.”
“Okay. Okay--chill.” Tony slipped off his jeans and gave them to him. Then he unsnapped his western shirt and handed it over.
“Keep your underwear, but I’ll want the boots,” the man said. The man fumbled to get dressed single-handed while trying to keep the gun aimed in Tony’s direction.
Tony pulled his boots off one by one and tossed them to him and briefly thought about hitting the man with the hard leather heel. He loved his boots. They were at the perfect stage when they molded to his feet, softened by wear. He religiously rubbed them with mink oil to keep the leather conditioned. “I’m keeping the belt. The belt buckle was a gift,” Tony said remembering that Kelli had given it to him last Christmas.
“No you aren’t. It’s worth money isn’t it?”
“Well…” Tony hesitated knowing a silver buckle this size had to be worth close to a hundred dollars. He’d hoped Kelli had gotten a good deal on it, knowing that it would’ve been a sacrifice. “You’d have a hard time selling it at a pawn shop. Easy to trace. It’s a one-of-a-kind.”
“Okay man, you can keep that then, but give me your hat.”
“Nah, now you’re going to far.” Tony’s hand reached up to his hat. He’d normally only worn a cowboy hat for his singing gigs, but since coming to the ranch found that his straw cowboy hat was the best thing to keep the sun out of his eyes.
“I gotta have it man,” the man said while struggling to pull the boots on. “Give it to me or I’ll shoot.” The man took off his baseball cap and tossed it onto the floor.
“All right. All right—hold your horses.” Tony put his hat on the man’s head for him.
The man grinned. “Wish I had a mirror,” he said. “Always wanted to be a cowboy.”
What kind of idiot drives a pink Continental out to the middle of nowhere wearing nearly nothing, just to steal clothes from a cowboy? This guy must be seriously deranged.
“Look man, sorry about everything. I’ve gotta go. And would you rather be tied up outside or in this dump?”
But before Tony could answer, the man tried to shove him outside with the gun. “Hold on,” Tony grabbed the greasy coveralls and slipped them on.
“Okay now, one more thing. Give me the keys to your truck,” he demanded. “I’ll trade you.” He handed Tony a set of keys dangling from a miniature cowboy boot.
“What? You’ve already got a car—what do you need mine for?”
“Look dude, I can’t get any where in that thing. The cops can spot it from miles away. Besides it’s about out of gas.”
Now Tony thought about Kelli again. He hadn’t set anything definite, but promised to stop by after work. He was glad that the man was leaving him his car at least. Things could be worse.
“Got any cash?” The man interrupted his thoughts.
“Not on me.” Tony said with dread, realizing his wallet was in his pickup.
“Okay then.” The man started to put his hand out as if he was going to shake Tony’s, but then withdrew it, pointed the gun again and said, “Almost forgot. Guess I’d better tie you up before I leave.”
“Oh shoot,” Tony muttered under his breath.
“Did you just tell me to shoot?” The man said with his brows furrowed in confusion.
“That’s not what I meant. But hey, you don’t need to tie me up. I don’t have a phone here, so it’d be quite awhile before I could call the police and you said yourself the car is about out of gas,” Tony said.
“I’m not dumb. You’re a cowboy—you could ride your horse. Besides I can’t afford to take any chances—I need to get somewhere.” The man glanced around in the moonlight searching for something. “Hand me the rope from that horse.”
Tony thought for a second. This man didn’t seem to be very bright; chances were that Tony could overpower him before he could fire a shot. Tony reached for the rope, and then thought again. Kelli. Before Kelli came into his life he would’ve taken the chance, but now he had a lot to live for. It wasn’t worth the risk. He handed the man the rope.
“Lay down on the ground man, and put your hands behind your back.”
Tony kneeled and dropped to the ground. Fear crept into his mind, his heart beat faster, and his breathing became shallow, and he felt beds of perspiration on his forehead. Even though the stench from the overalls was nearly overpowering, they offered his skin some protection from being scraped on the ground. The man fumbled with the rope, tying Tony’s hands together and then his feet. Tony felt the rope cut into his wrists as the man pulled the rope tight.
“Guess that does it,” the man grunted as he stood up. “Thanks for everything and really, I’m sorry to have to do this. You seem like a pretty nice dude. Maybe we can meet up again sometime, go out for a drink or something.”
“That’s not going to happen.” This guy is completely whacko. Tony heard his pickup start then jerk out from the gravel drive. He had managed to roll onto his back, when he heard his truck come back.
“Just remembered something else,” the man said. The man unknotted the silk scarf around Tony’s neck. Tony was surprised, thinking that the man had come back just to complete his cowboy outfit, but then the man gagged him with his own scarf. Tony couldn’t believe it. Then the man took the pillowcase and put it over Tony’s head and he heard him leave again. Anger seized Tony—now the man was just making fun of him. Tony couldn’t see anything, couldn’t speak and couldn’t move as he laid in the blackness of the night, listening to the cicadas, the horses neigh, and the occasional coyote howl.