Lara Croft's Wild West Adventure^ã
Tomb Raider Fan Fiction

Chapter One - The Letter

England, Summer, 1997

It was a hazy, muggy morning in Surrey, and with the temperature well above comfortable, it was easy to work up a sweat just standing still. Thomas Smithfield held his cup under the large jug of cold water. It was so humid he didn't feel much like working, although there was work to do. There is always work to do when you have a stable and horses to deal with.

He had just set down the cup when a sound from outside made him glance up in surprise. He checked his watch. Hmmm. She certainly hadn't been gone very long.

Curious, he stepped to the door, just in time to see a horse and rider come into the paddock from the field. The horse was an Arabian, a beautiful animal, proud of manner, with a rich black coat. His rider was a woman about thirty, with auburn hair that hung in a braid down the middle of her back.

As the pair reached the stable entrance, the groom could see right immediately why his young employer had returned early from her ride: Both she and the black horse were soaking wet with perspiration. Stepping back inside, he pulled a towel off a rack near the door and went out to greet them.

"You're back early, Miss Lara."

"It's too stuffy to enjoy riding, Thomas," the woman replied as she swung down. "I can hardly breath and King doesn't seem to like it very much either. Make sure he gets a good rubdown, would you please?"

The groom took the reigns of the animal and handed her the towel. "Aye, mum. He looks like he could certainly use it." Indeed, the animal's coat dripped with moisture, some of which fell off, forming a small puddle on the ground beneath him.

She used the towel to wipe her face. "That's better. I feel like I've been a steam room." She plucked at her t-shirt, which clung wetly to her ample figure. Her shorts were dark with perspiration, too, and her long, tanned legs glistened in the sunlight.

"Perhaps a dip in the pool might be in order?" the groom dared to suggest. He had a couple of other ideas, too, but wisely refrained from voicing them.

"An excellent suggestion, Thomas, thank you." She gave the horse a quick pat and turned toward the house. "I'll see you later."

He led the horse toward the stable entrance, glancing one last time at the slender figure walking toward the main house. He had never heard of Lara Croft when he had answered a blind advertisement seeking an experienced groom. The fact that his new employer was a wealthy young woman did not surprise him all that much. Such things were not uncommon these days. But he was totally taken aback the first time she had walked into the stable in a leotard and shorts, a pair of automatic pistols belted around her.

Since that time he had learned not to be surprised at anything she did, and as the list of her accomplishments grew, so did his admiration. In fact, if he was few years younger…

A soft, plopping noise behind him brought him back to reality. A quick glance at the floor behind the horse confirmed what he already suspected. He turned toward the face of the animal with a raised eyebrow.

"And what's this then, Mr. King?" he said in disgust. "I suspose it's your way of remindin' me of me place, is that right?"

* * * * *

Lara Croft headed back to the house, wiping her face again with the now-damp towel. A long swim would provide some much-needed exercise, too. She hadn't gotten enough of it lately, the high humidity had made work on the assault course miserable after a few minutes. The lack of activity had left her feeling listless and rundown.

In truth of fact, she was bored. Riding was fun, but doing it every day was getting to be rather old. She felt the familiar itch to get out and do some adventuring. Unfortunately, she didn't have anything lined up at the moment except a couple of speaking engagements.

She pushed her way through the front door and was promptly greeted by a voice from above her.

"The mail has arrived, Miss Lara. I placed in on your desk."

She looked up to see Jeeves, her elderly butler, on the balcony. "Thank you, Jeeves. Anything I should look at right away? I was going to go for a swim."

The older man nodded. "Yes, Miss. There was one in particular. From America, I believe."

"Really?" Turning aside, she headed for her office. She reached the big oak desk a moment later, and, after taking a final swipe at her forehead, slipped the towel around her neck and sat down.

"More bills," she grunted as she sorted through the stack of letters. Running a big house was a hassle. She had people to help, of course, but she insisted on seeing all the bills and signing the checks herself when she was home.

She was almost to the bottom of the pile when she saw the fancy white business stationery. Turning it over, her eyes widened in surprise when she read the return address. Her boredom forgotten, she tore open the envelope and leaned back in her chair.

Dear Ms. Croft,

Like a lot of people, I've followed your exploits around the world. Your books and lectures about your travels have made you one of the most talked-about women of our time. The release of your latest book kept me reading until the early morning hours! I am writing to ask if you would care to take part in another adventure…A trip to the old west.

My name is Jason Trimble and I am president of Exclusive Adventures. We are building a series of theme parks around the world and our first, Silverado, opened just recently in the United States. Unlike most theme parks, which are crowded with visitors, our goal is to cater to a small number of clients, endeavoring to give each a personal, once-in-a-lifetime experience. Once the client steps into the park, he or she is completely immersed in the theme until the time they leave. We think it's exciting and entertaining…and we'd like you to come and visit us.

Lara, if I make take the liberty of calling you that, we believe that many people would like to experience a true-to-life adventure, if they can do so safely and comfortably. When they read about exploits like yours, they wish they could be a part of them.

I'll get to the point. We want you to come to Silverado and experience it, first hand, as our guest. There are no strings attached. Stay for as long as you like. If you have a good time, we'd like you to say so publicly. That will encourage other folks to find out more about us. That's what we're looking for, lots of interest. If, for some reason, you don't have a good time, we hope you'll work with us to correct the deficiencies.

We know that you play only for sport, Lara, and we respect that. And it's what we want you to do: Come and play. Have a good time. When you're done, whether you like it or not, we'll make a donation in your behalf to your favorite charity, as a token of our appreciation for your time.

Please consider it. Then give me call at the number below. My secretary has been instructed to put your call through at once.

Sincerely,

Jason Trimble

Lara threw the letter on the desk with a grunt. A theme park? A grand adventure? She sniffed. People had no idea what it was like to really live one of those "grand adventures." She did…and she had some scars to prove it.

She got up and paced around the room. Still, it might be fun. She'd picked up a Louis L'Amour western on a plane a few months ago and enjoyed it. More recently she read another one by Suzann Ledbetter, with a female heroine. She'd liked that even better.

Lara walked back to her desk and glanced at the calendar. She had to be in Denver, Colorado, in a couple of weeks to give a lecture anyway. Hmmm.

Twenty seconds later she picked up the phone.

* * * * *

With a small screech of tires, the Lear25 business jet touched down at a small, private airstrip in the desert. As Lara Croft looked outside, she marveled again at the vast beauty of America. From the green hues of the Great Plains, the terrain had given way to browns of the mountains and the desert. They had passed over the Grand Canyon, too, a truly awesome spectacle.

The plane taxied to the ramp and she saw a stretch limousine waiting nearby. Whoever these people were, they did know how to do things in style. Hopefully, Silverado would be a worthwhile place to visit.

The co-pilot opened the door and lowered the steps. "Thanks for flying with us, Ms. Croft."

"You are quite welcome. I enjoyed it immensely."

When Lara stepped off the plane, a stylishly dressed, red-haired woman was waiting for her.

"Hello, Ms. Croft," she said, extending her hand. "I'm Alison Kennedy, Mr. Trimble's executive assistant. Welcome to Silverado."

"Thank you. It's good to be back in America again."

"Mr. Trimble's extends his apologies," Alison continued. "He's in a big meeting this morning, so he asked me to drive out here and pick you up. He and the board of directors are anxious to talk with you. We have lunch planned and then a tour of the facility."

They got Lara's luggage and climbed into the stretch limousine. Once they were seated comfortably in the back, the car pulled away. But it had only gone fifty feet when Lara turned quickly to her hostess.

"Stop the car."

"What?" Alison asked in surprise.

"Stop the car."

After ordering the driver to stop, Alison turned to Lara with a concerned look on her face. "What's the matter?"

"Mr. Trimble wants an honest opinion about Silverado doesn't he?"

Alison blinked. "Certainly, but…"

"Then I can't go in there like a VIP. How many people know I'm coming?"

"Uh, just Mr. Trimble and the board. Maybe a few others, people who made the arrangements."

"Tell the board that I have to go incognito. It's the only way I'll get the same experience as everyone else. I would be happy to meet with them after my adventure."

"But…"

Lara held up her hand. "Just tell them what I said. If they really want an honest report, it has to be this way."

For a few seconds Alison was silent. Finally she nodded. "There's another plane coming in a little while with more guests. If you want to wait here, you can ride out to Silverado with them in the van. I'm usually at the hotel every day, contact me if you need anything."

Lara opened the door. "Right then. I'm off to go adventuring."

* * * * *

Three quarters of an hour later, the passenger van carrying Lara and two other guests pulled up in front of a good-sized adobe building. It was apparently a railroad station, for several pieces of rolling stock sat on a sidetrack nearby. The main track itself stretched to the south, into a line of nearby hills.

A second van, with a Silverado logo on the side, was parked out front.

Lara followed the others inside and they were shown into a small, but comfortable meeting room. A half dozen other people were already seated, bringing the group to nine in all.

A big man, dressed as a cowboy, came in right behind them. "Howdy, folks," he said with a smile as he pulled off his big hat. "My name's Slim. Welcome to the Wild West. Actually, this ain't Silverado." He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. "It's about four miles down the track. You'll be takin' the train down there in just a spell. This here's Reception Station. It's where yu leave life as yu know it behind. Where you're going, it's gonna be pretty close to the way it was a hundred years ago. More or less.

"In a few minutes, each of you is goin' to a dressin' room. You'll leave all your modern clothes and gadgets there." He grinned. "Don't take a walkman or a laptop down to Silverado, folks. You'll get arrested just fer carryin' one.

"Now when you get to the dressin' room, you'll find your clothes. Remember the form ya filled out when you registered? You should find everything you requested in your room. If not, just let us know and we'll get yu anything else yu need.

"After yu get dressed, go down to the armory and get yourself a weapon if yu wantta carry one. That's up to you. We got everything from a derringer to a sawed-off double. Take your pick. Or not, as yu wish. Ladies, I'd take at least a derringer if I was you. Silverado is a tough town, and yu never know who you might run into.

"By the way, don't even think about takin' no real guns. If ya do, you're outta Silverado. No refund either." He pulled a pistol from the holster at his side. "Looks real, don't it? That's cause it is. But it's been modified to shoot a special blank round, made so as not to hurt anybody, even up close." He turned the weapon over. "See this here little tube under the barrel? It's a tiny laser. Power supply's in the handle. "

As he talked, Lara glanced around the room. Some of guests were in their 40's, two couples. Two young men in their twenties, a young woman of twenty-five and a handsome, blond-haired man in his thirties rounded out the group.

"From now on, folks," said their guide, "you're gonna be known only by your handle. Leave your real name here with your other stuff." He walked to a shelf on the wall and came back with a clipboard and a small cardboard box. He removed a plastic nametag from the box and held it up.

"This nametag must be worn at all times. It identifies you as a guest." He glanced down at the clipboard. "Who's Wild Bill Hickcock?"

One of the older men raised his hand. Slim handed him a nametag and a badge. "Good luck, marshall."

"How about Belle Starr?"

Hickcock's' wife raised her hand and Slim laughed. "That's good. A marshal married to a lady outlaw. It oughta be an interesting week around here."

He lifted another nametag from the box. "How about Little Britches?"

To Lara's surprise, it was the young woman who raised her hand.

"She's an outlaw, too." Slim handed her the nametag. "Here ya go. Silverado's got two banks, if yu feel lucky. Or there's cattle to be rustled, if that's more to your liking. Just don't get caught. It's a hangin' offense."

The young woman smiled. "I don't aim to get caught, Slim. If we meet in Silverado, just make sure you walk around me. Savvy?"

Lara laughed along with everyone else. This was going to be fun.

"Wyatt Earp?"

It was the blond man who raised his hand and accepted the nametag and badge.

"Just be careful, marshall. You and Wild Bill are gonna have your hands full with all these outlaws around."

"Ain't no problem, Slim," replied Wyatt. "First thing I'm gonna do when I get off the train is to arrest Miss Britches over there. Outta be peaceful after that."

Little Britches shot to her feet, an angry look on her face. "Try it and you're a dead man, Wyatt!"

Everybody laughed and Little Britches suddenly looked embarrassed and sat down.

"Who's Annie Oakley?"

Lara raised her hand.

"There ya go, Miss Annie," said Slim, handing her the nametag. "You're just as pretty as your namesake." Lara blushed. The real Annie was beautiful…except for all those long skirts and petticoats she wore. Ugh.

Quickly Slim passed out the rest of the nametags. The other couple had chosen Doc Holiday and Emily Peters. The two young men were John Wesley Hardin and Billy the Kid.

* * * * *

Lara chuckled as she glanced at herself in the mirror. The brown leather pants were tucked into her cowboy boots. The coarse, heavy shirt was a little snug, but it would do. A flat-brimmed hat topped her head and a long neckerchief circled her neck. Her auburn hair hung in two long pigtails. She'd picked that idea from the 1950's TV show about Annie.

She shook her head. Incognito, right?

Turning, she picked up the gunbelt and slung it around her hips. It was not her usual outfit, with the 9mm automatics, but a western rig she had purchased just for the occasion. Lara was never one to spare expenses when it came to looking cool, and the belt was beautiful, with carving in the leather and silver studs lining the belt. The holsters were empty though, and Lara looked longingly at the two brand-new Colt revolvers she had just purchased. They would have to stay with her luggage. Oh well, maybe another time

She tied the leather thongs of the holsters around her pants and checked the mirror. Not exactly what the real Annie would wear. But then the real Annie wouldn't have robbed a bank either.

Lara stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed behind her. The rest of her clothes would be delivered to her room in the hotel. All she had to do was get there alive. Feeling suddenly a little naked without her guns, she followed the sign toward the armory.

She heard voices ahead of her, and when she rounded a corner, she saw the long counter near the back of the building. Several people were already in line and Lara smiled when she saw Little Britches. She wanted to talk to her about a bank and…

"Hold it right there, Miss Annie," said a quiet voice behind her. Something hard poked her in the back. "Get your hands up, you're under arrest."

Lara stopped and lifted her hands. "Whatever for?"

"I dunno," replied the voice, and the blond-haired man stepped up beside her, a grin on his face. "I'll try real hard to think of something. Might be the only chance I'll get."

Lara lowered her hands with a look of disgust. He didn't even have a gun. He'd used the knuckle of his finger. "Be so kind as to keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Earp," she replied distainfully. "I would surely dislike having to shoot an officer of the law."

Wyatt pulled back as if she'd slapped him. "Aw, now ma'am, I'm real scared. I shore wouldn't want ya to hurt me none." He looked her up and down. "Although ya don't look all that dangerous just now." He rubbed his chin. "In fact, you look pretty good with them empty holsters. Once we get down to Silverado, I'll just make it a point to be sure they stay that way." He tipped his hat and turned toward the armory.

Lara stood there, clenching her fists, sure that her face was red with embarrassment. Everyone in line must have heard the exchange, for several were chuckling. She vowed to repay Mr. Earp in full. He'd look good locked in his own jail.

She joined the line just as Wild Bill Hickcock turned away from the counter. He was stylishly dressed, but Lara could see the gunbelt under his long coat. He'd also selected a double-barreled shotgun to go with his pistols.

"Afternoon, marshall," she said with a smile. "That's a real cannon you got there."

Hickcock grinned and patted the shotgun. "I don't believe in takin' chances. Know what I mean?"

She nodded. "Be so kind as to not point it at me. Blanks or no blanks, I don't want to look into the business end of that thing."

He smiled, almost like a father would to a small child. "No problem, Miss Annie. You just stay on the right side of the law and we won't have any trouble." He leaned in a little closer. "Don't worry about Wyatt, either. I'll make sure he stays in line."

"I BEG your pardon?" she hissed. "I don't need a man to watch out for me, Marshall. I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

If Hickcock was surprised he didn't show it. "Yes, ma'am. I'm sure you can. But I don't see eyes in the back of that pretty head of yours. Remember that." He chuckled and turned away, leaving Lara fuming.

Little Britches stepped away from the counter, stuffing cartridges into her revolver. The young woman was a honey blonde, several inches shorter than Lara and dressed in similar manner. She was wearing a fast-draw rig, strapped securely to her right leg. Finished loading, she snapped the gate shut and backflipped the gun into the holster.

Uh, oh, thought Lara. A real gunslick.

"Britches?" she asked as the woman passed her.

The girl glanced over at Lara and automatically looked down.

"Nice rig."

"Thank you," Lara replied. "Could you wait for me a moment? I'd like to talk with you."

Britches grinned. "It wouldn't be about a certain marshal, would it?"

Lara nodded. "And about making money."

"Yeah?" The young woman leaned against the wall. "For that, I'll wait all day."

A few minutes later, Lara stepped up to the counter. The eyes of the man behind the counter widened a bit when he saw what Lara was wearing, but he didn't say a word, he just handed her a pair of pearl-handled revolvers, quite similar to what she'd left behind.

"Anything else?"

"How about an Uzi."

He chuckled. "A what?"

"An Uzi. Short-barrel, automatic weapon."

"I dunno what yore talkin' about, Miss," he drawled. "Ain't no such thing as an awe-toe-ma-tic weapon in 1880."

"No M-16 or MP-5 then?"

He laughed. "Nope. How about a nice Winchester '73?"

"Thanks, but I'll pass. But I'll take six boxes of shells."

His smile disappeared. "Six? Whatcha gonna do, start a war?"

Lara kept a straight face. "Of course, sir. Why else would I come here?" The corners of her mouth quivering a bit, she turned away from the counter, drew one of her new revolvers and started loading it.

"You must be from England," Little Britches said as Lara joined her.

Again Lara kept a straight face. "Whatever makes you say that?"

The blond girl blushed. "Oh, sorry, it's just that your accent…"

Lara laughed and touched her lightly on the arm. "I'm teasing. Yes, I'm from the U.K. I live in Surrey, not too far from London. And you?"

"San Diego."

Lara smiled. "Ah, one of those 'California Girls' that the Beach Boys sing about, is that correct?"

Little Britches grinned. "Yes. But we're not all beach bunnies, you know."

They walked out on to the station platform and Lara sensed a spirit of adventure in her young companion. They agreed the bank should be robbed at their earliest convenience. The two marshals were also in conversation and every so often they glanced in the girls' direction.

"I think we're gonna have trouble with those two," said Britches. "They'd like nothing better than to throw us in jail."

"You're right," agreed Lara. "Maybe we should enlist Belle Starr and a couple of the others. Make one of those outlaw groups, just like the Daltons or the Jesse James gang."

Little Britches glanced in her direction. "I can see you've done your homework."

"I only had a week to get ready. Wasn't much time, but I did do some reading." Lara smiled. "I even attended a meeting of a fast draw club."

The blonde woman's eyes widened. "You did?"

Lara nodded. "I learned just enough to realize I'm slow. You been doing it a long time?"

"Five years. My dad was into it and I sorta picked it up from him. I placed second last summer in my division."

A train whistle interrupted their conversation and soon an old-fashioned steam locomotive pulled into the station. Behind the engine were a freight car, two coaches and a caboose. Slim ushered everyone into the first passenger car.

"A final word, folks," he said after they were seated. "Once this train leaves the station, your adventure begins. When you get to Silverado, you're liable to encounter most anybody. Some are guests who got here over the last couple of days. Others are part of our permanent staff. No way for you to tell the difference." He shook his head. "Personally, I think you're all fools for wantin' to go down there. The Spade gang is holed up in these parts. They done killed three marshals already this week. If you want to stay alive, you oughta stick together. The only law in town when you get there is the sheriff and these two lawmen you got sittin' right here. If they get killed, there ain't no cop on the corner to go runnin' to. Give 'em a hand if they need it.

"Your weapons are keyed to your nametag. If the gun is more than five feet from the nametag it won't fire. If you get shot, your nametag'll glow red and your weapon will be disabled.

"Well, good luck. Hopefully ya won't get killed too often. The record so far is three times in one week. Most folks die about ten times." He grinned. "Life is hard." He stepped down from the train and waved to the engineer.

A blast of the locomotive's whistle answered and, with a slight jerk, the train pulled out. Slim watched the train cross over a small stream, then turned to the station agent.

"Let 'em know, Barney."

The agent opened his telegraph key and sent a message, warning Silverado that the train was on its way.

Down at the end of the platform, a maintenance worker was slowly emptying a trash container into his little truck. He watched as the train disappeared around a curve. A few minutes later, he drove up to the dumpster. But instead of getting out of the truck to empty the trash, he pulled out a cellular phone. He punched in a series of numbers and waited for a moment.

"Dugan, sir," he told the party on the other end. "She's here all right. No doubt about it." He listened. "Yes, sir. I understand. I'll be waiting." He closed the phone and stepped out of the truck. Feeling a little uncomfortable, he unzipped the front of his coverall and adjusted the strap of his shoulder holster.

Go to Chapter Two.