Cowboy Showdown

Travel through time with Tom on more

adventures!

Gladiator Clash

Knight Quest

Viking Raiders

Greek Warriors

Pirate Mutiny

Egyptian Curse

Cowboy Showdown

Samurai Assassin

Outback Outlaw

Stone Age Rampage

Mohican Brave

Aztec Attack

For games, competitions and more visit:

www.time-hunters.com

With special thanks to Lisa Fiedler

Cover

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1: Drum Roll, Please

Chapter 2: Mirror, Mirror

Chapter 3: All That Glitters

Chapter 4: Deadwood

Chapter 5: Yee-ha!

Chapter 6: Stagecoach Stick-up

Chapter 7: A Shot in the Dark

Chapter 8: Round Up a Posse

Chapter 9: Showdown at High Noon

Chapter 10: Just Desserts

Weapons

Wild West Timeline

Time Hunters Timeline

Fantastic Facts

The Hunt Continues …

Discover a New Time Hunters Quest!

Copyright

About the Publisher

Tom Sullivan hurried ahead of his dad. He was never able to just walk through the museum where his dad worked. Tom was a history fanatic and he loved being at the museum – there was always so much to see!

“C’mon, Dad,” he urged. “I want to look at the ‘Treasures of the Aztec World’ exhibition before it opens next week.”

“It’s not quite finished yet,” Dad warned. “There are still lots of artefacts in shipping crates.”

“I don’t mind,” said Tom. “I can help you unpack.”

Tom loved helping his dad at the museum, especially when it was closed to the public. Then he could make as much noise as he wanted, and study the displays without the crowds.

As they reached the Egyptian hall, Tom felt a rush of excitement. Not long ago, in this very place, he’d accidentally broken an ancient statue and freed the princess Isis from a curse. Together, they had travelled through time to find the six lost amulets Isis needed to enter the Afterlife. They’d met pirates and Vikings and Roman gladiators. But even though they’d faced fearsome opponents, Tom and Isis had managed to collect all six jewels.

It had been the most amazing experience of Tom’s life.

Weeks had passed since he and Isis had had their last adventure, and life was much quieter now. Actually, Tom was surprised to find it was a little too quiet.

Finally, they reached the Aztec room. As soon as they entered the hall, Tom gasped. He felt as though he’d just stepped back in time to Ancient Mexico. There were still several unpacked crates and boxes, but the things that had been unloaded were amazing.

“The Aztecs created a truly great empire,” his father explained. “It reached its peak around 1500 AD. But in my opinion, their most brilliant contribution was discovering something we could not live without.”

“What’s that?” asked Tom.

“Chocolate!”

“Chocolate?” Tom laughed. “Well, I guess we really owe them then!” He pointed to a model of a twin pyramid with a squared-off top. “What’s this?”

“That’s the Great Temple in Tenochtitlan,” said Dad. “It was dedicated to the gods Tlaloc and Huitzilopochtli.”

“Hoo-zee whatsy?”

Before Dad could reply, a woman appeared in the doorway. “Dr Sullivan, there’s a call for you,” she said.

“I’ll be right back,” said Dad, heading to his office. “Take a look round, but be careful and don’t touch anything.”

Tom studied the displays. He saw clay statues with wide mouths and big ears, sword-like weapons and documents written in a strange language. There was even a carved wooden box that looked like a treasure chest.

In a corner he found a wooden cylinder carved with strange symbols. The label explained it was a drum that belonged to the rain god, Tlaloc, who would bang it to create thunder! Beside it lay two mallets.

This I’ve got to hear! thought Tom. He reached for one of the mallets, then quickly drew back his hand. Tom knew the rules, but his fingers were itching. It was as if the drum were begging him to play it. He knew he shouldn’t, but he was just too curious.

Tom glanced round to be sure there was nobody else in the room. Then he picked up a mallet and gently swung it down.

To his shock, an enormous roll of thunder exploded from the drum. Aztec objects shook on their shelves as the sound echoed through the room.

Suddenly, Tom wasn’t alone any more.

Standing in front of him was a girl about his age. At least he thought she was a girl. But he’d never seen a blue girl wearing a feathered headdress before.

“You freed me from that drum!” the girl exclaimed, throwing her arms round Tom. “Thank you!”

Tom stepped back and nearly tripped over something scampering beneath his feet. A little dog was wildly wagging its tail and nipping at Tom’s trainers.

“Don’t mind him,” said the girl. “He’s just showing you how grateful he is. He was trapped in the drum too.”

“I didn’t mean to do anything,” said Tom, reaching down to pat the tiny dog.

The girl frowned as she looked round the Aztec hall. “Some of these things look familiar,” she said, pointing to a shelf full of pottery. “But you don’t.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you my new master?”

“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!”

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.”

“Where do we get one of those?” said Zuma.

Tom frowned and thought back to his adventures with Isis. She’d had a scarab ring that had given them help in the form of riddles …

Tom looked Zuma up and down. His eyes stopped on her necklace. “Your pendant!”

Zuma touched the black disc. “The high priest made me wear it for the sacrifice because black mirrors are good for communicating with spirits and predicting the future.”

“Perfect!” cried Tom. “Ask it for help.”

Zuma held the pendant with both hands. “Er … what should I say?”

“Well, you can always be like Snow White and start with, ‘Mirror, Mirror …’” Tom burst out laughing when he saw the strange look Zuma was giving him. “Oh, right. I guess you didn’t have fairy tales in Aztec times.” Tom quickly explained how Snow White had summoned the voice of her magic mirror.

“OK, here goes,” said Zuma.

“Mirror, Mirror, on a chain,

Can you help us? Please explain!

We are lost and must be told

How to find the coins of gold.”

Tom smiled. “Nice.”

The next instant, silvery sparks appeared on the smooth surface of the mirror, followed by words rising up from the dark stone:

In a town that has no law,

The hero must always be first to draw;

Where rivers and coaches rush with gold

Fortunes are won but souls can be sold.

The sharpest of shooters you’ll meet on this trip;

One is a marshal who’s smart as a whip.

The West can be wild, it’s not for the meek,

So be brave in the cave when you roll out of Spring Creek!

“Now I know where we are,” cried Tom. “We’ve landed in the Wild West.”

“Hmm,” said Zuma, looking worried. “Exactly how wild is it?”

“I’m not sure,” Tom admitted. “All I know is that in the late 1800s, gold was discovered in America’s West. Thousands of people hurried there to try and get rich. That’s why they called it the Gold Rush—”

“Babbling!” Zuma cupped her hand to her ear. “I hear babbling.”

Tom looked hurt. “Well you did ask …”

“No,” said Zuma, patting his shoulder. “I didn’t mean you were babbling. I meant I hear running water.”

“Let’s follow it,” said Tom, feeling hopeful. “Maybe it will lead us to a river that rushes with gold, like the riddle says.”

With Chilli trotting along beside them, Tom and Zuma found their way to a creek. Then they followed its winding bank through the trees and scrub.

The further they walked, the more the woods thinned. Soon they arrived at the edge of a clearing, where the creek broadened into a wide pool. Standing knee-deep in the rippling water were two boys. The taller one looked like he was in his late teens while the smaller boy was only a bit older than Tom and Zuma.

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