Week 6 Story: Outlaws and Bone Dice

Author's Note: For today I chose to adapt two stories from the tales of Raja Rasalu: "The Dice and the Cricket" and "How He Played Chaupur with King Sarkap." To summarize the parts relevant to this retelling, in "The Dice and the Cricket," Raja Rasalu is riding to play a Chaupur with a notorious King when he is forced to stop in a graveyard due to a storm. There, a headless corpse warns him of King Sarkap's trickery and gives him bone dice to use in the game so that he will win and not be beheaded like the corpse. Much happens in other stories between that one and "How He Played Chaupur, " but for the sake of word count, I chose to omit them. As the title suggests, "How He Played Chaupur" tells the story of Raja Rasalu's game with King Sarkap, which he wins using the bone dice.

I chose to set my retelling in the old west, the reason for that is lengthy and has to do with another Raja Rasalu story, so I will spare you my telling it here. If you want, you can see it in my notes. Moving on, I decided to give the character a bit more motivation that simply wanting to be a legendary adventurer like Raja Rasalu, so I made him a tired, old outlaw, offered a shot at freedom by a corrupt marshal. I feel like Sam Elliott (pictured below) is the quintessential old cowpoke, so if you've seen any of his movies and want to read the Outlaw's lines in his voice, be my guest. I hope y'all enjoy the story!

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Once upon a time, in the dying days of the west, there lived an old Outlaw. He had robbed a stagecoach or two back when he was young and stupid and thought running with a gang of slightly older but equally stupid brigands made him somehow more of a man. In so doing, he had condemned himself to a life on the run, but he had grown tired of running, and it seemed the law had grown tired of chasing him as well. The Marshal who was after the old Outlaw had put out an ultimatum to him and a few other similarly worn out scoundrels: ride into town and play a game of craps. The outlaw wins, he walks. The Marshal wins, the outlaw goes to the gallows. Best of five.

The old Outlaw figured he didn't have much to lose, so into town was where he was headed. About halfway there, as the sun was just beginning to set, however, he noticed some less than friendly looking clouds rolling in from the plateau and set to finding a place to hole up for the night. Luck was not with him though. The Outlaw rode and rode and the clouds drew nearer, but he found no shelter. Eventually, he came to a lonely cemetery with a seemingly ancient oak at its center. With the storm just about upon him and not being one for ghost stories, the old cowpoke decided this was as good a spot as any to hunker down.

As he rode through the decrepit wrought iron gates and up to the tree, the Outlaw noticed a grisly but not unfamiliar sight: a hanged man. The desiccated corpse sat at the bottom of the oak with the noose still around his neck, the elements having snapped the rope at some point or another. Dropping from his saddle and leading his horse over to the tree, the Outlaw took a seat next to the poor son of a gun and prepared to get some shut eye. Just then, he heard a voice: "howdy." The Outlaw turned with a start to the body next to him. "Sorry brother, didn't mean to spook ya."

The skeletal remains had shifted to face him, they lacked a jaw, but they were clearly the source of the voice. "Now just what in the-"

The corpse cut him off, seemingly having gotten this question before. "I was a bad man in life...seems the weight of it all is keepin' me stuck here and, well...you sit in one spot for long enough, you get a bit restless."

"Fair 'nough" the old Outlaw replied.

"So, what're ya out this way for?"

The Outlaw explained how he was heading into town to see the sheriff and had gotten caught up in the storm. The corpse suddenly became frighteningly urgent, begging him not to go, but the Outlaw was stubborn and insisted that he wouldn't be deterred. The corpse explained, "I was in the same boat as you brother, and look where that got me. That Marshal's usin' loaded dice, you ride in there and you're gonna be strung up just the same as me...I still don't think you should go, but if you insist, take these." As the corpse said this, he took his hat off and dropped a fistful of his own knucklebones into it. "Make these into dice, and play with 'em. No chance you winnin' otherwise." The Outlaw thanked the corpse and the two continued their conversation through the night. By morning the storm had passed, and the Outlaw thanked the corpse again and set out for town.

Making town at just about noon, the Outlaw headed straight for the Marshal's office. "Howdy 'R,' been hoping you'd show!" The Marshal greeted him, all smiles up front but a cold emptiness behind the eyes. "Some of these other fellers I offered the deal to, well, let's just say they were...unsavory characters. You though! Far as I know, you ain't even shot nobody, which makes you pretty civilized for someone who robs stages for a living."

"You got a funny idea of civilized, Marshal." the outlaw replied with a glare. "We gonna play?"

"Sure, got the table all set up!" the Marshal said, motioning to his makeshift craps board at the back of the jailhouse. The two sat down and began to play, but having stayed up all night and ridden hard through the morning the old Outlaw had forgotten the corpse's advice and played with the dice the sheriff gave him, losing the first two rounds.

"One more and you're out R! Say, you're lookin' pretty tired..."

"Long ride here" the Outlaw replied.

"Why don't we get you some coffee before we keep playing." the Marshal said almost genuinely, pouring two cups and handing one to the Outlaw. As he guzzled down the strong but lukewarm brew, the Outlaw felt the bone dice in his pocket and remembered what the corpse had told him about the Marshal's game.

"Say, Marshal. We been playin' with your dice, maybe I just ain't too lucky with 'em. Why don't we give mine a try." the Outlaw said, producing the knucklebones. "Can't hurt. You're already up two to none after all."

"Sure, why not!" the Marshal replied. The Outlaw was right, he was up two, and these dice were bone so it's not like they could be loaded. Much to the Marshal's annoyance, however, the Outlaw began to rally, winning the next two rounds. He was furious, but he wouldn't dare ask that the dice be switched again and give away his game. The Outlaw and the Marshal both said a silent prayer as they rolled the last round.

The Outlaw won. 

"Looks like you walk, R. You're the first man to beat me, you know," the Marshal noted, downing the last of his coffee.

"Somehow that don't surprise me." the Outlaw replied with a morose chuckle, gathering his dice and stepping out the door into his new life.

Conagher (1991). Source: IMDB

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Story Source: Tales of the Punjab by Flora Annie Steel