Wildcat Kitty and The Cyclone Kid Ride Again

by Franklin D. Lincoln

Rap held the torch while Cyclone descended the ladder. He hadn’t reached the bottom yet when he reached up to get the torch from Rap, but he was only a few rungs from the bottom and was pretty sure he could handle the torch for the rest of the way. Besides, if he went any lower, he wouldn’t be able to reach the torch.

  When he reached bottom, he held the torch high to give Chief Henry as much light as possible to climb down next.

  “Hurry up, Chief,” Rap called behind him, as he descended the ladder. “It’s dark up here and it’s giving me the willies.” The he added, “Don’t think I’m scared, though, ‘Cause I ain’t afraid of no ghost.” He was getting repetitious with this ‘no ghost’ routine. Cy and Henry cringed in annoyance.

  No sooner had Chief set foot on the hard stone floor below, Rap scampered down quickly with the agility of a much younger man.

  Cy was waving the torch back and forth, examining where they were more closely. They seemed to be in a wide tunnel. At first it looked like they were in a cellar or wide cave, but it wasn’t. It was a tunnel and it extended far out of reach of the flaming torch light. The walls were of hard rock, as was the ceiling that was several feet above their heads.

  The solid rock floor beneath their feet was dark with dampness and the trail of Jeremy’s blood could not be seen.

  “This must’ve been an old mine tunnel left over from the gold mining days around here,” Cyclone mused, examining the wall closer in the light of his torch. He could see the striations where veins had been chipped away. There was no sign of gold left behind.

  All of a sudden a heavy sound thwacked above them; heavy wood against wood. The trio spun around quickly, facing the ladder once again. “The trap door has gone shut on us!” Cyclone shouted. “Rap check it out!”

  Rap, forgetting about his fears of ghosts sprang into action, as he always could be counted on when the situation demanded.

  He was on the third rung of the ladder from the top, when his hands could finally reach the closed trap door. With the palms of his big hands, placed against the wooden door above him, he heaved hard, putting all the strength of his massive shoulders and legs into it. It didn’t budge.

  “It’s locked shut!” Rap exclaimed, pulling his pistol out of its holster. “Some sumbitch done locked us in!” He fired three times into the planking. It was solid, thick oak and Rap’s bullets merely made splinters and embedded themselves in the wood. The shots echoed out into a deafening roar, thundering, within the confines of the rock hard tunnel.

  “That ain’t gonna do no good!” Cyclone called to him. “Come on down and let’s see where this tunnel leads. Maybe there’s another way out.”

  Rap dropped heavily from the ladder, not bothering with all the rungs. His face was grim and set rock hard with anger. He no longer looked like a scared little boy. His pistol was still in his hand and gun-smoke was still wafting from his gun muzzle. “That weren’t no ghost, that locked us down here,” he said.

  “Like I said,” Cyclone said. “We’re not alone around here. Them horses in the livery belong to somebody and that somebody is the ones that locked us down here. And, I’ll bet dollars to donuts, they’ve got Kitty, Jeremy and that preacher fella, too. I just hope to hell they haven’t hurt them.”

  “If they have, I’ll blast them all to hell,” Rap growled.

  “What do we do now, Cy?” Henry asked, ignoring Rap’s tirade. He now had his weapon out as did Cyclone.

  “All we can do is, see where this tunnel leads and hopefully there’s another way out of here. If there is, you can bet there’ll be somebody waiting there to get us, like fish in a barrel. Be on guard and let’s get going.”

  They traveled on into the gloom, the torch was starting to burn low. Cyclone had led off with Rap beside him. Chief Henry still held onto Rap’s collar for guidance. They would stop every few steps to listen for any sound from their back-trail, in case their jailers had come down into the tunnel after them. But each time there was no sound, only total blackness behind them.

  They had traveled a couple of hundred feet when they ran into a rock wall directly in front of them. They came to an abrupt halt. “Now don’t that beat all,” Rap groaned.

  “What is it?” Henry asked, noticing the timbre of Rap’s voice and knowing there was a dire problem.

  “End of the tunnel,” Cyclone said. He brandished the torch above his head and waved it to and fro, searching out the gloom.

  “Wait a minute.” Excitement crept into Cy’s voice. “Look off there. This isn’t the end of the tunnel, after all.” In the light they could see that the tunnel continued off to their left at a sharp right angle.

  “And lookee, here,” Cyclone said, shining the light on the rock wall beside them.

  Against the wall was a pile of boxes, bulging canvas bags, food supplies, liquor and dynamite.

  “This must be where they stash all their stuff. Looks like they’ve packed in for more than just of couple of hombres. We’d better be ready for God knows how many we’re going to have to deal with. Let’s take a look and see what they’ve got.”

  “They got good stuff to drink,” Rap said, lifting a bottle of whiskey and examining it in the torch light. “But I’m too mad to care right now.” He dropped the bottle to the rock floor and it smashed to pieces, letting the liquid flow out and added to the dampness of the floor.

  “Hey, look here,” Cyclone said, stepping to one side and letting the light take in a stack of wooden boxes. The lettering on them said, “Juarez, Mexico”

  “What is it, Cy?” Henry queried. “It’s too dark for me to see in here.”

  Rap moved in close. He couldn’t read, but he recognized the cases. “Hey! Isn’t that the silver we sold to Gunderson?”

  “That it is,” Cyclone gloated. “And guess what else?” Without waiting for an answer he stepped further to the left and raised the torch higher.

  Next to them where it had been hidden by shadows was another ladder and at the top of it, they could see the rectangular shape of a trap door. Light from above filtered through the edges, outlining its presence.

  “A way out?” Rap was suddenly excited.

  “Yes,” Cyclone agreed. “But if there’s light up, there’s probably bad guys too.”

  “Good! We can go up there and shoot ‘em” Rap started for the ladder.

  Cyclone grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. “Hold on there. They could shoot us first, while we’re trying to climb up. Besides, if they got Kitty, Jeremy and the preacher, they just might shoot them first, if they haven’t already. We got to take our time. I’ll go up first….”

  Rap cut him off, “No Cy,” he said. “I want to go first.”

  “No, Rap, I can’t let you do that.”

  “But, Cy?”

  “Listen. Just listen to me. I’ve got a plan. If I can get that trap door open, I’ll lift it just enough to take a peek and see if I can size up the situation. If it’s clear, I’ll climb on through. Then send Henry up and you follow. If something goes wrong, you two stay down here. If anyone besides me comes near that door when it’s open. Shoot them.”

  “Well, I do like the last part of your plan,” Rap said. “‘Cause that was my plan all along.”

  “Your plan?”

  “Yeah. My plan was to just go up there and shoot ’em.”

  Cyclone sheathed his pistol away in its holster and slid his slicker off letting it drop to the ground. He pushed his hat back off his head and let it drape down his back, hanging by the chin strap. Cautiously, he started to climb the ladder, trying to be as quiet as possible. The timber above was thick and any sound might not be heard anyways. No sound from up above could be heard either, but Cyclone was not one to take chances.

  When he was close enough on the ladder, he reached up and put the palms of his hands on the bottom of the trap door. He pushed ever so slightly. It didn’t budge. A heavy door needed a heavier push, but Cyclone didn’t want to push it too far open. Gradually, he increased the pressure against the p
lanking until it started to give.

  Cyclone breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the movement. At least the door was not locked on the topside.

  A little more, he pushed. Then a little more, and as the door lifted open, Cyclone took another step up the ladder. He held his breath, hoping there was no sound from the opening door that could give him away.

  The door was about four inches open when Cyclone peered out through the opening. So far, so good. The movement had not brought anyone’s attention.

  As his eyes darted back and forth taking in the surroundings, Cy could see he was looking into a large room. Kerosene lamps and lanterns had been placed on several tables. There was a long bar along the far wall. Liquor bottles filled two shelves behind it. This was the saloon The Wildcats had ridden past earlier that night. Unlike the hotel, there were no cobwebs hanging about. It was obvious that this establishment had been in use of late and probably for some time back.

  Off to the side of the bar was a large billiard table. Jeremy Carlin was lying prone across it, face down and his head turned sideways. His shirt was off and above him stood Reverend Paul Lynch and Kitty.

  Kitty was holding a kerosene lamp high over Jeremy’s body while the preacher worked on him. There was a pan next to Jeremy on the table. A knife with a bloody blade was in the pan propped against one side. The water had turned red from the blood off the extracted bullet. The preacher was bandaging up the hole in Jeremy’s shoulder.

  Cyclone stayed put and watched for a while; listening and trying to detect if there was anyone else there. There didn’t seem to be, so he started to inch the heavy door upward a mite more.

  The movement or perhaps there was a sound, drew Kitty’s attention. Slowly, without showing that she saw anything, she turned her head just enough to see the raised door across the room. Obviously, she knew it was Cyclone for she nodded her head side to side slightly enough to show him she had detected his presence and was not about to acknowledge it. The careful nod had meant ‘no’. She turned a little holding the lamp a little closer to her brother. She swung her hip just enough that Cyclone could see her holster was empty.

  So, they were being held captive, Cyclone deduced. That meant that there had to be others in the saloon. He couldn’t see them. That meant they had to be behind him. If so they would have already seen the trap door rising and were just waiting for him to crawl through.

  He thought of backing down the ladder and warning Rap and Chief, but decided against it. He would let them know another way. Right now, he was going to let whoever was up there; and he was sure it was Snake Gunderson, spring his trap.

  With a sudden mighty shove, Cyclone pushed the door straight up and scrambled through the opening. He twisted and kicked the door shut and stepped on top of it, pounding it with his feet. Then he turned and faced his captors.

  There were six of them. Two of them were young; merely boys, but they had the look of hunted outlaws. Cyclone had never seen these two before, but he had been acquainted with the other four.

  Butch Lowry, Ace Dugan, and Hal Coleman were all hard cases; sloven in appearance with scraggly beards and bodies that hadn’t been washed for quite some time. They were all killers and henchmen for Snake Gunderson, who now stood before Cyclone and pointing his Dragoon pistol at him.

  “Well, well,” Cyclone said calmly, as if he didn’t have any fear or care in the world. “If it isn’t my old… my old not so friend, Snake.” He forced a chuckle and nodded toward the others, who also had guns out and pointed at him. “Snake,” he repeated. “And all his worms.”

  Kitty and Lynch jerked their heads up with surprise. At least it was a surprise to the preacher. Kitty merely feigned surprise, but she was really seething with anger and fear. Jeremy pushed himself upward enough to see what was happening.

  “And, if it isn’t my old, not so friend, The Cyclone Kid,” Snake Gunderson came back with a mimic. “I suppose you left your blow hard, wind bag partners, down below.” He pointed the barrel of his Dragoon pistol at the trap door beneath Cyclone’s feet. He was chuckling to himself over his fortuitous catch. His thick lips were curled in a semi smiling sneer. His yellow stained teeth looked almost white in the darkness in contrast to his thickly beard stubbled face. A black eyepatch covered his left eye. he leered evilly at his captive with the remaining eye, that looked like it was popping out of his head.

  Cyclone didn’t bother to answer. “What do want from us, Snake?” He said impatiently with annoyance.

  “You know what I want,” Snake sneered.

  “Well, if I’da knowed what you wanted, I wouldn’t be a askin’, now would I?”

  “You know alright. I want that twenty thousand dollars, you took off’n me.”

  “I didn’t take anything off’n you. You bought silver off me. The same silver you still got down in that tunnel of yours.”

  “A minor technicality,” Snake smiled. “I still want my money back. It’ll make up for you sicking Manuel Gonzales on me for it. We had a bit of a set to about it. Wound up, we lost men with lead poisoning, on both sides, before we both agreed you were to blame for it all. If I were you, I wouldn’t get within eye shot of that maniac, again.”

  “Yeah. We found that out. And so did Manuel. He’s short a few more men, now.”

  “Good he’ll be even madder at you when he gets here in the morning. If you don’t want him eatin’ you and friends for breakfast, I suggest you play along with me.”

  “Now how about you get off that door, open it up and call your friends up here. Make sure they understand that there is to be no shooting or any funny business.” Snake swung the muzzle of his pistol toward Kitty, Lynch, and Jeremy. “Someone up here could get hurt.”

  “Alright,” Cyclone agreed. He stepped off the trap door and bent to open it up.

  “No Grampa,” Kitty shouted and started forward. “They’ll kill us all anyways. She started forward to cross the room. The Reverend grasped her arm and held her back. His eyes met her’s and he nodded ‘no’.

  “Not to worry, girl,” Cyclone said. “Stay put.” He lifted the trap door and pushed it all the way over and gazed into the darkness below. He could see the torch was still burning, but the bright light hid any shadows of his partners.

  “Rap! Henry!” Cyclone shouted. “It’s a trap. Gunderson’s got me up here with Kitty, Jeremy, and the preacher. If they don’t let us go, torch the flooring and burn the place down. Try to get out of there if you can.”

  “What the hell are you doing?” Gunderson blustered as he darted forward and pushed Cyclone out of the way.

  Rap raised his pistol when Gunderson stepped close to the opening. He was backlit from the saloon light above. Rap fired twice. The shots so close together they sounded almost as one.

  Gunderson screamed and fell backward, dropping his pistol as he fell. It disappeared into the darkness below. Rap had stepped quickly aside after he fired. The pistol twanged against the rock hard floor of the tunnel.

  As Gunderson fell backward, Ace Dugan and Hal Coleman rushed to his side. Butch Lowry and the two younger men stayed where they were; pistols trained on the other captives and Cyclone.

  Gunderson was trying to sit up as his two henchmen came to his side. His right hand was clamped over a bullet hole in his right leg. Blood was oozing out between his fingers. His face was a mask of agony and his jaw was set hard and teeth were clenched together.

  He had taken one bullet, but the other one had gone over his head as he fell. The lead pellet had buried itself in the far wall behind him.

  “What the Hell…?” he cursed, glaring at Cyclone. “Shoot them! Shoot them all!” He ordered to all and no one in particular.

  “Hold on there!” Cyclone shouted; both hands out in front of him as if he could hold back what was coming. “Your silver is down there. It’s just waiting for you to spend it. Are you going to risk losing this place and everything else, including your life. I told them to burn everything.

  “Remember? Now you kn
ow Rap, down there, ain’t too smart. He’ll just do as I tell him, even if it means we all die.”

  “You sumbitch,” Gunderson cursed again. Then to his men, “Someone, go down there and get those two.”

  Nobody moved, They just glanced expectantly at each other.

  “Well? What are you waiting for? I said go get them.”

  “You saw what they did to you, boss. They’ll pick us all off. Just like they did to you,” Ace Lowry said.

  “You, lily livered jack asses,” Snake thundered.

  “Shoot them all!” He jerked his chin as if pointing to his captives.

  “Go ahead,” Cyclone said. “My pards will burn you out and your silver and everything else down there will be gone.”

  “We can get out and come back for the silver later after everything cools off.”

  “For one thing, the silver will probably melt. If not it’ll be hard to find. You forgettin’ you’ve got dynamite down there?”

  Snakes eyes darkened and his bushy black eyebrows knitted together. He tried to think, but couldn’t. He just blurted, “You’re all gonna die here if they torch this place.”

  “You’re just going to kill us anyways,” Cyclone said.

  “Yeah,” Gunderson said slowly under his breath, trying to think it through. “You’ve got a point there, Cy.” he said almost friendly. Then he caught himself and his one eye bulged larger and his broad nostrils flared. After a moment, a sly smirk began to appear.

  “Looks like we got us a stalemate here,” he said to Cyclone, but it was almost as if he were talking to himself.

  Then, to his men, he said, “Lowry, you and Dugan go the mine entrance and come at those buzzards from that end. Before you go, close the trap door. That will make sure they don’t try to come up here. The hotel entrance is locked so they can’t get out that way. The only way out is through the mine entrance. You’ll have them trapped. Finish them off and come on back when they’re dead.” He turned his head and stared at Cyclone while he said to his men. “Then we’ll kill the one’s we’ve got here.” He smiled, “That is unless The Cyclone Kid decides to give back my twenty thousand dollars.” He laughed with satisfaction.

  ****

  Chapter Twenty Two