Wildcat Kitty and The Cyclone Kid Ride Again

by Franklin D. Lincoln

Tom Vestry, Miller and Billy Tyrene moved ever so slowly from behind the big bush at the top of the ridge. The wet leaves drooped heavily from the recent rain on them as they pushed the branches aside. They had already removed their slickers a half hour ago, when the rain and wind stopped. Tyrene was soaked, for he had no slicker. He still shivered a bit from the cold, even though the night air was beginning to warm after the passing storm.

  The dark clouds had almost passed away and stars were beginning to glow through the velvet sky above. A sliver of moon grew larger as a dark cloud moved across the lunar face.

  “Who are those fellas?” Vestry asked Tyrene.

  They were on the ridge overlooking Porter City. Two men had come out of the front door of what appeared to be an abandoned saloon. They were each carrying a lantern.

  “I don’t know their names,” Tyrene answered, “But they work for Snake Gunderson.”

  “They got rewards on their heads?” Vestry asked.

  The two men had just disappeared into the darkness at the far end of the street.

  “Everyone here’s got a price on him,” Tyrene answered.

  “I like this better all the time.” Vestry smiled to himself.

  “Where do you suppose those jaspers are going?”

  “I don’t know. But my brothers said this town is honeycombed with hiding places. That and the fact this town is abandoned and no regular law comes around makes this an ideal hiding place. The only problem is, they ain’t got no women here. Hafta go elsewhere for that.”

  “I reckon it’s about time we dropped in on Mister Gunderson and his brood and introduce ourselves,” Vestry said as he rose on his feet to full height and started, on foot, to descend the incline down to the street, leading his horse behind him. Miller and Tyrene followed close behind.

  “How far do you reckon this tunnel goes?” Rap asked. He was holding the torch high and well out in front of him. They had been traveling for five or ten minutes, they calculated. Henry was keeping abreast of him, no longer needing to hold on to Rap’s collar. If trouble were to come, he did not want to hamper his friend’s mobility. Besides, his battle juices were flowing and somehow he seemed to see better, even if it was instinct coming to the fore.

  “I don’t know,” Chief answered. “But is it my imagination or is the tunnel getting wider.?”

  “It is widening out,” Rap said. “The ceiling is getting higher too. We must be gettin’ close to somethin’.”

  The walls and rock floor seemed to be dryer than the part of the tunnel they left behind them. Their voices were echoing more now.

  “Don’t talk so loud,” Chief admonished, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Our voices are carrying more now. We don’t want those jaspers to hear us. They might just fill this tunnel with flying lead that will be ricocheting off this rock. They’d be able to kill us without having to see us.”

  From where they had stood, at the foot of the ladder beneath the trap door, they had heard Snake Gunderson’s order to his men to, head out and trap them from the other end of the tunnel.

  “You think they’re at the other end of the tunnel, yet?” Rap asked in a whisper.

  “Depends how far they had to go to get there. My guess is, that the mine entrance is somewhere behind the saloon. There were hills all around this town. The entrance is probably on the other side of a hill. Whatever direction those men had to take it should have taken a while to circle around the town to get to it. If they’re in the tunnel and headed here, we’ve got to be real quiet. No more talking, now. And, put that torch out.”

  “But we won’t be able to see,” Rap protested.

  “Then they won’t see us, either. They’ll probably have lanterns with them and we’ll see them first.”

  “I get it,” Rap chuckled. “Then we fill them full of lead, instead of the other way around.”

  “You amaze me, paleface,” Chief said. “Now, put ‘em out fire. We wait ‘um right here for them to come to us.”

  “Chief, one more thing,” Rap whispered as he extinguished the flame on the ground. “I’m not afraid of no ghosts, no more.”

  “They’re gonna see us a mile away, us carryin’ these lanterns,” Butch Lowry said. They had just come through the mine entrance and they were both holding a lantern. The opening to the mine was deceiving from the outside. While it was large enough to accommodate a team of horses and an ore wagon, it opened into a large cavernous room. Off to their right sat an empty ore wagon. It was in good repair and had shown much recent use. Off to the left were eight horse stalls. Four of them were occupied. There was hay, straw, and grain aplenty to accommodate them for a lengthy stay. Snake Gunderson was a cautious man and had provided this area as a backdoor escape route.

  As Butch and Ace Dugan passed through the room and into the darkened tunnel. Their lanterns cast an eerie glow several feet ahead of them and then ending abruptly into pitch black darkness.

  Ace said. “We better put the lights out.” He lifted his lantern, and turned down the wick until it went dark.

  “But we won’t be able to see where we’re going,” Butch retorted.

  “And they won’t be able to see us, either. They don’t know we’re here and when we see their light, we can fill them full of lead.”

  “That’s smart thinking,” Butch said as he put his lantern out. The darkness covered them like a shroud.

  “That can’t be them, comin’ back, already.” Snake Gunderson jerked to an erect sitting position in a wooden chair. He reached for the pistol, lying on the table next to him. His wounded leg was propped up on another chair, directly in front of him. His pant leg was torn from hip to ankle and a ripped piece of cloth was tied around his thigh just above the bullet hole, as a tourniquet. The parson was just finishing the bandaging; the bullet had gone clean through the fleshy part of his leg.

  The double doors at the front of the saloon had rattled and started to open. Snake leveled his weapon toward the doors, as did Hal Coleman, who was standing beside him. The two youths were sitting at another table keeping an eye on Cyclone, Kitty and Jeremy, who sat across the table from them. Neither of the boys had guns. Their holsters were empty. Whatever their deal was with Gunderson, it was obvious that they were not trusted yet.

  The doors opened wide and three men stood in the open doorway. They all wore holstered pistols.

  “Who the hell are you?” Snake boomed, raising his pistol menacingly. The hammer was already pulled back and cocked into position.

  “It’s alright!” One of the youth’s at the table shouted. “That’s my brother, Billy, We told you about him.”

  “That’s right, you did.” Snake growled. “So, who are the other hombres with him?”

  “They’re a coupla fellas that helped me get away from the law.” Billy said as Vestry and Miller pushed him forward in front of them as he spoke. They pushed the door closed behind them.

  “Hey!” Gunderson barked. “I didn’t say you could come in yet. I just might plug all of you.”

  “I thought we had a deal,” the youth at the table said. This was Kenny Tyrene.

  “We did,” Snake said. “But I didn’t say nothin’ about two more jaspers.”

  “They’re maybe willing to pay, same as us,” the other Tyrene boy from the table said. This one was Jimmy.

  “Alright,” Gunderson snapped. “Come on in so I can get a good look atcha.” He kept his pistol aimed and fully cocked as they advanced into the light of lanterns and lamps.

  “That’s far enough!” Snake ordered. “Stand apart!”

  The trio spread out side by side. Gunderson looked them up and down. Then to the two Tyrene brothers, he said, “You say this young fella is your brother. Okay.” And, turning to Vestry and Miller, appraising them, he said, “How do we know you’re not the law?”

  Before Vestry could answer, The Cyclone Kid broke in. He stood up from the table, so he could be seen plainly by Vestry. “You don’t. But we know at least one of them is.” His voice was pitc
hed and almost a cackle in amusement. Then to Vestry, he said, “Sorry, I can’t say I’m glad to see you Sheriff. But when my not so friend, Gunderson is through with you, I’ll be dee….lighted to see you.”

  “Shut up, back there!” Gunderson ordered without taking his eyes off the newcomers.

  “The Cyclone Kid and Wildcat Kitty, herself,” Vestry mused, almost to himself. “Seems we got unfinished business.” The crescendo of his voice lifted. “There’s a matter of a hundred thousand dollars, you owe me.”

  “What’s he talkin’ about?” Snake’s question was directed at Cyclone, but he never took his eye off Vestry and Miller. Are they law or not?”

  Before Cyclone could answer, Vestry blurted, “Him and his gang beat me out of a hundred thousand dollars in a stage coach robbery.”

  “That true, Cyclone?” Gunderson demanded. “You called him Sheriff. Well is he or ain’t he?”

  “He was wearin’ a star when he tried to rob that stage. We stopped him.”

  “And they got away with the loot,” Vestry put in.

  “What about the star? You a lawman?”

  “I wore the star so’s I could get close to the loot. That’s all!” Vestry’s nerves were showing.

  Gunderson thought about it for a moment, then said. “A hundred thousand, you said?”

  “Yeah, they took it from me and left me with a bullet hole in my leg, bleeding like a stuck pig.”

  “I know how that feels,” Gunderson waved the muzzle of his pistol toward his leg, then glanced back at Cyclone and the others. “That so, Kid?”

  “Yeah, I put a bullet into this no good jasper, but we didn’t take no hundred thousand. We left it with the stage when we abandoned it.”

  “How come the loot was never recovered then?” Vestry sneered.

  “Din’t know that it wasn’t,” Cyclone came back. “Just goes to show you there’s more dishonest people around this here world, besides you.”

  “You tellin’ me, you just walked away from all that money, Cyclone? I don’t think so. Now you owe me one hundred and twenty thousand,” Snake chuckled.

  “Well, I can’t give you what I ain’t got,” Cyclone said.

  “Oh, you’ll give it to me.” Gunderson swung his gun muzzle toward Kitty. “If you want to keep this pretty little girl alive.”

  “Go ahead,” Kitty spoke up. “Shoot me. You still won’t get the money. There isn’t any.”

  Gunderson squeezed the trigger. Flame spat from the muzzle and the following thunder was deafening in the confines of the saloon.

  At the same time, Kitty pushed her chair sideways, crashing to the floor. The bullet whizzed over her head as she went. She felt it clip strands of her auburn hair.

  Gunderson quickly re-cocked the weapon to fire again, but while distracted by Kitty, Tom Vestry took advantage of it. He drew his pistol and shot Gunderson between the eyes. Snake’s pistol went off for the second time, but the muzzle was pointed upward and his bullet lodged into a rafter in the ceiling above, as Vestry’s bullet struck him, throwing him backwards in his chair; the body crashing to the floor. The pistol slid several feet across the room and smacked into the base of the bar. It bounced back a little.

  The sudden action took Hal Coleman by surprise and he hesitated one split second as he pushed the preacher out of the way to get off a shot. He was too late and Vestry’s gun belched again. Coleman flew backwards, taking lead in his chest. A bright red blotch spread across his shirt. He was still alive. Vestry stepped forward and pumped two more bullets into him.

  From where she had fallen, Kitty rolled toward the pistol on the floor. Her fingers laced around the pistol’s handle and she pushed herself upward. She fired instantly as she rose to a crouch.

  “Look out for the girl!” Deputy Miller shouted, turning toward Kitty and firing.

  He didn’t see Vestry take the bullet from Kitty’s gun as he swung his own pistol up to fire at her. He was too late. Kitty’s gun roared again and Miller folded. His pistol slipped from limp fingers as he slumped into a pile on the floor.

  Reverend Lynch quickly moved forward, stooped over and came up with Miller’s weapon in his hand.

  Cyclone had been quick to his feet and darted to Hal Coleman’s body. He scooped up the man’s pistol. Another step forward and he retrieved Vestry’s gun. “Jeremy!” Cyclone shouted as he tossed Coleman’s pistol to him.

  Jeremy caught it and immediately turned it on Billy Tyrene, who stood dumbfounded. His shooter still in its holster. “D...don’t shoot!” Billy stammered raising his arms; palms empty. Eyes bulging wide with fear. “Please..please don’t shoot me,” Tears rolled down his cheeks.

  Kitty was on her feet now. “Nobody’s going to shoot you,” she said moving forward to his side, reaching over and plucking his pistol from its sheath.

  “I wasn’t going to shoot anyone. I couldn’t. My gun’s not loaded.”

  Kitty took a look, then to her Grampa, who had just returned from lifting the trap door and calling to his friends, finding them gone, leaving only total darkness and silence behind, she said, “He’s right. It’s not loaded”

  Then to Billy she said, “Get over there and sit with your brothers. We need to get all this straightened out.” She waved her gun menacingly. Billy shuffled forward and sat down at the table.

  Kitty had started to follow Billy when realization finally struck her. She was immediately sick to her stomach for what she had just done. Panic surged over her and she hadn’t wanted to believe it. It had all happened so fast, she hadn’t had time to think. Now, all of a sudden, the horribleness of it all had set in. She squatted beside the still form of Deputy Miller, hoping against hope, that she hadn’t killed him. She turned him over and saw the face frozen in fear and surprise. The eyes were glassy and stared sightlessly against the ceiling.

  Tears welled in Kitty’s eyes, but she didn’t cry. She merely reached out and closed Miller’s eyelids. She slowly stood up stiffly, her eyes still on the body at her feet. She felt her grandfather’s big hands on her shoulders. He was standing behind her. “I killed him, Grampa,” she said. “I never wanted to kill anyone.”

  “I know,girl,” Cyclone said reassuringly. “He deserved what he got. It was us or him. You did what you had to do. We didn’t ask for this.”

  “Yes we did.. I did. As soon as I started this vendetta against Simon Price and when I broke up Matt’s wedding and stole the preacher, I was asking for it. And, you knew it all the time, Grampa. Didn’t you?” She hadn’t turned around to face him.

  “I guess, I did, girl. But, I‘m always there for you. We’re both, just alike and I’ve been askin’ for it for a long time, too. I’m sorry, Kitty.”

  “The other man, Grampa? Is he.. is he dead too.”

  Cyclone swallowed hard; the lump in his throat was in the way of his words. “I’m afraid so,” he whispered.

  Kitty whirled, wrapping her arms around her grandpa and buried her face in his massive chest. She sobbed. She had killed two men. Two men dead by her actions. “He got what he deserved too, gal,” Cyclone murmured, “But, you didn’t deserve to have to do it.” He held her tight and brushed her hair with his palm. They stood there, just like that, for a while. When they finally broke apart, Kitty dabbed at her eyes, brushing the tears away. As she looked up she saw Reverend Paul Lynch standing there, looking at her. His eyes were soft and consoling’

  “I’ve taken lives, Reverend,” she said. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.” She stared down at her feet, avoiding the preacher’s face.

  He came forward, reached out and lifted her chin to gaze into her eyes. “You couldn’t help what happened. You must forgive yourself. Your father in heaven most certainly will.”

  “I know you’re hurtin’ gal,” Cyclone said softly, “But we still got work to do. You’re going to hafta pull yourself together. I’ve got to find Henry and Rap to warn them about those other jaspers that are after them. Do you think you can handle things here? You and Jeremy and the
preacher?”

  Knowing she must do what must be done, and beginning to realize that was always what she did. Whatever must be done, must be done. She lifted herself erect on her feet, squared her shoulders, and with one last dab to her eye, she turned, training her pistol on the three captives. “Of course, I can,” she said. “I’m the infamous outlaw, Wildcat Kitty, aren’t I?” She forced a slight smile. “Besides, they’re only boys.

  “Go get our friends!” Kitty added resolutely.

  Cyclone was already on his way to the trap door. He had lifted a burning lantern from the bar top.

  “Cy,” the preacher called after him. “You’d better let me come along, too. Maybe I could help.” He was already at Cyclone’s side, gazing down into abyss below. “Here. Let me go down first, while you hold the lantern. Then you can hand it down to me and I’ll hold the lantern for you, while you climb down.”

  Not waiting for Cyclone to agree, Paul Lynch had stepped into the trap door opening. His foot was already on the first rung of the ladder.

  Cyclone’s browse pulled together and his jaw clamped in consternation. But, he didn’t have time to argue. “There might be shootin’ down there, parson!” He warned.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Lynch replied, reaching up from a lower rung and taking the lantern. “I can handle myself.”

  “I’ll just bet you can,” Cyclone thought to himself. “Just what kind of a preacher man are you?”

  ****

  Chapter Twenty Three