Wildcat Kitty and The Cyclone Kid Ride Again

by Franklin D. Lincoln

Kitty had been quiet and sullen all morning. From the time they had left Porter City until they found a good place to hide off the trail and have a meagher breakfast and then, back on the trail again, she had hardly spoken two words to anyone. Cyclone rode along beside her to her right. Jeremy was riding to her left. He seemed to be managing all right and was sitting straighter in the saddle. Color was returning to his cheeks. Cyclone waited for Kitty to break the silence, but mile after mile clip clopped away. Cy knew her heart was breaking from all directions. He hadn’t dared to bring up the painful subjects that were bothering his grand-daughter, right now. Time and time again, he started to say something and then thought better of it. He just didn’t know what to say. He kept shifting uneasily in the saddle.

  They had been on the trail for over an hour after the stop for breakfast. The sun had fully crested the mountains to the east. Coolness of early morning still lingered, but the threat of another hot day was present. Only a few fluffy clouds, high in the blue of the morning sky, drifted lazily above.

  Finally Kitty broke the silence and said, “Go ahead Grampa. Say what you’re thinking.”

  “Just thinkin’ how I know you’re hurtin’. God knows you’ve been hurt more’n you deserve.”

  “Oh, I deserve it alright, Grampa. I started this war against Simon Price and it’s caused every wrong thing that has happened. You’ve told me time and again, I was wrong; that I should be a lady settled down with family. Instead I have driven away good men like Matt Starr and Jim Butler. I watched Kip Dalton die and now I’ve left a good man; a man of the cloth, no less, behind, to endure who knows what all. I just hope he had sense enough to get away before those Mexican bandits got there. And, now I’ve taken lives, myself. I should have known that, just by strapping on a gun, it was bound to happen, eventually. Now, it has happened and I don’t want to live with that.”

  “You can’t change what has happened, Kitty,” Cyclone said. “Men like Simon Price and Snake Gunderson spread their evil everywhere. Not just on you, but other people too. How many people, hurt by Simon Price have you helped? How about your Ma? Look what you’ve done for her. You’ve got to focus on the good things and carry on, or it will all have been in vain. I know I’ve told you many times, that this life is not for you. I wish you could have a life like other women. It’s really all my fault.” Cyclone heaved a sigh. “I went along with you on everything. I never could deny you anything. Even though it wasn’t good for you. I’ve told you all along that Rap and I should have ridden right into town and shot Price down, like the miserable polecat, that he is. You kept tellin’ me I was wrong. That it would make me a killer. I’ll tell you this, girl. I’ve killed before and I didn’t like it. It weighs heavy on my soul and I’ll have to account for it someday. But, I’ll tell you this; everything I’ve done has been on the side of justice and, that goes for you too. God knows you’ve paid a high price for justice. And, as far as that goes, you have nothing to be ashamed about concerning Matt and Jim. What happened with Kip Dalton was his doing. You did the right thing then, too. I know you have true feelings, even if you sometimes have a little bit too much of them and you seem to spread them around much too easily.”

  Kitty glanced up at him and forced a little smile at that.

  “And as far as Reverend Paul Lynch is concerned, I’m sure he’ll be able to take care of himself, back there. I hafta admit I’ve never seen a preacher man like him. He’s a man with a lot of bark on him. If I didn’t know better, I wouldn’t take him for a messenger of the Lord.”

  Peso Martin and Rafe Price had barely gotten started and were still in sight of the mine entrance, when Peso pulled up on the reins and called “Whoa!”

  “What’s the matter?” Rafe asked, suddenly suspicious.

  “Something doesn’t feel right,” Peso said. “Feels like the right, back wheel is dragging. The brake shoe is probably rubbing against it. “Jump down and check it out, will you?”

  Rafe eyed him warily, “Why me? Check it you ownself.”

  “We don’t have time to argue here,” Peso said with annoyance. “Just check it, so we can get going.”

  “All right,” Rafe grumbled and jumped to the ground. He hurried around to the rear of the wagon on the driver’s side. He squatted to examine the wheel. “Looks all right to me,” He said as he straightened and stood up to full height.

  As he turned to return to the wagon seat, he caught a fleeting glimpse of Peso Martin half turned on the wagon seat. His pistol was in his hand and the barrel was aimed point blank at Rafe Price’s chest.

  Rafe hardly had time to process what was happening and instinctively went for his gun, twisting his body slightly away, when flame stabbed from Peso’s gun muzzle, followed by the thunderous roar of the six-gun, that echoed repeatedly against the far mountains. Then total silence.

  Rafe Price had crumpled into the grass. A blotch of red spread across his chest.

  Peso grinned to himself, put his gun away and whipped up the team. “The plan called for only partner,” he thought to himself as he drove away.

  “Cyclone! Cyclone!” Arapahoe Brown shouted as he galloped his big gray forward. He had been riding far back from the others; watching their back trail, keeping a lookout for anyone trailing them. It was a precaution, Cyclone had provided for, although he was pretty sure that Manuel and his men would be more interested in acquiring Snake Gunderson’s stash, than to come after The Wildcats.

  Arapahoe pulled his horse to a sliding almost halt, but reining the big gray down to a walk, next to Cyclone. “Dust cloud back there, Cy!” He said excited. He was breathing hard and his words tumbled out in bursts. “Looks like a lot of riders. About how many Manuel usually rides with. They’re coming fast.”

  “We thinned them down a bunch, yesterday,” Cyclone said, fairly calmly. He needed to settle Rap down. He gazed back along the trail. “But I think you’re right.”

  “He never seems to have trouble getting more men,” Kitty put in.

  “That’s right,” Cyclone mused. “But if it is Manuel back there, why is he after us instead of grabbin’ up all of Gunderson’s loot?”

  “Maybe there wasn’t any to get, by the time they got to Porter City,” Jeremy put in. “Maybe those guys we left behind, scooted out with it themselves.”

  “I dunno,” Cyclone said. “I figgered those three young’uns to be too scared and would have pulled out of there as soon as they could. And, I didn’t figger Ace Dugan and Butch Lowry to have brains enough or gumption enough to try anything. I figgered they’d pull out too, after the preacher got done with them. But, if they did take off with the loot, I would’ve thought Manuel would’ve been after them, instead of us.”

  “Maybe they took the same trail as us,” Kitty said.

  “Naw.” Rap shook his shaggy head. “I’d a seen a smaller dust trail back there, first. There’s only one and there’s only one bunch. A lot of them. Gotta be Manuel.” The he added. “While we’re sittin’ here jawin’, Cy, they’re getting closer. Don’t you think we ought to hurry up a bit and get out of here?”

  “You’re right.” Cyclone touched his heels to the sides of his big chestnut mare and picked up the speed to a cantor so he could still talk as the others kept up with him. Then to Rap, he said. “I sent Henry on ahead to scout out for places we could hole up in to make a stand if we needed too. We haven’t seen him since he went over that rise up ahead. He’s been gone five minutes. I want you to ride on and bring him back. We’ll try to catch up.”

  Rap pulled sharply on the reins, breaking away from the other three riders. The he loosened the tethers, giving the gray his head and spurring him into a fast gallop. He disappeared over the rise in no time; leaving a cloud of dust behind him.

  Cyclone glanced back over his shoulder and saw the dust cloud behind them. It was close enough now, that dark shapes of riders were highlighted by the backdrop. “Let’s get going!” He shouted, putting the mare to a gallop; Kitty and Jeremy close behind.

  As
they topped the rise ahead, they brought their mounts to a halt. Rap had fully disappeared from sight as they gazed into the valley below. The trail they had been following disappeared into a barren plain of hard baked clay and rocky debris. Further to the north, they could see the plain dropping down lower and narrowing down to a pass between towering columns of granite spires. Giant boulders were strewn haphazardly across the landscape as if placed there by a giant hand deliberately designing an obstacle course.

  They only paused here a moment. A brief glance behind told them the riders were closer. The dark shapes took form and it was clear there were at least twenty riders. Further confirmation that Manuel was in pursuit. They lashed their horses forward and guided them as they half picked their way and half slipped down the down the incline.

  Reaching the valley below, they were now out of sight of Manuel and his men. At the same time, they saw two riders up ahead threading their way through the rocky terrain. Rap was on his way back with Chief Henry

  As the riders met up with each other, Rap was shouting, “Beyond the pass, the trail drops down into a dry wash! There’s boulders and rocks high up on the banks! It’s good cover!”

  “Good!” Cyclone shouted. “We’ll make our stand there! You know what to do!” He urged his horse forward into a gallop.

  Jeremy and Kitty raced after him; each wondering what Cyclone had meant by Rap knowing what to do.

  Rap and Henry held back and angled their horses away from each other; Rap to the left and Henry to the right, heading for opposite sides of the pass and riding high into the rocks. Once under cover, they picketed their horses out of harm’s way, took their saddlebags and carried them to a selected vantage point where they could see the oncoming pursuers. They were close, now. Close enough to distinguish Manuel, himself, in the lead. They would be entering the gap in just a matter of minutes.

  Meanwhile, Cyclone, Kitty, and Jeremy came out the other end of the gap and rode behind the cover of several large boulders on the left bank of the dry wash. As they dismounted, Cyclone lifted his saddle bags from behind the saddle.

  “What’s that for?” Kitty asked as they climbed higher on the bank; loose shale slipping beneath their feet and impeding their progress up the incline.

  “A little something I took from Snake Gunderson’s stash,” Cyclone cackled in a half laugh as he dropped down behind a large boulder where he could watch the gap’s opening. Kitty and Jeremy dropped down beside him.

  From the saddle bag, Cyclone pulled out a bundle of dynamite sticks, tied together with heavy twine. “Figgered this might come in handy,” he said, drawing his knife from his boot and cutting the string. He let the sticks spread out on the ground. From his shirt pocket he pulled a tin box and opened it, letting some matches spill out for easy access. “Rap and Henry’s got some too. All we do now, is wait for Manuel and his bunch to come out of the gap.”

  Manuel and his men came thundering over the ridge and negotiated the incline without diminishing their speed as the horses half slid and half stumbled, gouging the sparse grassy earth beneath their hooves and spewing clumps of flying earthen missiles.

  They roared into the valley below and spurred onward around the rock and boulder obstacles. They had lost sight of their quarry for a few minutes when The Wildcats disappeared over the ridge. And, now as they entered the valley, The Wildcats were nowhere to be seen. The obvious route of their escape had to be through the gap. Lashing and spurring their mounts onward, they rode on, headlong at breakneck speed into the gap, looking neither right nor left and riding on past where Rap and Chief Henry had taken up their vigil.

  As the last of the riders passed by, Manuel and the front riders were already in the pass.

  “Happy New Year!” Rap shouted to himself, knowing he couldn’t be heard above the roar of passing horses and men’s excited voices, as he lit the fuse to a stick of dynamite. The flame sputtered quickly toward the mass of the dynamite stick. Rising from his concealment behind the large boulder, he stood straight and tall, arching the stick high and flung it into the melee of charging horses and men just ahead of the trailing riders.

  It blasted just as it landed. The impact sent waves of shock and awe. Riders plummeted from their saddles. Horses were blown off their feet, while others reared in fright, pitching riders to the ground. The reverberating thunder was still filling the air, when Chief Henry’s missile from the other side landed in their midst, also. This second blast so close to the last, only magnified the chaos and destruction. More horses went down; some falling on the men already dazed and lying beneath them.

  Rap had his second one ready and hurled it further toward the entrance to the pass. “I’m one damn good pitcher,” he thought to himself, recalling the baseball game in Saint Louis.

  Henry’s second one had already landed and both charges went off almost simultaneously, creating even more confusion and destruction inside the confines of the pass. Several riders had already pulled back to see what was happening behind them when the first fusillade of dynamite went off. They were already off balance on their horses and the horses were already rearing, and stamping, trapped behind the riders in front and the ones behind.

  Before they could react, two more flying sticks of dynamite landed inside the pass. This time they did more damage, bringing down horses and men alike.

  Up ahead, realizing attack from the rear, Manuel, forgetting about his men and thinking only of saving his own hide, he spurred his horse forward toward the opening of the gap. He was almost there when the attack began.

  As he rode through the opening of the gap, Cyclone, having waited for this moment, touched a match to the fuse of the stick of dynamite in his hand. He deliberately had cut a shorter fuse, so the dynamite would go off sooner. He tossed the stick out to land several yards in front of Manuel. It went off as it hit. The blowback from the charge, brought Manuel’s horse down to his knees. Manuel pitched over the animal’s withers, landing and rolling in the dirt. He laid still, prone on his stomach and hands over his ears, as the thunder continued to ring in his head. As yet, none of Manuel’s henchmen had exited the gap.

  Cyclone stepped out from concealment and slid down the embankment. He held his rifle steady; aimed at the outlaw leader. There was another stick of dynamite in Cyclone’s left hand. The fuse was cut long and the flame was sputtering slowly along it.

  Kitty and Jeremy came out from their cover and stood back a ways from Cyclone. They had their rifles up and at the ready for any play from Manuel or any of his men that might be coming through the gap.

  Four of Manuel’s men came staggering out of the gap entrance. Their clothes were ragged and disheveled and their faces were black from the powder charge. “You men, be careful, now,” Cyclone warned them. He raised his left hand so they could see the stick and burning fuse. “You want to try anything, we’ll all be blown to Kingdom Come. At least I hope that’s where I go. The rest of you hombres just may go somewhere else.” He was standing over Manuel’s form on the ground.

  Manuel finally lifted his head, removing his hands from his ears. He twisted enough to see his men behind him. More of them had just emerged from the gap. They saw the situation before them and raised their hands in defeat. “Shoot him, you fools!” He shouted. He saw the defeat and fear in their faces and knew he was on his own now.

  “Manuel,” Cyclone said resolutely, “You’ve been doggin’ us time and time again. For what? Twenty thousand dollars, you think we got? Seems to me, you’ve lost a lot of men and animals for somethin’, we just ain’t got. You saw how Snake slickered us. We just never got it.” He was keeping the lie going.

  Manuel rolled into a sitting position. He stared at the burning fuse. “Please Senor Keed, could you put that out?”

  “In good time, Manuel. First I want to be sure you’re gettin’ off our case. You gonna believe me that we ain’t got no twenty thousand dollars? I woulda thought you’d been happy inheritin’ Gunderson’s stash of money and silver. ”


  “But you have it, Senor. “That’s why we came after you.”

  “We don’t have it. We left it right where it was at the foot of the ladder under the trap door.”

  “But it wasn’t there. I looked,” Then with eyes bulging with terror, “Please, Senor Keed,” Manuel wailed. He was still eyeing the burning fuse. “It’s almost burned down.”

  Cyclone thought a moment, then he thrust the dynamite stick downward and ground the fuse into the dirt. Manuel breathed a sigh of relief. Then he said, “They told me you killed Senor Snake and took his silver and money.”

  “Who told you? Ace and Butch?”

  “Si. And The Sonora Kid.”

  “Who the hell is The Sonora Kid?” Cyclone blustered.

  “We see him sometimes when we go to split our loot with Snake.”

  “Well, I don’t know who is,” Cyclone said. “But dollars to donuts, him and Butch and Ace or any one or combination of them stole it. They sent you after us while they could make a getaway.”

  “Dollars and donuts? No. Dollars and silver.” Manuel was even more confused.

  “They made a fool out of you, Manuel. Can’t you see that? Hell, if we took it, where is it? It would take a wagon and a team of horses to move it. Does it look like we got a wagon? You been following any wagon tracks?”

  “Si. You are right.” Then as if another thought occurred, he said, “Then I will go back and track them down. I will get my money back.”

  “With what? Your men and horses are pretty well done in.”

  “Si. Again you are right.”

  Kitty came forward and said to Manuel, “Was there a preacher man there when you were?”

  “No. I see nobody like that,”

  “Grampa,” Kitty said. “We’ve got to go back there and see if anything has happened to him.”

  Cyclone thought for a while. There was a pleading in her eyes. Once again he could deny Grampa’s girl, nothing. Then he said to Manuel, “Alright. Get what men you can. Better leave some able men here to help with your wounded. I won’t have you just abandoning them like usual. We’ll go back with you. I’m not saying we’ll help you get the money and silver, but if there’s trouble we’ll lend a hand. We just want to be sure what happened to a friend of ours. You all right with that?’

  “Si.”

  ****

  Chapter Twenty Eight