The big man with two guns stepped through the batwing doors of the Golden Nugget Saloon. He looked mean. He said, “I’m Billy Bascomb, the meanest man in the west. I’m looking for the low down skunk who calls himself the Cyclone Kid.”
All the men in the bar moved toward the walls out of the way. One man said nervously. “That’s him. The handsome man at the bar. The one drinking milk.”
Billy Bascomb walked toward the bar, both arms swinging boastfully and hands brushing his gun butts. He came to a halt several feet away from the man at the bar.
The man also wore two guns, bullhide chaps and a calfskin vest. He was young and very handsome . He wore a large ten gallon white hat with a large brim.
“That right? You The Cyclone Kid?”Billy challenged.
“That’s right,” Cyclone answered levelly, turning to face the man square.
“That milk you’re drinking?” Billy laughed.
“Yes. Do you want some?” Cyclone extended the glass to him.
“Funny man,” Billy growled and reached for his gun.
He didn’t see the glass of milk being replaced by a pistol in Cyclone’s hand. Before Billy cleared leather, Cyclone had already fired and severed Billy’s right hand holster from his belt. Pouch and pistol both fell and thudded to the floor. Before Billy could react and reach for his left hand gun, Cyclone had fired again and the left hand holster and pistol dropped to the floor. Another shot from Cyclone’s gun and the pistol belt itself dropped. One more shot and Billy’s trousers belt was severed and his pants fell around his ankles.
Confused and dazed Billy bent over grasping at the tops of his pants and dancing around until he was pointed toward the batwing doors. He was trying to make an escape¸ but he was constantly tripping himself up and falling over, unable to pull his trousers back up over his long johns.
As Billy crawled under the batwings, Cyclone took a bead on the buttons of his long johns trapdoor. They whizzed away and the trapdoor flew open leaving Billy with only his vertical smile as he crawled away....................
“Haw, haw, haw, haw,” Red Beattie snorted as he closed the dime novel and slapped it down on the table in front of him. “That’s the funniest bunch of bull crap I ever did read. And you know what’s even funnier. We got the real life load of bull crap right here.” He bellowed it loud enough for the whole room to hear.
The mail had been distributed and Red had received the dime novel that featured the fictional exploits of a young Cyclone Kid. He had been sitting in the combined restaurant and bar getting a late breakfast while reading this latest epic. His three brothers, Kirby, Jonas, and Willis were all seated at the table with him. Kirby and Jonas were both older than Red, but Red was smarter and the leader. Willis was much younger and only a half-brother. He lacked much of the meanness that seemed to come natural to the others. He was also much neater about his appearance and was a bit shy. The other three were loud, disheveled, and downright rude most of the time.
"Imagine. The Cyclone Kid a young, handsome, hero." He stood up, picked up the dime novel and flourished it about for all to see the garish cover. "Ain't that a laugh. Just lookie, lookie, right over there at that bent over, washed out old geezer. My friends, I present to you the one and only; the legendary and famous Cyclone Kid." He laughed again. "Haw,haw,haw."
"Sit down and shut up," Arapahoe Brown said evenly. His steely eyes glared at Red Beattie.
Arapahoe, Jeremy Carlin, and Cyclone were sitting three tables over from the Beatties.
"Never mind, Rap," Cyclone said low, under his breath so no one else could hear it. "Let it go."
"Hey, old man," Red Beattie continued as if he didn't hear Rap. He held the paper novel up. "You wanna autygraph this for me. So's I can tell the whole world I met the great Cyclone Kid and lived to tell about it. Course I won't tell them what an old piece of crap you really are. What d'ya say old man. Sign it for me? Or maybe you can't even write. Is that it?"
"I told you to shut up and sit down!" Arapahoe said much louder this time.
"Rap. Let it go," Cyclone pleaded, trying to keep it low. He tugged at Rap's sleeve just as Rap rose to his feet, kicking his chair out from under him.
As Arapahoe came to his feet, Red immediately knew he had made a big mistake. Picking on an old man was one thing. Arapahoe brown was quite another. As he stood there facing Rap, he began to tremble. "I wasn't talking to you, Mister Brown," he said. He backed up and fell back into his chair.
"Well, I didn't like what you were saying and I already told you once to shut up and sit down." Rap stood straight and tall. He was a big and imposing figure of a man for a man of his age. He was much younger than Cyclone. He was tall and broad shouldered. He stood with his long legs spread evenly apart and solidly planted on his large feet. His long, muscled arms drooped to his sides and his huge clenched fists were like mallets. He had a full head of tussled gray hair. He was steely eyed and slack jawed.
"I I did, Mister Brown. I sat down."
"I didn't like the way you did it," Rap growled. He stepped forward. Red cringed backward in his chair as Rap bent over, grasped Red by the collar with both of his massive hands and yanked him to his feet. He pulled him close; their eyes less than an inch apart. Rap's eyes blazed with fury. His jaw tightened. Then he shoved Beattie backward into his chair with enough force that it splintered beneath him sending him crashing to the floor. "That's better." Rap smiled broadly and walked away.
Chapter Two
The Return of Wildcat Kitty and the Cyclone Kid Page 3
