Wildcat Kitty and the Cyclone Kid

by Franklin D. Lincoln

“You sure you want to do it this way, Kitty?” Cyclone said.

  They were all huddled together, lying prone in the grass on the ridge overlooking Simon Price’s Big Dollar ranch house, barns and grounds. The grass was already wet with dew and their hands were wet and cold. There was no moon out tonight and the night was as black as pitch.

  Lights inside the ranch house flickered in an upstairs bedroom and a faint light could be seen downstairs. All seemed dark and quiet in the other outbuildings.

  “Yes. This is the way I want it. Simon Price is mine to get. Besides with the rest of you watching out for me, I’ll be all right. The real danger comes from his gun hands out here. I can handle Price in there.”

  “I sure hope you know what you’re doing , Kitty,” Rap Brown whispered. They were all keeping their voices low so they could sneak up on the house.

  “It’s the best way, Rap,” Kitty said. “If we had gone into town to get Jeremy, we could have all been killed. This way, we will have Price as our prisoner and we won’t let him go until they let Jeremy go. I’m sure this is the best way to do it. Besides, I want a chance to slam Price around a little and watch him squirm.”

  “Well. Let’s just hope it works,” Rap said: still skeptic

  “It will,” Cyclone assured him. “You just keep a close watch on the left side of house. I’ll watch the right and Chief, you circle around back. Make sure it‘s all clear. When you‘re sure, hoot like an owl. Kitty will go straight down the hill and right up to the front door. Once she‘s inside and gets Price, we should be home free. If any of his men are aroused we‘ll use the old banker as a shield and we should be able to get out without trouble.”

  “You want me to hoot like an owl?” Chief Henry asked for verification.

  “Yes. That’s what I said,” Cyclone answered. “You can hoot like an owl can’t you?”

  “Sure,” Henry said, a little doubt in his voice. “Me Injun ain’t I?”

  “I don’t know what you are,” Rap chided;

  “Now, you two stop your wrangling,” Cy ordered. “We got work to do. Chief you move out first. Circle wide of the house. Then you know what to do.”

  “What?” Henry said blankly.

  “Hoot! Hoot like an owl you blamed idjit.” Cyclone’s temper was getting the best of him.

  “Oh. Yeah,” Henry agreed and moved off.

  “Now Rap. You move off to the left.” Cyclone lifted his rifle and crawled off to the right.

  Kitty waited for her queue to approach the house.

  Minutes dragged on. Except for the usual night sounds, silence blanketed the night.

  “What’s taking Henry so long?” Cyclone muttered to himself. “I hope the danged fool hasn’t forgotten what he’s supposed to do.”

  Just then the sound emerged from somewhere at the rear of the house. It didn’t exactly sound like a hoot owl. Not even close. “That’s the dad burndest sickest owl I ever did heered,” Cyclone groaned. He half rose and waved his rifle in the air signaling Kitty to start off.

  Kitty arose and started descending the slope, keeping to shadows as much as possible and moving with all the stealth she could muster while still making a quick approach to the house. The longer she was exposed, the more she risked being discovered.

  She covered the distance quickly and was on the front porch in no time. She reached for the door knob and tried it. It turned. So far, so good. With her Colt in her hand and held high in front of her she shoved the door open with a quick burst, stepped through and shoved the door closed behind her with her back.

  She stood there braced against the door, her breathing rapid and her pulse beating in her head. She suddenly felt afraid. She whipped the muzzle of her pistol from side to side as she examined the vestibule and the adjacent rooms.

  There was a kerosene lamp burning low in the parlor. She could see the outline of a small figure slumped in a stuffed chair. There had been no movement. Whoever was there had not stirred at her entrance. Perhaps, whoever it was, was asleep. She was pretty sure it was not Price. He was too large a man to cast such a small shadow.

  She gazed up the stairway before her. She remembered the light she had seen in an upstairs window. Price must be upstairs, she thought.

  She crept closer to the stairway, keeping her pistol ready. She stepped onto the first step, halted took a deep breath, then stepped again. Again and again she climbed forward slowly: one step at a time, moving as silently as possible.

  Two steps from the top, the floorboards creaked beneath the thick carpet. The sound was not loud, but it caused her to halt and ready herself for an eventual discovery. She waited a few seconds, holding her breath and listening intently. There was no sound from above. No sign she had been heard. She resumed her trek forward. Perspiration dripped down her cheeks and her hand shook; hardly able to hold her weapon at the ready. She gained the top step and emerged into the hallway.

  The second door down stood partway open. Light spilled into the hall. through the opening. That must be Simon Price’s room, Kitty thought to herself.

  Swallowing hard and readying herself, she grasped her pistol with both hands, took two quick steps forward and flinging the door wide open, she swung her pistol from side to side covering the entire room.

  She had been right. This was Simon Price’s room. But he wasn’t there.

  His nightshirt lay scattered on the open bed. Obviously Price had gone down to bed, but something must have aroused him and made him leave. The wick of the kerosene lamp was almost burned out, leaving only a faint glow.

  Anger flared in Kitty’s veins. Her plan had gone all wrong. Without Simon Price, not only could they not get Jeremy released, but getting away from The Big Dollar might be an even bigger problem.

  Quickly, she turned and raced down the hallway onto the stairs, taking two steps at a time. She made no effort at keeping silent, forgetting about whoever was in the parlor.

  She reached the vestibule and grasped the doorknob, starting to turn it when a voice from behind and off to the side sounded. “He’s gone,” the voice said. It sounded frail and feminine.

  Kitty froze in place and turned to face the voice. Eunice, she thought. It must be Eunice, Simon Price’s wife. But she sounded so weak and soulful. The vibrance that Kitty remembered of her in the past was gone.

  “Is that you, Eunice?” Kitty said. She walked slowly and carefully into the parlor.

  “Yes. Who are you?” Eunice asked flatly. No fear nor concern seemed to be in her tone.

  “Oh, it’s you, Kitty Carlin,” Eunice said as Kitty stepped in front of her chair, becoming visible in the faint light of the kerosene lamp. “How dare you come here after what your brother’s done?”

  “What did Simon tell you he’s done?” Kitty asked.

  “He didn’t,” Eunice said. “I heard them talking. They thought I was asleep, but I wasn’t. I heard it all.”

  “What did you hear?” Kitty asked.

  “Your brother took my Sarah. He’s holding her for ransom. He wants twenty thousand dollars delivered to Three Rocks at dawn.”

  “That’s not possible,“ Kitty said. “Jeremy’s in jail.”

  “He broke out. Broke out with a bunch of other bad boys. They won’t get away with it,” Eunice continued to babble. “Simon’s going to kill them all and get the money back before the bank examiner gets here.”

  “Bank examiner?” Kitty asked. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  Eunice didn’t answer. She didn’t even acknowledge she heard the question. “They’re going to blow up Eelpot Gorge bridge when the stage goes over it.”

  “What are you talking about, Eunice?” Kitty asked bending her knees and kneeling in front of her. She grasped Eunice by both arms and looked her straight in the eyes. The eyes were pale and there was hardly any light in them. Just a dull empty sheen.

  For a moment there was no response from Eunice Price. Then suddenly as if she had finally come alive and seeing Kitty for the first time, her ey
es widened with fear and rage. “I know you! You’re Kitty Carlin! You’re an outlaw and a murderer!”

  She tossed back her head against the back of the stuffed chair and screamed shrilly.

  Knowing the scream could awaken the men in the bunkhouse she arose, raced to the door, opened it and stepped out onto the porch. Eunice had pushed herself to her feet and stumbled to the door behind her. She was still screaming shrilly, and as Kitty had opened the door, the scream followed her out into the night.

  Fearing that the noise would arouse the ranch hands, Kitty took off running as fast as she could across the ranch yard, past the barn and up the slope to the ridge where Cyclone and Rap were waiting.

  At one point, she took time to glance back behind her. She could see Eunice still standing in the doorway. She was still screaming.

  A faint light went on in the bunkhouse and moments later the door burst open and several men spilled out into the yard. They were in various stages of undress; some wearing just their long johns, while some had managed to pull pants over their legs; woolies still showing above the pants and suspenders flapping loose below their waists.

  Despite their dress, they had all emerged with guns in their hands.

  On seeing the men coming to her rescue, Eunice shouted, “Get her! Up on the slope! It’s Kitty Carlin! You’ve got to stop her!” Strength had seemed to return to the woman’s voice and she sounded lucid.

  Kitty turned and continued running up the slope as the men below ran after her, opening up fire with their guns.

  Bullets pounded into the dirt at Kitty’s feet. Then rifle firing began from up on the slope. Muzzle flashes lit up the night and bullets filled the air around the pursing ranch hands. They halted pursuit, turned and ran, looking for cover.

  Just as they turned, a blood curdling savage yell came from behind them.

  “Injuns!” One of the men shouted as he dived to the ground and rolled into the corral, crawling up behind a fence post to peer out. Horses snorted and thrashed about, kicking up dirt into the man’s face and almost trampling him.

  The other men turned toward the new menace. Although they couldn’t see what they thought was a band of heathens, rifle fire filled the air They fired almost as one, pouring lead in response to the booming cracks of thunder, coming in staccato rhythm and fire flashes like lightning in the dark .

  Their pistol fire was no match for rifle fire. The fusillade of bullets flying overhead and below their feet forced the men to retreat back toward the bunkhouse. Meanwhile, Rap and Cyclone stepped up the pace of their own rapid fire.

  The ranch hands caught between the two fields of rifle fire with mostly only six guns in their hands, which were out of rifle range and useless for firing back, had pushed further back into the open doorway of the bunk house. The waddy who had taken refuge in the corral, rolled out, rose to his feet and keeping his body bent low scurried after them

  They all seemed to pile up together in the door opening, squeezing and crowding, each one trying to get inside ahead of the others, resulting in only mass confusion and no one getting inside while bullets slammed into the wall and door casing of the bunk house.

  By now Kitty had reached the top of the slope and without breaking stride she ran past her companions heading for the horses picketed a short distance away below the ridge line. “Come on!” She shouted as she ran. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

  “Where’s Price?” Cyclone shouted, pushing himself first to his knee and then to his feet; momentarily forgetting about his rheumatism and age. His leg had stiffened in the damp grass and he limped after her.

  “Tell you later!” Kitty called, swinging up into the saddle on her pinto. She reached out and grasped the reins of Chief Henry Two Owl’s horse.

  Already, the sound of Chief’s rifle had trailed off to silence. He would be on his way back, now; circling around the ranch yard and hill.

  Rap had already followed Cyclone, and had climbed aboard Jeremy’s roan.

  They all turned their mounts and rode carefully to the bottom of this side of the hill. By the time they had gained level ground, Chief Henry came running out of the dark to meet them.

  “How the hell did you find your way back in the dark so fast?” Rap said as Henry mounted up.

  “You forget? Me greatest tracker in west.” He put spurs to his horse and shot forward along side Cyclone and Kitty.

  “Oh, Lawdy, Lawdy,” Arapahoe moaned as he loosened the reins and let the roan race off after the others. They all soon disappeared into the dark.

  Chapter Twenty Four