Wildcat Kitty and The Cyclone Kid Ride Again

by Franklin D. Lincoln

“I ain’t never ridden on a train before,” Rap Brown said excitedly. He was sitting next to the window with his seat facing backward. Chief Henry was sitting next to him on the aisle. “‘Ceptin’ to rob one,” he finished. He was excited like a little boy.

  “Shhhh. Keep it quiet you danged fool,” Cyclone whispered loudly. “You want somebody to arrest us?”

  “Why?” Rap asked blankly. “We ain’t doin’ nothin’.”

  “Just don’t say nothin’ about robbin’ trains or nothin’.”

  “Nothin’?

  “Nothin’,” Cyclone repeated. “Just keep your yap shut. We don’t want people around us thinkin’ we’re not proper dignified, folk.”

  “We ain’t?” Rap asked

  “No, paleface,” Chief answered him. “No speakum no more.”

  “Hey go easy on that Injun stuff, Henry You can blow it for us too.”

  “Don’t worry, Cy. Just funning.”

  Cyclone was sitting in the opposite seat facing forward and directly in front of Rap. Kitty sat next to her grandpa and Jeremy sat next to the aisle. Their suitcases were stowed away on the overhead rack. Kitty kept her round hat box on her lap.

  With conversation now kept to a minimum, to the world outside, they all looked like properly dignified citizens routinely riding the rails with other proper dignified citizens. The men were decked out in their new suits and Kitty was wearing a blue gingham gown and new hat that settled neatly and tipped forward at an angle atop her auburn locks.

  Dandy Jim had stayed on in Denver, as he said he had business to attend to there.

  As the other passengers boarded and took their seats, Cyclone checked out each and every one of them; expecting to find a lawman among them. “I feel nekked, sitting here with no shootin’ irons,” Cyclone whispered to Kitty.”

  Kitty squeezed his big hand and smiled. “Don’t worry about it Grampa,” she said. “It’s about time you got used to living like other people.”

  “You’re forgettin’,” he said. “We ain’t other people. We’s outlaws. Every time we turn around, there’s likely to be a lawman behind us.”

  “Oh Grampa, you’re just being paranoid,” Kitty said reassuringly.

  “Well just the same; just ‘cause I’m para...para...whatever you said, don’t mean they ain’t out to get us.”

  “You’re being silly, Grampa. Just relax and enjoy the ride,” Kitty said. The train had already started to move ahead. At first, it had been a jolt as the wheels started to grip the rails, then the movement started out slow. The platform and station, seen through the side window of the car, seemed to move backward away from them.

  “Silly, am I,?” Cyclone’s whisper had risen a notch louder. “You see that tall man three rows up ahead? Black suit and bowler hat?”

  Kitty had just barely nodded acknowledgement as Cyclone continued. “He’s a Pinkerton detective, if I’ve ever seed one afore.”

  “Hey, Cy,” Rap said. “I’m not feelin’ too good. Everything goin’ backwards is makin’ my stomach turn. Can I trade places with one of you guys?”

  “I gotta keep an eye on that Pinkerton man,” Cy said with irritation.

  “Pinkerton man?” Rap exclaimed aloud. He turned his body and head to look behind him.

  “Shhhh......shhhhh, you idjit. And don’t look at him.”

  “Huh,” Rap was bewildered.

  “Here, I’ll trade places with you, Rap,” Kitty said, starting to slide out of her seat.

  “Thank you, sweetie,” Rap said.

  They swapped places; Rap wriggling his big body in between Cyclone and Jeremy. Jeremy slid sideways and ended up on the edge of the seat; about to fall out into the aisle.

  “This just isn’t going to work,” Jeremy grumbled. There’s some empty seats up ahead. I’m going to go find me one.” He stood up into the aisle; his feet grasping for a hold on the moving floor.

  “I saw you looking at that girl at the other end of the car,” Kitty said. “Looks like she’s traveling alone.”

  “Not for long,” Jeremy said with a grin, and ambled on up the aisle.

  The man in the black suit and bowler hat glanced up at Jeremy as he passed by. His big bushy black mustache twitched beneath his bulbous nose.

  “See what I told you,” Cyclone whispered. “He’s a Pinkerton man all right. Just look at how he’s watching Jeremy.”

  Kitty turned her head slowly, trying not to be noticed. She saw the man in black return his eyes to his newspaper as Jeremy passed by. Kitty smiled knowingly to herself. The man had merely been distracted by someone in the aisle.

  Kitty turned back, smiled at Cyclone and then turned her attention to the scenery passing by as the train now sped at full speed along the rails.

  “Excuse me, miss,” Jeremy said in his most unintimidating voice and smiling shyly. “Would you mind if I sit here with you. It’s a bit cramped sitting back there with my companions.” His hat was off and in his hands.

  The girl was young, about Jeremy’s age. Perhaps a little younger. Jeremy was wondering why a girl so young would be traveling by herself. She had curly blond hair and her pear shape face was clear with an unblemished complexion. She had high cheekbones and cheeks were rosy. She gazed up at the boyish face with a friendly smile. She flustered at first, as if taken by surprise, then she smiled slightly, nodded, and without a word, gathered her skirts closer to her as she slid closer to the window, as if there was need to make more room.

  Jeremy slid into the seat, close to the aisle, and leaving seat space between them, not wanting to appear like he was encroaching on her space.

  The two rode on in silence for a several miles. Occasionally, the girl would turn her head slightly and give him a quick up from under glance, then turn quickly back to gaze out the window, before he could catch her looking.

  Jeremy tried to appear like he was staring ahead, but occasionally he would sneak a peek out of the corner of his eye.

  The miles sped away with the monotonous drone of the engine and wheels. Finally, at one point both Jeremy and the girl caught each other catching a glimpse of each other. Their eyes met and they smiled at each other. They both began to giggle. The ice had finally broken and they began to talk.

  “How are you feeling now, Rap?” Kitty asked.

  He had been leaning back in the seat, his eyes closed, but now he had sat up straight and was looking around. Cy was still eyeing the man in black. It seemed like the train was losing speed.

  “I’m feelin’ a lot better, now,” Rap said. “I shoulda took my medicine before we started.” He patted his sides under his coat and pulled out a flask. He unscrewed it and chuck a lugged several swallows. “Ahhhhh! Best medicine in the world,” he said as he re-stoppered it and put it away under his coat.

  “Medicine, my foot,” Cyclone growled. “Someday that rotgut’s gonna kill you.”

  “I’ll die a happy man.” Rap grinned.

  Just then, a whoosh of air rushed into the car as the back door burst open.

  At the same time, the man in black dropped his newspaper, jumped to his feet, standing in the aisle with a thirty eight police pistol in his hand. “Don’t anybody move!” He shouted as he brandished the weapon back and forth to threaten passengers up and down the aisle.

  Two men had stepped through the car’s rear door. They were rough looking men and they had guns in their hands. The bigger one of the two shouted, “This is a holdup!”

  Cyclone, Rap, and Henry all reached to their thighs, only to be reminded they weren’t carrying weapons.

  The train jerked to a halt.

  Jeremy, up front, had jumped up from his seat, wobbling on unsteady feet as the train lurched to a stop. He was turning toward the back when the car’s door at the other end behind him burst open. Two more gunmen were in the entrance. Jeremy froze in place; his eyes roaming from the holdup men to Cyclone and the others.

  One of the newcomers reached out and grasped Jeremy by the collar, jerking him upright in the middle of th
e aisle, spinning him around and holding him in place with one arm while he pushed the muzzle of a pistol into the side of Jeremy’s neck.

  His partner, behind him, warned, “You were told not to move.”

  The big man in black spoke up. “That young man almost got his head blowed off. If you don’t all cooperate with us, you’ll see what will happen to you as his brains splatter all over.” He laughed.

  Jeremy was frozen in place. His eyes darted back and forth taking in the outlaws at the other end of the car. He glanced at his friends, wanting to see if they were going to do anything. But they weren’t moving. Their eyes were fixed on the robbers.

  With a sudden jerk, Jeremy was pitched into an empty seat and the robbers went about their business with the passengers.

  “That guy weren’t no Pinkerton man, Cy,” Rap whispered.

  “Shut up. I knowed it all the time.”

  Kitty and Henry gave him a knowing look.

  “What do we do now?” Chief asked.

  “Nothin’! Just nothin’!” Cy fumed. Then, leaning close to Kitty, he said, “Where’d you put the money?”

  “It’s in the hat box,” Kitty answered quickly in a low whisper.

  They had no sooner spoken when the two robbers behind them pushed their way in close. They had already relieved the passengers behind The Wildcats of their valuables

  “What are you people whispering about? Did I hear you say something about money?” It was the larger of the two outlaws. His voice was gruff and menacing. The other bandits were attending to the rest of the car, gathering their loot in large canvas bags.

  “I was sayin’” Cyclone answered glibly. “It’s a good thing we got no money.” His words slowed as they came out and realization set in that Cyclone knew this bandit. His name was Bart Drago; wanted for every crime in the books. Cyclone had run into him once in Juarez. Cy quickly turned his head away avoiding eye contact with the robber.

  “We’ll just see about that,” Drago answered. “Start diggin’ deep and empty what you got.” He held the bag close; its opening gaping.

  He no sooner gave the order, when he came up with a start. “Hey wait a minute!” He exclaimed, reaching across and grasping Cyclone by the point of his chin and jerking Cy’s head so he could peer into the old man’s face.

  Drago studied it a moment, then grinned. “It is you, isn’t it?” He said. “You’re The Cyclone Kid.”

  “Shhh....sh....,” Cyclone protested. “Don’t say it so loud.”

  Other passengers were already taking notice.

  “What are you doing here and all duded up like that?” Drago asked.

  “What d’ya think I’m doin?” Cyclone came back. “I was waitin’ to do what you’re doin’ right now.” Cy was thinking fast.

  “What’s taking you so long?” The man in black blustered. “We haven’t got all day. Get what they got and let’s finish this up.”

  “Let you go this time,” Drago said.

  Then turning to Kitty, not knowing she was with Cyclone he pushed the canvas bag toward Kitty. “What about you, little lady?” Drago said. “What’ve you got?”

  “This!” Kitty shouted as she pulled her hand out from under the hat box. There was a two barrel derringer in her hand. It popped and flame spit out.

  Drago fell backward, grasping at the gaping wound in his shoulder; his pistol and bag dropping to the floor. Powder smoke drifted in the air

  Before the other bandits could react, Kitty stood and fired again. The man in black had just turned and brought his pistol up to bear on her, as Kitty’s second bullet took him in the arm. He dropped his pistol.

  By now the other bandits had reacted; all turning to return fire. Kitty’s derringer was now empty.

  Several shots rang out. The car filled with gun-smoke and the three remaining bandits went down, wounded badly.

  The girl Jeremy had been sitting with stood in the middle of the aisle; feet planted firmly on the floor, legs spread apart in a shooting stance. A smoking pistol was held in firmly in both hands.

  “Everything’s all right, now. people,” she announced over the wisping vapors of smoke. “I’m a Pinkerton Railroad Detective.”

  ****

  Wildcat Kitty and the Cyclone Kid

  and the

  Train robbers