Five weeks later an Army Ambulance wound its way along the twisting trail, climbing high into the mountains. It was late morning on an early December day, and there was a chill in the air, although the sun, in the clear, cloudless blue sky, was shining above the mountain peaks and offered a bright, lustrous day.
The ambulance from Fort McDowell had loaded up its passengers before dawn, while it was still dark and had left the compound with little notice.
Kitty, Cyclone, and the others had been held in the stockade for six weeks and when they were rousted from their sleep in the early morning hours before dawn, they had no idea what was waiting for them that eventful day. They had all been shackled with handcuffs and leg irons. The dread of Yuma Prison weighed heavy on their minds. The Army ambulance bounced and tilted back and forth as it rolled on over the rocky trail.
They had ridden several hours before they felt the vehicle turn off to the left onto smoother terrain. They must have left the trail for the roll of the wagon wheels beneath them seemed more labored and quieted by what was probably tall grass.
The ambulance finally rolled to a halt. The rear doors of the vehicle opened and the bright sunlight poured in, erasing the dimness of ambulance’s interior and causing the passengers to squint until they could adjust to the brightness.
Armed Cavalry guards stood on both sides of the vehicle; guns out and at the ready while The Wildcats disembarked.
Once they were on the ground and able to look around them, they could see that they were in a clearing on a shelf high above the plain below the mountain. The panoramic vista below spread out hundreds of miles.
Several yards off to their right, nestled in a crop of pine trees, a squat log cabin sat unobtrusively from casual view of anyone who might be traveling near this way. It was run down from lack of use and probably no one actually lived there anymore. A slight tendril of dark smoke wafted lazily from the chimney.
The guards herded them toward the cabin and when they reached it, the door was thrown open and they were bidden to enter.
Just as the bright sun had affected their eyesight when the ambulance doors had been thrown open, Kitty and her companions had to adjust to the sudden darkness inside the cabin. The guards prodded them forward and their boots, weighted down by the heavy leg irons, thudded dully across the wooden floor.
As the interior gradually came visible, they could see the shape of a large man sitting behind a beat up wooden table. Flames in the fireplace behind him flickered and hid the man’s face in further shadow.
“For God’s sakes,” the voice of the shadowed figure demanded of the guards. “Put those guns away and get those shackles and leg irons off these people.”
Two guards hustled forward, sheathing their pistols and went to work unlocking the handcuffs and leg irons.
The voice was commanding and very familiar to The Wildcats and as they were freed of legs irons, they shuffled forward until the meager light revealed the face of Governor Hugh Stanton. He was bundled in a dark overcoat and wore a slouch hat pulled low over his brow.
“Now, leave us alone, sentries,” he ordered and turned his attention to Kitty and the others.
“I suppose you are wondering what’s going on here, today,” Stanton said matter of factly. He didn’t wait for them to answer. He continued. “What I’m about to do cannot be revealed beyond this meeting. As governor there are things I have to do and things I am not suppose to do. This is one of those times that I must decide for myself, a course of action and I alone, am responsible and accountable for it.”
“If you don’t mind, Governor,” Cyclone spoke up. “How about jumpin’ over this politcal speech makin’ and get to the point.”
“Alright, I’ll get to it. I have reason to believe Matt Starr is still alive.”
Kitty gasped. Her knees turned to rubber and bent beneath her. Cyclone grasped her shoulders a steadied her. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks.
“I know this must come as a shock to you all, just as it was to me.”
“What makes you think so?” Cyclone asked.
Stanton hesitated a bit, then said, “I’ve heard that he’s been seen down around the border. It’s been reported that he has turned renegade.”
“Matt Starr?” Cyclone blustered. “That’s crazy! That boy eats the flag for breakfast and drinks red, white and blue milk. He’s disgustingly honest.”
“I agree with you,” Stanton said. “But his picture has been printed in several newspapers. He’s been seen riding with a Mexican gang. They’ve pulled several robberies. Banks, trains, coaches.”
“That’d be Manuel,” Cyclone muttered.
“Who?”
“Manuel Gonzales. we’ve crossed his trail a time or two.”
“That’s what I thought,” Stanton replied. “So maybe you’d know where he is.”
“If you think we know anything about that. You are quite mistaken.” Kitty spoke up defiantly. She had regained her composure, although her heart was pounding like a hammer on an anvil.
“I know that,” Stanton retorted. “But, I want you to find him.”
“In case you forgot, bub,” Cyclone said. “You got us in jail.”
“How would you like to get out?” Stanton smiled slightly. “I can arrange that, you know.”
“So arrange it,” Kitty said.
“It’s not so easy,” Stanton said. “As you know Matt Starr was supposed to marry my daughter, Barbara.”
Kitty took a deep breath. She didn’t like the reminder. A hint of anger still lingered inside her.
“I never approved of my daughter’s choice of Matt Starr,” Stanton continued. “But, for some reason she wanted him. I could never deny my daughter anything so I went along with it. Now, I have not told her of the possibility that he’s alive nor that he may have turned outlaw. If there is any way that Matt Starr can be found alive and innocent of these allegations against him I want him brought back to her.”
“And you’ll turn us loose if we do that?” Kitty asked contemptuously. “So your daughter can marry Matt?”
“I think I can understand how you feel, Miss Carlin.” It had been a long time since Kitty had been called that. “I need to tell you that I had to promise Matt Starr that on his wedding day with Barbara, I would issue an order of amnesty for all of you.” He glanced at Jeremey, Chief, Rap, Kitty and Cyclone.
Kitty’s heart leaped to her throat. Matt would do that? For her? Did he still care , afterall?
“I am willing to honor that commitment here today, but no one is to know.” Stanton continued. My tenure as Territorial Governor would be greatly compromised.”
“What’s this fancy talk all about, Cy?” Rap put in. He had remained silent with Henry and Jeremey much too long.
“I think he’s sayin’, he’s gonna let us go if we find Matt Starr and bring him back.”
“Not quite,” Stanton said. “I’m saying that I am giving you amnesty and offering you all a job.” He tossed a handful of metal objects on the table. There was an inscription on each one.
“Those look like lawman badges,” Rap said. “What’s that they say on them?”
“Deputy Territorial Marshal,” Cyclone read. He looked quizzically at Stanton.
“You’ll need some authority down along the border. What do you say? Do we have a deal?”
Cyclone looked to Kitty. She looked back. then to the others. There was a moment of silence. A moment of consideration and then as one, five hands reached across the table and grasped a tin star.
Two days later, fully supplied and equipped, The Wildcat Gang rode south in the name of the law adding to the growing myth and The Legend of Wildcat Kitty and the Cyclone Kid
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Wildcat Kitty and The Cyclone Kid Ride Again Page 33