"Startin' to rain," Cyclone groaned, gazing up at the low hanging dark clouds. A few drops of sprinkle had begun to pelt his broad craggy face. Dusk was already starting to turn to dark early today with the warning of the oncoming storm. The ominous rain clouds hung low above them and blotted out the mountain peaks and horizon in front of them.
They had been waiting beneath a stand of cotton wood trees on a ridge high above the trail leading from Thimble Creek, for the last hour and a half, waiting for Simon Price to call his work day in town to an end and head on home to his ranch; The Big Dollar, where he would relax for the evening and basque in the luxury of his great wealth.
The Wildcats had pushed steadily onward from Colorado for the past week and had arrived in Arizona two days ago. The trip had been uneventful, save for the heat, the dust, and hard days on the trail. At least there had been no further skirmishes with the law, bounty hunters, or such.
They had been watching this trail for two days, now, making sure of Simon Price's habits and daily routine. They were still two days early before Frankie and his friends were due to be sentenced.
As the plan had been before when the boys and Jeremy had been in jail, Simon Price would be taken hostage as a means of getting the boys released. The plan failed before because they never did capture Price. But, this time, it was going to be different. They were going to stop him out there on the trail, take him back to town and get the boys out. They had planned on the darkness of night, but now with the rain and the additional darkness of the storm, so much the better.
The drops of rain increased in size and momentum and soon the rain was streaming steadily. The riders pulled their slickers tighter around their necks and lowered their heads to help cover their faces with the brims of their hats.
No one seemed to complain. They knew they only had a few minutes to wait. And they were right. Actually, they didn't have to wait as long as expected. Simon Price was ahead of schedule. He was whipping his matched team of brown horses to a greater speed as they came into sight rounding the bend down the trail. His fringe topped surrey bounced unsteadily along the gravel road and slewed back and forth on its high rimmed wheels.
"Looks like he's in a hurry to get home," Kitty said, shouting above the pelting rain.
"Just doesn't want to get wet," Jeremy said.
"Well, let's go make his day," Cyclone said. He gigged his Chestnut mare forward out from under the cover of the cottonwoods. The rain hit him fiercely as he rode out from under the cover of the trees and down the incline to head off Price and his surrey head on. The others were bunched close behind him.
Simon Price could scarcely believe what was happening, when all of a sudden; several riders seemed to appear out of nowhere. At first there was a wall of torrential rain flying in his face, then, there was a solid wall of dark shapes; flapping slickers and galloping horses before him. Before he knew what was happening, his horses were drawing to a halt and the dark shapes were enveloping him; in front and on both sides of him. The horsemen were grabbing the reins of his team, pulling them to a halt. Iron shod hooves were sliding in the muddy trail and the matched team was thrashing about, snorting in their sudden surprise. Simon Price's whole body began to tremble with fear and he was suddenly very cold from the storm. His hands were gripped to the reins like they were galvanized there. The leathers sank limply over the horses' backs.
Dark shapes of horses and riders loomed close to him on both sides of the surrey and leaned in close, but in the dark and with the low hanging brims of their hats he did not see their faces at first. It was only when a figure from the left lifted off the saddle, landed into the seat next to Price and lifted a head to peer directly into Price's face, that he recognized his captor. A pistol barrel buried into the folds of his chubby neck and the hammer clicked back menacingly. Even with the noise of the pelting rain, the sound was deafening to Simon Price. His eyes bulged round and he began to sob.
"Aw, you're so happy to see me, Simon you're just driven to tears," Kitty said. She pressed the barrel deeper into the folds of flesh. Simon jerked upwards, pushing his heels against the floorboards of the surrey and stiffening.
From the other side of the surrey, Cyclone slapped the banker on the back pushing him back down in his seat. "Good to see you again too, old buddy," he quipped with a laugh. He thrust his pistol barrel into the other side of Simon's neck. The hammer snicked back.
Simon shrank down in his seat."Wh....what do you want with me?" He stammered. "I'm not carrying any money."
"Well, I'll be danged," Rap Brown said. "I hadn't even thought about that." He had crawled into the back seat of the surrey behind Kitty. He reached over Price's shoulder, sliding his big hands under the banker's suit coat, letting them roam over his rotund belly and sunken chest. "Kootchie, kootchie, koo," Rap laughed as he felt around and tickling the frightened man. Price cringed and pinched his knees together.
"Careful, there, old man," Rap chuckled. "You don't want to have an accident there. Besides, it's wet enough out here already. And we don't want any bad smells out here either. Do we?" Rap let out a deep breath. Cyclone waved it away with disgust.
"Lookee, lookee what we got here." Rap smiled, pulling a fat wallet from Price's inside jacket pocket and holding it up.
"I thought you said you didn't have any money?" Rap pulled his six gun and pressed the barrel behind Simon's ear. Simon's legs spread.
"Oh geez, Rap," Cyclone whined. "Now see what you went and made him do."
"I ....I......meant I didn't have the kind of money you'd be interested in. I.....I....mean, it.....it's not much." Price stammered defensively.
"We're interested in any money that is your’s, Mister Price," Kitty said. "No matter how little or how much. And get this and get it straight; I won't quit until you have nothing left. You got that?"
Simon gulped hard. Said nothing.
"I said, you got that?" Kitty repeated, shoving the gun muzzle harder into his neck.
Price nodded ever so faintly.
"Oh, oh, oh," Rap chuckled as he continued to search Price. He had pulled a thirty eight pistol out of Simon's side jacket pocket. "What do we have here? You really surprise me Mister Banker. I never figured you for carryin' a gun. How come you didn't try to fight back when we came after you just now. Don't tell me you only use this for back shootin' or takin' some unsuspectin' unarmed poor devil by surprise. I sure am surprise at you."
Then to Chief who had by now crawled into the backseat of the surrey next to him and behind Price, Rap said, "What do you think we ought to do with a low down skunk like this hombre, Chief."
Chief was silent as he reached up and removed Price's Bowler hat. Simon was ready to scream now .He couldn't tell the beading sweat from the drizzling rain on his face.
Chief ran his fingers through Price's thinning hair. He grasped the thicker tufts at the front and sides and pulled them up, letting Simon feel the tug and slight pain. Then while holding the front tuft high he slid his knife blade out in front of Price's face, just enough for him to catch a quick glimpse of the metal. Then he placed the sharp edge against the edge of his scalp at the hairline. He put just enough pressure for Price to feel its menace.
Price Closed his eyes, tears were streaming down his cheeks and his shoulders shook vehemently. The terror was building at a rampant pace. He was about to pass out and he was about to welcome it.
Chief released the hair and the blade, slapped the flat of the blade to the bald spot on the back of Simon's head. Chief said, "Scalp no good. Gottum hole in middle. Bring shame to warrior. Better gettum rat scalp." He slapped the bowler hat back on Price's head and shoved it forward away from him.
Price passed out.
It was still raining just as hard when the surrey rolled into the main street of Thimble Creek. The night was just as dark and the town was pretty much buttoned up. The street was empty and the doors to the buildings were closed. Only the flickering lights from lanterns and hurricane lamps shining through the windows indicated th
e town was still awake, as it should be for so early in the evening. Above the sound of the rushing rain, the sour strains of a honky tonk piano could be heard emanating from the saloon down the street, even though its doors had been closed over the usual batwings.
Jeremy had taken over driving the team of horses and the surrey back to town. About half way back, Simon Price had come to and had been told what was wanted of him. Kitty thought it would look better if Simon were driving his own rig into town if anyone was to spot them, so Jeremy slid over to the passenger side and the banker took the reins. Jeremy kept his pistol close under Price's chin.
Kitty and Chief rode in the back seat with their horses tied on behind the rig along with Jeremy's. Cyclone and Rap followed behind.
The surrey rolled to a halt in front of the jail. Jeremy flourished his pistol. "You know what to do."
Price shook his head, handed the reins over to Jeremy. He waited for Cyclone and Rap to dismount and walk to the side of the surrey between him and the jail. They had their guns out, pointed at him and half hidden by their slickers. Only then did Price attempt to step down from the rig. Jeremy slid over into the driver's position. He kept his gun out and remained alert for anyone moving in the street. So far, so good. Thanks to the storm, no one was venturing about. He felt the surrey bouncing on its springs as Kitty and Chief disembarked to join the others in front of the jail.
"Keep a watch, Jeremy," Cyclone said. "Be ready to peel out when we come out." Then to Rap. "Keep a watch by the door. Just in case of trouble inside or out. We'll leave it open a crack. Kitty, Chief and I will go in with Price and get the boys. If all goes good. Maybe we can take care of the bank too." He snapped a wry grin at Price. "C'mon, Buster let's get crackin'. I guess I don't have to tell you what happens if you don't happen to cooperate."
Price shook his head and shuffled quickly toward the sheriff's office door.
As instructed, he didn't bother to knock. He just pushed the door open and stepped quickly through. Rather, he was pushed quickly through.
Deputy Sims was a tall, lanky, man and he was stretched out, leaning back in the sheriff's wooden swivel chair behind the desk; his long legs draped over the battle scared wooden desk. He was taken by surprise; stirred out of his drowsiness, as he had almost fallen asleep. The sudden noise of the door opening, intruders invading his domain, the sudden gust of wind and air giving flicker to the flame in the kerosene lamps that illuminated the office, brought him to startled alertness. He half fell off the desk and chair.
"What.....what's goin' on?" He stammered drowsily¸ pushing himself to his feet and reaching for his gun.
"Better let it drop back into the leather and get your hand away from it," Kitty's warning was dead serious. She stepped away from Price and the others to be in full view. Her body was turned sideways and her gun was held straight out at full arm's length.
"For God's sakes, Sims. Do what she says," Price ordered. He was near hysteria. Cyclone had his big left arm around his neck and had the barrel of his pistol pressed hard against Price's temple. "He'll blow my head off."
A slight smirk began to creep across Sims's narrow face. Kitty pulled back the hammer of her pistol. It clicked into place. "Yours too, skinny, if you don't do what we tell you."
"Sure, sure. Anything. Anything you say."
"You got four boys in your jail," Kitty said. "We want them."
"We ain't got nobody in our jail," Sims said.
"Don't play games with us," Kitty snarled. She stepped forward and slashed Sims across the face with her gun barrel raking the cylinder down his cheek, drawing blood. Sims' knees buckled and he had to brace himself against the desk to keep from falling. His hand went to his face and blood oozed between his bony fingers.
"Chief, get the keys and go get the boys out," Kitty ordered.
Chief snatched the key ring from the desk top and hurried to the back. Price groaned and his knees went rubbery. Cyclone had to pull him erect to keep him on his feet.
Chief was back in seconds. "It's true!" He shouted. "They're not here!"
Cyclone's eyes blazed with fury and he spun the banker around in his arms and lifted him off his feet, holding him at face level. Price's eyes suddenly glazed over and a maniacal laugh poured out of his throat like released demons from hell. "We already hung them. Ha, ha, ha,. You're too late! Ha, ha, ha."
Kitty rammed her pistol barrel into his wide open mouth; the barrel shoved halfway down his throat, gagging the laugh out of him. Her eyes flamed with anger and hatred and he knew she was about to pull the trigger. He shook his head vehemently, holding his hands up as if begging her stop, as if he had something to say.
""Let him talk, girl," Cyclone said. "Then you can kill him."
Kitty held firm for a few moments. Never let her expression change nor indicate that she had any intention of changing her mind. Then with one swift motion, she yanked the barrel of the pistol from his mouth letting the front sight rip at the lining of his throat as it extracted.
"I.....I lied," Price couldn't say it fast enough, though it was only a whisper he could force from his throat. "We......we didn't hang them. I just said it as a joke."
"Yeah," Cyclone growled. "We almost laughed yourself to death."
"We sentenced them to prison just this afternoon." Price continued to blurt it out, ignoring Cyclone's quip.
"They weren't supposed to be sentenced until the twentieth," Kitty said. "That's day after tomorrow."
"We moved it ahead. We do that sometimes. Don't we ,Sims?"
The deputy was wiping the blood away from his cheek with a handkerchief. "Yeah, it's better than us feedin' 'em."
""How do we know you're telling us the truth now?" Cyclone growled.
"Because you'd kill me," Price said.
"I guess you finally got that one right," Cyclone agreed.
"So, where did you send them?" Kitty asked.
"Yuma Prison. Sheriff Trask and a deputy took them this afternoon by train to Apache Wells to catch the morning stage to Yuma. You're too late to stop them now." Price knew better than to smile, laugh or gloat.
From the doorway behind them, Rap Brown called. "Hey, hurry up in there. There's people out on the street. A couple of men are headed this way. They're wearing guns."
"You'll never get out of this town alive," Price spoke up, even though it was barely more than a raspy whisper it did seem like he was beginning to get some of his courage back. "This town is full of bounty hunters. Just waiting for you." He glanced from Cyclone to Kitty, then to Chief and back to Rap at the door.
"We know all about your consarned bounty hunters, Mister Price. Do you think we woulda come into this town if we was worried about 'em? Course not. You know why? Because we got you and you'll be dead before we are and I got a hunch you'd rather go on livin' than to have us lyin' in a grave beside ya."
"Cy¸ hurry up. There's more men comin' from the other end of the street." Rap called urgently.
Just then, a pistol fired and the door casing above Rap's head splintered. Rap spun around on his heel, half backing into the doorway and triggering off two shots in return fire. His muzzle flashes lit up the darkness and the men at the other end of the street sighted his position and fired.
Rap was now facing a hail of bullets from two directions. Lead pellets slammed into the side walls around the door opening. Rap ducked low, pushing the door partway closed for cover. He fired back at this new attack, firing first in one direction down the street and then up the other direction. Two assailants dropped but Rap’s revolver emptied fast.
By now Jeremy had entered into the fracas. Still holding the reins of the Simon Price's matched team, Jeremy leaped to the ground to lie sprawled in the mud alongside the surrey. The team was thrashing about and the surrey was rocking back and forth on its oversized wheels. From his position on the ground, it was difficult to hold the horses in place, but Jeremy rolled over, wrapping the reins about him and pulling hard with his left hand; his strong arm muscle strain
ing with the leathers, while he drew his six-shooter with his right and started firing at the men shooting from both ends of the street. He saw one go down from his gun right after two had dropped from Rap's.
"Get out there, Simon," Cyclone ordered. "And call your dogs off. Make it plain, they don't don't get no bounty with you dead. And that's what you'll be, if they don't back off." He pushed price toward the door.
"They... they'll kill me," Price stammered. "They'll shoot first. They won't know it's me."
"Then you better make sure, they know." Cyclone pushed him again.
"Wait.Wait. Sims. I want you to come with me."
"What for?" Sims asked. "They might shoot me too."
"No. The Cyclone Kid's right. They won't hurt us. We'll just tell them to let The Wildcats go."
"All right. Get to the door. Rap! Tell Jeremy, no more shooting."
Rap called to Jeremy and all firing went silent.
Cyclone called through the open door, ""Hey, you men out there, we got Simon Price in here. We're coming out with him in front of us. Now you listen good. He's the fella what's payin' the bounty on us. If he's dead, there ain't gonna be no payoff. So my advice to you is let us ride outta here. He's goin' with us. We'll send him back when we think we're in the clear. You'll get your chance at us another time. Right now, you just stand back and let us go." Cyclone waited thirty seconds for his message to sink in, then he said, "We're comin' out now. Deputy Sims will come out first because Mister Price prefers to see you shoot him first if you choose to be stupid enough to start shootin'."
Cyclone motioned to Sims. The deputy glared at Price and shook his head in disgust. He stepped cautiously through the doorway and stopped. All was quiet in the street, except for the rain that was now starting to diminish. Next, Simon Price stepped out. Again nothing happened. Cyclone, Kitty and Chief followed with Rap closing in behind. Jeremy got to his feet. "Where's the boys?" Jeremy asked.
"They're not here," Kitty said flatly.
"Not here? Where are they?"
"Never mind for now. We'll tell you later. Just get Price loaded up and let's get out of here."
Jeremy loaded Price once again in the driver's seat while he slid to the other side where he could keep a gun on him. Sims was loaded in the back seat with Kitty keeping him guard with a gun. The others mounted up and they all rode out of town leaving a bunch of frustrated bounty hunters chafing at the bit to get on the trail of the Wildcat Gang once more.
Chapter Six
The Return of Wildcat Kitty and the Cyclone Kid Page 7