The midmorning sun was bright in the clear blue sky like a shining omen of a good day to come following the aftermath of the rain storm from the previous night.
Birds were chirping, the wet grass was still glistening in the sunlight and all seemed well with the world for Kip Dalton as he rode along the trail east of Thimble Creek.
He was feeling good today. He had had a good night's sleep at a hotel at Hunter's Corners the night before. A welcome change from nights on the trail. It had also helped that he had been lucky at the Faro tables earlier that night, too.
He was a tall man and sat proudly and erect in the saddle. He had broad shoulders, barrel chest, and strong arms. He wore a fringed buckskin frontier jacket open all the way down revealing the light blue breast plate shirt he wore beneath it. He wore blue cavalry pants with inch and a half yellow stripes running the length of the legs, which indicated officer status. They fitted tight against his muscular legs and poured into the tops of shiny, black, calf high military boots. A serviceable gunbelt circled his middle and a holster and pistol rode comfortably high on his right thigh without benefit of a tie down. Kip Dalton was obviously not a man wanting to be mistaken for a gunslinger. In fact, except for seemingly having been an ex military man, everything about him proclaimed him to be a gentleman. A freshly cleaned gray campaign hat sat atop his head of raven black wavy hair that matched the neatly trimmed full mustache beneath a broad, strong nose and above a firm confident mouth. He sat astride a magnificent black stallion that stood, probably eighteen hands high.
The horse was coal black with a black tail and mane or any markings whatsoever. His name was Sabre and Kit Dalton had claimed him from an Indian raid many years ago as the lone survivor of a settler's ranch that went up in smoke and all stock had been run off. Sabre was too ornery to let himself be taken by the raiders. When Kip left the cavalry, he took Sabre with him and they had been traveling together ever since.
The calmness of the early morning soon came to an end. Off to the right, over on the other side of a range of hills, gunfire had broken the stillness of the morning air. Kip pulled Sabre up to a sudden halt, standing in the stirrups and craning his neck in the direction of the distant hills, as if he could see something, which of course, he couldn't. It was just a reflex reaction. At first the shooting was only a shot or two. Then it was a barrage of fire. The barrage became more heated and the shots sounded like they were coming from two different directions. Then they sounded like they were moving and the firing seemed to roll into one massive echo of thunder.
"Sounds like a mess of trouble over there, Sabre, old boy." Kip said, scratching Sabre behind the ears. The stallion shook his head gently. "Good thing we're on this side of the hills," Kip mused, as if trying to talk himself into something. "Then again, maybe we ought to take a looksee to what's going on. Probably wouldn't hurt none, as long as we don't get mixed up in it." He continued to scratch behind Sabre's ear. Sabre shook his head again and whinnied. "Don't laugh at me, you old bag of bones," Kip said. "You just wait and see. We're not mixing in. We're just looking."
Sabre shook his head and whinnied again.
Kip angled the big stallion off to the right and galloped up to the ridge. He reined up sharply, just as he barely topped the rise before he would silhouette himself against the sky, but just enough to peer over into the valley below. From here he could see two groups of riders in the valley. Both groups were farther up the valley and still approaching where Kip was watching from his vantage point. But at the speed they were traveling, they would soon be passing by in just a few more moments.
The first group of riders was almost close enough to pass by already. At least they were close enough for Kip to get a fairly good look at them. There were five of them. Three old men, a girl and a boy. They were urging their horses forward at top speed and apparently had been doing so for quite some time for their mounts were heavily lathered and were showing signs of faltering. The riders were firing their weapons repeatedly at the onslaught of riders behind them.
There were about a dozen riders rapidly closing the distance behind them. Their weapons thundered and flamed pouring a hail of lead after their fleeing quarry.
"I wonder what that's all about," Kip mused to no one in particular, unless it was to himself or to his horse.
Sabre just shook his head.
"Well, we're not messing into that frey, if that's what you're thinking, old horse." Kip jerked the reins, pulling Sabre's head up with a jerk. "No sir. Not us."
It was just about then that the first group of riders passed by. He noticed Kitty's auburn hair streaming out from under her Stetson. "Well now," he said.
Sabre whinnied.
Kip ignored him and glanced farther down the valley. He noticed how it was narrowing and was filling in with trees and large boulders. He wondered if the valley was pinching off into a dead end. If so these riders must have known the territory for they were slowing their mounts and riding into cover and starting to dismount.
By now the pursuers were almost in front of Kip Dalton. They were still riding at full speed and firing rapidly.
"I hate taking sides when I don't know which side is right and which side is wrong," Kip said. "But it seems to me, a whole bunch of mean looking guys after old men, a boy and a girl, just can't be fair." He pulled his Winchester from the saddle boot beneath the fender and his right knee. He spurred Sabre to the top of the hill.
He was in full view now of the riders below him. They were too intent on their quarry that had now dismounted, taken up refuge behind several boulders and still returning fire, that they did not see him until several of their lead riders spilled from their saddles.
Kip still held the reins in his hands as he lifted the Winchester to his shoulder. As the first of the pursuing riders came abreast of him, he fired. A rider dropped from the saddle. He levered round after round into the chamber and fired as fast as he could, emptying as many saddles as he could as fast as possible. In the meantime the Wildcat gang was continuing to pour return fire into the rest of the bunch. Horses were thrashing about. Several fell to the ground with their fallen riders.
Then as the initial surprise and shock of the unexpected attack from above wore off, some of the attention turned to the new menace coming from the ridge above.
Kip remained firing, but unable to take good aim as he turned his big stallion and retreated to the far side of the ridge where he dismounted, crawled back and resumed his attack from a prone position on the ground.
He only had to fire a few more rounds for by now the casualties below were already heavy and the attackers were ready for retreat; retrieving their wounded and making haste to evacuate the area.
Knowing the battle was over, Kip slipped back over the ridge, put his rifle away, mounted Sabre and rode back to the top of the hill where he was ,once again, fully sky lined.
He sat there for a moment, both hands resting on the pommel of his saddle. He watched as Kitty and her gang emerged from the cover of the boulders. She waved to him in thanks.
He stood in the stirrups, removed his hat and smiled broadly. The morning breeze ruffled his wavy black hair. He pulled firmly on the reins and hauled Sabre to his hind legs; forelegs pawing proudly at empty air before him. Kip Dalton gallantly waved his broad brimmed campaign hat in the air, high above his head in wide circles.
"Oh, Grampa!" Kitty gasped, staring up at the sight before her. "Isn't he just beautiful?"
"I hope to Lord, you're talkin' about the horse, girl," Cyclone muttered.
"Oh, no, Grampa. I mean the man. Isn't he the most gorgeous man you ever did see."
"Oh, no. Not another one." Cyclone groaned under his breath.
Kip brought Sabre down on all fours and in one swift motion, the big black stallion knelt on one knee in a final bow. Kip flourished his hat once more, set it smartly on his head, drew Sabre to all fours, spun him around and rode off with Sabre's tail swishing to and fro with flair.
"Ooooooh!" Kitty swooned, eyes flutte
ring.
"Lawdy,lawdy," Arapaho Brown sighed. He pulled out a flask and took a swig.
"If I was a drinking man, Rap," Jeremy said. "I'd join you."
"Not from my bottle you wouldn't," Rap said. He took another snort.
Chapter Seven
The Return of Wildcat Kitty and the Cyclone Kid Page 8