With each of them carrying lanterns, the tunnel was lit well enough that they could run at a fast pace for the full length of the corridors to the mine entrance. As they approached the exit, they could see the grayness of dawn outside. The rain had subsided substantially.
Throwing caution to the wind, they all smashed their lanterns against the walls of the tunnel, extinguishing flames, and bursting through the opening into the open area of the basin. They all had their guns out and at the ready. If there was anyone outside and about, they would be taken by surprise. They would not be given a chance to react or draw guns. They would be shot down on the spot while everyone continued to run and escape. Cyclone, Rap, and Chief would open fire from above, covering the escapees and driving any mine personnel scrambling for cover,
Kip and Jeremy were the first to charge through the mine opening out into the open area. They moved out far enough to give room for the others to follow out behind them. They took up a stance at the ready with their guns out, each one facing in opposite directions to cover the entire area of the basin.
Two men had just emerged from the refinery and were just closing the door behind them. They came up short with a start as they saw the group of runners pouring out of the mine. At first they were stunned with surprise, then as realization set in, they started to reach for their guns.
Cyclone let loose with his rifle and lead crashed into the door jam above the two men’s heads sending splinters into their faces. The thunder of the shot was still echoing in the basin.
The two men did a hop, skip dance, stumbling over their feet, each one trying to beat the other one back to the door to duck back inside. They almost had their legs entwined. They had forgotten about drawing their pistols and had let them slide back down into their holsters.
Rap and Chief had followed up with rifle fire also and Cyclone loosed another round, tearing the woodwork around the door to pieces as the two men opened the door, practically fell inside and slammed it shut. A half dozen holes appeared in the top half of the door. The basin was now filled with the thunder of gunfire.
The sudden barrage of gunfire had brought the entire camp to life. Doors were opening. Men were appearing and running out into the open.
Kip, Jeremy, Kitty, Frankie, Pete, Bud, and Garth were running as fast as they could across the open area; their guns spewing flame and barking thunder as they ran.
Fire from up on top of the basin rim shifted to the newcomers, covering the escapees with rapid fire. The mining men retreated as fast as they had responded to the initial attack. They ran for cover inside the buildings and hiding behind closed doors. A fusillade of lead continued to pound the doors and kept them pinned down,
Outside, Kip and the others raced to the waiting, loaded freight wagon. Not only would this be a good conveyance to get them all out of the basin, but odds were good that the load was valuable and could be useful to the Wildcats. This was something not planned on, but the fortunes of war were always gratefully accepted.
Kip released the ground hitch that had been attached the team and tossed it aside, while Jeremy climbed onto the box and took up the reins. Kitty and the others jumped into the wagon bed on top of the load while Kip clambered aboard next to Jeremy on the wagon seat.
Cyclone and the others were still pouring lead into the basin, keeping anyone from daring to show themselves and try to stop the escapees.
Jeremy whipped up the four-up set of two teams and shouting “Heeah!” The wagon jolted forward.
Kitty bounced unsteadily and absently reached up to hold her hat on, although it was firmly tied with a chin strap.
The wagon slewed sideways in the mud as Jeremy pushed them forward into the inclining trail that led up and out of the basin. Kitty regained her hold and settled herself. She pulled back the corner of the canvas. Even in the darkness of coming dawn she could see that the wagon floor was covered with wooden cases; the kind used to ship silver or gold bullion in. In this case it would have to be silver. The odd thing about these cases was, that stamped in big bold black letters, it said; Juarez, Mexico.
The wagon fishtailed back and forth as the double team raced upward, pulling its heavy load of freight and passengers. They had just hit the first turn in the trail that would that would level them out at less of a pitch as the trail began to wind more along the side of the basin before it would once again turn and begin to turn into a higher incline for a while before plateauing off into another parallel stretch of road.
As the horses ran into this second turn and needed to stretch into the incline, the burden of the weight they were carrying took its toll. Their hooves slid in the muddy trail and they faltered trying to negotiate the turn. Jeremy stood in the box, lashing out with the whip that had been attached in the upright on the box and repeatedly urged them on. “Heeah! Heeah!”
The wagon slid back a bit. Kitty and the other passengers had to slide into new positions to regain their balance and adjust their grips, which was difficult since they still had their guns out and ready to fire if pursuit came. So far so good. Cyclone and the others were still keeping anyone from coming after them, but gunfire had erupted from inside the buildings. Windows had been smashed and return fire was being wielded back at Cyclone and the others on the rim as well as fire at the fleeing escapees.
Their return fire was erratic and ineffective, however, as Cyclone, Rap and Chief drove them back into cover. Their fire after the others had been futile since the wagon was already out of pistol range and the miners didn’t seem to have access to rifles.
As the wagon managed to reach the top of the basin and disappear over the rim, Cyclone and the others, began to let up on their firing. They only fired haphazardly and sporadically as they backed away from their cover, remaining half bent and low as they retreated to their horses.
They mounted up, gathered up the reins of Kitty’s, Jeremy’s and Kip’s horses and rode off, in a gallop, straight back in the direction they had come from.
As the firing from outside died down, miners started to wonder if the attack was over. Peso Martin was in the office with Conrad Price. After a few moments of silence, Conrad said, “”You think they’ve quit?”
“I don’t know,” Peso said skeptically. “Maybe it’s a trick.” He sidled to the window and peered out from the side. He saw nothing moving out there, The freight wagon was gone and so were the escapees. He gritted his teeth.
He waited another minute. Still nothing moved out there. Still no sound. Maybe the attackers were gone after all. He stepped to the door and pressed alongside of it. He opened it a crack, keeping both guns ready. Light from inside would be seen shining through the crack from outside if the assailants were still there.
There was no response from outside. With the barrel of his right hand gun he pushed it through the crack and forced the door all the way open. Still no reaction. He waited a moment, then stepped into the doorway, both guns ready. Nothing. He stepped outside. Nothing. He took a few steps out into the open area. Nothing but silence and the last lingering drizzle of the early morning rain. The sun had just peeked up over the horizon. He strode about surveying the area. He finally decided the danger was past. The attackers were gone. But so were his prisoners, his wagon and its load.
“All right! Come out of your holes, you lily livered, cowards!” Peso shouted to the camp. “We gotta saddle up and get after that wagon! Let’s go!”
Jeremy never slowed the teams once they were out of the basin. They would need to put as much distance between them and the mine as possible before a search party could be organized and sent out after them. Men on horses could travel much faster than a wagon laden with freight and this was heavy freight even for a four up. The ground was still wet and soggy from the rain. The wheels had built up cakes of mud and had often times tended to bog down.
They rolled steadily northward away from the barren landscape into broad sprawling lowlands with greener, more lush countryside. Here the wagon could roll along much smoother free from the mud and di
rt. The wheels would often slide in the wet grass pushing the weight of the wagon against the teams, forcing them to move faster as if trying to get out of its way. Jeremy would have to haul back on the brake and the wagon would slew sideways down embankments. Then the teams would have to strain to pull the rig back up the inclines.
They had just reached bottom land and found a rutted trail running parallel to a river and given the horses a breather. when they caught sight of the riders behind them. At first, they hoped it was Cyclone and the others catching up to them, but on second glance, they knew that was not the case.
Once again, Jeremy stood up in the wagon box and whipped the teams into a run. The wagon jerked forward and all passengers had to grab a new hold to regain balance.
The horses stretched their strides to the fullest and immediately, they started to extend the distance between them and the approaching riders.
The sudden burst of speed signaled the pursuers that they had been seen and they prodded their mounts even faster forward and the distance once again began to shorten
“Heeah! Heeah!” Jeremy shouted as he lashed again and again, urging more and more from the horses. Their great muscles flexed and their hooves dug deep for footing as they pounded forward, stride after stride. But with each stride, momentum was being lost as the trail continually wound upward, higher and higher above the rolling river below.
Closer and closer the riders behind were closing the gap. Higher and higher the trail rose and more and more the horses were beginning to falter. Their bodies were covered with lather and their breathing was labored
The pursuers had ridden into pistol range and opened fire. Lead pellets were now flying close to the wagon and its passengers. Shots thundered in a continuous volley.
Kitty, Frankie and his friends returned fire. Kip turned around on the driver’s seat and blasted away with his weapon. The riders slowed a bit at the first round of return fire, but then at the urging of Peso Martin spurred forward in renewed pursuit.
The battle raged on, fleeing wagon and teams with pistoleers returning fire at oncoming riders filling the air with flying lead. Two of the pursuing riders took hits and spilled from their saddles and Garth Pearson suffered a hit and fell onto the canvas covered load.
Up ahead the trail was taking a sharp twisting curve upward, that would wind around a high rise. Jeremy hauled on the reins to pull the teams into the curve, but at the speed they were traveling, the teams panicked and half slid on their haunches as Jeremy tried to negotiate the turn. It was still wet and muddy here and as the horses tried to regain their footing, they twisted themselves in the traces. The wagon tongue cracked and the kingpin popped loose. The horses’ hooves dug in and they managed to run free climbing up the rest of the incline while the wagon completely separated and rolled backward down the trail.
It had all happened so fast it was like a blur and despite the oncoming riders and their blazing guns, all of them leaped instinctively, from the wagon on the uphill side of the wagon, for the other side was a sheer drop to the river below. Bud Geary had wrapped an arm around Garth Pearson and taken him with him when he jumped.
Jeremy was still clinging to the reins when the horses separated and flew through the air landing in the trail behind them. He rolled from side to side as they dragged him up the incline. His whole body wracked with pain from the impact and the dragging was giving drag burns all over his body, but he hung on.
The wagon with its heavy load, just kept picking up speed as it rolled straight back until it went over the edge of the trail on the far side and went flying out into open air and tumbling downward into the river below, disappearing in a loud splash into its deep waters.
By the time the others had caught up to Jeremy, he had halted the two teams. Garth had been able to walk on his own. Cyclone, Chief, and Rap were just catching up to them from up above. They wasted no time in mounting up. Frankie and his friends mounted the four horses that had been used as teams and they all rode off just as Peso Martin and the others caught up to them. They seemed more concerned about the wagon and its load at the bottom of the river than in continuing pursuit.
Chapter Eleven
The Return of Wildcat Kitty and the Cyclone Kid Page 13