Wildcat Kitty and the Cyclone Kid

by Franklin D. Lincoln

The patch of early morning gray still outlined the rim of the distant horizon with streaks of crimson ribbons sparsely creeping in, heralding a new day, and preceding the sun that was soon to rise above the mountains. Sinewy clouds from the previous night’s storm were dissipating into torn shreds of wispy tissue. Fog was steaming off the ground below, casting an eerie glow across the valley floor.

  Bud Gorman awoke from his slumber. He still felt cold from the dampness and his back ached from lying on the hard slab of stone beneath him. Frankie the Kid, Garth Pearson, Pete Gibbons and Bud had spent the night beneath a rock outcropping.

  After being run off by Matt Starr, the foursome had waited long enough for the marshal and the other riders to ride away, so they could return and retrieve their guns. Believing that the gang of older outlaws had loot from the stagecoach robbery they set out to follow, hoping to find an opportunity that would enable them to take the money for themselves.

  The rain had forced them to take refuge beneath a rock outcropping on a ridge behind the Madden homestead; totally unaware that they were so close to their quarry or that there were even any buildings about that they could have taken refuge in.

  Now as Bud Gorman awoke he could see the house, barn and corral below. If only they had seen the structures during the night, they might have had more comfortable accommodations. Wait until Frankie, Garth and Pete wakes up and sees that, Bud thought to himself. They’ll have a fit. Oh, well, them’s the breaks.

  Suddenly, he jerked wide awake and sat up. There was movement down there. The front door of the small house opened. A man in a black broadcloth suit stepped out and gingerly closed the door slowly behind him.

  Wait a minute! Bud had seen this man before. He leaned over and shook the sleeping form next to him. “Frankie! Frankie! Wake up!”

  Frankie the Kid rolled to his side, groaning; his hands going to his eyes blotting out the suddenness of what light there was.

  “Come on, Frankie. Come on. Wake up.” Bud continued to shake his leader by the shoulder.

  “Whadya want?” Frankie groaned with a slur.

  “Wake up. You gotta see this.”

  “See what?” Frankie pushed himself to a half sitting position.

  Pete and Garth were now stirring.

  “Down there,” Bud said, pointing toward the yard in front of the house. “Isn’t that the jasper that marshal had in handcuffs yesterday?”

  Frankie’s eyes were still blurry, but they sharpened quickly when he saw the man below. He jerked to a full sitting position, suddenly wide awake. His interest peaked. He crawled quickly to the edge of the rock floor.

  Pete and Garth, having heard, were clamoring after him. They were all wide awake now and their attention was now fully on the scene below.

  “Yes indeedy, it is,” Frankie said with an anticipation much akin to licking his lips. “Now how do you suppose he got out of them cuffs and away from that marshal?” He said it more to himself than as a question for his compadres to answer. “And just look what he’s got on his shoulder. If I ain’t mistaken, those are the saddle bags that old man had draped over his horse’s neck yesterday.”

  “You think there’s money in them?” Pete asked.

  “Of course there’s money in them. It’s the loot from the stage.”

  The man below had entered the barn, but left the door open.

  “How do you know that?” Garth put in.

  “How do I know that?” Frankie was irritated. “Because, I’m Frankie the Kid. I’m the boss here and you’re stupid. And I say he’s got the money.”

  “Doesn’t do us any good,” Bud said. “He’s got it. We don’t.”

  “See what I just got through saying,” Frankie said. “You’re stupid. We’re going to take it away from him.”

  “You suppose that marshal and those other riders are around here?” Garth said.

  “If they was, that jehu down there would be hurrying faster than what he is.”

  “Think maybe, they’re inside the house?” Pete asked.

  “If they were, do you think they’d of let him walk out of there free as you please? No handcuffs and with the money besides.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Pete murmured.

  “Of course I’m right. That’s why I’m boss and you ain’t.”

  Then before any of the gang could comment, Frankie rose higher with excitement. “Look here he comes.”

  Dandy Jim Butler had emerged from the barn. He was leading the big gray horse they had seen one of the older outlaws riding the day before. The horse was saddled and the saddle bags were tied securely behind the cantle. Butler climbed smoothly into the saddle, lifted the reins and prodded the big gray forward with his heels. He let the horse walk slowly, steadily and silently as possible until he was several yards away from the house. Then he kicked the animal into a full gallop and rode off into the rising sun.

  “Come on, boys!!” Frankie shouted, getting to his feet and kicking bed rolls aside. “We gotta get mounted fast before he gets too far away.”

  “He’s gone! He’s gone!” Arapahoe Brown shouted as he stomped around the small living room in his stocking feet. “The sumbitch is gone!” He kicked the Cyclone Kid in the ribs to wake him.

  “What in tarnation is going on?” Cyclone grumbled as he rolled over and sat up as he came awake.

  They had all spread their bed rolls on the living room floor in front of the fire, the night before and had all settled down to a peaceful sleep in front of the fireplace. Matt Starr and Kitty had cuddled together in each others arms. Larry Madden and Dandy Jim Butler had slept sitting up in chairs in Eva’s bedroom.

  “The dandy’s gone. That’s what in tarnation is the matter,” Rap bellowed.

  The others were awakening to the commotion and were starting to sit up in their bed rolls.

  “And he took the money with him,” Rap ranted. “I knew we shoulda watched him closer.”

  “But he was helping,” Cy countered in Butler’s defense.

  “He was helping all right,” Rap blustered. “He helped himself to our money. That’s what he did.”

  “What money?” Matt Starr asked. He was sitting cross legged facing Kitty. Kitty tried to look away from him.

  He grasped her by the arms and shook her. “What money?” He growled angrily. He knew damned well, what money.

  She didn’t answer. Just stared at him.

  Matt turned to Cyclone who was trying to push himself to his feet with little success. “It was the bank money, wasn’t it, Cyclone?” Matt snarled angrily. Cyclone didn’t answer. He merely glanced stubbornly at Matt and continued to push himself to his feet. He had rolled to all fours and seemed to be stuck there.

  “You told me you didn’t rob the bank,” Matt turned back to Kitty. He still held her arms and shook her again. “You lied to me again!” His voice had risen to almost a shout. He shoved her backward and she almost fell flat on her back on the floor, but her hands splayed out on the boards and held her halfway sitting up. “When am I going to learn that I can’t ever trust you?” Matt rose angrily to his feet, staring down at her. His fists were clenched and down at his sides. His face flushed red with anger.

  Beside him, Cyclone was still on all fours trying to push himself up. Matt whirled toward him, slid his foot under the old man, lifting and half shoving him over. Cyclone rolled with a grunt onto his side, splayed out on the floor.

  “Aww, you shouldn’t’ve done that,” Arapahoe said, rushing to the old man, reaching out and grasping both of the old outlaw’s big gnarled hands. “He’s an old man.”

  “An old he wolf,” Matt said.

  “I should have known better,” Kitty said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “How could I have ever thought we could be anything to each other. You’re just another bullying law dog. Picking on a helpless old man.”

  “Helpless?” Matt fumed. “He’s an outlaw and a bank robber.”

  “Then so am I,” Kitty said.

  “Yes, you are,�
�� Matt sighed. “And, you’re a liar to boot.”

  Rap had managed to pull Cyclone to his feet. Cyclone said, “That’ll be enough of that, sonny.”

  Matt turned to face the old man. Cyclone said, “You can call me anything you like and you’re probably right. But, you got no call to bad mouth my granddaughter. She may be an outlaw, but a liar to you she ain’t. Any problem you got, is with me, not her.”

  “Don’t bother, Grampa,” Kitty said. “He’ll only believe what he wants to. He‘s just another stupid star toter.”

  “I won’t have you sayin’ such things to him, neither,” Cyclone scolded. “You’ll both be sorry for it.”

  “Never,” Kitty said acidly. “I mean every word and I’ll never take them back.” She glared at Matt. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat and he swallowed hard. He had to look away, not bearing to see the anger and hatred in Kitty’s eyes.

  Larry Madden had come out of the bedroom. A paper was in his hand. “What’s going on?” He asked. “Is this about the doctor?”

  “Doctor?” Matt blurted. “Hell, he’s no doctor.”

  “Not a doctor? How could that be? He’s been treating my wife and daughter. They’re doing fine. Of course he’s a doctor.”

  “No. He’s my prisoner,” Matt declared. “At least he was my prisoner and now he’s gone.”

  “Your prisoner? You said your prisoner got away. You mean you lied to me?”

  “So, now who’s the liar?” Kitty quipped.

  Matt glanced at Kitty with a shudder, then turned away to face Madden. “I didn’t want to worry you. He seemed to be helping you and that’s all that seemed to matter at the time.”

  “It is all that mattered,” Madden said. “Even if you had told me he was your prisoner, I wouldn’t have believed he was a bad man. A man that cared that much couldn’t be bad.”

  “I didn’t say he was a bad man,” Matt countered. “I said he was my prisoner.”

  “That just makes no sense at all,” Madden said. “Anyways, it doesn’t make any difference now. He’s gone. Left this.” He pushed the paper in his hand toward the lawman. Matt took it and read it.

  “He says my wife and daughter are doing fine,” Madden told him what was in the note while Matt was still reading it. “He left instructions for me to continue their care. He said he was sorry he had to leave like this. He said you could explain his reasons, Marshal. I guess you already have.”

  “I’ve got to go after him,” Matt said, handing the note back. Then he turned to Cyclone. “But, now what am I going to do about you? Why’d you have to go rob that bank and make things difficult for me?”

  “You seem to be mighty confused, sonny,” Cyclone chuckled. “It ain’t what you’re going to do about us. It’s what are we going to do about you?”

  “Huh?” Then he heard the metallic click of a hammer being drawn back and the cocking of a pistol. He suddenly understood. He didn’t have to look at Kitty sitting on the floor. He knew she had taken one of his pistols from the gun belt he had left lying on the floor while they had slept.

  She pushed herself to her feet and faced him square. Tears were streaking down her face. She shoved the weapon forward in front of her, leveled at Starr’s broad chest. She held it with both hands and the barrel wobbled under her tremble.

  “So, you’re going to shoot me, Kitty?” There was a hint of a taunt in Matt’s voice.

  “If I have to,” she choked the words out. She shifted her stance trying to steady herself.

  Somehow, Matt believed she would actually do it, if pushed. But, he knew in his heart that she really didn’t want to.

  “That may not be necessary, girl,” Cyclone said. “He wants his prisoner back and we want the money back. Seems to me, we got pretty much the same goal in mind. We help each other track down the dandy. We get the money back and he can have his prisoner. We go our separate ways.” Then to the lawman, “What d’ya say, son. We got a deal?”

  “Seem like it’s the best I can do. But once I get Butler to Tucson, I’ll be back for you.”

  “We’ll be long gone by then,” Cyclone said.

  “I’ll find you.”

  “You can try.”

  “Maybe I ought to just shoot him now and get it over with,” Kitty said. Her tears had stopped and her face was rigid. There was resolve in her voice.

  Chapter Thirteen