The Return of Wildcat Kitty and the Cyclone Kid by Franklin D. Lincoln
Wildcat Kitty and The Cyclone Kid Meet The Jack of Diamonds
“Looks like you were too late this time Cyclone Kid,” Dirty Dan McGee said. “Banker Blackheart already got the rancher’s mortgages ahead of you. He’s probably got them locked safely in his safe at the bank by now. Haw. Haw Haw.”
The Cyclone Kid and Wildcat Kitty were tied in wooden chairs at a line shack far out on the edge of Banker Blackheart’s ranch. They had been captured trying to retrieve the ranchers’s mortgages, but had been trapped and brought to an out of the way hideout.
“You’ll never get away with this,” The Cyclone Kid said. “When our gang catches up with you....”
“You’ll be dead,” Dirty Dan finished for him. “And when they get here, we’ll kill them too. Haw. Haw. Haw.”
“Don’t count on that,” Wildcat Kitty said. “Don’t you know a cat has nine lives?”
“Haw. Haw. Haw. You’re about to spend them all right now little lady.” He drew his six-shooter.
At that moment the door to the shack burst open. A tall man with broad shoulders dressed in a fine black broadcloth suit, broad brimmed black hat, frilly white shirt, brocaded vest, and black string tie, stepped into the cramped quarters. McGee’s four henchmen stepped back out of the way.
“What’s going on here?” The newcomer demanded as he secured his position of authority.
“What do you think?” Mcgee answered with annoyance. “I’m getting ready to kill these jaspers. Just like the boss told me to.”
“No. You’re not,” the well-dressed man said.
“You’re not the boss here,” Dan said. “You just joined us. Where you getting off giving us orders?”
“I want to do the killing,” the man said. He stared directly at Wildcat Kitty.
She looked at his strong chiseled face. His soft eyes and the pencil thin mustache on his upper lip. God, he was handsome; a real dandy she thought. Was this the kind of man who would shoot her down helplessly?
“It’s my job,” insisted Dan.
“Tell you what I’ll do,” the dandy said. “I play you a game of cards for the honor.”
“You gotta be kiddin’.”
“What? You don’t play cards?”
“Of course I play cards. I’m the best there is.”
“Then prove it.”
Dan smiled. “Alright fancy pants. Lets have at it.”
He cleared off the table in the center of the room and sat down. He pulled out a deck of cards.
The dandy sat on the other side of the table and let McGee shuffle and deal.
The deal was pretty good for the dandy. Of the five cards dealt he picked up four aces and a jack of clubs.
“Let’s get this straight,” the dandy said. “If I win, you clear out and I get to kill both The Cyclone Kid and Wildcat Kitty. No witnesses. I lose, I clear out and you kill them.”
“That’s the size of it,” Dirty Dan sneered with a triumphant grin. “All right gambler. How many cards do you want?”
The gambler fished out two cards; both aces, and laid them face down. “I’ll take two,” he said.
“But, but,” Dan stammered. “Why.... why would you.......?”
“Why would I what?” The gambler said knowing that McGee knew he had dealt him aces and had not expected him to throw any away.
“Deal me two,” the gambler reiterated, knowing the top two cards in the deck on the table before them were really meant for Dirty Dan.
“But....but.......”
“But nothing. Deal me two.” He placed his two remaining aces face up on the table.
McGee’s hands trembled as he reached for the top card.
“Just turn it over,” the gambler ordered
Slowly, Mcgee turned it, crinkling the corner. It was the queen of diamonds.
“Now the other,” the gambler ordered.
Again, Mcgee turned the final card. Had he had the opportunity to draw these two cards himself, Dan would have filled a diamond royal flush and would have beat any hand there was. But now all that was left was a winning two pair for the gambler, filled by a pair of aces and a pair of jacks. The final card turned over was the jack of diamonds.
When Mcgee and his henchmen were gone, the gambler untied The Cyclone Kid and Wildcat Kitty. From his coat pockets he produced the ranchers’ mortgages that he had retrieved from banker blackheart’s safe. He had left his calling card; a jack of diamonds in their place.
“My hero.” Wildcat Kitty swooned as he scooped her up into his arms and carried her off to the mountains.
“Oh what a man,” Cathy said. “I hope Kitty marries him. When I grow up I want to marry a man just like him.”
“Aw that’s just a story, Cathy,” Jimmy said. “It’s just mush for silly girls like you.”
“It’s not mush. And I’m not silly. And neither are girls.
“Boys just don’t have feelings. That’s why you’re not any good for anything,” Cathy sneered.
“Good grief,” Jimmy groaned. “Someday I’ll be a man. And some silly girl will be all gaga over me and I’ll just laugh at them.”
“Nobody’s gonna be gaga over you, silly.”
It was another rainy day and Cathy and Jimmy had climbed up into the loft and once again rummaged through the old trunk. The dime novel they chose to read was one that had been written sometime later than some of the others and written by someone else. This time the byline was Chris Colter, whether this was a real name or a house name, it wasn’t important. The important thing to Cathy was that now Wildcat Kitty was now an equal hero or heroine, if that was the proper way to say it, or perhaps she was even the star as they would say nowadays in the local theater matinees.
Wouldn’t it be great if they made movies about the Wildcat Gang like they do The Three Mesquiteers or Hopalong Cassidy, Cathy thought. They just didn’t make movies with girl heroes, except for the latest Dorothy Paige movies. She was a singing cowgirl and she had male co-stars to do the action. These weren’t the kind of movies she wanted, but for now, she guessed that they would have to do until a real girl hero was portrayed.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the horn blowing on the Packard in the driveway. That meant it was time for dinner.
“C’mon, Jimmy,” she said. “We’d better get the book back and the trunk closed up the way it’s supposed to be.”
Chapter Twenty Three