Wildcat Kitty and the Cyclone Kid by Franklin D. Lincoln
The stage rolled into Thimble Creek twenty two minutes late. Not bad, since the stage hardly ever arrived on time in much less than an hour. Still, for Matt Starr it was later than he had wished for. He had been delayed far too long in getting his prisoner to Tucson and his patience was wearing thin.
Matt had returned to town with Sarah Price and the wounded posse members a little before noon. He had, in fact, been concerned that he would arrive in town too late for the noon stage. He had felt relieved that he had time to spare, but then after waiting with his prisoner in tow beside him for almost a half an hour, in the hot sun, on the sidewalk in front of the stage depot, he had become most anxious and distressed.
The sight of the Concord wheeling into town pulled by a six up team, settled his nerves a little. But as the horses and stage rolled to a stop, just a few feet in front of him kicking dust up into his face, he jumped back a step, grimacing. Dandy Jim Butler took a step back also and began brushing dust off his suit. Matt Starr had not seen the necessity to handcuff the gambler this time.
The coach was still rocking on its leathers as the team came to a complete halt. The door opened quickly and a tall, lean man carrying a rather large satchel size briefcase, stepped down. He was wearing a gray tweed suit and top hat that fit close around his brow, yet allowing the gray speckles in his otherwise dark hair to peek out around his ears. He adjusted his pince nez glasses and worried his coat into place. He adjusted his tie as he glanced up and down the street.
“Could one of you gentlemen,” he said, seemingly addressing only Matt Starr. “Direct me to The Thimble Creek Bank?’
It was hard for Matt to hide his surprise and the tall man misunderstood his expression. “The one managed by Simon Price. You know the gentlemen?”
“Why, yes. Of Course.” Matt was almost stammering. His suspicions about Simon Price fearing a bank audit seemed to be well founded. “It’s just down the street.” He pointed back the way the stage had come from. Off to your right. It’s next to the general store and across the street from the barber shop.
“Thank you, my good man,” the stranger said.
He turned to the driver who was now on top of the stage and tying down the strong box that had been hurriedly brought out to him as soon as the stage had rolled to a stop.. “Could you have my bag delivered down the street at the bank, Sir?”
“We don’t do that on this run, Mister Cather,” the driver said without looking up from his chore. He dropped an overstuffed carpet bag to the ground at the man’s feet. “Everyone carries his own baggage.”
“There’s an extra two bits in it for you,” Cather said, reaching into his vest pocket, retrieving a coin and tossing it up at the driver. He turned and started off down the street without the bag.
“Big spender,” the driver said, catching the coin. He shrugged, dropped the coin into his shirt pocket and went about his business.
Matt couldn’t resist knowing for sure as he watched the man walk away. He shouted after him. “You must be the bank examiner, Mister Price was expecting?”
The man stopped short. He seemed to spin around on his heels with them still together. He stood tall and proud. “Expecting me?” He said with indignation. “I should hope not. It’s supposed to be a surprise audit.”
“Well I’m sure it is,” Matt said with discomfort and trying to cover up what amounted to letting the cat out of the bag. “I was just guessing, that’s all. After all you are an examiner, are you not?”
“Yes, young man. I am. Mortimer B. Cather is my name.”
“Glad to have met you Mister Cather,” Matt said, then turned away to Dandy Jim.
“Guess you called that one right,” Jim said in a low voice. He grinned wryly.
“Looks like,” Matt agreed. “Come on, let’s get aboard.”
Mortimer B. Cather stood there in the street for a moment. He seemed a bit perturbed. Then, after watching the two men climb aboard the stage, he shrugged to himself, turned and continued on down the street for Simon Price’s bank.
“Wheeeuee!” Rap Brown beamed as he finished stuffing the last of the money back into the saddle bags. After picking up his gray horse, Rap had set out to gather up the remaining horses that had strayed away. He had only found three of them, but luckily, the most important one was one of those three. This was the horse carrying the ransom money.
Rap had dumped the bags out onto the ground at their feet and counted it all as he put it back into the bags. “Twenty thousand smackeroos! “ He said, kissing the last bundle.
“”I really got to hand it to you boys,” Rap said mockingly. “You’ve set us up right fine. You had good thinking, going for the ransom and all, but it’s a shame you boys just didn’t have enough experience to pull it all off without our help. Better luck next time, boys.”
“You ain’t gonna keep it all, are you?” Frankie said, almost whining.
“Of course, we are,” Cyclone affirmed. “After all the trouble you caused us, you don’t deserve to share in it. I figure it’s a fair price for saving you boys’ worthless hides.”
“Besides,” Cyclone continued. “If we just gave you some of it, you wouldn’t have learned nothin’ from this little adventure of yours. I figure we’s doin’ you a favor learnin’ you what not to do next time. Maybe this’ll make better outlaws of ya all.”
“That just don’t make no sense at all,” Frankie complained.
“How’s this for making sense,” Kitty said, laying the muzzle of her pistol barrel along side of Frankie’s nose.
He quivered. “Makes a lot of sense,” Frankie said. “I was just askin’ if we got anything. That’s all.”
Kitty pulled her pistol away. “Best you boys mount up and ride out of here, before you ask for anything else.”
“Sure, sure,” Frankie agreed starting for one of the horses.
“Wait a minute there, Francis,” Bud Gorman said, grasping the reins of the horse and snatching them away from Frankie’s outstretched arms. “I want this one.”
“You don’t tell me what to do,” Frankie snapped. “I’m the boss around h…………” He cut his words off as he saw the commanding glare in Bud’s eyes.
“We don’t want a cry baby boss, Francis. You got us into this mess and we wound up with nothin’ and almost got ourselves killed doin’ it. You showed us what a sniveling coward you are. We’re not going to let you boss us around any more. You’ve called us idiots, for the last time.” He swung up into the saddle.
Pete and Garth mounted the other two horses.
“That’s right,” Pete agreed as he seated himself and smoothed out the reins.
“That goes for me, too,” Garth added. He pulled the reins of his horse tight and the animal stamped restlessly, beneath him.
“But, what about me?” Frankie whined. “You’re not going to leave me behind, without a horse. Are you?”
From his perch in the saddle, Bud looked down on what was left of Frankie the Kid. There was a sadness in Bud’s eyes and for a moment Frankie the Kid had dissolved into just plain Francis; a scared school kid from East Sedalia. “Looks like,” Bud said regretfully. He wheeled his horse, kicked the animal in the ribs with his heels and rode off. Pete and Garth followed after.
Francis watched them go through the tears streaming down his face. “What’ll I do now?” He mumbled to himself. His former friends were now becoming vague shadows in the distance. “I need them. They were my friends.”
“Maybe, you should have thought about that when you were belittling them and calling them names,” Jeremy said. He felt sorry for the kid and he knew Francis had finally learned that and didn’t need to be told, but he couldn’t refrain from saying it anyways.
“I know,” Francis admitted. “I never meant it.”
“They probably knew that, too,” Kitty said. “That’s why they stayed with you. But it still hurt them, just the same.”
“Enough of this belly achin’” Cyclone said. “Best, we be getting away from here too, before an
y lawmen decide to come lookin’ for us.”
“You gonna leave me out here without a horse too,” Frankie asked, beggingly.
“No. I don’t think so,” Kitty said. “I don’t think we’ll have to. Look!” She pointed her chin in the direction the three young outlaws. They had turned their horses and were riding back.
Francis dared not hope, but he suddenly felt a weight lifted off him as the riders pulled up close. They were all staring down at Francis.
“You… you came back,” Francis stammered. He wiped the tears from his cheeks.
“Shut up, you idiot and climb up behind me,” Bud ordered.
Francis smiled and climbed aboard. Bud smiled and nodded farewell to the Wildcats. They all swung their horses around and galloped. off.
“Now don’t that beat all,” Cyclone said, smiling broadly and watching them go.
“Think they’ve learned their lesson, Grampa?” Jeremy asked.
“Maybe,” Cyclone muttered, still watching the young outlaws ride off.. “But then again, maybe not. Somehow, though, I just don’t think we’ve seen the last of Frankie the Kid.”
After a brief moment of silence, Cyclone hitched up his belt and pants and said. “Like I was sayin’, we’d better be getting’ out of here too before the law comes back.”
“I think Trask would be too scared to come back,” Rap said. “Not without another posse the size of an army.”
“I ain’t talkin’ about Trask,” Cyclone said. ”I’m talkin’ about Matt Starr. Once he’s through takin’ care of what ever it was he had to take care of with that banker’s girl and the wounded posse men, he’ll be back alright. He’s still lawdog enough to come after us and this money.”
“Matt won’t be coming back anytime soon,” Jeremy said. “He’s taking the noon stage to Tucson. Taking that gambler fella with him. He won’t be back for a week or two.”
“The noon stage?” Kitty exclaimed with alarm. “”They’re going to blow up the stage on the bridge across Eelpot Gorge.”
“What are you talkin’ about girl?” Cyclone quizzed. “Who’s they?”
“Price’s men. Eunice Price told me. The army payroll is aboard the stage.”
“Then, why didn‘t you say so, in the first place, girl? We can use all that cash.”
“I wasn’t thinking about the money,” Kitty admitted. “I’m more concerned about Matt and Jim.”
“Matt and Jim, is it now?” Cyclone chided. “You had enough trouble with one fella. Now you gone and doubled down. I swear, I just don’t understand you at all no more.”
“Well don’t try,” Kitty said and headed for her horse. “We don’t have time for that.” She took up the reins, swung into the saddle and seated herself. “It’ already after noon and the stage is probably already on its way. We’ve got to hurry if we’re going to head it off before it crosses the bridge.” She urged her pinto into a gallop and rode off.
“Well, I guess we’d better go with her, boys, afore she gets herself into too much hot water. Besides, if we don’t get that payroll, Price’s men will for sure. C’mon, mount up afore she gets too far ahead.”
Eelpot Gorge was the remnant of an ancient river that had cut through shale rock for thousands of years The source of the river was unknown and down through the ages this source gradually began to recede. As the river gradually disappeared it cut narrower and narrower slices from the shale rock bed until by the time the river dried up completely, the gorge had been cut into a vee shape, dropping some one hundred and ten feet below to a rocky dry bed. At the bottom, the gorge spanned a mere forty feet, as compared to the two hundred foot span at the top of the gorge.
A wooden bridge had been constructed across the gorge. Layers of upright supporting beams, much like scaffolding, only larger and stronger, had been installed from the bottom up and fanning out to support the span of the bridge. Side rails had been installed on each side of the bridge, running the full length of it, as added protection for anyone passing over. The trail that the stage would be taking led from the east. It would cross the bridge and once over it, the trail took a sharp incline upward heading west.
It was here that Peso Martin and two of Simon Price’s men would set the deadly charges that would blow up the bridge and send the stage and all of its contents and passengers tumbling into a mass of timbers and rocks, below.
Chapter Twenty Nine
Matt had returned to town with Sarah Price and the wounded posse members a little before noon. He had, in fact, been concerned that he would arrive in town too late for the noon stage. He had felt relieved that he had time to spare, but then after waiting with his prisoner in tow beside him for almost a half an hour, in the hot sun, on the sidewalk in front of the stage depot, he had become most anxious and distressed.
The sight of the Concord wheeling into town pulled by a six up team, settled his nerves a little. But as the horses and stage rolled to a stop, just a few feet in front of him kicking dust up into his face, he jumped back a step, grimacing. Dandy Jim Butler took a step back also and began brushing dust off his suit. Matt Starr had not seen the necessity to handcuff the gambler this time.
The coach was still rocking on its leathers as the team came to a complete halt. The door opened quickly and a tall, lean man carrying a rather large satchel size briefcase, stepped down. He was wearing a gray tweed suit and top hat that fit close around his brow, yet allowing the gray speckles in his otherwise dark hair to peek out around his ears. He adjusted his pince nez glasses and worried his coat into place. He adjusted his tie as he glanced up and down the street.
“Could one of you gentlemen,” he said, seemingly addressing only Matt Starr. “Direct me to The Thimble Creek Bank?’
It was hard for Matt to hide his surprise and the tall man misunderstood his expression. “The one managed by Simon Price. You know the gentlemen?”
“Why, yes. Of Course.” Matt was almost stammering. His suspicions about Simon Price fearing a bank audit seemed to be well founded. “It’s just down the street.” He pointed back the way the stage had come from. Off to your right. It’s next to the general store and across the street from the barber shop.
“Thank you, my good man,” the stranger said.
He turned to the driver who was now on top of the stage and tying down the strong box that had been hurriedly brought out to him as soon as the stage had rolled to a stop.. “Could you have my bag delivered down the street at the bank, Sir?”
“We don’t do that on this run, Mister Cather,” the driver said without looking up from his chore. He dropped an overstuffed carpet bag to the ground at the man’s feet. “Everyone carries his own baggage.”
“There’s an extra two bits in it for you,” Cather said, reaching into his vest pocket, retrieving a coin and tossing it up at the driver. He turned and started off down the street without the bag.
“Big spender,” the driver said, catching the coin. He shrugged, dropped the coin into his shirt pocket and went about his business.
Matt couldn’t resist knowing for sure as he watched the man walk away. He shouted after him. “You must be the bank examiner, Mister Price was expecting?”
The man stopped short. He seemed to spin around on his heels with them still together. He stood tall and proud. “Expecting me?” He said with indignation. “I should hope not. It’s supposed to be a surprise audit.”
“Well I’m sure it is,” Matt said with discomfort and trying to cover up what amounted to letting the cat out of the bag. “I was just guessing, that’s all. After all you are an examiner, are you not?”
“Yes, young man. I am. Mortimer B. Cather is my name.”
“Glad to have met you Mister Cather,” Matt said, then turned away to Dandy Jim.
“Guess you called that one right,” Jim said in a low voice. He grinned wryly.
“Looks like,” Matt agreed. “Come on, let’s get aboard.”
Mortimer B. Cather stood there in the street for a moment. He seemed a bit perturbed. Then, after watching the two men climb aboard the stage, he shrugged to himself, turned and continued on down the street for Simon Price’s bank.
“Wheeeuee!” Rap Brown beamed as he finished stuffing the last of the money back into the saddle bags. After picking up his gray horse, Rap had set out to gather up the remaining horses that had strayed away. He had only found three of them, but luckily, the most important one was one of those three. This was the horse carrying the ransom money.
Rap had dumped the bags out onto the ground at their feet and counted it all as he put it back into the bags. “Twenty thousand smackeroos! “ He said, kissing the last bundle.
“”I really got to hand it to you boys,” Rap said mockingly. “You’ve set us up right fine. You had good thinking, going for the ransom and all, but it’s a shame you boys just didn’t have enough experience to pull it all off without our help. Better luck next time, boys.”
“You ain’t gonna keep it all, are you?” Frankie said, almost whining.
“Of course, we are,” Cyclone affirmed. “After all the trouble you caused us, you don’t deserve to share in it. I figure it’s a fair price for saving you boys’ worthless hides.”
“Besides,” Cyclone continued. “If we just gave you some of it, you wouldn’t have learned nothin’ from this little adventure of yours. I figure we’s doin’ you a favor learnin’ you what not to do next time. Maybe this’ll make better outlaws of ya all.”
“That just don’t make no sense at all,” Frankie complained.
“How’s this for making sense,” Kitty said, laying the muzzle of her pistol barrel along side of Frankie’s nose.
He quivered. “Makes a lot of sense,” Frankie said. “I was just askin’ if we got anything. That’s all.”
Kitty pulled her pistol away. “Best you boys mount up and ride out of here, before you ask for anything else.”
“Sure, sure,” Frankie agreed starting for one of the horses.
“Wait a minute there, Francis,” Bud Gorman said, grasping the reins of the horse and snatching them away from Frankie’s outstretched arms. “I want this one.”
“You don’t tell me what to do,” Frankie snapped. “I’m the boss around h…………” He cut his words off as he saw the commanding glare in Bud’s eyes.
“We don’t want a cry baby boss, Francis. You got us into this mess and we wound up with nothin’ and almost got ourselves killed doin’ it. You showed us what a sniveling coward you are. We’re not going to let you boss us around any more. You’ve called us idiots, for the last time.” He swung up into the saddle.
Pete and Garth mounted the other two horses.
“That’s right,” Pete agreed as he seated himself and smoothed out the reins.
“That goes for me, too,” Garth added. He pulled the reins of his horse tight and the animal stamped restlessly, beneath him.
“But, what about me?” Frankie whined. “You’re not going to leave me behind, without a horse. Are you?”
From his perch in the saddle, Bud looked down on what was left of Frankie the Kid. There was a sadness in Bud’s eyes and for a moment Frankie the Kid had dissolved into just plain Francis; a scared school kid from East Sedalia. “Looks like,” Bud said regretfully. He wheeled his horse, kicked the animal in the ribs with his heels and rode off. Pete and Garth followed after.
Francis watched them go through the tears streaming down his face. “What’ll I do now?” He mumbled to himself. His former friends were now becoming vague shadows in the distance. “I need them. They were my friends.”
“Maybe, you should have thought about that when you were belittling them and calling them names,” Jeremy said. He felt sorry for the kid and he knew Francis had finally learned that and didn’t need to be told, but he couldn’t refrain from saying it anyways.
“I know,” Francis admitted. “I never meant it.”
“They probably knew that, too,” Kitty said. “That’s why they stayed with you. But it still hurt them, just the same.”
“Enough of this belly achin’” Cyclone said. “Best, we be getting away from here too, before an
“You gonna leave me out here without a horse too,” Frankie asked, beggingly.
“No. I don’t think so,” Kitty said. “I don’t think we’ll have to. Look!” She pointed her chin in the direction the three young outlaws. They had turned their horses and were riding back.
Francis dared not hope, but he suddenly felt a weight lifted off him as the riders pulled up close. They were all staring down at Francis.
“You… you came back,” Francis stammered. He wiped the tears from his cheeks.
“Shut up, you idiot and climb up behind me,” Bud ordered.
Francis smiled and climbed aboard. Bud smiled and nodded farewell to the Wildcats. They all swung their horses around and galloped. off.
“Now don’t that beat all,” Cyclone said, smiling broadly and watching them go.
“Think they’ve learned their lesson, Grampa?” Jeremy asked.
“Maybe,” Cyclone muttered, still watching the young outlaws ride off.. “But then again, maybe not. Somehow, though, I just don’t think we’ve seen the last of Frankie the Kid.”
After a brief moment of silence, Cyclone hitched up his belt and pants and said. “Like I was sayin’, we’d better be getting’ out of here too before the law comes back.”
“I think Trask would be too scared to come back,” Rap said. “Not without another posse the size of an army.”
“I ain’t talkin’ about Trask,” Cyclone said. ”I’m talkin’ about Matt Starr. Once he’s through takin’ care of what ever it was he had to take care of with that banker’s girl and the wounded posse men, he’ll be back alright. He’s still lawdog enough to come after us and this money.”
“Matt won’t be coming back anytime soon,” Jeremy said. “He’s taking the noon stage to Tucson. Taking that gambler fella with him. He won’t be back for a week or two.”
“The noon stage?” Kitty exclaimed with alarm. “”They’re going to blow up the stage on the bridge across Eelpot Gorge.”
“What are you talkin’ about girl?” Cyclone quizzed. “Who’s they?”
“Price’s men. Eunice Price told me. The army payroll is aboard the stage.”
“Then, why didn‘t you say so, in the first place, girl? We can use all that cash.”
“I wasn’t thinking about the money,” Kitty admitted. “I’m more concerned about Matt and Jim.”
“Matt and Jim, is it now?” Cyclone chided. “You had enough trouble with one fella. Now you gone and doubled down. I swear, I just don’t understand you at all no more.”
“Well don’t try,” Kitty said and headed for her horse. “We don’t have time for that.” She took up the reins, swung into the saddle and seated herself. “It’ already after noon and the stage is probably already on its way. We’ve got to hurry if we’re going to head it off before it crosses the bridge.” She urged her pinto into a gallop and rode off.
“Well, I guess we’d better go with her, boys, afore she gets herself into too much hot water. Besides, if we don’t get that payroll, Price’s men will for sure. C’mon, mount up afore she gets too far ahead.”
Eelpot Gorge was the remnant of an ancient river that had cut through shale rock for thousands of years The source of the river was unknown and down through the ages this source gradually began to recede. As the river gradually disappeared it cut narrower and narrower slices from the shale rock bed until by the time the river dried up completely, the gorge had been cut into a vee shape, dropping some one hundred and ten feet below to a rocky dry bed. At the bottom, the gorge spanned a mere forty feet, as compared to the two hundred foot span at the top of the gorge.
A wooden bridge had been constructed across the gorge. Layers of upright supporting beams, much like scaffolding, only larger and stronger, had been installed from the bottom up and fanning out to support the span of the bridge. Side rails had been installed on each side of the bridge, running the full length of it, as added protection for anyone passing over. The trail that the stage would be taking led from the east. It would cross the bridge and once over it, the trail took a sharp incline upward heading west.
It was here that Peso Martin and two of Simon Price’s men would set the deadly charges that would blow up the bridge and send the stage and all of its contents and passengers tumbling into a mass of timbers and rocks, below.
Chapter Twenty Nine