They rode hard and fast. They had not anticipated kidnapping a parson. Kitty had been so bent on stopping the marriage between Matt Starr and Barbara Stanton, she had not thought clearly at all. Cyclone knew this, but didn’t know how to keep her from foolishly running in. He could never deny her anything and he foolishly let her get them into a predicament that they might not be able to get out of.
Mile after mile, they pushed their horses onward with no particular destination in mind. They just needed to get as much distance between them and the governor’s mansion as quickly as possible. What was in their favor was that if they didn’t know where they were going, it would be difficult for any pursuers to guess where they might be headed. But the horses were tiring and finally Cyclone called for a halt.
Cyclone and Kitty had taken the lead while Jeremy Chief and Rap followed, keeping the minister in tow.
“Girl,” Cyclone said. “This ain’t doin’ us no good, Just ridin’ no place. We need to figure out a plan where to hide and what to do with this feller. And while we’re at it, we might as well think about what happens if Matt and the governor just gets themselves another parson and the weddin’ goes on anyhow,”
“I know, Grampa,” Kitty said, almost with a whimper. “I guess I just made a fool of myself, didn’t I?”
Cyclone nodded. “You wouldn’t be the first.”
Matt Starr had changed into his usual range clothes; gray shirt, bloused at the shoulders, dark gray striped trousers poured into black stovepipe boots, black flat crown and flat brimmed hat. A black leather pistol belt encircled his waist and black handled pistols rode in holsters on each hip.
He was in the mansion’s livery, saddling up his sorrel stallion and was just tightening the cinch when Barbara Stanton said from behind him. “Do you really have to go?”
“Yes, I do,” he said without turning to look at her. “It’s my job.”
“Can’t you let someone else do it? We could send for another minister and go on with the wedding.”
He dropped the stirrup down and turned to face her. “We’ve gone over this before. It’s my fault that I’ve never put Kitty and her gang away, before. She’s gone too far this time. I can’t let her get away with this.”
“Are you sure it’s not because you are still in love with her?” Her eyes flashed as she said it.
He grimaced. “You too? If I don’t do this, that’s exactly what your father will think.”
He angrily took up the reins, led the sorrel out into the yard, swung up into the saddle and rode off.
“You don’t really think he’s coming back, do you, Hugh?” Simon Price said. He was sitting in the plush leather chair in front of Governor Hugh Stanton’s huge mahogany desk. He was in formal dress as he had been one of the guests for the wedding. He had a glass of brandy in his hand.
“I really don’t know what to think,” Stanton answered, taking another swig of his drink. He had been totally embarrassed and humiliated. His guests had to be dismissed and he felt totally disgraced. He hadn’t yet thought about his daughter’s disappointment.
“Matt Starr’s been sweet on Kitty Carlin for a long time. That’s why she’s not in jail. That woman’s a menace, I tell you. A menace,” Simon Price continued.
“But he didn’t go with her when she broke in,” Stanton mused. In the back of his mind was the deal he had made with Matt Starr.
“Everybody was watching then,” Simon said slyly. “Then too, he may have changed his mind later.”
“What are you trying to do, Simon? Stir me up? Confuse me? You’re doing a good job of it.”
“I just think you need someone to make sure that Starr comes back and this wedding goes on. If we get The Parson and The Wildcats besides, so much the better. I can send Peso Martin and some of my men out if you want.”
“I suppose as usual, there’s something you want in return?”
“Hugh, As much as you’re not going to believe this, there is absolutely nothing I want from you.”
“You’re right, Simon. I don’t believe it,”
“This is another fine mess!” Simon Price blustered, once again huddled in the back room of the Silver Boot Saloon at Hunter’s Corners with Peso Martin and Rafael Price. “I don’t care how you do it, but get him back there.”
“I’m really sorry, Reverend,” Kitty said as she handed him a tin plate with some beans and jerky on it. She also had a tin cup of hot coffee for him.
They had found a secluded spot behind a copse of trees where there was water and grass for the horses to graze. The sun had been down for an hour but the half-moon in the clear sky gave them light to move about the camp. They kept the campfire low.
“We’ll get you back home before morning. This was a really stupid thing for me to do.” She sat down next to him.
“I take it that you are in love with the groom yourself,” he said, smiling broadly. “I think I can understand the impetuousness of it all.”
“I guess he really didn’t want me after all,” she said sadly.
“I really don’t see how that could have been the case,” The Parson said reassuringly.
Kitty looked into his face and saw kind eyes. Somehow she felt better.
“God. How handsome this minister is,” Kitty thought to herself.
“I really am sorry about all this,” Kitty repeated the apology.
The minister waved his hand. “No. No. Don’t worry about it. You haven’t harmed me any.”
“Well, you’re very kind, Reverend. Considering the inconvenience and all.”
“I’ve been inconvenienced before,” he said. His voice was soothing and smooth. His eyes were warm and sensitive.
“You’re so forgiving, Reverend,” Kitty said almost with disbelief.
“We should all forgive each other, my child, just as our Lord forgives us.”
“I don’t think the Lord can forgive me for all the things I’ve done,” Kitty said wistfully.
“Of course he can. Besides, I don’t believe you’ve done anything so awfully bad.”
“Oh, Reverend, You just don’t know.”
“Aren’t you the one they call Wildcat Kitty?”
“Then you know about me?”
“I know you’ve done some bad things because bad things have been done to you. Two wrongs do not make a right, so that’s no excuse. But I know you have also done some good things too and I know your heart is against evil. So don’t judge yourself too harshly. You’ll be judged by a higher power someday and if your heart is right with the Lord you will be pardoned for any wrong you may have done.”
“You really think so, Reverend?” Kitty brushed back a tear and smiled broadly. No man had ever talked so eloquently to her before. No man had ever made her feel so good.
“I know so, Kitty,” he said. He reached over and took her hand. He squeezed it gently. “And there’s no need to be so formal calling me Reverend. After all, I am just a man too. Why don’t you call me Paul?” He smiled softly. Invitingly. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”
Kitty suddenly felt elation much like what she had felt before with Matt Starr, then Dandy Jim Butler and most recently with Kip Dalton. Her fingers began to tingle and her stomach had flutters. Was she just a silly impressionable girl, falling for every handsome, smooth talking man that came along?
But Kip was gone. She had left Jim for Matt and Matt had rejected her. Maybe none of them were right for her after all. Maybe this nice man of God wasn’t either, but something about him moved her.
Did she still have growing up to do? Or was she now grown? Had she learned something? She had to hold herself in check this time.
“Okay, Paul,” she managed to say. “As soon as we finish eating, we’ll take you back.”
“There’s no hurry,” the parson said. “And I can make my way back by myself. There’s no use in any of you going with me and risking capture on my account. I can just sack out here for the night and ride back in the morning. Besides, it’s not safe to be riding a
t night. A horse could step in a chuck hole without seeing it and come up lame.”
“Well, if you’re sure, that’s the way you want it,” Kitty said wistfully.
“That’s the way I want it, Kitty. But I must say, it was a real pleasure meeting you and I will be sorry to leave you in the morning.”
“Same here,” There was a choked sob in her throat.
The gray of early dawn peeked through the tops of the trees that partially covered the camp. Dampness dripped off the leaves and the morning chill stirred the slumbering forms, beneath their blankets, encircling the burned out campfire.
Jeremy Carlin had fallen asleep on guard sitting against the trunk of an ash tree. At the stirrings of his compatriots, he jerked awake, perused the perimeter of the camp and satisfied himself that all was well before anyone else was awake enough to know he had shirked his duty.
Within minutes the camp was alive with activity. A fire had been brought back into life and a meager breakfast with coffee had been provided.
By the time everything was loaded, horses saddled, riders mounted and the camp left behind as they emerged into open country, the sun was just breaking over the eastern horizon. Shards of red and purple streaks splashed against the encroaching pale blue of a cloudless sky.
Before turning in the night before Cyclone, Kitty and the others had decided that it was time to lay low for a while. They would head off toward the Colorado Mountains to Pop Dawson’s outlaw hideaway in The Sacramento Mountain Range. Pop had created this haven for outlaws many years ago and had called it Robin’s Roost. No one ever knew why he called it that. But a lot of good did come out of the endeavor.
When they rode out of Phoenix, they had continued southward and eastward crossing over into southern New Mexico. It would not be good to linger too long in this area for Snake Gunderson and Manuel Gonzales rode this territory and The Wildcats knew that if they were to come in sight of either of their enemies, there would be Hell to pay. They would ride on northward for Colorado.
Since they would be riding North for a while and Phoenix was somewhat off to the North and then West, Reverend Paul Lynch would ride with them for a ways. By mid morning, their trails would diverge and he would ride on.
This seemed to be a somewhat congenial arrangement for both Kitty and Paul. They seemed to enjoy each other’s company, much to Cyclone’s consternation.
As he rode beside Rap and behind the couple, Cy groaned, “I said it a fore and I’ll say it again. That girl’s gonna take a heap of growin’ up”
It was at that moment that a gang of twenty riders appeared on the ridge to their right. The middle rider wore a wide Mexican sombrero and crossed ammunition belts on his chest. It was Manuel Gonzales. He pulled his pistol from its holster. The other riders did the same. They spurred their horses and came thundering down the hill toward the Wildcats, firing rapidly as they came.
****
Chapter Fourteen