“Of all the stupid, bull-headed, foolhardy, doggone … you promised me!  No more crazy stunts.”

Horace Wellman, better known to his friends and family as Kid, sighed and sat down heavily at the kitchen table as he watched the spitfire he called his wife pace furiously back and fourth on their kitchen floor.  Of the ten years him and Louise had known each other, they had been married for nine of them, and in that time together he had learned to read his wife fairly well.  It was best to let Lou rant until she ran out of breath.  Up till now the only thing that had separated them for a prolonged period of time was when he’d left to join the Confederate army in 1863.  She’d blown up at him then too.  When she finally began to wind down, Kid decided it was time to speak in his defence.

“Sweetheart we need the money.  The bank is gonna come callin’ and we’re behind in the mortgage payments.  Wells Fargo pays better than most.  Besides, it’ll be just like when we rode for the Pony Express.”

Lou turned and glared at her husband.  “Don’t lie to me.  It damn well isn’t and you know it.  With the Pony Express all we had to worry about was a leather pouch and ourselves.  With the stagecoach you gotta worry about the passengers and the cargo before yourself.”

Lou turned to look out the window.  She really wasn’t angry with Kid.  What he said made sense.  They were way behind on their bank payments and if they didn’t catch up soon they’d lose the ranch.  But the two years he’d been gone fighting in the war were the longest of her life.  And she hated being afraid.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Kid stood up and put his hands on Lou’s shoulders.  When she didn’t pull away, he kissed the top of her head and said, “I am coming back you know.  That’s a promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I haven’t broken one to you yet.  If I can survive this long, one little drive up to Abilene will be a walk downtown on Sunday morning.”

Kid turned Lou around so she was facing him.  He smiled comfortingly down at her, and when she finally returned the smile be bent down and kissed her gently.

Kid lied awake in bed that night.  He turned on his side and noticed Lou sleeping peacefully next too him.  Trying not to disturb her, he quietly got out of bed and went over to the water basin sitting in the corner of the room.  He splashed some water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror.  In a couple of weeks he was going to be celebrating his twenty-fifth birthday, but he felt twice that.

“Kid,” Lou asked from the bed.  “You alright?”

“Yah,” he said.  “Couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”

“Nightmares again,” she said with concern.

Kid smiled tiredly.  “No.  Not this time”

When he’d returned home, he had been plagued by terrible nightmares of the war.  Sometimes he’d wake up screaming in the middle of the night.  Lou would just hold him and sooth him until he calmed down and went back to sleep.  The nightmares still came, but they weren’t as violent or as vivid, as when he’d first come home.

“Just go back to sleep honey,” Kid said.  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t wake me,” Lou said reassuringly.  “Besides, you know I don’t sleep well without you next to me.”

Lou got out of the bed and wrapped her arms around her husband, hugging him tightly.  Looking up into Kid’s face she said, “I’m sorry about this afternoon.  I didn’t mean to lose it like that.”

Kid shrugged, “Not like you didn’t have reason too. Besides, its not like I’m gonna be doing this all the time.  Its just another job that needs doin’.  My adveturin’ days are long over.  I won’t be gone long enough for you ta miss me.”

Lou released her husband and walked into the adjoining room where their son slept peacefully.  She quietly knelt down at the head of the bed and stroked their sleeping son’s downy hair.  Kid stood from the doorway watching the tableaux. He enjoyed being a husband and father, and he wasn’t about to throw that away.

“I just don’t want to tell Billy Jack that his daddy isn’t coming home,” she said solemnly.

The next morning, Kid showed up at the Wells Fargo & Co. Stagecoach depot to meet with line superintendent John Butterfield.  Butterfield explained the route and cargo, “You’ll be delivering the payroll for the Chisum cattle outfit in Abilene, as well as a bag a mail for Rock Creek.  You’ll also have about four passengers.  One you’ll drop off at Rock Creek, the other three will be getting off at Abilene.”

Kid nodded.  Seemed simple enough.

“Who’ll be riding shotgun?” he asked.

“I am,” came a slow cocky drawl.  Kid turned and saw a bulky, raw-boned featured young man with rough skin, cradling a Winchester.  He wore buckskin-fringed frontier clothes and a wide brimmed hat.  Kid didn’t recognize the accent, but it sounded a little like a mix of Missouri and something else.  He carried himself like a Rebel, with his arrogant swagger as walked over to join them.  Too young to serve in the army, Kid reasoned, wouldn’t be surprised if he rode with the Bushwhackers. There was something else, something Kid felt he should know about this young man.  He was positive they had never met before, but it was something so blatantly obvious he would be kicking himself for a month for not seeing it.  “Name’s Canary,” spitting out some of his chewing tobacco.  “People call me Calamity.”

Sounded like a little boy trying to be a man, Kid thought.  Out loud he said, “Might young to be doing this work isn’t he?”

Butterfield chuckled, “I understand you were younger than he was when signed on for the Pony Express, Horace.”

“As my wife pointed out to me last night, there’s a difference between riding a horse and driving a stagecoach.”

“That’s why you’re driving the stagecoach and he’s riding shotgun,” Butterfield pointed out.

“Can we just get going?” Calamity whined.

Kid sighed and went to say good-bye to his family, who was waiting for him outside.  First he knelt in front of his eight-year-old son, Billy Jack, and pulled him for a big hug.  “Now you be good for your mama okay.  And help your uncle Jeremiah around the ranch, alright?”

“Right papa,” the boy said determinedly.

Kid stood up and faced the young woman who had captured his heart ten years earlier.

“Try not to get yourself killed,” she said lightly.  But her eyes gave her away.  He knew Louise had lost too many people in her short twenty-nine years: her father had abandoned her; her mother to pneumonia; two close friends to gunshot wounds; two more to the war; and her baby sister to smallpox.  Next to Kid and their son, all she had was her younger brother Jeremiah.  Kid simply smiled and kissed the top of her forehead.

Lou looked up into the clear blue eyes that had always been her weakness.  Their sparkle had dimmed somewhat due to his experiences in the War Between the States.  She gently traced a scar on his neck where a Yankee bullet had almost ended everything for them.

“Hey, Horace,” Calamity called, breaking the spell.  “Kiss’ er good-bye or bring’em along.  We gotta git goin’.”

Kid smiled tolerantly.  He turned back to Lou said, “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“C’mon Canary,” Kid said as he climbed into the driver’s seat.  “We’ve got a schedule to keep.”

“Oh, by the way,” Butterfield put in.  “Be on the look out for Rattlesnake Jake Hopper.  He and his gang have been robbing stages all over the territory.”

“I thought he was dead,” Calamity said as he jumped in beside Kid.  “Killed six years back by county deputies?”

Butterfield shook his head, “No that was Dick Barter.  Rattlesnake Jake rode with Bloody Bill Anderson during the war.  Like others of his sort he turned outlaw, so just keep a look out.  I don’t want to have to report the loss of another shipment.”

Calamity grinned, patting his custom rifle.  “If anyone tries anything I’ll just introduce them to Mr. Winchester 44.”

Kid rolled his eyes and groaned inwardly.  Great, ‘Calamity’ Canary here thinks he’s the next Wild Bill Hickok.  With a flick of the reins and a load “Hee-yaah” they were off.

The first half of the trip was uneventful.  The passengers complained about how uncomfortable the trip was while Kid enjoyed the open air.  They stopped in Rock Creek to drop off the one passenger and deliver the mail to the closest thing to a post office.

On the second leg of the trip Kid decided to try and get to know his shotgun.  “So where’re you from Canary?”

“Was born in Princeton, Missouri,” he answered.  “Pa up and moved me, mama and my brothers and sisters to Virginia City in Montana when I thirteen.  Wanted ta try his luck mining for gold and see if he could strike it rich.”

“How’d he do?”

Calamity shrugged.  “Bout as well as all the other miners.  Struck a small trickle of gold, sold out cheap and drank himself to death.”
That statement pretty much put an end to any future small talk

About half an hour out of Rock Creek, Kid thought he could hear hoof beats behind him.  He turned around in his seat and saw six men on horseback appear behind them, riding hard.  He tapped Calamity on the shoulder and pointed behind them.  Spitting out the last of his tabacco, Canary climbed up on to the roof of the coach and positioned himself behind the strongbox.  Kid then turned his attention to three remaining passengers.

“Hold on tight folks,” he shouted.  “We’re gonna hafta pick up our pace.”

One of the male passengers stuck his head out of the window to protest Kid’s action.  Everyone was already bouncing around, uncontrollably, in the cramped wooden carriage.  When his hat was shot off the top of his head, he quickly ducked back inside the relative safety of the coach.

Taking careful aim Calamity squeezed the trigger of her Winchester and sent one of the outlaws flying from his saddle.  Calamity sent another to the dust with a blast from his rifle and managed to pick off two more of the riders.  He noticed one of the riders veer off while the other rode up beside him.  A ricochet caused Canary to loose his balance and he tumbled down off the stage.  Flailing wildly, he managed to grab hold of the tarp covering the storage box.

Kid had seen Calamity fall over, but before he could even think about it, the last of the outlaws leaped from his horse onto the stage.  They struggled for control of the outlaw’s pistol as they both fell back on the stage.  Kid heard a small explosion and felt something rip through his left shoulder.  Biting back a scream Kid did his best to choke down the pain.  Unbidden images of his life appeared in front of his eyes: He saw his mother beaten and broken after his father’s final disappearance; being chased by murderous Nez Perce Indians on his first express run; discovering Lou’s real gender at the burnt out express station; their wedding day; the birth of their son; the look of despair on her face when he left to join the army; friends being blown up and torn apart by Yankee bullets and cannons; the death and disease that hovered around him in Acton, Illinois; Lou and Billy Jack’s faces when he returned home; and him saying goodbye to them just this morning.

No, Kid screamed inwardly.  He was not going to die here, now.  He had survived too much to let some lazy owlhoot get the best of him.  Besides he’d promised Lou he’d be coming home, and he kept his promises.  The hardcase had loosened his grip on Kid after he’d been shot, giving him an opening.  Kid lashed out with his feet kicking the outlaw off the stagecoach.

The outlaw fell underneath the wheels of the stage, and although unfortunate for him, the added bump allowed Calamity to gain a foothold so he could pull himself all the way up.  Seeing someone climbing up the back, Kid pulled out his Navy Colt and took aim.  When Calamity’s head popped up, Kid’s eye’s widened.  Canary’s hat had blown off revealing a train of long stringy black hair.  “What’s yer problem,” Calamity snapped, climbing back onto the coach roof.  “Never seen a woman before!”

Kid shut his eyes and groaned, “Not again.  I don’t have time for this.”  Turning his attention to the problem at hand he shouted, “Grab the reins.”

“What?” Canary cried incredulously.

“I’ve been shot,” he said slowly.  “I cannot control that many horses with a bum arm.  Now, grab-the-reins!”

Calamity’s mouth moved soundlessly.  She’d signed on as shotgun, not a driver, she couldn’t control that many horses alone.  “This is why driving stages is man’s work,” Kid prodded.  “Women can’t handle the pressure.” 

Pursing her lips in a furious line, she screamed.  “I’ll have you know I can out shoot, out ride, out drink and out cuss any man!” 

“Prove it,” Kid goaded.

Jumped into the driver’s seat, Calamity easily got the horses under control.  She smiled triumphantly at Kid who ruefully smiled back.  Works every time, he thought.  Then his expression changed to that of urgency.  Pointing straight ahead of them he screamed, “Look out.”

Canary turned and saw a large tree in the middle of the road.  She pulled hard on the reins with a “whoa”.  Soon as they stopped two men jumped out and levelled their guns at Kid and Calamity.  “Don’t move,” one of them hissed.

Kid sighed defeated, “It’s a hold-up folks.  Best do as they say so no one gets hurt.”

“Smart move,” the leader rasped.  He was a gangly middle-aged man, with hooded eyes that were too close together.

“Rattlesnake Jake,” one of the male passengers breathed.

Hopper drew his revolver and shot the passenger.

“I hate that name,” Rattlesnake growled.  “It was something some stupid city slicker made up.  Now, throw down that box before I use one of these fine folks for target practice.”

“Calm down, Hopper,” Kid said trying to make sure nobody got hurt.  “Here you go.”

Kid threw the box at Rattlesnake Jake’s head, hitting his temple.  In the same motion, Kid drew his colt taking out the other outlaw.  Canary quickly retrieved his Winchester and covered a dazed Hopper.

“Ain’t never seen shootin’ like that before,” Canary said, not taking her eyes off Hopper’s prone, but breathing body.

“Yer’ young yet,” Kid said tiredly.

They loaded Rattlesnake Jake Hopper into the stage and Canary tended Kid’s arm.  Kid also rode inside to keep an eye on Rattlesnake Jake.  Before climbing into the driver’s box, Calamity took a dead outlaw’s army cap and put it on.  They stopped at a stagecoach way station so the wounded could be properly looked after and Hopper could be secured.  While Calamity braided her long unkept hair, the station tenders asked why there was a woman driving.  All Kid could do was answer with a shrug.  They rode into Abilene to be greeted by Deputy Sheriff Dick Speed.

“Well, looks like you ran into some trouble.” Speed drawled, noticing Nick favouring his left arm.

“More than that deputy,” Kid replied.  “We brought you something.”

Dick Speed looked in the coach and his eyes widened.  “Well I’ll be.  Rattlesnake Jake Hopper.”

Hopper spat.

The passengers all started talking at once giving their own version of what happened.  They all ended with how the driver had saved them.  Speed eventually got everyone to quiet down and told them to go to the sheriff’s office where he‘d take their statements.  Meanwhile, Kid and Calamity went to the saloon where Calamity immediately ordered a beer.  Snatching the beer away, Kid stated.  “Nothing for you.  It ain’t proper for a young lady to be drinking beer.”

Calamity took that as a personal insult.  “Who you callin’ a lady!” she screamed grabbing for the glass.

Nick said firmly.  “One of us has to keep a clear head right now and its not gonna be me.”  He downed the disgusting amber liquid.  “So what is your name?”

Calamity folded her arms and looked very much like a little girl who had just gotten caught in a lie.  She mumbled her name under her breath looking done at the floor.

“I didn’t quite catch that,” Kid prodded using the voice he tried on when he knew Billy Jack was keeping something from him.

“Martha Jane,” she finally ground out through gritted teeth.

“There,” Kid patronized.  “Now that wasn’t so hard was it.”

Before Canary could bite back an off comment, Deputy Sheriff Speed entered the saloon and made a beeline for Kid.

“Something wrong deputy?” Kid asked.

“Nope,” he said reaching into his coat pocket and handed Kid a brown envelope.  “Just came to give you this.  Five hundred dollar reward for the capture of Rattlesnake Jake Hopper.  And from what I hear, you earned it.”

Kid stared at the contents of the envelope as Speed exited the bar.  This was more than enough to pay off the bank and all their other debts.   It was to good to be true, Kid was positive he would wake up from some cruel dream.  He was snapped out of his stupor when Canary whistled and said, “That’s a lot of money.  What d’you plan on doin’ with it Horace.”

Finishing off his whiskey shot, Kid flinched at the sound of his birth name. “That’s it, Martha Jane.  I’m finished.”

“Finished with what?” Calamity asked.  “And don’t call me Martha!”

“I’m finished living the adventure of the Wild West.  I’m going home to pay off my family’s debts.  Then I’m going to back Louise and spend the rest of my life raising horses and babies.”

The ride back was miserable.  It rained all night making the trail muddy and treacherous, so they were going at a snails pace.  To make matters worse the downpour hadn’t let up, so they were forced to make the trip in the rain.  Fortunately the company gave them some raincoats to prevent them from getting soaked.  The one up side was that there were no passengers so they didn’t have to listen to any complaints about their progress.

Because of Kid’s shoulder, Calamity was driving and she was a quick study.  She had mastered cracking the whip just above the horses without actually touching them, urging them on.  Unfortunately this didn’t prevent the stage from getting sucked into the mud from time to time despite her efforts.  Out of the corner of his eye, Kid saw a rider moving parallel with the coach.

When the coach got bogged down in a patch of mud, the rider stopped too.  Kid edged down to the Winchester under the seat, but not before the mysterious rider pulled something from his poncho and tossed it at the stage.  By the time Kid’s mind registered what had been thrown at them it was too late to save the coach.

“Jump!” Kid yelled.

Grabbing Calamity by her arm, they leapt from the stagecoach as it blew up.  The explosion frightened the horses enough to yank the coach free of its mud trap, but they didn’t get far.  The mud sucked them down again.  Kid and Calamity rolled across the ground from the force of the blast before coming to a stop with Calamity on top, noes-to-nose.  Canary lost her hat but had managed to hold on to the whip.  Kid, unfortunately had lost the rifle.  Coughing uncomfortably, Kid politely got out from under her and stood up.

“You all right?”

“Yeah,” Canary replied breathlessly, putting her hat back on.  Getting up painfully, she asked.  “What happened?”

Kid told her what he had seen and looked around for their assailant. The only thing left was the gutted remains of the Concord.  The roof and back were gone, fortunately the driver’s box and base were more or less in tact. But the rider had disappeared.  He couldn’t see anything the murky grey morning and the only thing he could hear was the harsh pouring rain.  He never saw the gun pointed at his back.

“Horace, look out!”  Calamity screamed.

Kid dropped to one knee as a bullet embedded itself in the dilapidated wagon.  Drawing his gun he looked for his would-be assassin.

Thinking quickly, she lashed out with the leather whip.  It coiled around his arm, throwing his aim off.  Howling in pain the bushwhacker dropped his weapon and disappeared.

“Where’d he go?”

“Right here,” someone growled.

Kid spun around to find Rattlesnake Jake holding Calamity tightly by her braid with a vicious looking knife at her throat.  “Put the gun down,” he ordered.  “Put it down or I’ll cut this little slut a new smile.”

“How’d you get out,” Kid tried to keep him talking while he tried to think of away to get them out of this mess. 

Hopper grinned wickedly.  “That deputy got lazy.  He should know better than to drop his guard around a rattlesnake.”

“I thought you hated that name?”

Hopper’s expression became even more ugly (if that were possibly).  “ Don’t get smart with me you goddamn Johnny Reb.  Drop the gun or slit this little ladies throat!”

Seeing he had no choice he tossed his gun aside.

Calamity on the other hand, made her own decision.  “I ain’t no lady!” She dug her teeth deep into Hopper’s hand.   The rattlesnake screamed, simultaneously dropping his knife and releasing Calamity.  Soon as Canary was clear, Kid tackled him.  The two traded vicious blows, neither gaining the upper hand.  Hopper finally cuffed Kid on the chin.  The blow knocked Kid back giving Hopper the opportunity to pull out a derringer from his pocket.  He levelled the small but deadly firearm at Kid’s head.

Before he could squeeze the trigger, a shot echoed through the woods.  Hopper cried out in pain as his right leg buckled.  Kid grabbed his gun hand and twisted it towards him.  There was a small pop, Hopper stiffened and slid to the ground.  Kid stood over the body of Rattlesnake Jake Hopper holding a now empty derringer.  Calamity ran up to Kid carry his still smoking colt.

“You awright?”

“Yeah,” Kid sighed, not taking his eyes of Hopper’s body.  “Let’s go.”

Kid turned back to the busted wagon with Calamity scurrying after him, leaving the rattlesnake to stare sightlessly at the sky.

Horace “The Kid” Wellman and Martha “Calamity Jane” Canary road there shattered coach into Sweet Water soaking wet, blackened with soot and covered with bruises.  They received a lot of stares from the locals, but the only face Kid was looking for was the one he had been thinking of the whole trip.  He climbed down from the driver’s box and walked purposely to his waiting wife and child.  Her eyes were wide with awe as she stared at the skeletal coach.  “Kid,” she said hoarsely.  “What happen-”

Not wasting words, Kid covered her mouth with a needful kiss, cutting her off.  After what seemed like an eternity, he finally broke the kiss.  Lou whimpered slightly not wanting him to stop.  “I’ll explain tonight,” Kid’s low voice wrapped around her.  Kneeling down, he wrapped his arms around his small boy and hugged him tightly and didn’t let go until he heard a strained voice say, “Papa, I can’t breathe!”

Laughing in spite of himself, he released his son and stood up.  He turned back to the shattered remains of the Concord.

Not wanting to be left out, Calamity came up and took Kid’s face in both hands and planted a big one on Kid’s lips.  So surprised by her action all Kid could do was mumble a feeble protest.  When she finally released him, Calamity stated.  “Good, now that we got that outta the way, all I can say is you really know how to show a girl a good time, Horace” – again flinched at the use of his birth name – “If that’s what a ride with you is like, I can’t wait till next time.”

“No,” Kid announced emphatically.  “No more stage drives, outlaws, shoot outs, special deliveries or any form of adventurin’!  I told you I was through adventurin’ back in Abilene.  I meant every word I said.  I am going to spend the rest of my life doing nothing but raising horses and -” 

Kid’s tirade was cut off by an agonizing cry.  Of all the looks they’d received since coming into town, none so flabbergasted as Line Superintendent Butterfield when he saw the state of the Concord.  Seeing Butterfield’s mouth trying to make a full sentence, with only high-pitched squeaks coming out.  Kid turned to Calamity and asked, “Do you want to explain it to him, or should I?”