Secret Weapon
Moonbeam had circled around the perimeter surrounding the ranch house., silently observing everything. The Kiowa warrior was convinced Silver Arrow was within that magnificent wood and brick structure, the prisoner of El Diablo, the rapacious landowner and part time outlaw gang leader, who had taken to kidnapping the young chieftain in order to force the Kiowa from their ancestral lands. Moonbeam, the best tracker in the village, had been sent by the tribal elders to locate their leader who had travelled in good faith to Diablo’s den in order to try to negotiate an agreement between his people and the greedy horde of owlhoots the rancher had gathered in order to pounce on the Kiowa. Moonbeam counted eleven well-armed guards. There would be many more desperadoes hidden within the complex. A frontal assault was out of the question, she knew, but a night attack by twenty of the most skilled braves would likely catch the gang unawares and allow them to free Sikver Arrow.
Moonbeam turned and made to hurry to her horse in order to ride like the wind back to the Kiowa lodges with this information. As the female brave began to move away from the ridge where she had spied out the ranch, there was a flash of blue in the corner of her eye. Too late, she saw the leering man grinning foolishly at her, six gun drawn. It was the twelfth man! Cursing herself, Moonbeam raised her arms. “You clearly want to meet El Diablo, senorita,” the man sneered, “now you shall!” The safety catch of his revolver clicked ominously as he motioned her forward. Suddenly there was a snarl behind them, half kitten, half mountain lion. The outlaw turned instinctively in the direction of the sound. As he did so a small tawny shape leapt through the air. It’s front paws landed squarely in the back of the gunman toppling him forward. As the man fell, Moonbeam put out a tanned and lithe leg and the man tripped head over heels landing in a crumpled and moaning heap on the rough ground, his gun spinning away from him and under some scrub. Moonbeam grinned broadly at the puma cub standing before her, looking extremely pleased with himself. “Thankyou Korat, my little friend!” she told the delighted animal.
Later, as Moonbeam gagged the glaring Mexican as he lay, furious, on the ground after she had first tied his hands and legs, the young woman gave her captive a slight smile. “Korat is my secret weapon, senor, worth at least two of your six guns.” The man turned his angry gaze to the purring feline, who growled back when he caught the man looking at him. “Come, Korat,” Moonbeam said briskly, standing up, “we must away. This cur has delayed us long enough!” Woman and pet hurried down the trail while the bound and gagged outlaw gazed after them helplessly.
My interpretation of the story behind this cover to Solvpilen #15 (April 1978).
