Letters from Josh
(A weekly update from Josh Urban’s adventures on the farm and in the city. #117)
Howdy, folks! Previously on Dr. Electro...Lady Wilkes gets her gun, moving towards the sound of voices talking in the garden shed. “Well I say, Smith, orders are orders. I don’t understand them either.” Aboard the eastbound freight, three women hold Electro and his pals at gunpoint with a grin. “Didn’t your mothers teach you to pay for tickets?” This is...
The Return of Dr. Electro - #12: Buckle Bunny Gang
(Josh’s note: It’s actually #13. Drat. Which reminds me, time to start taxes and other numbering things.)
“I say, this is rather excessive, madam.” Rutherford’s voice dripped with injured sophistication, a tone fitting of a cozy parlor and a difference in the rules of bridge. “Do you make a habit of accosting travelers at gunpoint? Think of the conversational precedents this sets.”
The women didn’t lower the guns. A moonbeam fell on a raised eyebrow - pretty, deadly. Electro cringed. Since a narrow escape in ‘24 from a certain Parisian nightclub, he wondered if Rutherford would end in a hail of gunfire and excessive vocabulary. Please not now. He raised his voice, and his hands, stepping into the square of moonlight on the boxcar floor.
“Ladies, ladies. We’re on a bit of a mission to help a friend.”
“Oh?” The leader whirled. Electro gulped. Beauty always tongue tied him, especially the assassin fashion. Great. Think carefully. Speak slowly. She’s married. Or will kill you. Or both.
“Yes, I’m Dr. Electro.” He tried to stand straight. The train rocked again. Making a good impression on high voltage circuits was easier than people for him. “You are...?”
“Charlotte. These ladies are Beatrice and Dorothy. We’ve been keeping order on this ship for months. Lots of strange happenings on the line these days...rumors of bad men roaming around, even jewel thieves. Ever since Dorothy’s Jim went missing, we’ve been riding the rails, and.. straightening things out a bit. We’re the Buckle Bunny Gang. Didn’t you see the sign?” Beatrice and Dorothy chuckled with cynical approval. “You boys wouldn’t know anything about any of this now, wouldja?” Charlotte eyed him, waving the revolver carelessly.
***
Away in the East, Lady Wilkes pounced through the shed door. “And what orders would those be, sonny?” Her flashing eye, .44 Colt as big as her arm, and pink nightdress vied equally for attention. The two sinister men turned, flabbergasted. “Up with the hands, sonny! Now march. There will be no plotting in my potting shed. It’s time for a little visit. Hope you like tea, ‘cause you’re in some hot water.”
Wordlessly they complied. “Claire! Wake up! We’ve got company.” Her niece appeared, rubbing her eyes.
“Auntie! What is it?” Her voice cracked. “John?”
To Be Continued...