Hello, I hope everyone who reads this is having a great day. If you are not, tell yourself that you are. In fact, in the morning when you wake up visualize how you want your day to go and tell yourself that you are having a wonderful day. Before I get into today’s topic, I want to let you know what is going on with me. As far as my writing goes, I am in the editing process of my new novel, The Mojave Kid, It is a sequel to my novel, The Tale Spinner. I am also halfway through the rough draft of a novel, titled Gone Missing. It is a tale of a special needs child who gets abducted off the street and uses his special mental abilities to reach out for help. So far it’s been fun to write. Other than my writing, I am still practicing martial arts, meditating, and working on my online business, but enough about me. Let’s get to the day’s topic.

What do you think? What thoughts are bouncing around inside your head? Are they negative thoughts or positive thoughts? Have you ever considered monitoring your thoughts? I suggest that you do so all the time. Especially, if you are trying to manifest something positive in your life such as wealth, happiness, or good health. We all have negative thoughts sometimes, but when you do, handcuff that thought, say, “Cancel,” and chase that thought out of your mind because thoughts create. You create your reality and you get what you focus on. If you are always focusing on negative things, more negative things will come your way. In turn, if you focus on positive things more positive things will come to you. This can affect your health as well. Here’s an example. When I worked for the railroad, one night I worked an extra shift on overtime, working through the night. During some downtime, I was talking to an older gentleman who was about to retire. When he wasn’t working he played the saxophone with a band once in a while. I asked him if he was looking forward to his coming retirement. He wasn’t too excited about it. He said that most railroaders don’t live too long after they retire. I said, “You need to quit thinking about dying. Start thinking about living. Think about all of the fun you will have playing your saxophone with the band and you won’t have to worry about coming down to the railroad to work your shift.” Willy retired and within a few months after he did, he developed stomach cancer and eventually died. He was a good man and he is missed by me as well as his family and friends. So monitor your thoughts. Think positive thoughts such as long life, health, wealth, and happiness, but thinking is not enough. Visualize living the life of your dreams and becoming your best self. As always feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think.

The above image was from Raw Pixle. I thought it was cool.

Learn how to program your mind for wealth and success.

Now for your reading pleasure

The Toomstone Run

The Sidewinders Motorcycle Club rumbled down highway 80. They headed for Tombstone Arizona and the Road Dogs followed. Spades, road captain of the Sidewinders led the pack as the road snaked its way through a sea of Socorro cactus. The road wove its way up a steep hill and then descended into a low-lying valley. The cold morning air had a sharp bite to it that numbed the cheeks of the bikers. Ignoring the cold, Spades cranked the throttle and thundered across the valley. On the south end of the valley, Spades came to a hairpin curve. He hit a massive pothole and his front tire blew causing a loud bang. The bike lurched to the right, throwing Spades into the desert, and the bike tumbled after him.

Bones braked hard, pulled over to the side of the road, and parked his bike. The side stand was barely down when he jumped off the bike and ran over to where Spades lay battered and bleeding. The rest of the pack pulled over to the side of the road, parked their scooters, and ran after him. Bones knelt, down next to his fallen brother and tried to see how bad he was. He had a sucking chest wound, blood poured from a deep puncture wound on his upper thigh, and he had a broken leg. He also looked as if he might have some broken ribs.

“How bad is he?” Road Kill, president of the Road Dogs, asked, kneeling, down next to Bones.

“He’s busted up bad. This is, fucked up,” Bones said, trying to stem the blood flood on Spades’ leg.

“I’ll call nine, one-one,” Road Kill said, and headed back to the road where the rest of the bikers milled about.

“Tell them to hurry,” Bones yelled. “He’s fadin’ fast!”

***

Hey Bro, this is Cave Man. It seems like I hardly get time to party anymore up at Biker Heaven without something going wrong back on Earth. Then they call out the Halo Riders. It seemed to me that we had just gotten back. I thought things were good when Little Danny Boy came into the clubhouse at Biker Heaven and joined me at the bar.

“What’s up, bro?” I asked. “What are you drinking? I’m buying,” I said.

“The bros are in trouble,” Little Danny boy said.

“What? What now? We were just down there. When we left it looked like the Road Dogs and the Sidewinders were getting along fine.”

“They still are,” Little Danny Boy said. “They’re heading out on that Tombstone run they were talking about. One of the bros is going to go down and we need to save him. It’s not his time yet. The alliance between the Road Dogs and the Sidewinders is a good thing. It’s going to be beneficial to both clubs.”

“When do we leave?” I asked.

“Right now,” Little Danny Boy said.

“Then let’s roll,” I said.

We stepped outside, climbed onto our spirit bikes, and headed down the King’s Highway. Once we reached the borderlands, we pressed down on the bars. Descending through the clouds, we touched down on a desert highway heading south. We headed toward Tombstone right behind the Sidewinders and the Road Dogs. When we arrived at the scene, the bros gathered around a battered body that lay in the desert near the side of the road. A damaged Harley Davidson Night Train motorcycle lay in the desert near the shoulder of the road. We pulled our spirit bikes over to the side of the highway and parked them by the side of the road. We headed over to where the downed biker lay. Traveling incognito, the bros neither heard us nor saw us when we rolled up. We stood next to them, looking down at the dying biker.

Spades’ spirit was trying to rise out of his body, but I was having none of that.

“No, you don’t bro. It’s not your time,” I said and knelt next to Bones.

“I’m hurtin’ man,” Spades said, but no one heard this but me and the Halo Riders.

“You got to hold on,” I said.

I put my hand on Spades’ chest and pushed his spirit back into his body. Then I placed my hand on top of Bones’ hand where he was trying to stem the flow of blood on Spades’ leg. I felt a surge of power shoot through my hand. A bluish-green light spread across the wound. None of the bros still in their mortal bodies saw this. The blood flow stopped.

“Thank God the bleeding has finally stopped,” Bones said. The sound of an ambulance’s siren echoed across the desert.

“Does he have a pulse?” Road Kill asked.

Bones reached up and placed two fingers on his neck. “He has a pulse. It’s faint but it’s there.”

The ambulance pulled up next to the side of the road and a paramedic’s vehicle pulled in behind them. A chunky black woman and a tall skinny white guy with blond hair climbed out of the vehicle. They pulled a gurney out of the back. Two Hispanic paramedics jumped out of their vehicles. They grabbed their medical bags and ran across the desert to where Spades lay.

“Make room!” a short chubby paramedic yelled. The bikers backed away and the paramedics went to work.

“How is he?” the black female ambulance attendant asked.

“Not good. We need to get him to the hospital in Tucson ASAP! Get the back brace!” the paramedic yelled. The female ambulance attendant hustled back to the ambulance. She brought the back brace. Once they dealt with Spades’ open wounds, the paramedics put him on the back brace and then onto the gurney.

“Is he gonna make it?” Bones asked. A tall skinny Hispanic paramedic with a thin mustache shrugged. “He’s hurt bad. Right now it’s touch and, go. Do you want to ride in the back of the ambulance with him?”

“Yeah,” Bones said and then glanced at Two Belts. “Why don’t you and Big Foot follow us on your scooters. The rest of you guys head on down to Tombstone. I’ll call you on my cell when we get to the hospital.” Glancing at Road Kill, Bones said, “Why don’t you Road Dogs lead the pack.”

Road Kill nodded. “We’ll wait about twenty minutes, take a smoke break, and let everyone’s nerves calm down. Then we’ll roll.”

Bones touched Road Kill’s shoulder for a brief second. Then he headed to the ambulance with the attendants. They loaded Spades into the back and were about to close the door. Little Danny Boy and I climbed inside and joined them. The rest of the Halo Riders rode in the back of the pack when the bros headed down to Tombstone. As the ambulance pulled away Little Danny Boy and I leaned back against the door of the ambulance. We watched the attendants work to keep Spades alive. Spades’ spirit rose out of his body. The heart monitor went flat.

“We’re losing him!” one of the paramedics yelled and reached for the defibrillator paddles.

“God damn!” Spades’ spirit yelled. “I can’t stay in that messed up body! It hurts too much!”

“Oh, no you don’t! Get back in there! It ain’t your time!” I yelled.

“Who are you to tell me?” he said, but I grabbed him by the shoulders and threw his spirit back down on his body.

“Wait a minute. I got a pulse-no he’s gone flat again!” the paramedic yelled.

Spade’s spirit rose out of his body. Little Danny Boy and I went after it. He flew around the inside of that ambulance like a chimpanzee on crack. We were right behind him, but then the paramedic hit him with the defibrillator.

“Damn that hurt!” Spades yelled as his spirit slammed back into his body.

While all this was going on, Bones leaned back trying to stay out of their way. He watched the paramedics work on his bro. A look of shock and pain-filled his face.

Little Danny Boy and I sat down on Spades’ chest. Every time his spirit tried to rise out of his body I put my hand on its head and pushed it back in. “Damn you’re one of the most stubborn black fellers I’ve ever met. I told you it’s not your time,” I said.

The ambulance arrived at the hospital in Tucson, and the attendants rushed Spades into the ER. Bones climbed out of the back as Two Belts and Big Foot rolled up on their scooters. Little Danny Boy and I climbed out of the ambulance. We watched Bones, Two Belts, and Big Foot rush into the hospital as they wheeled Spades inside.

“Do we need to go with them?” I asked.

Little Danny Boy shook his head. “No, once they get him into the OR and hook him up to some more of their machines, they’ll stabilize him. He’s gonna make it.”

“Are you sure he won’t try coming out of his body again?” I asked.

“No. That shock took a lot out of him. He won’t have the energy.”

“What do we do now?” I asked.

Now, we head back to Tombstone,” Little Danny Boy said.

I nodded, and we glanced at the curb. Our spirit bikes appeared we climbed into the saddle and shot up into the sky.

***

Road Kill led a somber crew of bikers down the highway, heading south for Tombstone. Tears welled up in Road Kill’s eyes, but he blamed it on the wind. Damn, I hate it when a bro goes down on a scooter he thought as he cranked the throttle and tried to keep his mind off the crash. The road snaked its way through several curves and then climbed a hill. To his right, he saw an older motel, and to his left, Boot Hill. We’re here; he thought and then led the bikers off the main highway and into Tombstone Arizona.

They parked their scooters on Freemont Street and gathered on the boardwalk.

“Where to now?” one of the remaining sidewinders asked.

Road Kill sighed. “I don’t know about you guys, but I could use a beer. Let’s head up to the Crystal Palace Saloon.”

“Yeah, and later let’s head over to the Lookout Lodge and check into our rooms,” Little Mike said.

“Whatever. I want to call Bones as soon as possible and see how Spades is doing,” Snake Eyes said.

Road Kill laid a hand on his shoulder. “Sure thing, bro, but I don’t think the ambulance has had time to make it to Tucson yet. We’ve all got our cell phones. Bones will give us a call when he gets a chance.”

Snake Eyes nodded. They headed down the boardwalk heading to the Crystal Palace Saloon. Unseen by human eyes, the Halo Riders strolled along behind them.

“This is funny,” Chico said to Old School.

“What?”

“Look at all these spooks, walking among the living,” Chico said.

“Yeah, it’s like there’s a whole different population in the city. All old historical towns and cities are like this,” Old School said. He nodded to the ghost of a rugged-looking old cowboy ambling down the boardwalk.

“Why don’t they cross over and go to the light?”

Old school shrugged. “Back in their day, they were so attached to the land that they don’t want to leave.”

They sauntered into the Crystal Palace saloon behind the bros. Old School stopped, dead in his tracks. “Well, look at those two,” Old School said.

“Are they who I think they are?” Chico asked.

“Yep. Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday.” Holliday nodded and Wyatt smiled. “Why ain’t you two up at Cowboy Heaven livin’ it up?” Old School asked.

“We’re here for the reenactment,” the ghost of Doc Holliday said.

“What reenactment?” Chico asked.

“The reenactment of the fight at the OK Corral. We come down here for the anniversary every year,” Wyatt said. “Come on over and have a drink.”

“We need to keep an eye on our bros, but yeah. I could use a drink,” Old School said.

Chico and Old School sat down to have a drink with Wyatt and Doc. The rest of the Halo Riders took a table next to where the Road Dogs and the Sidewinders sat.

Little Danny Boy and I touched down on highway 80 north of Tombstone Arizona. We rolled into town, parking our spirit bikes next to where the bros had left their Harleys. We ambled down the boardwalk. I exchanged pleasantries with the spirits we encountered along the way.

“Tombstone sure has its share of ghosts,” Little Danny Boy said.

“Yeah, it was wild and woolly in its day,” I said.

We stepped into the Crystal Palace Saloon and sat down with the Halo Riders keeping track of the bros. I joined Old School and Chico at the table with Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday. I nodded at Doc. “How are you doing?” I said.

Holliday shrugged. “Fair to middling.”

“How’s the bro that crashed?” Chico asked.

“He’s stable now. He’ll be all right,” Little Danny Boy said.

Road Kill’s cell phone rang. He answered the call and then nodded at the bros sitting around the table. “That was Bones. He said to tell you guys that Spades is going to make it. He flat-lined in the ambulance twice, but he’s stable now. They’re on their way back down here. He said that we’d all stop back at the hospital in Tucson and check on him on the way back.”

Snake Eyes raised his glass into the air. “A toast to our brother Spades.” The bikers lifted their bottles in salute and then Road Kill bought the next round.

“Are we done here?” Chico asked.

Little Danny shook his head. “No, there’s trouble coming down the pike,” he said.

“What kind of trouble?” I asked.

“There’s some red-neck white boys that call themselves The Skins. They think they’re some tough hombres,” Little Danny Boy said.

“Are they a bike club?” I asked.

“Yeah. Your typical white trailer trash on motor scooters. They hate anyone, not like them,” Little Danny Boy said.

“This should be interesting,” I said glancing at the door. “They just showed up.”

Five of the grubbiest looking bikers that I had ever seen, pushed their way through the batwing doors. They sauntered into the Crystal Palace Saloon.

The Skins lined the bar and started getting loud. One of them bumped into Road Kill, spilling his beer in the process, and went berserk.

“Why you peckerwood! Look what you made me do!” he screamed.

“Sorry, but you’re the one who bumped into me,” Road Kill said in a calm voice.

The skinhead biker swung on him, Road Kill blocked the punch and knocked him on his ass. The two groups of bikers merged as one and the brawl started.

“We should stop this,” I said.

Little Danny Boy shook his head. “No, let them work it out. We’ll step in if one of those Skins draws a weapon.”

We sat back and watched.

“In our day we would have drawn iron and put an end to the nonsense,” Doc Holliday said. “We were more civilized back then.”

I chuckled good enjoying the company of Wyatt and Doc. “I guess that little dust-up down at the OK corral was your way of showing how civilized you were?”

“That was a rather unfortunate incident,” Holliday said.

“That it was, Doc,” Earp said.

“We were up against some brash young men who called themselves the Cowboys.”

The fight continued near the bar and I caught a flash of reflected light off metal as one of the Skins pulled a knife. If I had been visible to the human eye, it would have seemed like a blur of motion. I shot across the room and grabbed the wrist of the biker holding the knife. The biker’s eyes widened in pain and he dropped the knife. Little Mike hit him with an uppercut and finished him off with a three-punch combination. The last of the Skins fell and they lay bleeding on the barroom floor. The Road Dogs and Sidewinders, battered and bleeding, stood over them.

“You guys better find another bar to drink in,” Road Kill said.

As the Skins picked themselves up off the floor, the one with the knife shook his hand.

“What’s wrong with you?” one of his buddies said as they stumbled out.

“I pulled my knife and was going to stick one of them peckerwoods when my knife felt like it was one fire. Pain shot up my arm and my knife was so hot I had to drop it.”

The Skins had stumbled out when Bones, along with Two Belts and Big Foot entered the saloon. They stood there taking in the scene.

“What happened here?” Bones asked.

Road Kill grinned. “We had a little discussion with a bunch of scumbag bikers called the Skins.”

“Shit. Sorry, I missed it,” Big Foot said.

“Did anyone get hurt?” Two Belts asked.

“No, one tried to stick me with his knife, I showed him the error of his ways,” Road Kill said.

“How is, Spades?” Snake Eyes asked.

“He’s gonna make it. You guys look like you need another beer. I’ll buy the next round and then we’ll head over to the motel,” Bones said.

The Road Dogs and the Sidewinders staggered down to their motel. They unloaded their gear in their rooms. They sent two prospects on a beer run and spent the rest of the evening drinking beer and partying down by the pool. Bones made a call with his cell phone to the hospital in Tucson to check up on Spades.

“How’s he doing?” Road Kill asked.

“The doc says they upgraded his condition from critical to stable,” Bones said.

“That’s good, bro. That’s real good,” Road Kill said.

The Skins MC pulled into the motel an hour later. They occupied three rooms. Their rooms were five rooms down from where the Road Dogs and the Sidewinders were staying.

“I hope we don’t have any more trouble with those dudes,” Little Mike said.

Bones shrugged. “As long as they stay on their side of the motel and we stay on ours, everything should be fine.” The bros stayed down by the pool until the wee hours of the morning. The Halo riders stood back. We stood guard watching their backs. The restless spirits wandered the streets of Tombstone Arizona.

***

The bros woke up around noon the next day. A long night of partying had taken its toll. Everyone rolled out of their bunks late the next morning. They stumbled down the boardwalk and had breakfast. The Halo Riders ambled along behind them. I nodded at the ghost of a young woman in a gingham dress as she strolled by. The bros chowed down on scrambled eggs and fried potatoes. Once they had about three cups of black coffee, they came to life.

“What’s on the agenda for today?” Road Kill asked.

“Oh, I thought we’d do the tourist thing. I’d like to head down and check out the Bird Cage Theater. Then go see the reenactment of the shooting at the OK Corral. That’s going to happen around one or two.”

Sitting at a table behind the bros with Doc and Wyatt, I said, “Is this reenactment any good?”

Doc shrugged. “Oh, they put on a good show, but as far as if it’s historically accurate, I don’t know. They got some things right.”

“I don’t remember all the details. We were kind of busy at the time,” Wyatt said.

The ghost of a couple of cowboys in range attire plus two tall lanky men in drover’s coats swaggered into the saloon.

“Look what the wind blew in,” Doc said.

“Who are those guys?” Little Danny Boy asked.

“The two cowboys are Curly Bill Brocius and Ike Clanton,” Doc said.

“Those two tall drinks of water are my brothers, Virgil and Morgan,” Wyatt said.

“Say, we’re not gonna have trouble are we?” I asked.

Doc laughed. “No, death has a way of ending old revelries. We get along fine now. They’re here for the reenactment like us.”

The bros tanked up on breakfast and about a gallon of coffee. After that, we strolled along behind them as they headed up to the Bird Cage Theater. Doc Holliday and the Earp brothers went with us. Inside the Bird Cage Theater, I stopped gazing at the former opera house, which was now a museum.

“This place is, crowded,” Little Danny Boy said. He wasn’t talking about the human occupants, at least not the live ones.

“The Bird Cage was always a lively place,” Doc Holliday said.

I glanced about at the ghost of the town’s former residences. Up near the ceiling were the cribs where the prostitutes used to ply their trade. There were seven cribs on one side of the room and seven on the other. They had curtains on the cribs so the occupants could have a wee bit of privacy. In each one of the cribs, the ghost of a former town prostitute looked down on the scene below.

“Hey there lover?” the ghost of a blonde-headed prostitute wearing a white see-through camisole said. “Want to come up for a bit?”

I looked up and smiled. “No thank you. Some other time.”

We watched the bros go through the Bird Cage Theater. Then we tagged along behind them as they strolled down the boardwalk.

“I say these Iron horses that your boys ride. They sure are noisy,” Doc said.

“Yeah, but they’re a kick to ride. You’d enjoy it,” I said.

“I favor the living breathing kind of horse, but I wouldn’t mind one of those spirit bikes I saw you guys ride in on,” Doc said.

“I’m sure we could arrange something,” I said.

“I’m with Doc here. Give me a good stout horse between my legs and I’ll be happier than a fly in a pile of shit,” Wyatt said. His brother Morgan nodded in agreement. We shadowed the bros for the rest of the morning. Around twelve-thirty we all headed over to the OK Corral to watch the reenactment. We reached the OK Corral behind Fly’s photo studio. The re-enactors gathered in the back lot behind the corral. A large group of tourists gathered around to watch the show. Moving unseen amongst the crowd of the living humans was the town’s ghostly population. Doc Holliday, the Earp brothers, and the Clantons gathered near the edge of the crowd to watch the show. The bros stood off to themselves taking it all in. The re-enactors gathered in the back lot behind the photo studio. They faced off against each other. Three wore long black drover’s coats. The ones playing the Clantons wore range attire. Each one of them wore a red sash around their midsection.

“You Clantons have been looking for a fight and now you’re gonna get one!” the re-enactor playing Virgil Earp yelled. “Throw up your hands I’m disarming you!” he yelled pointing a rifle. The re-enactors playing the role of the Clantons went for their guns. “Hold it! That’s not what I want!” the one playing Virgil yelled. There was a hesitation of about two seconds. Then the sound of gunfire echoed up the street, only they were using blank ammunition. When the smoke cleared a few of the re-enactors lay on the ground playing dead. The crowd of tourists applauded.

“Well, they are getting better,” Doc said.

“It gets better every year,” Ike Clanton said.

“This gentleman they have playing me seems pretty good,” Doc said.

“Doc you love the limelight, even if you are dead,” Wyatt said.

“Pretty Cool,” Bones said. “Let’s head back to the Chrystal Palace. I’m buying.”

We headed up the boardwalk and joined the bros back at the saloon. They were turning a corner when they ran right into a group of Skins.

“I’ve had about enough of you red-neck peckerwoods!” their grubby leader yelled.

“Sorry. We didn’t see you there,” Bones said.

“Sorry, my ass! We’re gonna finish this once and for all! Meet us in the back lot behind the OK Corral at midnight! By that time the citizens will have gone to bed! Make sure you bring your guns!” the grubby biker yelled and then stormed by with the rest of his crew.

“Good Lord. I hate rude obnoxious people,” Doc Holliday, who stood next to me, said.

“I do too. These old boys in these motorcycle clubs sure know how to get into trouble,” I said. We strolled down to the Crystal Palace Saloon.

The bros gathered around a table drinking beer and discussed the problem with the Skins.

“We can’t just, not show up,” Bones said. “They would spread the word, we’d get branded as cowards and we wouldn’t be safe on the streets.”

“Yeah, but we don’t want to throw down with those guys and get into a gunfight. The Road Dogs ain’t that type of club and I know that the Sidewinders aren’t either,” Road Kill said.

Bones sighed. “I know but what are we supposed to do?”

“Let’s take our handguns. We’ll only use them if we have to. I hope we can talk these guys into putting down their guns then we’ll kick their asses,” Little Mike said.

“Fat chance of that happening,” I said.

“I agree. Those are some rude boys. If you don’t mind, I’d like to join you all for this little fracas,” Doc said.

“Sure. We can use all the help we can get Little Danny Boy said.

“If we’re going to get into a rumble with these dudes, I’d like to get some rest first. Especially if I have to worry about getting my hide ventilated,” Two Belts said. He couldn’t hear the ghostly conversation going on behind him.

“That’s not a bad idea. Let’s head over to the lodge and get some rest,” Bones said.

“I second that,” Road Kill said.

The bros finished their beer and headed back to the motel. Doc and the Earp brothers stayed on at the Chrystal Palace playing poker. They played with the ghost of a few gamblers that they knew from back in the day.

After getting some rest, the bros headed back down to the OK Corral at eleven-thirty that evening. The Halo Riders were right behind them. Doc Holliday and the Earp brothers strolled up and joined us. A full moon looked down on the streets of Tombstone.

“You know, I hate this kind of shit. Why can’t these assholes live and let live? Why fight when you can party?” Road Kill said.

“Yeah, I hear you,” Bones said. “To me, it’s all about the booze, the bikes, and the babes.”

Doc Holliday glanced over at the bike parked next to the boardwalk. “If I were alive right now, I would enjoy riding one of those things.”

The Skins motorcycle club sauntered up thirty minutes later. They spread out in a line facing the Road Dogs and the Sidewinders.

“Time to go to work,” Little Danny Boy said and we stepped between the two groups of bikers.

“Heaven forbid that I should miss out on the fun,” Doc Holliday said and stepped up next to the Halo Riders.

“I’m with you Doc. Let’s show these SOBs the error of their ways,” Wyatt said.

Road Kill and Bones approached the Skins with their hands raised. “Can’t we talk about this?” Bones said.

“Time for talking is over! I told you peckerwoods to bring your guns!” the chapter president of the Skins yelled and then pulled his 45.

I stepped up to him and grabbed the barrel. The gun turned red hot and he dropped it to the ground.

“What the hell?” he said and stepped backward. I backhanded him across the face. “Who hit me?” he said a bewildered look crossing his face. The other skins pulled their guns.

“Why you rude boy? I’ll be your huckleberry,” Holliday said. He pushed the skin standing next to the chapter president backward. The skinhead biker whirled about trying to see where the voice came from and who pushed him.

“Pull that smoke wagon and let’s go to work you worthless piece of cow shit!” Wyatt yelled slapping another one of the skins in the face. Trembling in fear, the Skins motorcycle club waved their guns about. They were ready to shoot at anything that moved. Little Danny Boy held out his hand and a flash of blue light shot from his fingertips. It enveloped the weapons. The Skin’s guns flew out of their hands and landed in the dirt in front of where the Road Dogs and Sidewinders stood.

“What the hell is this?” Bones asked.

“Remember those old boys I told you about? They call themselves the Halo Riders. They always show up when there’s trouble. This seems like some of Cave Man’s doings,” Road Kill said.

“I don’t know about you guys, but now that they’re disarmed, I’m gonna kick some ass,” Little Mike said. Bones and Road Kill grinned. As one man, the Road Dogs and the Sidewinders crossed the vacant lot. When they reached the Skins, they unleashed their fury. For a few minutes, the only sound was that of fists slapping bone. They beat the Skins down to the dirt. They didn’t stop until the skin-headed bikers lay on their backs begging for mercy.

“Get your asses on your scooters and don’t let us catch you in the state of Arizona again!” Road Kill yelled. The battered skinhead bikers climbed to their feet. They stumbled to their motorcycles and roared out of Tombstone. Their taillights disappeared into the night.

“Thanks a bunch, Cave Man,” Little Mike said, even though he couldn’t see me.

“You’re welcome,” I said projecting my voice so he could hear me.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Cave Man. I haven’t had that much fun in a while,” Doc Holliday said.

“If I hadn’t seen that shit with mine own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it,” Bones said.

“That’s nothing compared to some of the shit that I’ve seen. I could tell you some stories that would curl your hair. Let’s head down to the Crystal Palace. I’ll buy you the first round and I’ll fill you in on the adventures of Cave Man and his bros,” Little Mike said.

“That sounds like a grand idea. I could use a beer myself. Why don’t we join them?” Doc said so that’s what we did.

A big grin spread across Spades’ face when he saw everyone step into his hospital room in Tucson Arizona.

“Hey. It’s good to see you’re awake. How ya feelin’ bro?” Bones asked.

“I hurt everywhere I can touch. My leg’s busted and my bike’s totaled, but other than that I’m doin’ okay.”

“You’re lucky to be alive,” Road Kill said.

“Yeah. Forget about the bike. If it’s totaled, the insurance will cover it. If it’s not, we’ll get it fixed. You get well, bro,” Bones said.

I stood in the corner with the Halo Riders and smiled. “That dude was stubborn,” I said.

“Yeah, I never had to sit on a body before to keep its spirit inside,” Little Danny Boy said.

“How soon until they let you out of this joint?” Two Belts asked.

“The doc says that I’ll be here for a week or two,” Spades said.

Two Belts laughed and said, “Man it sucks to be you.”

“Say, guys. I’m sorry that I crashed and ruined the run down to Tombstone,” Spades said.

Bones stepped up to his bed and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t ruin nothin’ bro. You didn’t ruin nothin’.”

“I heard you guys ran into some trouble with another club?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you about it after they cut you loose from this place,” Bones said.

We stood back watching the bros pay their respects to Spades and then stepped along behind them. They headed out to their scooters. For a while, we rumbled along behind them when they left. When the bros turned off heading down to Harlem Springs, we kept going. We turned mortal enjoying the wind in our hair for about a hundred miles. Little Danny Boy looked over at me and grinned. “The last one to reach Biker Heaven buys the beer,” he yelled and then pulled up on his handlebars and shot up into the sky. Naturally, I tore off after him like my tail was on fire, with the rest of the Halo Riders hot on my ass.

####

If you have enjoyed these short stories and you want to read them all, check out Tales From the Lost Highway at amazon.com Until next time think good thoughts and good things will happen.