TANYA TAKES ON THE CHEYENNE MARAUDERS by Hamlet The Interstate 80 wound through the gentle rolling hills of the Wyoming countryside approaching the Rocky Mountains and the city of Cheyenne' A solitary motorcycle made its way at a leisurely pace, the rider enjoying the scenery. The roar of approaching engines caused the rider to turn and look back. A group of twenty-five or so motorcycles were closing rapidly and the rider pulled over to let them pass. As they zoomed by the lettering on their vests and jackets was clearly visible, Cheyenne Marauders" it read. Everyone had heard of them. They were the toughest motorcycle gang in Wyoming. They were rumoured to be heavily involved in the drugs trade in the west and their reputation for violence was well deserved. Several murders and beatings had been attributed to them over the years, but no had been willing to testify, therefore no charges had been filed against them. At this time, they were not far from their bases of operations which were Cheyenne and Laramie unless they were on a road trip, or had some specific reason for being in another sparsely populated area of the state. The rider shrugged and after they had passed by, started up her mighty Hardanger and resumed travel. Checking the time on her handsome Ralaxa watch the most advanced in the world, the rider noted that it was slightly after one o'clock in the afternoon. "No wonder I'm hungry. There has to be a place to eat around here somewhere." A few minutes a diner appeared in the distance by the small town of Egbert near the Nebraska border. However, as the Hardanger got closer, the motorcycles of the Cheyenne Marauders were parked outside. Not wanting to take a chance at this stage on having a problem with the bikers the rider moved on. About twenty minutes later just in the city of Cheyenne itself another diner was in sight. The parking area was nearly empty so the rider pulled in, removed the darkly tinted helmet and left it on the seat of the Hardanger. She entered Poor Richards Restaurant in the centre of Cheyenne itself The rider had just placed her lunch order a chicken fettuccini and side salad when the sound of several engines was heard in the parking lot. The Cheyenne Marauders had arrived. As they dismounted, they noticed the Hardanger in the parking lot and noted that it was the same one they and passed earlier. The rowdy bikers entered the restaurant with the leader Big Jim McAlister in front. His name didn't do justice to him. He was six feet five inches tall and weighed in at two hundred and sixty pounds. He was wearing a stetson and Cheyenne Marauders vest over a dirty tee shirt, jeans and motorcycle boots. He had a dark beard that looked like it hadn't been trimmed in quite a while. He was the leader because he was the meanest and toughest man in a very mean and tough gang. Right up in the front with him was his current woman, Lucinda Rousey. She held that position because she had beaten his former girlfriend to a bloody pulp in front of the whole gang. She was attractive in a hard sort of way, with long black hair, that for now was in a ponytail. Lucinda was a big girl, 5'9" tall and about one hundred fifty pounds. She also had a reputation as quite a brawler and most of the men in the gang would be afraid to take her on. She wore a cut off tank top and jeans with motorcycle boots. The red bandanna around her head gave her almost an Indian look. Big Jim's eyes scanned the restaurant. He immediately spotted the owner of the Hardanger sitting at the lunch counter. Without the helmet, platinum hair fell down over wide shoulders and back halfway to the waist. "Well, I'll be damned. It's a woman, and a damn purty' one at that. We'll have to check her out after we eat." Lucinda's eyes narrowed at that comment. She was very jealous as well as hot tempered. One of the bikers spoke up. "I hope this place is better than the one up the road, or we'll have to trash this one too." The bikers made their way to the tables in back, and immediately began to give the waitresses a hard time. As they ate, Big Jim couldn't keep his eyes or his conversation off the Blonde at the counter. Finally, Lucinda had heard and seen enough. She always went after any woman who eyed Big Jim or vice versa. She strode purposefully to the counter. "It's time for you to move on, Blondie. Your presence is not needed here anymore.". Without turning the woman replied, "I'm leaving as soon as I finish my lunch." "You're finished now!" Lucinda snapped. She reached out and knocked the plate off the counter, breaking the plate and spilling its contents all over the floor behind the counter. "I wish you hadn't done that." the Blonde said in a low voice. "If you didn't like that, you're definitely not going to like this!" Lucinda was shouting now. All eyes were on the two women. The Marauders sat back in anticipation of Lucinda wiping up the floor with another victim. Lucinda lunged with both hands at the woman's long blonde hair. Her hands never reached their destination. The woman spun off the counter stool in a crouch and brought her left fist up in a powerful uppercut that landed squarely in the middle of Lucinda's bare belly. The Blonde stepped into the punch getting her body behind it, and her fist buried deep in Lucinda's unprepared gut. Lucinda's mouth and eyes flew wide open in shock. She fell first to her knees, then flopped on her face. The lunch she had been eating only minutes before came right back up. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! Lucinda was lying face down in her own puke. She was unable to move the pain caused by the Blonde's hard fist was so paralyzing. The bikers saw when she was standing upright, the Blonde was far bigger than Lucinda. The Blonde stepped around the prone Lucinda and spoke to the group in her same low voice, "You guys should check your food. Something seems to have upset her stomach." The tension in the room grew thick as the gang tried to figure out their next move. It was one of the bikers seated by the windows who broke the silence. "Holy shit! That little local cop is writing tickets on all our bikes!". Big Jim rose from his seat as did all the bikers. "Let's go. We'll take care of that ill' blondie sumbitch. Some of you take care of Lucinda." He eyed the Blonde. "Maybe next time, Blondie." he said. Two bikers lifted the semi-conscious Lucinda out of the pool of vomit and half carried; half dragged her out the door. "Any time at all, big man." the woman replied. "Bye the way, the name's not Blondie. "IT'S TANYA!" Any comments to norselandic@hotmail.com TO BE CONTIUNUED