Diablo (27 page)

And she had hopes of catching them?

Nicky searched the darkness around her, trying to find one of the landmarks on the map. At least it would help to know if she was going in the right way. But nothing was familiar. She kept walking in the direction she'd been traveling until, suddenly, rising from the darkness on the horizon, she saw the silhouette of a rock formation she remembered from the map. She said a brief prayer—not that she was all that familiar with the process, but she would try anything at this point.

Nothing.

Feeling a deepening frustration and fear, she moved forward, still leading Molly. She was suddenly aware of the mare halting, her ears cocking forward, her nostrils blowing harder than they had. Clearly, Molly heard, or smelled, other animals.

Nicky looked around desperately for a place to tie the mare. She didn't dare take the horse farther. If Molly detected other horses, those other horses could also smell her. The last thing Nicky figured she needed was a noisy horse reunion. She finally found a struggling mesquite, and tied the reins to its base. She took the rifle from its scabbard and touched the derringer in her belt.

There were horses around, but where?

They had been moving south. She looked up at the sky, wished she knew more about the stars, more about direction. She could only stumble around, hoping for luck. She went in the direction she had been traveling, keeping the rock formation to her right. Minutes seemed like hours. And then she saw a flickering of a light. A campfire.

Nicky sat for a moment, trying to gain her breath … and her wits. She was as jumpy as a grasshopper in a fire. She wasn't a fool; she knew she had one chance at best. Both Hildebrand and Calico were very dangerous men. The only thing she had on her side was surprise. Surprise, and Kane. If he were still alive.

He had to be! She'd seen no body, no shallow grave. She'd heard no shots. And she knew in her heart he still lived.

After several moments, she had forced her breathing to calm. Her heart wasn't pounding quite so hard. She stood again and moved as quietly as she could toward the fire. Calico had no reason to expect a trespasser. The Comanches wouldn't attack a party from Sanctuary, and no one else was likely to be roaming their territory.

But as she moved closer to the fire, she dropped to a crouch, listening for conversation. There was none, but she did see figures moving around. If the men she heard in the barn were right—if Calico and Hildebrand were together—Hildebrand might have a gun by now. Both were fast gunhands. She couldn't simply walk up with the rifle in her hand. She could, but it would be chancy, and too much depended on this. Kane's life. Her uncle's life and possibly Robin's.

It would be better to wait, she decided, until the fire had died low and the men had turned in for the night—though she thought the wait might possibly drive her to madness. She lay on the ground silently. Kane was several hundred feet away, but at the moment it might be a thousand miles. She tried to ignore her discomfort. Sore and exhausted from riding so long, she was also scared. Nicky hated to admit to that last, but she was.

Nicky rolled over on her back and looked at the sky. She didn't know how long she lay there before she heard a mumbling of voices, a brief nicker from one of the men's horses, then silence. The glow from the fire was gone. The prairie was silent. She waited for another half hour or so, then started moving toward the dying fire. If they were going to try to take Kane, it would be now, when he should be asleep. Urgency clawed at her belly, making her sweat. She crawled closer toward the barely glowing embers. To her right, a horse stomped nervously.

She reached a stand of tall grass where she could see three blanket-clad forms. Which one was Kane's? She decided it was probably the one farthest from the other two. Kane was a loner, and he certainly didn't like Hildebrand. Not only that, he would be on the watch for Hildebrand, if not for Calico. And then she recognized the gray near the lone form.

On the premise that a man—particularly an outlaw on the run—would sleep near his horse, Nicky began to move toward the direction of the gray. She crawled a few feet, stopped to listen for movement, a sign that she was being discovered, and when there was none, she moved again. Seven times, she repeated the pattern until she was within a few feet of the lone figure, and she knew she had been right. It was Kane. To arouse him without disturbing anyone else, Nicky had to let go of the rifle, but the derringer was in her hand as she reached out to touch Kane. Suddenly her own wrist was grabbed. She fought to keep from crying out as Kane turned over. It was too dark to see an expression, but she felt his body relax. She put a finger to his lips and tried to move from the hold. He let her go. She watched him look around. As she started crawling away, picking up her rifle as she did, he followed.

They kept moving. A hundred feet, two hundred, three. Then he leaned toward her. “What in the hell are you doing here?,” he asked in a rough whisper.

“Calico has thrown in with Hildebrand,” she whispered. “They planned to kill you, recruit some men, and take Sanctuary.”

“How do you know?”

“I overheard two men in the stable.”

“Your uncle?”

“He's real sick. I couldn't tell him and I couldn't find Mitch. There wasn't anyone else I could trust. Except you.”

He was silent for a moment. “Do you know how many are involved?”

“I only heard two men. They said they wouldn't do anything until Hildebrand returned. They were looking for guns, though.”

Kane swore. “I knew something was wrong,” he said. “Hildebrand was too damned accommodating.”

“We have to go back,” she said urgently.

“I can't,” he said, then a moment later, asked, “You sure they won't move without Hildebrand?”

“That's what they said.”

“Then we have nearly a week before he would be expected back, he and Calico.”

“But …”

“There's something I have do in Gooden,” he said implacably.

“Can't that wait?”

“No.” Kane's voice was flat, uncompromising.

She waited as minutes went by. She knew he was thinking. “What will we do about Calico and Hildebrand?” she finally asked.

“We?”

“I can use a gun. I got you out of there, didn't I?”

“And I have a whole lot of questions about that,” Kane said, “but there's no time now. I have to take care of those two.”

Nicky felt a chill go down her spine. “Kill them?”

“I should,” Kane said coldly. “But I'll try another way first. You have something other than that rifle?”

“The derringer.”

“No six-shooter?” He muttered, then sighed. “You like living dangerously, don't you?”

“I … don't have one, and there wasn't time—”

“It's all right.” His voice softened. He put a hand on her cheek. “You did really well. Thank you.”

She nodded.

“Give me the derringer. You stay here with the rifle. I'll try to take them one at a time.”

She started to protest and he leaned over and kissed her, quieting her protest.

“Do it,” he said in a low but adamant voice. “I know what I'm doing.”

Nicky believed him. She gave him the derringer, then took out the knife she'd brought and handed it to him.

“No need,” he said, reaching into his boot to pull out a knife of his own. He put a finger to her lips to stop questions, then started crawling away toward the fire.

She watched as he hesitated, as if searching for something, and then he moved ahead again. A horde of grasshoppers seemed to take up residence in her stomach as she watched him crawl off into the darkness.

Despite her promise, she moved behind him, although she maintained a distance between them. She stopped about seventy feet away and clutched the rifle. Nicky saw Kane's silhouette reach the side of one of the men. She saw him lift his hand, then strike downward.

Another silhouette started to move, and Nicky grabbed the rifle, pointing it in the man's direction. She heard voices.

“What in the hell …?”

The figure leaped for Kane, and both men fell to the ground. The sound of scuffling, punctuated by loud grunts, traveled clearly in the air. Kane had told her to stay, but she couldn't. Clutching the rifle with her two hands, she moved rapidly to within feet of the two men. In the moonlight, she saw the brightly patterned shirt.
Calico.
She also saw a knife; it was in Calico's hand, but Kane was keeping it away from his body. They rolled over once, then again, as Nicky tried to aim. Then there was a grunt, and the men stropped rolling. Kane was astride Calico. His fist rammed into the man's head. Once, twice, a third time. Then Calico was still.

He rose wearily. “Calico has rope on his saddle. Get it.”

She handed him the rifle and rushed to get the rope. She watched as he tied both men, hands behind them, feet together. Both were still unconscious.

Then Kane sunk down on the ground, obviously exhausted. She knelt next to him, wanting to make sure he was all right. He wasn't. Her fingers found a dampness in his shirt. “You've been cut,” she said.

“It's nothing,” he said, but he didn't move, and the dampness was spreading. She looked frantically around, wishing there were more wood for a fire so she could see better. There were a few mesquite trees, and she broke up a few branches. She stirred what remained of the old fire, finding only a few embers, but those caught the new wood and flamed for a moment. She pulled the tail of her shirt from her trousers and tore off a piece, pushing his shirt up till she found the cut and held the cloth to it. In a moment, he took it himself. “It really isn't much,” he said. “Not more than skin-deep.”

She sat next to him, drained. She knew he was right, but still she felt herself trembling with fear for him. Left-over fear. “Damn you,” she said illogically. “I told you to be careful.”

He chuckled, and she could have killed him. Right after she kissed him. After she kissed every part of his body, after …

His hand reached for hers. “Thank you,” he said simply.

The words were so simple, yet they sounded so eloquent on his lips.

She leaned into him, careful to avoid the wound. Her hand felt his where he pressed cloth against the tear in his chest. He removed it and investigated. “It's almost stopped bleeding already,” he said.

Nicky wasn't sure she believed him, but she realized he didn't want her to fuss over it. “What are you going to do with them?” she asked of the two trussed men.

“That's a damned good question,” he replied.

An answer hovered between them. They could kill the two.
Kane
could kill the two. After all, they had planned to kill him and Nat Thompson and, probably, her and Robin. But he would have to do it in cold blood, and something in her rebelled at that. She waited, afraid of his answer, afraid of being disappointed. Afraid he was not what she had come to think he was.

Damn it all to hell. Every one of his opportunities was disappearing down the sewer of someone else's greed.

Kane knew Nicky was waiting on an answer, that she would probably agree to whatever he suggested—and if he suggested the obvious, he would make her into what he was.

He debated his new set of limited options. He felt he was in a chess game, constantly being checked, his available moves getting fewer and fewer. He couldn't spare the time taking Calico and Hildebrand back to Sanctuary. Neither could he take them into Gooden to Masters; he had to get some rest, and he couldn't afford hauling two dangerous men along with him.

But he did have one weapon. Fear.

“You did leave messages for your uncle?” he asked.

She nodded. “I left them with both Mitch and Andy.”

“You mentioned Calico.”

She nodded. “I included everything I heard.”

“Without guns, the others can't do anything,” he said. “And I expect Hildebrand's and Calico's plan depended completely on surprise. How sick is your uncle?”

“I don't know,” she said wretchedly. “He wouldn't get a doctor, but …”

That now-familiar tightening in his gut tugged at him. He was betraying not only a man who trusted him, but a dying one. If he kept Nicky from returning to be with him, she would never forgive him or herself.

“You go back,” he said. “I'll take care of these two.”

“No,” she said simply. “I can help. You don't know the way.”

His senses sharpened. “You do?”

“I studied the map, and Uncle Nat explained the landmarks to both Robin and me, in case …”

“You can tell them to me,” he said tightly. She had what he needed in her head. She had Davy's freedom, her uncle's death warrant. God help him.

She shook her head. “It'll save time if I go with you. You can get to Gooden, do whatever you must and we can come back together.”

He started to argue, but her face was set, her chin tilted determinedly. She wasn't going to change her mind, and he knew he didn't have time to argue. He would learn the rest of the route through her—although he still wouldn't know how he'd gotten to where they were now. Calico had kept him and Hildebrand blindfolded during the daylight hours. At least, he'd thought Hildebrand was blindfolded.

He wondered now why they had waited before killing him. Worried about the sound of gunfire? That it might bring riders from Sanctuary or the Indians he kept hearing about? It would be easier to plunge a knife into his back at night. No sound.

Whatever the reason was, that guardian angel—or devil—that had seen him through years of war apparently remained with him.

He didn't know that route of one day, but Nicky did. She had traveled over it alone. Admiration and appreciation rushed like waves through him. And something else. She had risked her life for him. For a man who was doing his damnedest to betray her. He so sickened himself, he wanted to retch.