Diablo (37 page)

The riders drew closer. Nat looked at Nicky's face. It was pale and obviously tear-stained. She was keeping a distance from Diablo. She wouldn't even look at him. As the horsemen approached him, Nat addressed his question to Mitch. Nicky looked as if she was ready to fall apart. “What happened?” he barked, and he managed to put some of the old authority into his voice.

“Damned if I know,” Mitch said. “Diablo says he has to talk to you.”

Nat's eyes moved over to the subject under discussion. Diablo's face was like stone and his back as stiff as a piece of lumber. He looked like he'd aged years in the past week. The lines in his face seemed to have deepened into furrows. He looked like he'd visited hell.

Nat turned to Nicky. “Nicole?” He never used Nicole. He didn't know why he did now, except for the odd, desperate look on her face. She trembled. She never trembled. Nat had once thought it was because of all the grief she'd had as a child. Nicky seldom showed emotion. And since her father died, he'd never seen her cry.

But she
had
been crying. Nothing made dirt streaks on the face like tears. She wouldn't look at Diablo, either, which was strange. Nat hadn't been too sick to notice her eyes had seldom left the man before he left Sanctuary. If Diablo had done anything to her … Nat would watch him skinned alive.

Mitch dismounted in front of him. He nodded toward Diablo, who was dismounting. “He wants to talk to you.”

Nat turned to Diablo, frowning. “Diablo?”

Diablo looked at Nicky, then down at Nat. “The law is headed this way,” he said.

“How do you know?”

“I told them enough that they could probably figure the rest out,” Kane replied.

Nat felt as if someone had dropped a giant boulder on him. His shock and surprise were too great to react for a moment.

“You might have a day,” Diablo continued. “Time enough to get Robin and Nicky out.”

Nat tried to recover from the surprise, from the pain roiling in his belly. “Why? Why in God's name did you tell them?”

Diablo's gray eyes darkened. “My own reasons.”

Nat turned his gaze to Nicky. She had dismounted and was standing next to Evers. Her face was white, her hands knotted together. “Nicky?”

She just looked from one man to the other.

Nat turned back to Mitch. “Take him to my office. To the back and make sure he stays there. I'll be there in a few minutes.”

Mitch looked at the Comanche, and the man slid from his horse. Nat watched as the two led an unprotesting Diablo toward his office.

Nat turned to his niece. “I want to know everything you know,” he said, biting off the words. Failure overwhelmed him. His instincts as well as his health were gone. A traitor, by God. He had supped and entertained a traitor. Had even offered him his valley, and his niece.

Nat took Nicky's arm. “I want to know everything,” he repeated.

Just then Robin came running in, the hawk on his wrist. “Andy saw you and Diablo … Where is Diablo?”

Nat hesitated and looked at Nicky. Nicky swallowed. “He's real tired,” she finally said. “He's getting some rest. Will you take our horses and rub them down, see that they get some feed?”

“But I want to show him how Diablo can fly.”

“Later,” she said abruptly.

Robin looked at his uncle in mute appeal. “Look after the horses,” Nat said in the tone that allowed no room for disobedience. He rarely used it with his niece and nephew—his two weak spots—so it always got results. Robin looked rebellious but headed for the door.

Nat closed it, and faced his niece. He needed to sit down. He felt so damn weak. But he needed honesty now and he knew he was more intimidating on his feet than sprawled in a chair. “What happened out there?”

Nat could almost see her mind working. She was often cool, unemotional with the guests, but her every feeling showed within the family. He saw the grief and worry, the anguish, the reluctance to hurt someone she cared about.
She still cared about him. Whatever he had done, she loved the man.
The truth was in her eyes. Pain exploded in his stomach, this time so great he doubled over, just trying to keep from falling to the floor. Nicky's hands caught him, and she helped him over to an overstuffed horsehair sofa.

He struggled against the pain, the weakness that was becoming more and more pronounced each day. How much time did he have? He thought he would have months, if not a year, but now he wondered. And perhaps Sanctuary only had hours, if Diablo had told the truth.

Nat knew he had to get Robin and Nicky out. He had to do it now. But how? All his hopes had been pinned on Diablo. In his need, he had rushed to what apparently was a disastrous decision.

“Uncle Nat?” Nicky's worried voice snaked into his consciousness.

He tried to sit up straight, but damn the pain was bad, the worry worse. “You have to tell me about Diablo,” he finally managed.

“I can't …” she said, and he saw her face set.

“Your brother's life might depend on it, even if you don't care about your own,” he said harshly, the words grated out between clenched teeth.

Her face was an agony of indecision. Her mouth trembled, and she bit her lower lip. She was fighting herself, fighting competing loyalties. He saw it all in her eyes.

Nat tried to help. “He appears to want to talk,” he said gently. “I just need to know what I can believe.”

She looked up at him. “Are you going to kill him?”

“I don't know,” Nat lied. Diablo had signed his own death warrant unless he came up with a damned good explanation. He hesitated. “I want you to pack whatever you need … and want. Robin too. I'm sending you out with Mitch. Tomorrow.” He should have done it months ago, he thought regretfully. Even years. A Diablo had been bound to happen. Rage started to overtake the pain. Something had died in Nicky's eyes. Probably in her heart. He wouldn't help either her or himself by insisting she say things she couldn't bring herself to say. He would talk to Diablo. If necessary, and only as a last resort, he could always come back to her.

He conquered the pain. Temporarily. He would take some laudanum as soon as he talked to Diablo. He reached out and took Nicky's hand, holding it tight. “You've been like a daughter to me,” he said and saw the surprised look in her face. He'd been protective in a hard, cold way, but seldom had he openly expressed affection. “Get some food and some rest.” He tried a smile. “And a bath.”

“You won't …”

He stood, somehow burying the pain. He had to. For her. Nicky and Robin were all he had. “No,” he said gently. “I won't do anything … final.”

Nat Thompson saw her face crumple. She was smart enough to understand the inference. “Please …”

But he felt his own face set. “I have to know what he knows,” he said. “It's up to him. Now go pack.”

“I want to go with you,” she said stubbornly.

“No,” he said. “If you want to keep him alive a bit longer, you'll do as I say.” He forced strength into his voice. Conviction. It took every last ounce of strength he had.

She hesitated, doubt in her eyes. But her shoulders were sagging, and her eyes were almost closed with fatigue. “You swear?” she said with one last attempt.

“I swear I won't kill him.”

She looked into his eyes for a long, silent moment, then turned and went to her room.

Now
, he amended the promise in his head. He took a step, then another. If only he could manage the next few days, if only he could get Nicky and Robin someplace safe. He had to know how much time Sanctuary still had.

Kane had been thoroughly bound. He hadn't been surprised to see handcuffs and leg irons produced from a cabinet in Thompson's office. Nothing surprised him about Sanctuary. Why shouldn't it have all the trappings of a jail?

Neither the Comanche nor Evers had been gentle. They had pushed him in the office, roughly handcuffed his hands behind him, then hustled him into a back room. Evers had pushed him to the floor and attached the leg irons.

He was familiar with the feel of them, the bite of metal. Evers nodded to the Indian, who left. Evers then leaned against a wall and looked at Kane, who remained on the floor. Kane could probably struggle to his feet, but he saw no purpose in it. With his hands chained behind him and a very short link of chain between his ankles, he could barely move.

Kane looked around the room. It was windowless and completely empty. What light there was dribbled in from windows in Thompson's office.

“You could have had it all,” Evers finally said. “You ever seen a man after the Indians get through with him?”

Kane wanted to tell Evers the Indians couldn't even come close to approaching the agony he'd suffered the last few days.

Evers's face was twisted with anger. “I want to be there, too,” Evers added harshly. “Nicky … Nicky's real special.”

Kane dragged himself over to a wall and pulled himself up to lean against it. Where was Thompson? He had to talk to Thompson. Every minute was important now. “Thompson?” he asked.

“He'll be here soon enough, as soon as he knows what you did to Nicky. I wouldn't be so anxious if I were you. If there's one thing he hates more than traitors, it's someone who hurts his family. I feel the same way.” Evers took several steps towards him. Suddenly, he aimed a kick at Kane's stomach, and Kane doubled over with pain. Another kick went into his ribs. He stifled his cries while fighting to stay conscious. He
had
to stay conscious. He had to talk to Thompson.

Another kick went into his chest, and his head bounced against the wall and everything went black.

Chapter Twenty-three

Kane woke to a bright light shining in his eyes and a splash of cold water in his face. Every part of his body hurt. He tried to move, and that only made the hurt worse.

“O'Brien?” The sound of his name seemed to come from a long way off. Instinctively he tried to curl up, but couldn't. It hurt too damn much.

“O'Brien!” His name again. Spoken with an urgency he didn't understand. He tried to remember. Tried to think who he was and where he was.

Another splash of water, and he tried to focus. Tried to remember. And then as he did, he wished he hadn't.

“Damn you, Mitch. Did you have to hit him so hard?”

Kane heard that, too.

“I would like to kill the son of a bitch.”

“Later,” Thompson said. Kane knew that voice now. Everything was coming back, slowly. Christ, everyone was standing in line to kill him. The state of Texas, Hildebrand, Thompson. Probably even Nicky, now that she'd had time to think about it. Nicky had the greatest right.

Thompson's foot probed him, and he couldn't withhold a grunt of pain. Then the light shone in his eyes again. “Get up,” Thompson said.

Kane tried. He managed to get to his knees, but he was too weak to stand without using his hands, and they were still chained behind him.

“Help him up,” Thompson said to Evers, and Kane was roughly dragged to a standing position against a wall.

He struggled to remain upright. A lantern shone in his face, blinding him so he couldn't see Thompson's expression.

“Who are you?” Thompson said.

“O'Brien,” Kane said.

“You're working for the law?”

Kane tried to straighten. “Yes,” he said, offering no excuses. Any would be self-serving and make no difference to Thompson. He had to convince Thompson to send his niece and nephew away. Now. And then provoke him into killing him and leaving his body where it could be found. Just in case Nicky didn't contact Masters. He couldn't blame her if she didn't. He'd been surprised as hell when she had nodded.

How many days did Davy have left? He'd lost track.

The lamp seemed to dip slightly, as if the hand holding it faltered. He sensed, rather than saw, Evers take possession of it.

“Who?” Thompson said.

“A marshal named Masters,” Kane said. There seemed no reason not to identify the bastard.

“What does he know?” Thompson cut to the most immediate problem.

Kane wondered what Nicky had told him. Not much, apparently.

“He knows most of the route to Sanctuary, and I left a clear trail for the rest of it,” Kane lied. He'd covered it damn well, and it would take Masters time. “It won't be long, Thompson. You need to send Nicky and Robin out.”

“Why did you come back?”

Kane debated which truth to tell him. There were several of them. He knew there was probably only one Thompson would believe. “I came after Nicky. She heard something she shouldn't have heard. I …”

“You wanted to stop her from telling me?”

Kane shook his head. “I don't know what I wanted.” That too was a partial truth. He knew what he wanted; he just hadn't known how to achieve it. “Just get your niece and nephew out of here,” he said. “Now.”

Kane saw Thompson move. He seemed bent over in the shadows. In a moment he straightened up again. “How?” Nat said bitterly. “It seems I can't trust anyone.”

Kane tried to move, but it seemed only the wall was keeping him upright. He fell back against it. “Evers and you can take her.”

“We both have prices on our heads. Besides, I don't know if we would make it out alive. Seems there are a few plans to take over Sanctuary.” Thompson suddenly swung at Kane. It was a weak blow, but full of helpless rage. “God damn you. I trusted you.”

Kane slumped against the wall.

“Why?” Thompson asked. “Why, when you could have had Sanctuary? Was it a pardon? Money?”

Kane laughed. It was a cold, ugly sound. “Not my life, and certainly not money. Hell, you offered more than the goddamn government could pay,” Kane said. “You don't know how badly I wanted it.”

“Then why?”

Kane suddenly wanted Nat Thompson to understand. It wouldn't affect his death sentence, nor the manner of it. He had violated Thompson's trust and every rule in Sanctuary. There could be no pardon. He didn't expect one. But he wanted Nicky to know. He couldn't bear for her to think he'd betrayed her for money. “There was another man taken two weeks after my capture. He'd been trying to free me.” Kane paused, wondering whether Thompson was listening. “He was, is, the best friend I ever had. I was promised his life.”