Diablo (40 page)

“I have to go,” she finally said.

His eyes searched her face intently, as if he were memorizing it, and then he gave her that devilish smile she'd seen his first day in Sanctuary. She thought then it was both devilish and devil-may-care, but now she knew better. She knew how much he cared about a great many things.

“You were a sight for sore eyes, Miss Thompson,” he said. “Thank you for that. And for the water.”

It was an attempt to make light of his situation. A gallant attempt, and Nicky thought her heart would break all over again. She didn't want to leave him like this. Not trussed up like an animal headed for market. She hesitated. She wanted to reassure him, but she guessed now he wouldn't accept, or believe, reassurances. And why would he? Whichever way he looked was death.

She leaned over and kissed him lightly, pressing her cheek next to his, then she rose.

And ran.

Chapter Twenty-four

Despite Kane's discomfort, both mental and physical, he slept on and off. He was totally exhausted, and he was used to discomfort.

But he kept waking. Every time he moved, he hurt. His wrists were raw behind him, his arms nearly numb from their pinned position. He tried his best not to feel, not to think about things he couldn't change. When he was in the Yank prison and his stomach was so empty it ached and his body so cold he could barely move, he'd tried to think of cloudless days and bright sun. Now he couldn't envision those kind of days without thinking of Nicky, the way her brown hair caught the sun and her eyes sparked with mischief. Those memories hurt more than hunger or cold ever had.

He willed blankness even as he wondered what was taking Thompson so long to decide what to do with him. Despite Nicky's questions and kindness, he harbored few illusions about Thompson. Regardless of what the man had told Nicky, there was no doubt in Kane's mind that Thompson would kill him. It was only a matter of where and when.

The real question was whether his own manipulations had worked to achieve his two goals: that Thompson believed a posse was imminent and would finally send Nicky and Robin away, and that Masters learn of his death in time to save his friend.

Now, at least, he had a better than even odds chance. Nicky would try to contact Masters. He felt sure of that in his heart. She had forgiven at least part of his deception; he didn't think he ever would, though.

He wished he had some more water. His mouth was so damn dry. He closed his eyes again, thinking of Nicky's touch, the sound of her voice as she said she couldn't stop caring, the feel of her cheek against his before she fled.

He tried once more to sleep. It seemed only seconds after he closed his eyes that he heard the door open. Light again blinded him.

Rough hands pulled at him, and then his hands were free. Agony streaked up and down his arms as they moved. Then before he could comprehend what was happening, his ankles were also free. He expected to be tied again, expected Comanches to hustle him off to a horse. He tried to stand, made it to one knee but no farther. His legs were as cramped as his arms.

“Take your time,” a rough voice said. “Just not too much.”

He tried again as his eyes slowly adjusted to the light. He could finally see forms. Thompson. Evers.

A hand took his arm and helped him to his feet. He stood there for a moment, swaying. Every bone in his body complained, but he managed to stand.

After a moment, he felt steadier. The light moved away from his face, and he saw Thompson. The outlaw leader looked as tired as Kane felt, and a hundred years old. “I want to go to that marshal,” Thompson said. “I need your help.”

Kane absorbed the words slowly. So Thompson's words to Nicky hadn't been a ruse. He looked at the man standing in front of him, and admiration surged through him. He had guts, this man who had fought the law all his life and was now prepared to surrender for the sake of his family. Even if Thompson was dying, Kane suspected jail was not the way he wished to end his life. Kane looked at Evers, who stood silently at Thompson's side.

“Does he agree?”

“No,” Evers said for himself. “But it's what Nat wants. I won't fight him.”

“Once we're away from Sanctuary, Mitch will go on his own way,” Nat Thompson said.

“Andy?”

“Andy and his wife—a few others—left earlier. It's near dawn. Can you travel?”

“Considering what I thought I would be doing this morning, yes,” Kane said with irreverent self-mockery.

Thompson ignored it. “I'm giving you the same chance that marshal gave you,” he said. “You do this right, and you might live to save your friend. But if you make one wrong move … I'll make sure no one ever finds any part of you.”

Kane nodded. “Nicky?”

“She and Robin are outside. So is your horse. It's not quite dawn. There's a way out that not even the guards at the entrance know. We'll take that.”

Kane rubbed his wrists. They were chaffed raw, but that was a minor inconvenience. He stretched, feeling the pain in his ribs from Evers's blows. The man was eyeing him as if he'd like to deliver a few more. Dislike—and distrust—flashed between them.

He looked again at Thompson. The older man's movements were slow, almost trancelike, and Kane wondered if he'd taken something to help him tolerate the journey ahead. Kane didn't waste any more time. He followed the others through the door, aware he didn't have a gun, and mounted a horse already saddled for him. Robin was mounted, holding a basket; Kane surmised the hawk might be in it. Nicky sat stiffly on her mare.

The five riders moved slowly away from the office. Thompson deliberately kept them at a walk down the still-dark street. Once they were outside town, though, Thompson spurred his horse into a gallop, and they headed toward the cliff where Kane had found the young hawk a lifetime ago.

Hildebrand swore. It seemed he had been riding forever. The worst part of the journey had been on an old nag he'd stolen from an Indian farmer more than a day after Diablo and the woman left him and Calico hogtied. He and Calico had finally managed to untie themselves and start walking. They'd both known they couldn't return to Sanctuary. The damn girl had evidently overheard something, and now Thompson would want their heads. They had ended up blaming each other, and Calico had swung at him, the fight escalating into a deadly contest between them. Hildebrand's hand had found a rock and brought it down on Calico's head. Again and again.

Five hours later, he'd wandered upon the lone homestead of an old Indian and his wife. Both were visible in the fields. He stole a pair of trousers and shirt, and a swayback old horse, barely avoiding shotgun blasts from the injun as he came running.

Two days later he reached Gooden. He heard about Yancy and went looking for him, hoping he had found a new partner. He found him wounded and aching for revenge, the same kind Hildebrand had in mind. Hildebrand had the advantage of the two. He now knew the location of Sanctuary. Calico hadn't blindfolded him as he had Diablo.

Neither Hildebrand nor Yancy had money after their respective experiences. They had used up what cash they had at Sanctuary. Hildebrand had the worn-out old nag, and Yancy's horse was in Gooden, where he dared not show his face. Lack of resources, though, had never stopped Hildebrand. He rode into town, waited till nightfall, robbed a drunk and took his gun, then held up a general store. After clubbing the owner with the butt of his gun and taking what firearms he needed, he stole two horses, leaving his own nag behind.

When he met back up with Yancy, they had all they needed to return to Sanctuary. They even had a plan. An embittered and hurting Yancy had discovered that a lawman was in cahoots with one of Thompson's people. That news should gain them entrance into Sanctuary, where they would enlist the guards and other guests. It should be easy enough to convince them that Thompson's judgment could no longer be trusted.

Money and revenge both awaited them in Sanctuary. They had a score to even with Thompson, with the high and mighty Nicky Thompson, and with Diablo. With any kind of luck, they could settle all those debts with one blow. With that pleasurable thought, Yancy and Hildebrand rode hell-bent for Indian Territory.

Kane marveled at the ingenuity of the hidden exit. The grays of dawn were lightening the sky when they reached a rocky cliff that Kane had previously explored. Mitch Evers dismounted and walked over to a series of boulders that Kane now saw shadowed a large crack in the wall. Kane remembered searching this area, but he'd never suspected an exit. Bushes that had shielded it were gone now, and he recalled Thompson saying that Andy and others had left earlier. The blacksmith must have used this same exit.

Kane waited, glancing at Nicky. She was silent. She appeared to be watching Mitch, every movement he made. Once, she looked back toward the town of Sanctuary. He wondered if she did so with regret. But she'd said nothing to him since he had mounted. Robin too had been uncommonly silent, and Kane wondered whether he had been warned to say nothing until they left the valley.

Nat Thompson was sitting on his horse, his back ramrod straight. It was the kind of straight that came from effort, not naturalness. From the tenseness of his shoulders, it was clear that he was suffering a great deal of pain. Kane's admiration for him spiraled. Admiration and gratitude. Thompson was swallowing his pride and his righteous anger against Kane in one last selfless act for his wards. Whatever else he had done in his life, Nat Thompson was dying nobly.

Evers pushed aside another rock, then signaled to the others to dismount. Kane slipped from his horse, still feeling the bruises Evers had inflicted. He stood alone as Robin and Nicky dismounted easily. Robin gave him an uncertain glance; Nicky didn't look at him at all.

Thompson led his horse over to Kane. “I'll lead. Robin, you follow me, then Nicky, and O'Brien. Mitch will stay behind and push the rocks back into place, then trail us.”

Kane felt naked and vulnerable without a gun, especially since Thompson and Evers were clearly anticipating trouble. The fact he didn't have one plainly indicated that he wasn't entirely trusted.

They walked into the cave. Thompson leaned down and picked up a lantern, lighting it from a match he struck on the cave wall. The cave was narrow, and in some places the ceiling was low enough that Kane, the tallest of them, had to bend his head. The cave became stifling after a while, and Kane wondered how long it was. They stopped periodically, and once Kane saw Thompson lean against the wall for a moment.

They were all quiet, and the sound of the horses' hooves and the riders' spurs echoed through the passage in an oddly melodic way. Yet Kane felt very much alone. The others were a family, even Evers. He was the interloper, the outsider no one quite trusted. Only once had Nicky looked back, and then it had been a quick glance that was solemn and sad—or had it just seemed that way in the dim light? But then why shouldn't she be sad? She was leaving everything she knew, all that had been safe for her and her brother. An uncertain future awaited her. She would soon lose the person who had raised her, her home, her security. Everything.

Though he was not responsible for her uncle's illness, he was certainly responsible for the rest of it. No matter how sweet that kiss hours ago, how tender her hands, she'd had time to think. They couldn't be good thoughts.

The passage seemed to take hours. Time, though, was impossible to judge in the dark cave. Kane wondered how Thompson managed it. By exerting the same will, apparently, that had kept a town full of killers in line. He was fighting a different battle now.

They stopped for a few moments. Robin's hawk whistled inside the basket, and Kane heard the boy's mumbled reassurances. A canteen passed its way down. Mitch had caught up with them, and he took it silently from Kane before passing it back. Then Nicky's hand accepted it and, in doing so, got her fingers entangled with his. For a moment, they touched before she drew the canteen, and her hand, away; they started moving again.

The interior of the cave grew lighter, and Kane realized they were nearing the exit. The cave broadened and walking became easier. He saw some carvings in the wall, primitive etchings of animals. Some tribe had once used these caves, and the valley beyond, probably for safety, just as Thompson had.

As Kane walked into the sunlight, he saw plains before him. They were on a small plateau, jagged rock towering above them. From this position, they could see for several miles. Everything was quiet, empty. Thompson had seated himself, awaiting the others. His face was white, wet with sweat despite the coolness of the day. Nicky was kneeling next to him, holding a small bottle. Thompson lifted it to his lips, seemed to shudder. His shoulders had slumped.

Nicky rose and turned her attention to Kane and Evers, who were standing next to him. “He can't go farther now. He has to rest.”

Evers nodded. “O'Brien, help me with these bushes.”

Kane looked back at the exit. A pile of underbrush had been shoved to one side, apparently by Andy, who had left the exit unobstructed for Nat Thompson. He and Mitch stacked the brush up over the entrance.

“Get some rest yourself,” Evers said. “I don't suppose you've gotten much lately.” There was a small note of satisfaction in the observation.

Kane ignored it, and the throbbing in his chest. “You going to keep guard?”

“Yeah,” Evers said. “But I'll also be keeping an eye on you. Nat might trust you, but I don't.”

Kane couldn't fault him for that. Were he Evers, he wouldn't have trusted himself either. Only now that his and Thompson's interests coincided could he put his full energies into seeing the Thompsons safely away from Sanctuary.

Kane went over to Nicky, who was sitting next to Thompson, her face puckered in worry. Thompson had obviously spent his last reserves on the long trek through the cave.