Diablo
Page 32
He shifted, moved Nicky. She didn’t wake, which was, he thought, indicative of her level of exhaustion. Kane stood and went over to Evers. “Thompson still asleep?”
Evers nodded, his grizzled face wary.
Kane met his gaze directly. “I know you don’t trust me,” he said. “You don’t have any reason to. But I want you to know I’ll do my damndest for them.”
“You hurt them in any way, and I’ll hunt you to hell and back.”
Kane nodded, thinking that Evers would have to stand in line for that particular honor. “You think your ‘guests’ will come looking?”
“Not without a leader. Now that Hildebrand’s gone …”
Kane had a bad feeling about Hildebrand. When Evers and the Comanches had found Nicky and him, he’d said they had found Calico dead but no sign of Hildebrand. Calico was deadly, and if Hildebrand had gotten the best of him …
Where had he disappeared to?
“What about the Comanches who were with you?” Kane said.
“They left last night after taking what they wanted—and after they discovered they couldn’t have you.” Evers gave Kane an unpleasant smile. “They were looking forward to some entertainment.”
“Can’t say I share their disappointment,” Kane offered.
Evers ignored the comment. “They said they would keep a lookout, but we can’t depend on them now that they have liquor and food. Nat was the only one who could ever handle them, and I don’t think he can do that now.”
Evers stalked quietly over to Nat Thompson, watching him for a moment, and Kane followed him.
The laudanum had evidently done its job. Some of the pain lines had eased in Thompson’s face, and he didn’t look quite as pale. Evers’s face was twisted with a pain of its own, and Kane realized their friendship was as deep as the one between him and Davy.
Nat Thompson groaned slightly and his eyes opened, trying to focus.
Kane knelt next to him, waiting several minutes as Thompson struggled to sit. Time was pressing down on him now, and Kane prayed softly that the outlaw leader could ride. He studied Thompson’s face. “Can you go on?” he asked.
Thompson nodded his head. He looked over at Evers, his eyes glazing over for a moment. “Remember that time we held up a stage office in San Antonio? I was shot up all over the place and still rode two days straight. Give me your hand.” Evers leaned down and grasped it, pulling Nat Thompson to his feet. The man swayed for several moments, then steadied.
Kane went over to Nicky, who was still sleeping. He leaned over and gently shook her. He knew she hadn’t had much sleep for the past five or six days, but she woke almost immediately. “Your uncle’s ready to go,” he said.
Rubbing a hand across her face, she asked, “How is he?”
“Probably better than you at the moment,” Kane said, seeing the dark pouches of exhaustion under her eyes.
She sat up and Kane offered her his bandanna and canteen. Nicky quickly rinsed her face with the lukewarm water, then rose to her knees. Her hair was tangled, her face smudged from the trip through the cave, and her clothes ill-fitting, but Kane thought he had never seen anyone quite as appealing as she was at that moment. Her gaze, as it met his, was steady. She reached out her hand, and he took it, his fingers tightening on hers as he drew her up.
He didn’t want to let go.
But the others were all waiting, all mounted except for him and Nicky, and he released his grip on her. He followed her to the mare, then cupped his hands into a lift. She looked down and gave him a grin, and instantly some of the weight lifted from his shoulders.
They set out at a slow pace, with Evers, who knew the area best, leading, followed by Nat Thompson, then Nicky and Robin riding side by side and Kane taking up the rear. They were a motley bunch, Kane thought. And God help them if they ran into trouble.
Ben Masters stopped his horse, pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow. Fifteen men rode behind him. Fifteen deputy marshals.
He had several maps, one plainly showing Wichita Mountains. He wished to God he’d gotten more information from O’Brien. Instead, he had to bank everything on two words from a dying woman’s lips. But what she said had concurred with what O’Brien had said.
Prior to leaving, Ben had wired the governor, asking for more time for Carson. He’d lied, saying he received the location of Sanctuary from the man called Diablo. He still had hopes for O’Brien. He didn’t know what had spooked the man in the hotel room, but his gut instinct told him he hadn’t been wrong. Somehow, somewhere, O’Brien was going to do something right.
Ben had to believe it. Everything else had gone wrong, God help him. And now he had to finish this business and keep his promise to Mary May. What in the hell was he going to do with a little girl?
First things first. He and his posse had been out three days now, and the only sign of O’Brien was his gray horse, which they’d found the second day. The damn horse had been wandering in circles, and Ben’s tracker had lost the original trail. The land itself seemed completely empty. No sign of the Indians he understood claimed this as their land. Hell, no sign of life at all. No tracks. No O’Brien.
Were they a day away from Sanctuary? Were they even going in the right direction? He hated this feeling of uncertainty, of wandering in the godforsaken prairie. He was tired of feeling alone, even when he was with other lawmen. Ben wiped his face again and led his small troop of lawmen deeper into Indian Territory.
Chapter Twenty-five
Hildebrand and Yancy made good time. The moon was nearly full, enabling them to travel by night. The incentives were right: revenge and money. Sanctuary should be a few miles away.
Hildebrand couldn’t forget there was a marshal involved, probably a posse, which was why they moved so fast. He and Yancy didn’t talk much. They’d never particularly been friends; they’d run with their own gangs. But their interests coincided, if not particularly their trust.
They stopped at a water hole. Yancy didn’t want to, but their horses were nearly gone. Hildebrand didn’t want to lose another one. Damn Diablo to hell. His only regret was that Diablo wouldn’t be at Sanctuary. Thompson and the girl would be, though. That was some compensation.
Both he and Yancy were watching for Comanches. Hildebrand thought he could bluff them, too. He had a couple of bottles of whiskey with him just in case.
They reached the entrance to Sanctuary. Hildebrand saw a guard up in the rocks encircling Sanctuary. Only one, which was unusual. He waved. A shot splattered the ground nearby, and his horse shied. Then another man appeared and the two in the rocks seemed to confer. One started down the rocky incline, his rifle in his hands. When he reached the bottom, he lifted his rifle into shooting position, while the guard overhead kept a rifle on them.
Hildebrand recognized the man who had climbed down. He was one of the guards with whom Hildebrand often played poker. His name was Moses, a nigh-unto unforgettable name.
“Hildebrand,” the man said. “What in the hell are you doing here? I thought Thompson—”
“Kicked me out? He did. But I heard in Gooden that some lawmen might be on their way. I have friends here. They need to know Sanctuary’s no longer safe.”
Moses’ eyes narrowed. “Posse?”
“Could be. Marshal named Masters was snooping around in Gooden. He was getting real close to a woman who worked for Thompson. Diablo was going there, too, and I always thought there was something wrong with him.”
Moses studied him a moment. “Heard Calico was killed. Wasn’t he with you?”
“Diablo took us both when we were asleep. I managed to get away, but it sort of made me wonder about him. Where’s Thompson?”
“No one’s seen him today,” Moses replied with a frown. “Or the woman or kid. And the blacksmith’s shop is closed. A few others are missing, too.”
“Evers?”
“No one can find him, either.”
Hildebrand saw his revenge melt away. And money. If Thompson was gone, so wo
uld be his cache.
“How long ago was he last seen?”
“Last night. Diablo was with them.”
“Diablo?” Hildebrand’s mouth pulled down on one side.
“He came in with Mitch Evers and the girl,” one of the guards said. “But no one’s seen them today. They sure as hell didn’t go through here, though.”
Hildebrand cursed. “He must have made a deal with the law. Is there another way out?”
“Not that I know of, although there’s been whispers from time to time. But I don’t think Thompson would make any deal. He hates lawmen.”
“Then why are they all gone? Even Evers. Sneaking out in the middle of the night?”
“Thompson wouldn’t do that,” the guard protested.
“Maybe Diablo took Thompson by force,” Hildebrand said. “You know Thompson hasn’t looked too well lately.”
“But Mitch …”
Hildebrand shrugged. “He could be dead. I think we should warn the others. See if anyone knows about another entrance.”
Moses hesitated.
“You want to fight off a posse?”
“We can hold this place.”
“Not if there’s another entrance you don’t know about.”
Moses hesitated. “Okay. Go on in. Look.” He waved to the guard above, and Hildebrand and Yancy rode through the narrow trail into Sanctuary.
An hour later, they had gone through every inch of Thompson’s house and office. No money anywhere, including the safe. At Hildebrand’s urging, fifteen guests and six armed guards held a conference. Thompson had obviously deserted them and taken his money with him. One man allowed he had seen Thompson doubled over yesterday, and others suddenly voiced thoughts they had kept to themselves: Thompson was ill.
Which meant he couldn’t travel fast, Hildebrand said. And Thompson must have money with him, and lots of it. Their money. He was a low-down double-crossing son-of-a-bitch.
They didn’t have time to search for a secret exit. Hildebrand suggested they split up into two separate groups and search the area for tracks, one going to the left, one to the right. If one party found tracks, they would fire three rifle shots.
The “guests” at Sanctuary sacked the general store, looking for their guns; they found none there, but they did find a box of Winchesters and ammunition in Nat Thompson’s basement, hidden behind several casks of wine. They emptied the general store, taking what they could and setting fire to the rest.
No man voiced a doubt now that Thompson had taken his family and fled, which meant the law must be on the way. In their collective anger, they also set fire to the hotel, Thompson’s house, and the stable, though they took out the horses first and claimed them. Nat Thompson always kept a good supply for those who might need them.
The rest of Sanctuary would burn. Flames were already whipping from one structure to another.
The men mounted, money and revenge on all their minds.
Kane saw the glow behind them, the slight darkening of a clear blue sky. He spurred his horse forward until he reached Evers and gestured for the man to look behind.
Evers turned in the saddle, his lips frowning. “They’ve discovered we’re gone,” he said.
Kane nodded.
Evers hesitated, then reached into his saddlebags and pulled out Kane’s holster and pistol, handing it to him. “They might scatter or they might come after us,” he said, then added in a low, warning voice, “I’ll still be watching you.”
Kane took the gunbelt and buckled it on. “What about a rifle?”
“Nat has an extra one on his saddle if you have need of one,” Evers said shortly, then added angrily, “This is all your doing.”
“Thompson’s dying,” Kane said. “You know that. Your ‘guests’ would have made a move sooner or later. They were just waiting for an opportunity.”
Evers glared at him, turned and trotted up to Thompson. The whole party had stopped, and they were looking back at the faint, fiery glow and the drifting smoke. Regret mixed with pain on Thompson’s face. Robin’s gaze was riveted on the smoke. Nicky looked at Kane, then away quickly. He wondered what she didn’t want him to see in her face.
The loss of Sanctuary was at least partly his fault. It was bound to happen anyway, given Thompson’s sickness, but he had hastened the event. He had accomplished his goal. Sanctuary was finished as a hideout. He had something to show to Masters. He should be pleased. Satisfied. Instead, he felt empty. Tired.
And it might be too late for Davy. He might also be responsible for leading Thompson and his family to their deaths. But he had no time to dwell on that. They were all running for their lives.
An hour later, they heard three shots, a space between each one. A signal. All of them drew up, listening.
Nat Thompson was barely hanging on. “They found the trail,” he said.
“Where are your damn Comanches?” Evers asked.
Nat shrugged. “You know they’ve always been more threat than actual use.”
Kane hesitated. “That shot was faint. They’re a fair distance behind.”
All eyes went to Thompson. There was no way he could ride hard enough or long enough to keep in front of healthy men who were bent on catching them.
“Is there a good place to ambush them?” Kane asked. It was time, he knew, to take over. Up until now, there had been no reason to challenge Thompson or Evers. They were going where he wanted to go.
“About an hour ahead,” Evers said. “There’s a hill, more like a pile of rock.”
“When we get there, you take Thompson and his family and go on,” Kane said. “I’ll stay and delay them.”
“Hell, you will,” Evers said. “I don’t trust you any farther than I can throw you.”
“Then you can stay with me,” Kane challenged.
Nat Thompson looked at his nephew, then niece. “I’ll stay behind with Mitch. O’Brien will go with Robin and Nicky.”
There was a long silence. “I won’t go without Uncle Nat,” Nicky said.
“Neither will I,” chimed in Robin.
The three men looked at each other helplessly.
Kane broke the deadlock. “Let’s get to those rocks. Then we can argue it out.”
Nat Thompson nodded, somehow bringing an image of strength to the gesture. He set the pace again, a strong pace, the others deferring to what he could do. Kane didn’t even want to think what it cost him. He swore silently.
He caught up to Nicky and rode alongside her. Mitch fell to the rear. Robin grinned at him. The boy seemed almost oblivious to the danger they faced; this journey was an adventure to him, and Kane understood. Robin didn’t realize yet how ill his uncle was, or exactly how much was at stake. For Robin, leaving Sanctuary for the first time since infancy, it must seem as if a whole new world was opening before him.
Kane said a rare, brief prayer for him. He wanted that world to broaden for Robin—and for Nicky.
If only they survived the next few days.
The sun had started its downward descent when Kane and his companions reached the rocky formation that jutted from the ground. As large as a substantial hill, it appeared entirely composed of rocks and boulders.
Nat Thompson could barely sit his horse. He was swaying back and forth, obviously badly in need of the laudanum. “I can’t go any further,” he said.
Evers dismounted, then helped his friend down. Thompson seemed to crumble for a moment, then stood and looked at the others. “I want to talk to Nicky and Robin alone,” he said. Kane’s gaze met Evers’s, and they both dismounted, walking their horses out of hearing distance, both of them judging the rock formation for places to hide. They were only too aware of the minutes ticking by, but neither said anything. Kane had never liked Mitch Evers, but he’d come to respect his loyalty to Thompson. Mitch could have ridden off, saved himself. He must know he would be prosecuted along with Thompson, or killed by the men they’d left behind. His options had become as slim as Kane’s and Thompson’s.
A second man could throw the pursuers into chaos. Kane intended to be that second man, no matter what anyone said. He followed Evers up into the rocks, and his gaze went toward the space Evers was studying. There was just enough room for a man between two boulders, both of which would serve as good protection. Unless someone climbed up from the other side.
Kane started searching himself. He found another good spot, one from which a shooter would have a clear view, rock barriers to duck behind and a good view to protect the other man. He saw Thompson below, huddled with Nicky and Robin. Kane suspected what he was telling them: that he was going to die soon in any case, that they must go on without him. Nat Thompson intended to stay here alone, and Mitch wasn’t going to let him.
Neither was Kane, even though the thought of shooting someone again was sickening. He kept thinking that part of his life was over. He wondered whether it would ever be over. Probably not until he was dead.
One thing he knew for sure—he couldn’t run away from this fight. He had set everything into motion. He was damn well going to see it through.
Kane looked down again. Robin appeared to reel from whatever Thompson was saying. Nicky put her arm around the boy and held him tight. Nat Thompson held out his hand to Robin in a gesture that touched Kane even though he couldn’t hear the words. Thompson wasn’t a sentimental man. Nicky stood straighter, and Kane wished he were there next to her, holding her.
Thompson signaled for Kane and Evers to join him, and they looked at each other. Understanding flickered between them, and Evers smiled briefly. They climbed down and joined Nat Thompson.
“I want you two to leave,” Thompson said. “Mitch, you get the hell out of here, maybe go to Mexico. Diablo can take care of my niece and nephew. I can’t go farther, but I sure as hell can still shoot.”