Diablo

by Georgina Gentry

  “It’s okay, big horse,” Diablo whispered, “I am your brother, and I have come to save you.”

  The stallion paused and watched Diablo, its ears going up, its shiny hide trembling.

  Diablo nimbly went over the corral bars and into the sandy arena. He stood on a log for a moment, singing a horse song to the stallion. “I am your friend and brother, great one, and I have come to free you from this cage.”

  The horse stretched out its neck and regarded the man with wonder at his bravery. The stallion had killed more than one handler with his strong teeth and slashing hooves, and yet, here was one standing only feet away, singing and chanting to him in a soft voice.

  In a moment, the stud made a soft, whickering sound in his throat and approached Diablo. Diablo held out his hand and did not run for the fence. “Brother horse, your name is Onyx, like the black stone, and we shall be partners forever until that time we both ride across the sky in the spirit world.”

  The horse stepped up to Diablo and Diablo offered him a bit of apple. The horse paused as if uncertain about whether the man’s other hand might hold a whip. Diablo slowly held out both hands to the stallion. The horse had whip marks on him, and Diablo cursed Kruger for his treatment of animals.

  Diablo had infinite patience when it came to horses and dogs. He stood still as a sigh, waiting until the stallion decided that it could take the apple and that the man meant him no harm. After it ate the apple, it stood placidly while Diablo ran his hands over the great horse and sang a warrior’s horse song in its ears. Then he breathed his breath into the stallion’s nostrils. “We will be one with the wind, great Onyx, and I promise you will feel a whip no more.”

  He had brought a rope with him and it now hung on the corral gate. Diablo fashioned a makeshift halter from it and put it on Onyx. Then he opened the gate and swung up on the great horse bareback. “Now, Onyx,” he whispered, “we will leave this place, and you will be my friend and never have to return to this cruel master.”

  The horse seemed to understand, and they rode out quietly. No one in the ranch or the bunkhouse stirred. The place was silent and sleeping. Diablo rode up to where he had tied his blood bay, untied it, and whistled to Wolf. The four of them returned through the night to the camp up in the foothills. Diablo smiled, and he dismounted and staked both horses out to graze. If Kruger had been angry to lose his fine rifle and dog, he would go into a screaming fit when he discovered his fine-blooded stallion was gone. Diablo was only sorry he wouldn’t get to see the anger.

  Three days passed, and every morning from his campsite, Diablo watched new fires dot the horizon and heard gunshots echoing through the valley. He was torn as to whether he should or could do anything to stop the violence and then remembered that he had come to Wyoming for only one reason: his own revenge. He presumed Sunny had moved into Kruger’s fine ranch house, and he pictured the middle-aged rancher making love to the grieving daughter and hated them both for it. He waited and made his plans.

  Kruger mounted up and rode away from the ranch, Joe at his side. He had been in a fury ever since his blooded stallion had disappeared. “Joe, I want you to fire whoever was careless enough to leave that gate open so that stallion could get away and post a reward for him. He couldn’t have wandered too far.”

  “Maybe he didn’t stray; maybe somebody stole him,” Joe said, rubbing his sharp nose.

  “Ha! As wild and dangerous as that horse is? Why, he’s killed two handlers—nobody could steal him without gettin’ trampled to death. He’s gotten out an open gate, I tell you, and I want him back. Damn it! First some sodbuster steals my rifle and dog, and now my pedigreed stallion is gone. Things have got to change around here as soon as we get through runnin’ off these farmers.”

  “Yes, sir.” Joe nodded.

  “Now, there’s three more farmers we’ll burn out today,” Hurd said. “That ought to start the rest of them on the move. By late spring, there won’t be a nester left in the valley.”

  Joe tipped back his hat as he rode. “They do say word has gotten to the governor.”

  “The governor’s in my pocket,” Kruger laughed and sucked his teeth. “He won’t do anything.”

  “But there’s so much talk in Cheyenne, they say he’ll be forced to take some action.”

  Kruger shrugged. He did not believe it. Besides, his mind was on Sunny. She was living at his ranch now, but she was in deep grief and hardly came out of her room. He had already begun work on that fine new house on the bluff. That should bring her out of her melancholy. Kruger loved her deeply—no, he worshiped the beauty—and he could already imagine the wedding of the richest rancher in Johnson County and the most beautiful girl in the whole state. With that, his life would be complete. It was what he had planned and schemed for all these years.

  They rode to the clearing by the three cottonwoods on the creek to meet the other ranchers and their cowboys. A big crowd of them were waiting there. Kruger reined in.

  “Everybody here?”

  They shouted the affirmative.

  “Joe, you take half these men and hit the two farmers living on the other side of Crazy Woman Creek. The rest of us will wipe out that little church area on the far side of the valley.”

  “Wait a minute,” a rancher protested, “I don’t hold with burnin’ a church.”

  “Aw, it’s a farmer church. It ain’t like it’s one of ours,” Kruger said. “Then we’ll burn down their school.”

  There was a murmur.

  “What?” Kruger snapped.

  “We are gonna let the kids get out first, ain’t we?” A cowboy asked.

  Such weaklings. Who cares about a bunch of nesters’ kids?

  “Yeah, we’ll start shooting as we cross the pasture so they’ll have warning,” Kruger conceded. “Remember, we’re doing this for old Swen and my two men they hanged like common rustlers.”

  A cheer went up. “Yes, for old Swen.”

  “Now let’s get riding!” Kruger shouted.

  They split up into two groups and took off in a cloud of dust, Kruger in the lead as befitted the president of the Wyoming Stock Growers Association.

  Ahead of them lay the little farming community with its simple church and school. The riders began firing shots in the air, and children ran out of the school, screaming and crying.

  “Burn the damn thing down!” Kruger shouted. “These farm brats don’t need no education!”

  He paused to light a torch himself and tossed it upon the church roof. All around was confusion and smoke. Crying children ran everywhere. People came out of houses, standing about, confused and uncertain. Dust rose, and horses reared and whinnied. In a pasture, cows bawled, and chickens flew everywhere, cackling. Here and there a farmer tried to make a defense and was shot down.

  Abruptly over the far hill came riders in blue uniforms, galloping and shooting.

  “Oh, damn!” Kruger shouted, “the army! Who the hell sent for the army?”

  The cavalry was almost upon them, and that only added to the dust and confusion.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here, boys!” Kruger bellowed, and his raiders needed no encouragement. They scattered and galloped out of town. “Everyone break up!” Kruger ordered and spurred his sorrel horse, heading back to his ranch.

  Halfway there, he was joined by Joe riding his lathered white mare. “Soldiers, boss! We ran into soldiers!”

  “Hell! I know it! So did we. The whole of Fort McKinney must have been sent to the county. Damn the governor anyway. I thought I had him in my pocket!”

  “Does that mean we’re finished?”

  “Reckon it does,” Kruger snarled. “That bastard governor, just wait until next election time. Let’s head for home!”

  They rode back to the ranch, and Kruger gave his horse over to Joe. “Take them in the barn and unsaddle them. If anyone asks, we don’t know anything about any raidin’ parties.”

  “Someone might have recognized us,” Joe said.

  “Nobody wil
l talk,” Kruger said, “if they know what’s good for them. At least, we’ve run out so many farmers, the rest will probably pack up and go.”

  He turned and went into the house. Sunny sat in the parlor doing needlework.

  “Aw, Sunny, my dear, you weren’t up when I went out. How are you feelin’ today?”

  “Fine, I guess.” She sighed. “I’m just having such a time getting over Dad’s murder.”

  He sat down next to her and took one of her dainty hands in his two big paws. “Aw, you know Swen wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.”

  She managed a weak smile as she looked at him and disengaged her hand. The gray of his hair showed at the roots of the black dye. “Yes, I’m so grateful for your help, Uncle Hurd. I don’t know how I would have managed without you.”

  “And you don’t ever have to worry again, my dear. After our marriage, I will take care of everything. You will have nothing to worry your pretty little head about. All you have to do is enjoy the comfort and prestige of being married to the richest man in the county. I’m gonna put the biggest diamond on your hand you ever saw.”

  “Yes, I know.” She looked down at her hands instead of into his eyes. The thought of getting into bed with this man made her gag.

  “You could act a little more enthused,” he scolded. “Swen knew I would take good care of you. Don’t you think we should go ahead and plan the wedding?”

  She looked up, startled. “So soon after Dad’s death?”

  He nodded. “I know it’s a bit soon, but I don’t want you being gossiped about by livin’ here without marriage.”

  “But we’ve done nothing wrong.”

  He put his hands on her slim shoulders. “I know, my dear, but people can be such cruel gossips. It will be a simple affair, just a few close friends, and I can have the dressmaker make a lovely dress, black of course. People will understand.”

  She pulled away from him, biting her lip. “What—whatever you think, Uncle Hurd.”

  “My dear,” he stood up and faced her, leaned over to kiss her forehead. “You really must stop calling me ‘uncle.’ From now on, call me Hurd.”

  “All right . . . Hurd.” It sounded too intimate. After all, he must be at least forty years old to her eighteen, but marriages like that weren’t unusual on the frontier.

  From outside came the distant sound of hammering. She turned her head. “What—”

  “Oh, the boys have started the new house,” Hurd smiled and sucked his teeth. “Didn’t I tell you I was going to build you a mansion befittin’ a queen? Let me get the plans, and we’ll take the buggy up to the bluff and have a look.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Oh, it will do you good to get out. In fact, I insist.” He took her by the arm, pulled her up out of her chair, and led her to the door. “I’ll get the plans, and you get a wrap. Joe will hitch up the buggy for us. Later this afternoon, we’ll drive into the dressmaker and talk to the parson.”

  “All right,” she sighed, “whatever you think.”

  “That’s my good girl, always eager to please. You’re going to be a wonderful wife, Sunny dear, and such a good mother you’ll make.”

  In a few minutes, they were in the buggy headed up to the bluff. The men had evidently been working for several days because there were foundations and some framework up.

  “Oh, Un—Hurd, it’s going to be huge.”

  “We’ll need a big house for the children, dear. You do want children, don’t you?”

  “I—I suppose.” She did want children, but not with this man. “You know, Hurd, I need to be honest with you. I don’t love you.”

  “Oh, but of course you do,” he shrugged that off and lifted her from the buggy. “And if you don’t, I love you enough for both of us.” He caught her hand. “You’ll learn to love me, Sunny. I’m going to be so good to you and buy you everything your little heart desires. You can’t help but love me.”

  She stood there a moment, and then, thinking he was going to kiss her, pulled away, walked toward the growing skeleton of the house. “My, it is big.”

  “I’ll bring the plans and show you every room,” he smiled and returned to the buggy.

  From his hilltop, Diablo watched the pair and frowned. What was going on here? For a moment, he’d thought Kruger would kiss the girl, and he’d gritted his teeth. Damn her, doesn’t she know or care this villain had killed her father? No, how could she know that?

  Now Kruger had gotten a handful of papers from the buggy and was walking with Sunny, showing her the pages and pointing out details about the house to her.

  He was building this giant mansion for her, Diablo realized suddenly. He was going to move the blond beauty into this elegant home. Well, women were always smitten by riches. Diablo ground his teeth in rage. Kruger would never live in this fine house because Diablo was going to kill him.

  Right now, the rancher was out of even rifle range. However, Diablo could wait for his vengeance, and as far as that fine mansion, he would take care of that, too.

  Now the rancher kissed the girl on the forehead and lifted her back into the buggy. Then they drove down the hill toward the ranch. Diablo followed them at a distance. They went into the house.

  Diablo waited in this shadows. In the afternoon, when he was about to give up and ride back to his campsite, they came out of the ranch house and drove toward town. Diablo followed at a distance.

  Outside town, he took the long way and started for the saloon, but he reined in when he saw all the soldiers on the street and many of the Texas gunfighters crowding into the saloon. He edged up to a soldier, keeping his face turned away. “What’s going on?”

  “President sent us in to bring order to this county,” the soldier said. “Reckon all these Texans will be leaving on the next train.”

  Diablo grunted and moved away. There were a lot of people in town, and after a while, a train chugged in from the north. He watched a dozen weary, dusty gunfighters heading to the train station, leading their horses. They were leaving, all right. Of course, Diablo thought, they probably wouldn’t all go, but most of them would be happy to get back to Texas. The army would put an end to the range war.

  As he watched, Kruger’s buggy came into town. It paused before the little dress shop, and Kruger helped Sunny down and walked her inside. Then he got back in the buggy and drove over to the railroad platform and mingled with the gunfighters. The soldiers had all gone into the saloon. Diablo watched Kruger paying off the gunfighters. Then the train pulled in and the men began loading their horses. Diablo looked for Buck and his pal Pug, but didn’t see them in the crowd.

  Finally, the train pulled out, chugging and leaving a trail of sooty black smoke on the cool spring air. Kruger got back in his buggy and drove to the little church. He got out, tied up, and went inside. After a while he came out with a big smile on his face. Evidently he was a happy man, and everything was going his way.

  Then as Diablo watched, Kruger drove to the little dressmaking shop and went in. Soon he came out with Sunny. He was still grinning, and just before he lifted her up into the buggy, he gave her a quick kiss on the lips. Diablo couldn’t see her face, but he was angry.

  Well, the two wouldn’t be happy for long. There were only Joe and Kruger left to take care of.

  The buggy drove out of town. Diablo started to follow them, but decided to stay in town and have a drink instead. He was furious with the girl—how dare her let her father’s killer kiss her?

  He needed a drink. He didn’t go into saloons much because someone always wanted to pick a fight when they realized who he was, but right now, he was so enraged it didn’t matter. He went into the side door of the saloon, moved silently to the bar, got himself a drink, and retreated to a shadowy corner so that he could think. He did not want to talk to anyone, although the saloon was half full of soldiers and gunfighters. The locals had abandoned it to their overwhelming numbers. Then he spotted Pug and Buck at a far table playing cards. The light reflected off B
uck’s red hair and the silver conchos on Pug’s leather vest. They did not seem to see him.

  It started almost immediately. A young tough, wearing sleeve garters and his gun tied low, leaned against the bar and studied him. He might have been handsome except for the pimples on his baby face. “Now who the hell is that over there with the scary face?”

  “For God’s sake, Brant, that’s Diablo. Leave him alone.”

  “Diablo?” He moved out into the center of the worn floor, sneering as he looked Diablo’s way. “He don’t look like much. Hey, you, you really the big gunfighter?”

  Now two men tried to discourage him. “Brant, you don’t want to mess with him. Leave him be.”

  He shook off the men’s hands. “Aw, he can’t be much, skulking back there in a dark corner like a rat.”

  The saloon grew quiet. Even the piano gradually stopped playing. Diablo sighed. He wasn’t in the mood to kill a green punk today. The kid reminded him of his old friend, Billy. Sheriff Pat Garrett had seen to it that Billy didn’t live to middle age, and that was the same path this kid was on. Well, Diablo didn’t want to be the one to kill him. He finished his drink and got up, started for the side door in his silent moccasins.

  “Hey, big gunfighter! Hey, you with the rattlesnake hatband!” the kid shouted, “you gonna run out without facing me down?”

  Diablo ignored him and kept walking. The saloon was silent as a grave.

  “Hey, big man, you hear me? I’m challengin’ you!”

  “For God’s sake, Brant,” another man pleaded, “don’t—”

  Diablo heard just the slightest sound as the kid’s hand hit leather, and he whirled, his hand a flash as he reached for his Colt. His gun was out and firing even as the kid attempted to clear his holster. He saw the surprise and shock on the boy’s sneering face as Diablo pulled the trigger. The force of the Colt sounded like thunder in the silence, and the power of the slug struck the kid between the eyes. The kid slammed backward against the bar and went down, blood running between his blue eyes even as his pistol dropped from his dead hand.