Diablo (19 page)

After the war, there was no reason to return to Chicago. Nor did Ben wish to return to the practice of law. And he owed a debt, a powerful debt that wouldn't let him go. So he set out to find Kane O'Brien, and became a marshal along the way. It was a wandering life, free and uncomplicated, and it gave him room to pursue his search.

He wanted no ties, not after Clara. Mary May Hamilton was just a diversion, one he found himself bedding by the end of their first week of acquaintance. He never forgot, though, the reason he was in Gooden, Texas.

As each day went by, Ben's concern grew, both for O'Brien's safety and for his reliability. He could be in Canada now, living on the U.S. government's money. Still, Ben's gut feeling kept telling him he'd been right about O'Brien.

Ben had spent the morning in his hotel room, watching below, watching for a man with a scar on his face and for a man in a bright calico shirt. He'd heard the name Calico whispered in the same breath as Sanctuary once, and several days later he'd mentioned to Mary May that a friend had asked him to look up a man named Calico.

Mary May had looked at him curiously. “I know a man named Calico,” she said. “Wears a colorful calico shirt. No one knows any other name.”

“He been around?”

“Not lately,” she'd said, her green eyes growing cautious.

Ben hadn't missed that sudden alertness that passed across her face. Apprehension had struck him then, a curious foreboding he didn't like. He'd dropped the subject.

Now, as he watched below, he wondered about that again. Did Mary May have anything to do with Sanctuary? He didn't like the notion, but he knew he would have to find out.

His leg ached. It usually did when the weather changed or when he abused it, staying on it too long. He sat down and rubbed it, reminded again of that day O'Brien had stopped long enough to apply a tourniquet.
Where are you, O'Brien?

And what in the hell does Mary May know about Sanctuary?

Both questions haunted him.

Christ, he was driving himself crazy in this room. He pulled on his boots, buckled on his gunbelt and left for the Blazing Star.

Mary May watched Ben Smith enter the saloon. He was limping more than usual. She felt her blood quicken and grow thick and warm. There was even a feeling of giddiness that she'd never felt before, not even with her husband. She was terribly afraid she was falling in love with the man named Smith.

Nothing, she knew, could be worse. The more time she spent with the tall, quiet man, the more she realized he was much more than a saddle tramp. He was waiting for something. And it scared the hell out of her. She couldn't forget seeing him talking secretively with the scarred man in the alley, nor could she forget his interest when someone once mentioned Sanctuary. Now Calico.

She was slowly coming to the realization that he must be a lawman, after all. She could make one hell of a lot of money by passing the word on to Calico, probably enough to insure Sarah Ann's future.

And Ben Smith would end up dead behind the saloon.

She watched as he went toward his usual seat, backing up to the wall. He remained standing, a slight smile on his face. His eyes warmed as she neared, and she wondered how she'd ever thought them cold.

The bartender was already on his way with the “usual”: Ben's glass of bourbon, her watered-down one. She slipped into a chair opposite Ben.

“You're late today,” she said.

“I'm that predictable?”

She grinned. “Maybe I just missed you.”

Her smile slipped when she saw that he was more tense than usual.

“How long will you be staying?” she asked. It was the first question she'd asked him, the first meaningful one.

“I'm not sure,” he said. “Until I get restless again.”

“You get restless often?”

He shrugged. “Often enough.”

“What about tonight?”

He hesitated.

“Dinner? In my room?”

His slate-blue eyes studied her for a moment. “Sounds good.”

“After the Blazing Star closes.”

He nodded.

Mary May reached out a hand to him. “Want some advice?”

He looked at her quizzically.

“Don't ask questions,” she said, softly enough that no one else could hear.

He waited, without saying anything.

“Especially about Sanctuary.”

His hand tightened around hers. “What do you know about Sanctuary?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I have a friend there.”

“Like Calico?” There was disbelief in her voice this time.

“No,” he said. “Not like Calico.”

“Someone you're after or care about?”

“Why do you ask?”

They were dueling now, their voices low.

“Because it's dangerous to ask questions about that place. I don't want you to get hurt.”

He grinned suddenly. “I take good care of myself.” He tossed down the rest of the drink. “I think I'll save the other one for tonight.”

She watched him stand. He obviously didn't want any more questions. She didn't think she did either. She'd warned him; that was all she could do. And keep her mouth shut when Calico appeared again.

Nicky studied herself in the mirror, trying to identify certain changes. It had been two days since she had made love. Since she and Kane had made love. She felt years older in some ways; younger in others.

She kept dismissing his rather abrupt departure that night, choosing, instead, to remember his gentleness and those splendid, remarkable feelings and sensations he'd awakened in her.

Nicky had seen him several times since, twice in meetings with her uncle. And he was coming again this afternoon. Her uncle felt confident that Kane O'Brien—Diablo—would accept his offer.

So she studied herself in the mirror with great care. She wished her hair were long and feminine, that she had more than the one dress. The next time her uncle sent out an order, she'd ask for some dresses.

And if Kane did decide to stay? What then? How could she persuade Robin to leave alone? How could she allow him to stay? And her uncle? He needed a doctor. Maybe they could all go to Canada or Mexico. Some place where Kane wasn't wanted. They could start a ranch or a farm, or … anything. Hope bubbled up inside her.

She looked in her pile of books and found one of her old favorites. Sir Walter Scott. She had dreamed dreams of his heroes, but she'd never thought to have one, and finally she'd set the book aside. But now she believed in dreams again. She leafed through the pages to her favorite poem, “Lochinvar.”

Oh! young Lochinvar is come out of the west

Through all the wide Border his steed was the best …

And then:

So faithful in love and so dauntless in war,

There never was knight like the young Lochinvar

Her gaze fell to the ending:

With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye …

Kane O'Brien might be a rather tarnished knight, but he had become
her
knight.

Time was running out!

Kane ran a comb through his hair and regarded himself in the mirror with disgust. For the past two days, he'd played with the idea of staying. Nicky's heart, his own heart, against Davy's life.

But there really was no choice. There had never been one. He had made a promise, given his word, and he would keep it. But he had frantically been searching for a way out of this mess that wouldn't destroy Nicky. After two days of hell, he'd come up with one. It wasn't a great plan, but it was the best he could do. As for himself, he didn't deserve any consideration. He deserved the hangman's noose and to roast in hell for what he'd done to Nicky. He'd just needed her so badly, had needed the warmth and belonging. He'd needed to love and be loved. Just once in his life.

He'd wished Nat Thompson had exacted his usual punishment on those who trifled with his family. But he hadn't. The lights had been off when he'd returned Nicky, and the next day Thompson had talked to him again about Sanctuary. It was then that Kane started grabbing for a lifeline.

It came when Thompson doubled over and grabbed his desk. His teeth clenched tightly together, and Kane had no doubt that the man was seriously ill. His face was pale, bathed in sweat, and Kane remembered another time when Thompson had suffered a similar attack.

“Can I do anything?” he asked.

Thompson nodded. “Glass of water,” he replied as he fumbled in his desk for something.

Everything started coming clear to Kane then: the offer, the urgency of it. Thompson was sick, the kind of sick that was fatal, and he needed someone to look after both Sanctuary and his family. Kane wondered whether Nicky had any idea.

The more he thought about that conclusion, the more it made sense. Mitch Evers was growing old, and none of the other permanent residents seemed capable of controlling Sanctuary. Kane's offer to take responsibility for Yancy's death, as spontaneous as it was, had evidently convinced the outlaw leader that he had the stomach for the job.

Which meant Sanctuary would shortly be a thing of the past.

If only he could keep Masters at bay long enough. Perhaps he could plead for another three months. He could be in control of Sanctuary then and close it down himself. He realized that wouldn't be easy. The lair was altogether too important to those who used it, which was probably why Thompson hadn't moved in that direction himself. Any sign of weakness on his part, and the others would turn on him like a pack of wolves.

Time was what he needed. Time to get Nicky and Robin out of here before the whole thing blew to hell.

He had to get to Masters, somehow convince him. It wouldn't be easy. Masters was as hard-nosed as they came, and he obviously hadn't had the slightest reservation about sending Kane to what could be a very painful death. Damn, but he hated being under the marshal's thumb, detested the thought of begging him for more time. But at this moment, he would get down on his hands and knees and grovel if he had to.

So many lives were teetering on the precipice. Davy. Nicky. Robin. Even Thompson, whom he was learning to respect if not particularly like. And Masters held the rope that could save them all. The question was, would he?

First, though, he had to find a way to leave Sanctuary. He had to accept Thompson's offer, but convince him he had some personal business to handle first. Perhaps Thompson would give him the directions in and out of Sanctuary. But Kane doubted it. The man was too careful. He wouldn't reveal the secrets of Sanctuary until he was absolutely sure of Diablo.

How much time did he have left? Less than a month before Sanctuary was taken, if Davy was to live. Kane had little more information on Sanctuary's location than he did on that first day. He knew it was in Indian Territory and probably the Wichita Mountains, but posses could comb that area for months and never find anything.

And Nicky. He tried not to think about that. He'd committed some stupid acts in his life, but none as reckless and damaging as taking her virginity and, he feared, her heart. He deserved any damn thing the U.S. government wanted to do to him. But Davy didn't. Nicky didn't. Young Robin didn't.

Christ, he felt sick. He was sick of himself. He would walk from here and lie to Thompson, just as he had lied to Nicky and Robin. He would lie and lie and lie to save a friend he'd led to the gallows. He would betray a girl who'd laid her heart in his hands, and a boy who had handed him trust. Disgust at himself and pure hatred toward Masters made him want to retch.

He would see Nicky again today when he went to Thompson's. She would look at him with those soft deer eyes as if he were God instead of the snake he was. He had to convince Thompson to let him go, and he had to convince Masters to give him more time.

Kane O'Brien wasn't at all sure he could do either.

John Yancy had been to several towns, looking for the scouts who directed clients to Sanctuary. The towns were small, lawless crossroads in Texas where questions could be asked easier than in towns with strict law-and-order sheriffs. The last place he stopped was Gooden, Texas.

He and his brother had been there before. It was where they had negotiated their last stay at Sanctuary through a man named Calico. There was also a woman who Yancy suspected was connected with Sanctuary in some way. He remembered that woman. Both he and Cobb had tried to take her to bed, but she'd turned them down flat. Like they were nothing.

Perhaps he could get some information from her, find out when Calico was returning to Gooden. Then he could follow the man to Sanctuary. Once he knew the location, he could find others to help him wrest the hideout from Thompson. He and Cobb had already talked to Hildebrand about the possibility.

Gooden was just as he remembered. Dusty, dirty, and small except for the number of saloons. He was running out of money, so he took a room in the cheapest hotel, spruced up a bit, and made for the Blazing Star.

With any luck, Calico would be there. Or the woman might be persuaded to talk, one way or another.

Gooden didn't have any law, not even a sheriff. The last one had been killed, and no one had wanted to take his place, not for the few dollars a month the town offered. Yancy felt safe enough here.

The saloon was full, the gambling tables were crowded and so was the bar. He looked for a bright calico shirt but didn't find it, then his gaze went to the women. They were all pretty at the Blazing Star. The owner, Dan Calhoun, took pride in that. He also took pride in protecting them, so Yancy knew he had to be careful.

He saw four, all dressed in low-cut blouses and skirts that barely reached the calves of their black-silk-covered legs. He saw the woman he sought immediately. She stood out from the others, not only by the number of men that surrounded her, but by the dark red hair that fell in curls down her bare back. She was some woman, all right, though too damn haughty for her own good. He and Cobb had talked about taking her down a peg.