Diablo (22 page)

When he went to the livery, he would ride out moments later, racing his horse like a bat out of hell.

Tonight, if he went, she was determined to go after him. It might be her last chance to see him alone, to feel his hands on her, to know the magic of his kiss. She'd thought she would have more time, but he would be gone tomorrow, and she had only a few hours left to convince him to come back. Not only for her sake, she told herself, but for her uncle's and Robin's as well.

Nicky returned home to learn from a grim-faced Mitch that her uncle was still in his bedroom. That worried her. He never stayed in bed this late. But she also saw an opportunity to do some snooping without Uncle Nat looking over her shoulder.

After Mitch left, Nicky went into her uncle's study and found the key under the rug where he kept it. She started to unlock the second drawer of his desk, but to her surprise it wasn't locked. He always kept it locked. Always. She swallowed hard. It was another sign that he was much more ill than he admitted. She bit her lip as she pulled the drawer open and took out a leather pouch filled with maps.

Her uncle had shown her the maps of the territories around Sanctuary a long time ago, “just in case” anything happened to him. She also knew the route through caves known only by Uncle Nat, Mitch, her and Robin, and perhaps Andy. She wasn't sure about that.

Nicky studied the maps for a long time. She knew Kane had come from Texas, that he'd contacted Sanctuary from a little town named Gooden. As far as anyone knew, he hadn't been outside Texas since the war and could be expected to head back down that way. Any “obligation” he had would be there.

Nicky hesitated a moment, then rolled up one of the maps and stuck it inside her shirt. She closed the drawer and locked it, returning the key to its usual place. Her uncle was a careful man; when he'd told his niece and nephew about the routes to follow out of Sanctuary—a dry stream bed, an odd rock formation, waterholes—he had also given both her and Robin an oddly carved piece of rock on a leather thong. It would protect them, he'd said, if they ran into the Comanches that often roamed these mountains and occasionally provided protection.

She hugged the map against her chest. She hated not telling her uncle that she was taking it, but neither could she tell him of her thought about Kane … the inexplicable intuitive fear that he was in grave danger.

The questions kept pounding at her as she waited for Kane's usual afternoon appearance. She decided to bake some bread as a way of keeping herself from going crazy, and was just starting when Robin came into the kitchen.

“Where's Diablo?” he asked, as the other Diablo—the hawk—squealed from its perch on his arm.

“I don't know,” she said.

“Uncle Nat says he's leaving tomorrow, but he'll be back in three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” That was more than Kane had told her.

“I was listening,” Robin said, completely unabashed. “Calico's supposed to take him to some town, then meet up with him again in two and a half weeks.”

Robin certainly believed in Kane O'Brien, believed his friend would certainly try to return. Why didn't she?

Because of those few unguarded comments he'd made about Sanctuary being a prison in itself? She wasn't sure. She was sure, though, that Robin would be bitterly disillusioned if Kane didn't return, that probably everything that Kane had done with and for him would be rejected. She wondered whether Kane realized that, whether he understood the impact he'd had on Robin—and her—during the time he'd been at Sanctuary.

Robin shifted impatiently from foot to foot. “Then where do you think he might be?” he asked anxiously.

“Probably the barber's,” she replied.

“Yeah,” Robin replied with disappointment. Many of the guests went to the barber's before leaving.

“I'm going to try to teach Diablo to hunt today. Why don't you go with me, Sis?”

She shook her head. “You go alone,” she said. “I have bread in the oven.”

“I
will
see Kane before he goes, won't I?”

“I'm sure you will,” she said. And she was. Kane truly liked Robin. She wished she were as sure of his feelings toward her.

Kane arrived a few minutes before supper, but she almost didn't recognize him. Gray tinged the hair around his face, and he sported a moustache and beard. Stage paint had blended the scar almost to oblivion. The barber hadn't been able to change Kane's eyes, though, the gray eyes that sometimes lit with amusement but more frequently clouded with shadows.

Amusement hovered in them now as he studied her reaction to his new appearance. “Think I'll pass?”

“For what?”

“A grizzly old prospector, of course.”

“A few more wrinkles,” she said, tipping her head as she examined him. “A limp. Dirtier clothes.”

“By the time your uncle's guide drags me across the prairie, I'm sure I'll look just like that,” he replied with a grin. The rare instance of lightheartedness melted her heart.

He reached up and tugged off the beard. “Sid gave me some hardier glue for later,” he said.

She grinned. “That was kind of him. I would hate to look at that beard over the table.”

He looked insulted. “I thought it rather handsome, myself,” he said, then changed the subject. “Does your uncle arrange this for everyone who leaves Sanctuary?”

“Everyone who wants or needs it,” she said. “For a price.”

“Everything in Sanctuary is for a price,” Kane replied dryly.

“It's worth it. I don't think anyone would recognize you,” she said comfortingly.

“You did.”

But she was in love with him. Nicky knew she would recognize those eyes, that walk, that lean body anywhere. What she said though, was, “I was expecting you, and I know what Sid can do.”

He grinned. “No more Diablo?”

“You'll never lose a bit of that devil,” she said, “but I haven't thought of you as Diablo since the second day.”

His eyes twinkled. “But you did think so that first day.”

“You looked …” She hesitated in midsentence.

“Like a desperado,” he finished. Then his voice softened. “And you looked so damned pretty.”

Nicky's heart warmed at the tone, at the look in his eyes. They weren't shadowed now. They were full of emotion. “Robin wants to say good-bye. He should be back soon.”

“I'm sorry I missed going with him this afternoon. As you see, I was otherwise occupied.”

She smiled wistfully. “I wanted to see you before you left, too,” she said quietly.

They both knew what she meant. Her heart—and desire—was in her face.

“That's not a good idea, Nicole,” he said, and she noticed the use of her proper name. He had used it rarely, only the evening he'd made love to her. His eyes, his expression were saying he cared. She wondered whether he realized it.

“Why not?”

“Because a lot can happen in the next few weeks. I don't want to leave you with child.”

A child. She hadn't even thought of that. The idea was startling. A child with Kane. “I would like that,” she said softly.

“Out here? In the middle of nowhere? A bastard?” His voice grew harsh. “The son or daughter of a condemned convict.”

“My father was wanted,” Nicky said with as much dignity as she could muster. His words hurt, as they were meant to hurt. “My uncle is wanted.”

“And I wouldn't wish this life on my worst enemy, much less a daughter or son,” he said. “Hell, after all you've seen, would you want to raise another child the way you've had to raise Robin?”

Hurt balled inside her like a tight fist.
I
wouldn't wish this life on my worst enemy.
Did he really hate Sanctuary so? Then why had he agreed to stay? Was it that he cared about her? Or was she merely a way to get to Nat Thompson?

She backed away. “My uncle said you were going to stay.”

Regret flickered in his face, and then his eyes turned cold, as cold as those of some of the other guests at Sanctuary. “It was an offer I couldn't refuse at this particular time,” he said. “It's not one I would accept if I had any other choices.”

“And me?” she said, hating the strain in her voice. “Was I an offer you couldn't refuse at this particular time, not one you would take if you had other choices?”

His face froze. But before he could speak, they were interrupted by heavy footsteps.

“Is that Diablo?” her uncle said from the other room.

“Yes,” she said, but her voice was very small.

“It is,” Kane called out.

Then her uncle was in the room. “Glad you could come tonight,” he said to Kane.

“It was good of you to ask.”

“I have a couple of things I would like you to do for me,” her uncle continued, oblivious to the tension between her and Kane and to the hurt she was sure must be stamped on her features.

He took Kane by the arm and propelled him toward his office. “Someone I want you to see in Gooden. A woman. She's been real valuable to us, and I want you to get to know her.”

The door closed behind them, and Nicky leaned against the doorjamb. Gooden. So he would be going to Gooden, as she'd thought. The map was in her room, now buried among her clothes in a trunk.

Almost in a daze, she moved toward the kitchen and the stove that held their supper. A stew tonight, along with the freshly baked bread. She remained in a foggy state as Robin came in, as the two men and boy sat down to eat. She kept hearing his words in her mind.
I
wouldn't wish this life on my worst enemy.
Then:
It's an offer I couldn't refuse. It's not one I would accept if I had any other choices.
She felt as if she'd been whipped by rawhide, only the wounds were all inside.

“Nicky?” her uncle said. “Aren't you going to eat with us?” She was about to say no, when she decided not to give Diablo the satisfaction. He was Diablo again, not Kane O'Brien, the gentler of the two men who inhabited one striking body.

She sat down before he could stand to hold out her chair for her. “Why don't I go with Mr. O'Brien?” she said suddenly. She wasn't sure where the idea came from. Or exactly what motivated it. The need for a reaction? The desire to be with him? A longing for assurance?

Both Diablo and Uncle Nat stared at her.

“Why?” Nat Thompson said, his eyes wary.

“I should know more about Sanctuary,” she said.

“Me, too,” Robin said, his eyes sparkling.

“What do you think, Diablo?” her uncle asked. The fact that he deferred to Kane startled Nicky even more than the question had.

Kane's gray eyes went even flatter than usual, but she saw a muscle in his cheek move. “No,” he said.

“Why?” she demanded. “It's time that I saw some place other than—”

“It's dangerous,” Kane said curtly. “It's dangerous going out, and it will be even more dangerous where I'm going.”

“I can shoot,” Nicky said.

“So can I,” chimed in Robin.

“Not with me,” Kane said and looked toward Nat Thompson for reinforcement.

Thompson nodded. “When Diablo returns, you two can make the trip with Calico. Nicky's right. She and Robin should become more familiar with the routes.” As if the subject were closed, he looked at Kane again. “Calico wants to leave before dawn.”

Kane nodded.

Thompson looked as if he wanted to say something else, but instead started eating. Nicky noticed he wasn't eating as well as he had a month ago, but was only picking at his food. He excused himself early.

“Good luck,” he said to Kane as he hesitated a moment at the entrance of the hall to his bedroom.

“Luck usually doesn't have a lot to do with it,” Kane replied.

“Then be careful.”

“I'm always careful.”

“I'm counting on it,” Thompson said and disappeared through the door.

Kane left minutes later. Thompson's last words echoing in his mind. The man was playing straight with him, offering him his most precious possessions for safekeeping: his family, his life. He sensed Thompson didn't trust often, and probably was trusting now only out of necessity, but that didn't make him feel better. Judas, liar, cheat. He was all of that. And more.

He headed for the saloon. And oblivion. Anything to erase the words and faces of tonight. Anything to keep him from thinking about his choices, which were really no choices at all. Christ, he felt sick. Sick and wanting, and so damned alone. He'd been alone before in his life, plenty of times, but he'd never felt this goddamn alone.

He had no one—no family, no friends other than Davy. There was no one to turn to, no one who really knew him, to whom he could tell the truth. Yet, through some hideous twist of fate, he'd been made responsible for so many people's lives.

He wanted to trust Nicky, yet he couldn't. She'd said she loved him, but would she still if she knew he'd come to destroy her uncle? Not a chance!

Kane had no hope—none at all—of having a future with Nicky, couldn't even let himself consider what it would be like. But he knew he had to find a way to satisfy his obligation to Davy without ruining Nicky's life or die trying.

Christ, but he needed that drink.

The saloon was full, every man jack of the guests there. He saw a new face, probably the man who'd ridden in with Calico. He had that weary look. His face was still unshaven, and he obviously hadn't been as eager for a bath as he himself had been. The stranger was smelling up his end of the bar.

Kane went to the other end. He didn't care for conversation. “Whiskey,” he said. “A bottle.”

The barkeep looked at his changed hair and barely visible scar. “On the way out?”

Kane nodded.

Hildebrand approached him. “Couple of poker hands first?”

Kane shrugged. Anything to get his mind off Nicky. He'd been losing steadily, but he didn't give much of a damn. It was Masters's money. He knew he'd been throwing the games away, but it had been useful in cultivating some of the other guests. Losers were liked. Winners weren't. On the other hand, winners usually became more and more effusive.