Diablo (38 page)

“And yours,” Nat Thompson said harshly.

Kane didn't say anything. He wasn't going to reveal the real bargain. It would sound self-serving. False. Whatever credibility he had, which was damn little, would be destroyed.

Evers held the lantern closer. “You don't believe this, do you, Nat?”

There was a long silence. “You know I'm dying,” Nat said to Kane. “Why didn't you just wait me out?”

“Davy Carson didn't have that long.”

“And Nicky? Were you just using her to betray me?”

Kane sighed, forcing himself to refrain from saying the truth. It had been Thompson who'd thrown them together. Over and over again. He suspected the reminder wouldn't help. “I tried my damnedest to stay away. I never wanted her a part of this. Her or Robin. Christ,
I
didn't want any part of it.”

“She's trying to protect you,” Thompson said harshly. “Even now.”

Kane groaned. No one knew better than he the gut-wrenching sickness of having to choose between people you care about. He didn't want her to go through that, not for him.

“Take her out of here,” he pleaded. “You and Evers can get through with your Comanches.”

“And go where?” Thompson said. “All my money's wrapped up in Sanctuary. I don't have long to live, and Mitch is wanted. What kind of life will they have on the run? No money? No protection?”

“Give yourself up,” Kane said. “Meet Masters. All he wants is Sanctuary. I think you can trust him to leave Nicky and Robin out of it … and I have a little money, enough for them to have a grubstake.”

Evers snorted.

Thompson didn't say anything for several minutes, then spoke harshly, “If I left with my family, my own men would kill me. They suspect I'm sick. They might figure I'm going to the law.”

“You can't believe him,” Evers broke in angrily. “He's just trying to save his own skin. Maybe no one's coming at all.”

Kane straightened. “I'm a dead man now,” he said. “I know it.”

“What about your friend?” Thompson asked.

Kane decided to gamble everything. “If Masters finds my body, he'll release Carson. That was the deal.”

There was a long silence.

“Just why should I accommodate you that way?” Thompson finally asked. “If the Comanches take you, there'll be damn little left.”

“I thought you might want an example, a warning to those who might try to come after … what's yours,” Kane said. “And you don't have anything against Carson. I'm the one who—”

“And I'm thinking now the death of your friend might be a worse punishment than your own,” Thompson said thoughtfully. “Think about that, Diablo.”

The lantern went out, casting the room into total blackness. Kane heard movement, the banging of the door shut, a bolt shoved into place. Then total blackness. He slid down to the floor.

He'd lost his gamble.

Nat Thompson managed to take the steps back to his house without help. Nicky wasn't there, but she would have heard him enter, and he knew she would join them soon. He headed for his desk.

“I think I should take you to the bedroom.”

“The desk,” Nat managed.

Mitch helped him into the chair behind the desk, and looked at him worriedly.

“Tell Andy, Jeb, and Sam that we might be moving out,” Nat said. “Tell them to keep it to themselves.”

Mitch nodded but hesitated. “Are you all right?”

“I just need a few minutes to rest,” Nat said. “Now get out.”

He watched as Mitch left, then opened his top drawer and found a small bottle. Laudanum. He would take a few drops, enough to dull the pain. Not enough to sleep. He couldn't afford that now. He unlocked the drawers to his desk and took out the clippings about Diablo.

A knock came at the door. Urgent. “Come in,” he said.

Nicky had washed and changed into clean clothes. Her face wasn't splotched, but her eyes were red.

“He's still alive,” Nat said without waiting for the question. “Sit down,” he added as he looked back down to the clippings and read them more thoroughly. One did mention a man named Carson, who had been condemned with Diablo.

As he finished, a numbness started to creep over him. He forced himself to stay alert. “Did Diablo ever mention a man named Carson to you?”

He watched her try to remember. She finally shook her head.

“Or mention a friend?”

Nicky's eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“It's important, Nicky. It might just save him.”

“Will anything save him?”

“It might,” Nat said softly. A plan was forming in his mind. “Do you really care?”

“I don't want to,” Nicky said, bending her head. “But, Uncle Nat, I don't want him to die.”

“Then try to remember.”

She hesitated, apparently trying to recall. “I accused him of trying to save himself. He said if that had been true he would have accepted your offer.”

Nat thought for a moment. Could O'Brien have made up that story? He had no reason to think it might make a difference. But it
did
make a difference. Perhaps he hadn't been entirely wrong about the man. There had been something about him from the very beginning that had appealed to Nat, something that separated him from the others.

He closed his eyes. The laudanum was affecting his mind as well as dulling his body. He knew he didn't have much longer, maybe not more than a few weeks the way the pain was growing. What was best for his niece and nephew? That was all that mattered.

Nat had always taken care of his younger, handsome, devil-may-care brother, ever since they were children in an orphanage. He'd loved John's wife, and had promised both he would take care of the children. It was the one promise in his life he'd always kept.

Nicky loved Diablo. That was plain enough. She'd protected him as much as she could. It was also plain to him that Diablo loved Nicky. Otherwise he wouldn't have come back. He wouldn't have condemned himself by warning Nat. He'd never seen so much anguish on a man's face as he had moments ago on Diablo's face, and it wasn't for himself.

There was one thing Nat prized above all else: loyalty. He and Mitch had that kind of loyalty, and he would die for Mitch, just as he would have for John. He understood that kind of loyalty, and now he understood Diablo and why he had done what he had. He wasn't sure yet, though, whether he was going to forgive it.

“Uncle Nat?”

Nat opened his eyes. She was looking at him with undisguised worry. Worry for him. Worry for his prisoner.

“You didn't tell me everything, did you?” he said.

A red flush flooded her cheeks. “No,” she said honestly.

“Why?”

“I couldn't … I didn't …”

“Nicole,” he sighed. “Your mother was like that. Once she fell in love with John, nothing else mattered. Not that he was an outlaw, not that he was on the run. Sometimes, I look at you and I see her. She was so damned pretty, so damned stubborn. She would never stay behind and take care of herself.”

“I
don't
love him,” she said, her chin jutting out ominously. “How can I when …”

“When you did the same thing?” he asked softly. “You were torn between him and me, and you purposely didn't tell me things about our Diablo. I think O'Brien was faced with the same dilemma. He was offered his friend's life for the location of Sanctuary. I think that's why he came after you. He did what he could for his friend, and then he was willing to face my wrath to get you away from here, you and your brother. That took guts, Nicky. He knows what happens to people who betray me. The deaths aren't easy.”

She winced.

“He practically invited me to kill him. He wants me to leave his body where it can be found, so his friend will go free. Apparently that was part of the bargain he made with the law, that if he died in the attempt to find Sanctuary, the man named Carson would go free.”

“No,” she said with horror, then whispered, “he asked me to promise to contact a man named Masters in Gooden, begged me to tell him …”

“Tell him what?”

“How he died,” Nicky said brokenly.

Nat nodded. So O'Brien had told the truth. The pain was getting stronger again. He needed more laudanum. “I'm dying, Nicky,” he said suddenly. “I don't have any more time, but you do. You and Robin.
If
I can get you out of here, make sure the law understands you had nothing to do with Sanctuary.”

Denial flickered across her face. “You can't be …”

“I've known it for months,” he said. “That doc who stayed with us said it was cancer, said there wasn't anything to be done. I thought I had longer, long enough to see you and Robin safe someplace, but it moved faster than I thought.”

“We can go someplace, find another doctor.”

“I can barely stand, Nicky. I know I'm dying, just like an old dog knows.”

“No,” she said vehemently. “We'll find a good doctor.” The passion of her caring warmed him.

“Yes,” he corrected her gently. “I have a few weeks, maybe a month. No longer. Don't worry. I've had a long life, and I've had you and Robin.”

Her face paled even as it continued to deny. “What are you going to do?”

“Go to the law. Give myself up. Make sure they understand you didn't have anything to do with Sanctuary. Diablo says there's a marshal …”

“Give yourself up?,” she asked.” I won't let you.”

“I won't live to hang,” Nat said. “The only thing that's important to me now is yours and Robin's safety. If a posse finds you here, they'll consider you as guilty as me. And God knows what will happen if there's a shoot-out.”

“Robin and I can leave, send a doctor.”

“You don't understand. Thanks to Diablo, the law has a damn good idea where Sanctuary is. They could be here in another day, maybe a week, but our secrecy is gone. If my guests get even an inkling of that, they'll kill all of us. They'll certainly kill your Diablo.”

“You won't?” she said in a small voice, asking for assurance.

“I haven't decided yet,” Nat lied. “It depends on you. I need him to help us get out of here. My guests are already very jumpy, and … greedy. If I disappear with you and Robin and Mitch, they'll know something's wrong, and I suspect they think I have a hell of a lot more cash than I do. I don't believe the guards will be much happier with me. Once they know Sanctuary's finished, they'll loot everything in sight. We might well need another gun.” He looked at her for a long moment. “Do you trust him at all?”

Nicky avoided the question. “What about Andy and Jeb?”

“Neither of them are gunhands. I'm letting them know they should get out on their own. There's no sense for them to be taken, too.” He needed another draught of laudanum. And rest. It was nearing midnight. If they were to leave, they had to leave before dawn. He decided to give her another push. “Can we trust him to get us safely to that marshal?”

“What about Mitch?” She was still evading his question.

“Once we're out of Sanctuary, he'll go his way. What about Diablo?”

“I don't know,” she said bitterly. “I just don't know.”

“Then I'll tell Mitch to kill him.”

“No.” The word was explosive, expelled from some deep part of her heart.

God, his belly was hurting. “Take him some water. He'll need it. Mitch hurt him some.” Nat watched her pale. “Then give me an answer. Wake me up if I'm asleep.”

She nodded slowly and left.

Nat swallowed some more laudanum and did something he'd never done before in his life. He prayed he was right.

Nicky closed her uncle's door, feeling that the last remnant of her world had just been shattered. Uncle Nat had looked so old, so infinitely weary.

She stopped to look in at Robin. He was asleep. The hawk was tethered on the perch Kane had made. Kane O'Brien, the traitor, the user … The man who'd taken time to save a hurt bird, who patiently taught a boy to care for it.

Can we trust him?
Her uncle's question had astounded her, not only because he was asking her advice but because he was apparently willing to give Kane another chance.

I
don't know
, she had answered. And she didn't. Her world had been rocked. Her faith. Her trust. Her love.

You did the same thing. You were torn between him and me. You didn't tell me things about our Diablo.
Uncle Nat's gentle admonition. Had Kane endured that same agonizing choice?

Would she ever know?
Really
know? The hurt still ran deep. Hurt and anger and emptiness all ran together, like streaks of color in a sunset, each trailing roads in the sky before melding into one burst of color.

In the kitchen, she mechanically prepared a canteen of water and some bandages and then left for her uncle's office—and Kane.

Mitch was sitting in the outer office, apparently guarding Kane. He was looking old, too. She had never thought of him that way before.

“Uncle Nat suggested I bring … Diablo some water,” she said hesitantly. “And I want to talk to him.”

He looked at her with sympathy. His lips, though, thinned in a hard line, and she knew Kane could expect no quarter from him. In fact, her uncle's oddly tolerant attitude still confounded her.

“Are you sure, Little Bit?” That had been his pet name for her years ago, though he hadn't used it since she'd turned fifteen.

She nodded.

“I'll stay with you.”

She shook her head. “Alone,” she insisted.

He hesitated and looked at the bundle in her hands. She smiled. “I don't have a weapon. Just a canteen and some bandages.”

Mitch looked dubious.

“Uncle Nat suggested it.”

Suspicion and doubt etched a frown in Mitch's face.