by Lisa Rae
That night they camped by a stream under a scattering of cottonwood trees. Roark hobbled their horses out to graze. While he brushed them down, Angel collected wood for a campfire to cook their supper on.
While the fire was burning down to hot coals to cook on, Roark skinned and gutted the rabbit Angel shot earlier that day. After putting the rabbit on a spit over the fire, they rolled out their beds, and relaxed while the rabbit roasted over the fire.
As the rabbit cooked, Angel wondered about the name 'El Lobo'. She wondered who he was and where could she find him? For the past couple years she has been trying to track down the origin of the counterfeit gold coins that are being spread around out West. This was the first time she was able to get a possible lead on who was behind it, but she had no idea where to look for him.
Interrupting her thoughts Roark announced, "The rabbit is done. Best eat while it's warm."
They idly chatted about various things as they chewed on the roasted rabbit and washed it down with water from their canteens. When they were done they relaxed again on their bedrolls. Angel heard her brother snoring lightly right before she too fell sound asleep.
The next morning they were able to get an early start after having a good night's rest. The day was peaceful until later that afternoon when a thunderstorm was approaching. Afternoon thunderstorms with wicked lightening were typical for June and July weather in Wyoming.
Seeing the ominous dark clouds approaching off to the west and hearing the deep rumbling of the thunder, Angel said to Roark, "Normally I'd say let's just hunker down somewhere and try to stay dry till it passes over, but being out on this open prairie, there's not much to provide shelter from the rain. So let's just stick to the low ground and keep moving."
"Okay, you're the boss," Roark said with an ornery smile. What were sisters for if you couldn't tease them?
"I'm not the boss! I just don't see any use stopping when there's no place to keep dry. If we're going to be wet, we might as well keep going."
They rode on in silence, watching the thunderstorm approaching on their left as they traveled north towards Deadwood. The wind picked up, and the temperature dropped twenty degrees in less than fifteen minutes time. Tightening the stampede string on their Stetson hats, they then both untied their oiled leather dusters from behind their saddles and put them on, securing them closed tightly against the harsh winds.
Angel had just turned up her collar on her duster when the rain started. It was no sprinkle either. It instantly started as an ice cold downpour. As the horses became soaked, steam started rising from their warm bodies in the cool air.
A couple hours later the rain eased up to a light drizzle and you could see the sun starting to shine again to the west. Already being late afternoon, the temperature only rose about ten degrees in the sunshine once the storm was completely gone.
"I hope we can find some dry wood or buffalo chips when we camp tonight to take the chill off," Angel commented wishfully.
"I hope so too, but I wouldn't count on..." Roark started to reply as he spotted what looked like a sod home and barn in the far distance to the east.
Angel followed his gaze. "I hope they will let us sleep in their barn and maybe feed us a warm meal."
Nodding his head in agreement, Roark turned his horse in the direction of the homestead and Angel followed. As they neared, they could see that it was run down and looked abandoned.
Stopping in front of the sod home Roark yelled out, "Hello the house."
"It appears to be abandoned," Angel said as she climbed down from her red roan gelding.
"That's good news for us. We'll be able to sleep somewhere dry tonight. Hopefully there's some dry tinder inside and we can warm up," Roark replied, as he climbed down from his sorrel stallion and stepped inside the sod house to investigate.
Walking back out to his horse he said, "We're in luck. There's enough buffalo chips left in there to stay nice and warm for a night."
"Ugh, we'll smell like a buffalo's ass! Isn't there any hay twist?"
Laughing at Angel, Roark replied, "We can check the barn, but I doubt there will be any."
Walking the horses into the barn, they stripped the saddles and blankets from their backs and hung them up to dry. Then they took the horses back outside to hobble them to graze on the prairie grass.
Once the horse's feet were tied securely so they could not run off, Angel and Roark went back into the barn to see what they could find, but there was nothing.
Grabbing her saddlebags Angel said, "Come on, let's go get that stinky fire going so I can get out of these wet clothes and warm up."
Grinning, Roark grabbed their bedrolls and followed her to the little sod house, commenting once they were inside, "Looks like whoever built this home took the time to do a good job. It's a shame they didn't stay."
Nodding her head Angel said, "I've heard the winters are extremely harsh out here. If you don't have enough supplies stocked up before winter sets in, then you will starve or freeze to death."
Roark got the fire roaring in the hearth and turned to Angel. "That should warm it up nicely in here. I'm going to see if the well is still good, and haul some water to our horses while you get out of those wet clothes into dry ones."
Angel wasted no time in changing after Roark walked out the door. Now dry, except for her long chestnut colored hair that was still damp, she busied herself with cooking them a warm supper. By the time Roark came back in, the meal was close to being done.
Roark had brought in his saddlebags, but he had already changed his clothes out in the barn before coming in. There was a rope strung across the shack, and they hung their wet clothes on it for them to dry by morning.
Angel had spread out their bedrolls while she was cooking, and after they finished their meal, they were both quickly asleep. Riding through a cold windy thunderstorm burns up a lot of the body's energy trying to stay warm.
* * *
Stretching as she woke up, Angel turned and saw that her brother's bed roll was gone, and so was he. Realizing she had overslept, Angel jumped up and hurriedly put her stuff in her saddlebags and rolled up her bedroll. Throwing her saddlebags over her shoulder, she opened the door as she made one last glance back to make sure she had not forgotten anything. As she turned to go out the door, she ran right into the notorious gunslinger, Richard Hernandez, known only as 'Diablo'.
Diablo instinctively put one of his strong arms around her narrow waist to steady Angel from falling. As she felt the warmth of his arm, and looked up into his dark smoldering eyes, her heart skipped a beat. Taken by surprise, it took Angel a moment to regain her bearings and pull back away from him in alarm.
"It's okay, I have no intentions of hurting you . . . But I wouldn't mind doing other things with you." Diablo said grinning, as he looked Angel over from top to bottom . . . Long chestnut hair pulled back in a ponytail underneath her Stetson hat, deep sexy brown eyes, and her dressed in men's trousers and a silk shirt that had ruffles at the end of the long sleeves. The trousers fitted her bottom snuggly and showed every curve, and Diablo made sure to check every one before he raised his eyes back up to meet hers.
Angel was just about to give him an earful when Roark spoke calmly from behind Diablo. "Keep your hands clear of your iron and turn around."
Surprised and upset at himself for the fact that he let someone get the drop on him, Diablo slowly turned to face Roark and said, "Sorry mister, I thought she was here alone. If you will allow me to water my horse at the well, I will then be on my way."
"Go on before I change my mind and shoot you!" Roark said in a deadly voice. He kept his .45 Colt trained on Diablo while he watered his big horse.
Angel had stepped out of the sod house and shut the door behind her. Turning, she met Diablo's gaze for a moment before he quickly looked away to keep from enraging her brother again.
Climbing back onto his gruello stallion, Diablo tipped his hat to Angel as he rode away.
"Are you alright?"
Roark asked Angel.
"Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" Angel snapped back. Roark raised an eyebrow to her irritability, and she quickly replied, "He just caught me by surprise is all."
Still not convinced by her answer, but he let it go for now. "Well come on sleepyhead, we got some riding to do."
Angel looked over her shoulder at Diablo riding away as her and her brother walked out to the sod barn where Roark already had the horses saddled ready to go.
She had already turned back towards Roark when Diablo stopped his big stallion, and turned to look at Angel headed to the barn with Roark. Talking to himself Diablo said with a grin, "I sure hope we meet again."
* * *
The next couple days were uneventful as they rode across Wyoming territory towards the new town of Deadwood in the Lakota Sioux country.
It was getting late in the day when Angel and Roark topped a ridge to see a rather large wagon train circled at the bottom by a small stream.
"That must be Mr. Utter's wagon train headed for Deadwood. It went through Cheyenne before we arrived there," Angel commented.
"Yes, I heard the 30-wagon, wagon train is full of prospectors, gamblers, and 180 prostitutes," Roark said smiling.
"You have no idea how many prospectors or gamblers, but you know exactly how many soiled doves are on that wagon train?" Angel questioned.
"It's important that a man knows those kinds of things," Roark replied grinning at her. "I also heard that Wild Bill Hickok and Calamity Jane are now joined up with them."
"Really? It will be nice to see them again." This time Angel was smiling.
"Well what are we waiting for? Let’s ride down and see them!"
"Roark someday the right woman is going to come along for you, and you won't see her because you will be too busy looking up the skirts of some dove."
Laughing at her analogy he said, "My dear Angel, I have no intentions of ever settling down with just one woman."
"You say that now, but someday that will change."
* * *
When they rode up towards the wagon train, Calamity Jane spotted Angel and exclaimed, "Why it's Angel and her brother Roark riding in!"
Wild Bill turned to look, and said smiling to them, "Well ain't you guys a sight for sore eyes. Climb on down and make yourselves at home."
Angel gave Wild Bill and Jane both a warm hug, while Roark shook hands with Wild Bill and gave Jane a nod of his head in greeting.
"Well come on and join us, we's just about to eat." Calamity Jane took Angel's arm and led the way over to the fire while Roark took care of their horses first, and then joined them.
They spent the evening visiting at the campfire with many from the wagon train. Wild Bill and Calamity Jane told stories of past adventures they had been in. Including ones that involved Angel and Roark, but they were careful of what they said so as to not blow their cover.
When it started getting late, everyone began to wander off to their own wagons to go to bed. Roark spotted a real pretty prostitute eyeing him from a ways off, and he headed off in her direction.
Angel was restless though, and not ready to go to bed. She decided she would walk down to the stream and sit for a while. During the last few days of riding she had plenty of time to think about Barry and mourn his death, but tears had yet to come.
Angel's husband and their unborn child died nine years ago. And with him, a piece of her died too. Until Barry, she had not had feelings for another man. Silently she started to cry, but she didn't know if it was for Barry, or for her deceased husband and child.
Sitting on the bank of the stream, Angel didn't hear Diablo walk up behind her. "May I sit with you?"
"I prefer to be alone right now," Angel replied as she wiped tears from her face.
Sitting down beside her anyway he said, "No beautiful woman should have to cry alone."
She knew that she should get up and walk back to the wagon train, but she was enjoying the comfort she felt in Diablo's company. Wiping the rest of the tears from her eyes she asked, "What is your name?"
"People call me 'Diablo'."
"I've heard of you. You're the notorious gunslinger that leaves dead men in your wake."
"Yes, I do hire out my guns because that is what I am good at, but I have never killed anyone in cold blood," he replied with steel in his voice. Then added, "You're Angel, the well-known gambler and sharpshooter, who has killed many men too, when the need arises."
"Touché Diablo, touché." Angel conceded.
"Now that we've established that we are more alike than you may want to admit, can we be friends?"
"I . . . don─"
"No, she does not want to be friends mister!" Roark barked from behind them. "Angel come with me. It's time we get some sleep."
Angel looked apologetically at Diablo as she allowed him to help her stand up from the stream bank. Then she turned and walked away with Roark, leaving Diablo standing alone by the stream.
Watching Angel walk away, Diablo couldn't help wonder what caused Angel to take the path in life that she did? She was obviously well educated and carried herself with pride. What would have made her become a lady gambler and marksman?
Diablo knew why he traveled down a similar path. He had come from a good family. Born with the Christian name, Richard Hernandez, his mother had been a school teacher, and his father, who was born in Spain, was a hard working merchant. When he was only thirteen years old, they were traveling West to start a new life for themselves when they were attacked by Indians. Both his parents were killed during the raid and he was kidnapped.
He lived with the Apache Indians for about three years. He learned to become an excellent fighter and hunter of both animals and men. Still restless from not having a real family anymore to call his own, he decided to go live back among the white people.
But Diablo soon found out that with his barbaric ways that he learned from the Indians, and his darker skin that he inherited from his Spanish father, that he wasn't as welcomed as he thought he would be. To white people, he was just another half-breed Indian.
With the intentions of returning to his Apache family soon, he was drinking in a saloon one night when a big man, who was drunk, decided to pick a fight with him. They exchanged punches and crashed through some of the tables in the saloon before the man decided to draw his pistol on Diablo.
Diablo was lightning fast with a six-gun. His father had taught him how to shoot when they were traveling West, and he had continued to practice every chance he got. The man that drew on Diablo was able to clear leather, but that's as far as he got before Diablo's bullet tore through his heart.
It wasn't till after the fight that he learned that the man who drew on him was the famous gunslinger Matt Kane. The town was in awe and fear of him after that, and started calling him 'El Diablo'. News traveled fast, and before long, Diablo was the only named he used as he drifted from town to town.
* * *
Angel followed Roark back to the circled wagon train where he had already spread out their bedrolls under a tree close by.
"I don't think you should be spending time alone with him," Roark said sternly.
"Who I spend time with is my business. I don't tell you who you can spend time with. Like that prostitute you walked off with tonight!" Angel rolled over to face away from her brother, ending the conversation.
Roark knew she was right. She was quite capable of taking care of herself, but he couldn't help the gut feeling that worried him about Diablo.
Chapter 3
Angel woke before dawn the next morning after having a restless night's sleep. Unable to shake the eerie feeling and go back to sleep, she went ahead and saddled her horse to go for a pre-dawn ride to scout around and make sure all was well.
Just as she finished saddling her horse, Roark startled her by saying, "And where do you think you are going?"
Facing her brother Angel said in a whisper, "Something doesn't feel right. I'm going to go scout around."
&nb
sp; "Not without me you're not!"
"Quiet! You don't want to wake everyone." She whispered again.
"Well if there's possibly something wrong, don't you think they should be awake?" Roark questioned.
"Yes, but I don't want to alarm everyone when we don't if know anything is yet."
"Alright, wait for me while I get my horse saddled," Roark replied.
While waiting on her brother, Angel slid her .50 caliber Sharps into her saddle scabbard and checked her ivory handled Colt.
After checking his own .45 Colt, Roark and Angel led their horses away from the sleeping camp towards a couple men standing guard on the outer edge. They told them to stay alert, and that they were going to go scout around and make sure all was okay.
The sky had lightened just enough to be able to see as they rode out about a mile from camp. They had almost circled all the way around the whole wagon train when they topped a ridge and stopped.
Down below they first spotted Diablo riding his big gruello stallion, headed back towards camp. Then they spotted the band of Crow Indian warriors camped down by a small stream.
"Looks like you was right about not trusting Diablo," Angel commented sadly, as her heart ached at the betrayal she felt.
Nodding his head Roark said, "Come on, we need to get back to camp and warn them."
Slowly they turned their horses, so as to not draw attention from the warriors below. Once they were out of view, they took off at a fast lope back to the wagon train.
By the time they got back to the wagon train, most of the camp occupants were rising and about to fix their breakfast. Seeing them ride in at a lope, they knew something was wrong and hurried up to them to find out.
"About a mile south of us is a group of Crow Indian warriors camped. We need to quietly get this wagon train moving and hope they are traveling a different direction," Roark explained to them. Even though he doubted the last part after seeing Diablo leaving the warrior's camp.
Unable to prove anything yet in regards to Diablo, Angel and Roark kept silent about what they had seen. As the wagon train got moving north towards Deadwood, they took turns keeping an eye on Diablo.