“Why?” Kane asked.
“Because I say so,” the man said. “You’re Diablo?”
Kane nodded. The man held out his hand. “I’m Nat Thompson. I run Sanctuary, and the first rule is to keep your hands off that girl.” The tight grip was more than friendly. It was a warning. Thompson released his hand, then headed inside the office, obviously expecting Kane to follow. He did.
Thompson went to a desk and took the chair behind it. “Sit down,” he said. “Welcome to Sanctuary.”
“How safe is it?”
“As safe as you can get,” Thompson said with obvious satisfaction. “There’s several ways out, if a trail to Sanctuary is ever found. Even then, we’re protected by several Indian tribes, and our lookouts can see miles away. You’re safe enough here. If you follow the rules.”
Kane felt the muscles in his stomach tighten. This wasn’t going to be easy. “What rules?”
“No guns in Sanctuary except my own and my deputies’. No fighting unless it’s for entertainment—in a ring and with rules. No questions of other guests unless they wish to volunteer information. You can’t ride outside the ring of mountains without one of my guides.”
“A lot of rules for a hundred dollars a day.”
Thompson shrugged. “You can leave. A guide will lead you out same way you came. You can take your chances outside.”
“What do you have except for rules?”
Thompson’s lips cracked into a small smile for the first time. “Everything you want. Women. A saloon. Gambling. Good food. Feather beds. Hell of a lot better than a jail cot. Or a grave.”
Kane nodded. “I don’t have much choice. Every lawman west of the Mississippi is after me.”
“So I hear.” Thompson eyed him with interest. “No one ever escaped from that prison before.”
Kane shrugged. “Wasn’t that hard. They’re not very smart.” He paused. “Tell me more about the women.”
“Mexican, mostly,” he said. “Have some real little fireballs here.”
“The girl …”
The smile disappeared. “I said no one touches her. My rules include certain punishment for breaking them. Lashing’s one of them. Indians are another. They rather enjoy seeing how brave a man is.”
“I get your point.” An odd disappointment swept over Kane. So she was private property—of a man twice her age.
“No, you don’t,” Thompson said, his eyes narrowing. “That girl is my niece. She and her brother, Robin, are my only family.”
Relief flooded Kane, quickly followed by something ominous. Thompson’s niece. A part of Sanctuary, which Kane was sworn to destroy. If he didn’t, his best friend would die.
“I don’t think she liked me much.”
Thompson shrugged. “The clerk at the hotel is expecting you. You might want a bath and shave. There’s a barber and washhouse three doors down.”
Kane was hesitant to leave. He wanted to know more. “It’s a regular little town.”
A glitter of pride flickered in the older man’s eyes. “We tried to make it that way.”
“We?”
“You ask a damn lot of questions.”
“Just curious,” Kane said. “I’ve never seen its like before.”
“We try to please, make our guests as comfortable as possible.”
Kane felt more like a prisoner than a guest. He turned to leave.
“Let me know if you need anything.”
Kane nodded and walked outside. He scanned the streets for the girl, but he didn’t see her. Thompson’s niece. She must be used to renegades and outlaws. So why the particular distaste when she saw him? Why, when she was as guilty as her uncle of perpetuating Sanctuary?
Kane led his horse to the hotel. Maybe he could think better with a bath and shave. Maybe for a few moments he could stop thinking about Davy and his family.
And about a brown-haired, brown-eyed woman he sensed was pure trouble.
Chapter Three
Nicky wanted to run home, but she forced herself to walk slowly. It wouldn’t do to let the man called Diablo know he had a disturbing effect on her.
But he did. Her legs had turned boneless the moment their eyes had met. His were silver-gray and fathomless with a hint of deviltry that was beguiling. She’d been caught like a rabbit by a hawk, and it had confused her. She’d never had that feeling of helplessness before.
He was certainly not among the most handsome of men who’d come to Sanctuary. He’d looked like the most desperate of desperadoes, which he was, by all accounts. And the dirt and dust were not the worst of it. A scar snaked down his left cheek, turning the corner of his mouth into a rakish smile that went with the glint in his eyes. Yet when he had bowed, he appeared every inch a gentleman, as if the exterior hid something fine.
He was a renegade, she reminded herself. He was wanted for murder and crimes too numerous to remember. And he was one of the reasons her uncle wouldn’t leave Sanctuary. For that alone, she’d been prepared to hate him.
Why, then, had her heart raced? Why, then, had she fled when she’d never fled before, not from the most ruthless of men? She had learned to stand her ground, to glare them down, to curse as soundly as they. It wasn’t only her uncle who had kept them away, it was her own frostiness.
Muttering a few of those curses, she decided to find Robin. He wasn’t at the house or the stable. His horse was in its usual stall, though. She started for the blacksmith’s. Andy Lonetree, who was part Cherokee, had been here five years. He’d decided to stay when he’d fallen in love with Juanita, a Mexican girl working at Rosita’s. They were married now, the only married couple in Sanctuary. Andy was wanted for murder, and Nicky knew he would never leave.
Andy was at his forge, his big biceps bulging as he hammered on a horseshoe. He glanced up and grinned in welcome.
“I’m looking for Robin,” Nicky said.
The smile disappeared. “He went with one of the Yancy brothers,” he said.
Nicky felt her heart plummet. Of all the current guests, Cobb and John Yancy were among the worst. Nicky had asked Robin to stay away from them, but these days he considered that a challenge. He was fifteen, and he felt trapped here, too. His only friends were outlaws, so he wanted to be one, too, to learn everything about being the best there was, to earn the admiration of the only men he knew. The worse their reputations, the more he sought them out. He would probably shadow Diablo, whose reputation was only a little less notorious than the Yancy brothers’.
“Where did they go?” she asked.
“Toward the stream. I heard Robin ask Cobb to teach him to draw fast.”
“They don’t have guns.”
Andy fanned the bellows, and flames reached toward the ceiling. “You know your brother. He probably cajoled one of the guides to loan him one.”
Nicky did know him. Robin could tempt birds from a tree when he so pleased. He had a grin that spread halfway across his face, an eagerness to learn and please that sometimes frightened her. It could be used—twisted—so easily.
“Thank you,” she said. “Say hello to Juanita for me.”
“I will,” Andy said, then beamed. “She’s going to have a little one.”
“Oh Andy, I’m so glad.”
His obvious pleasure faded. “But I don’t want him raised here. Too much—” He stopped as if he suddenly realized who he was talking to.
“I know,” she said softly. Too much evil. The unsaid words hovered between them for a moment. “Where would you go?”
“Mexico, maybe. Juanita has family there.”
“We would miss you.”
“You should leave too, Miss Nicky, you and Robin, before he joins up with some bad ’uns.”
“I can’t leave my uncle now,” she said.
Andy nodded, and she knew he’d noticed her uncle’s ill health. He was loyal to her uncle, and he’d been content at Sanctuary until now. She understood, though, about the baby. She felt the same need to protect Robin, who sometimes seem
ed more like her child than a brother. She had been the one to hold him, to rock him, to feed him when he was a baby, even though she’d been little more than a child herself.
“When will you leave?” She suspected Andy would be one of those her uncle allowed safe passage out of Sanctuary. Others, though, had died when they proposed leaving, Nat Thompson forcing them into a gunfight. And no one had ever outdrawn Nat Thompson.
Andy hesitated. “A month or so.”
Had Nat talked to Andy about his own plans to leave Sanctuary? She doubted it. Nat Thompson might like and trust Andy, but his trust didn’t extend very far. He’d often told Robin that an outlaw didn’t have friends. Loyalty between thieves was a myth. You always watched your back. Always.
Nicky wished Robin would listen to their uncle’s warning.
She hurried to the stable and saddled Molly. She would find Robin. Perhaps her search would also take her mind from the new “guest,” and those silver-gray eyes she couldn’t forget.
With a sigh of pure physical contentment, Kane relaxed in the big tin bathtub in an alcove off the barber’s shop. One hand rubbed his newly shaved cheek. The barber had been good, the water hot. The shave had been sheer luxury, costing five times what it would have in any other town, but that didn’t bother him. In truth, it amused him. He was spending Masters’s money.
He lit a long, thin cigar that he’d purchased, also at a rather high price. He supposed he was as close to heaven as he was apt to get. Sinking deeper into the water, he tried not to think beyond this immediate pleasure. But he couldn’t forget Davy. The leash, as Masters so coldly called it, pulled tight around his neck.
Reluctantly, he rose from the tub and pulled on the new clothes he’d purchased from the general store. Blue denim trousers, a dark blue shirt. A clean bandanna around his neck. The old one had been beyond redemption. He ran a comb through his freshly washed hair, trying to tame it, and regarded himself briefly in the mirror. The scar stood out. It was one of the few he’d earned honorably, but it was like a brand, forever identifying him as Diablo.
Hell, what difference did it make? He wasn’t here to court. He was here to betray. He couldn’t forget that. Not for a single moment.
With a snort of self-disgust, he left the room for the stable. He would explore the boundaries of Sanctuary, do a reconnaissance. He had experience at that. Lots of experience.
Nicky rode for an hour before she heard gunshots.
She rode toward the sound, knowing full well that a stray bullet could do as much damage as a directed one. Robin was crouching, a gunbelt wrapped around his lean waist, his hand on the grip of a six-shooter. In a quick movement, he pulled it from the holster and aimed at a target affixed to a tree. Then he saw Nicky.
The pride on his face faltered, and then he set his jaw rebelliously and fired. He missed.
Nicky turned her attention to the man next to him. Arrogance radiated from him as he leered at her. Her skin crawled as she rode over to them and addressed Cobb Yancy. “If my uncle knew about this, you would be out of here faster than a bullet from that gun.”
“That so, honey?” Yancy drawled. “Then he’d have to do something about your baby brother, wouldn’t he?” He took the gun from Robin and stood there, letting it dangle from his fingers.
Nicky held out her hand. “Give me the gun.”
“Why don’t you take it from me?” Yancy’s voice was low, inviting.
“You leave now, and I’ll forget about this,” she said.
“What if I don’t want to forget about it?” he asked, moving toward her horse. “The boy can take your horse back. You can ride with me.” His hand was suddenly on the horse’s halter.
“Robin can walk back,” she said, trying to back Molly. Yancy’s grasp, though, was too strong.
Yancy turned to Robin. “You do that, boy. Start walking.”
Robin looked from Yancy to Nicky and back again, apprehension beginning to show in his face. “I’d rather ride back with you, Mr. Yancy.”
The gun was suddenly pointed at Robin. “Do as I say. Your sister and I will be along later.”
Nicky was stiff with anger and not a little fear. “My uncle will kill you,” Nicky pointed out.
“He may try,” Yancy said. “I’ve been wondering if he’s as fast as everyone says.”
Nicky knew then that Cobb Yancy had just been looking for an excuse to try her uncle. Had he scented weakness? Was he after Sanctuary?
She felt for the small derringer she’d tucked inside a pocket in her trousers. “Go on, Robin,” she said. “I’ll catch up to you.”
Robin didn’t move.
“Go,” she ordered in a voice that had gone hard. Softness didn’t survive here, not in these mountains, not among these men.
Instead of obeying her, Robin lunged for the gun in Yancy’s hand. It went off, and Robin went down. Nicky aimed her derringer directly at Yancy’s heart and fired.
He looked stunned as the gun slipped from his fingers and he went down on his knees, then toppled over. Nicky dismounted and ran over to Robin. Blood was seeping from a wound in his shoulder.
She heard hoofbeats and grabbed the gun Yancy had been holding. It could be his brother coming.
But it wasn’t. It was Diablo, looking very different than he had earlier. He reined in his horse at the sight of the gun aimed in his direction. His gaze moved from her to Robin to the body on the ground.
“Trouble?”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” Nicky said, keeping the gun pointed at him.
The side of his mouth turned up by the scar inched higher. “I see you can,” he said, then studied Robin. “What about him?”
“My brother,” she explained stiffly. “That polecat shot him.”
“I think he needs some help.”
“Not from you, mister,” she said.
His brows knitted together, and he shifted in the saddle. Then ignoring the threat in her hand, he slid down from his horse and walked over to Robin, pulling the boy’s shirt back to look at the wound.
Robin grimaced, then fixed his concentration on Diablo’s scar. “You’re that new one,” he said. “Diablo.”
Diablo nodded. “Some call me that. How in the hell did everyone around know I was coming?”
“There’s not many secrets here,” Robin said, but his voice was strained. He was obviously trying to be brave for the gunslinger. Nicky sighed. Hadn’t he learned anything today?
Diablo studied the wound a moment, then took off his bandanna and gave it to Robin. “It’s clean. Hold it to the wound to stop the bleeding.”
He then went over to Cobb Yancy, checked for signs of life and found none. He treated death very casually, Nicky noticed. “He’s dead, all right,” Diablo said.
Before she could protest, he returned to Robin. He helped Robin shed his shirt, which he tore in two and made into a sling. When he was through, he offered a steadying arm to Robin.
“Don’t,” Nicky said sharply. “I’ll help him.”
“He’s losing blood,” Diablo said. “He could lose consciousness. You prepared to take his whole weight?”
Nicky studied her brother’s face. It was pale, growing paler by the moment. “We’ll send someone back for Yancy. He has a brother. It would be best not to meet him.”
Diablo didn’t ask any questions, she’d give him that. She looked down at her hands, and noticed they were shaking. She’d never killed a man before.
Diablo’s eyes seemed to stab through her, reading her thoughts. Then he was guiding Robin to Yancy’s horse, practically lifting her brother on the gelding. There was an easy strength about him, a confidence, that surprised Nicky. He’d looked so much the renegade loner this morning, yet here he’d taken charge automatically, as if he were used to leadership. Resentment mixed with gratitude.
She tucked the gun into the waist of her trousers and mounted her mare. She kept seeing Yancy’s surprised face as he went down. Her hands were shaking even more now. She’d killed a man
. A man who had a very dangerous brother.
She had known this would happen one day. But nothing could have prepared her for the despair she felt at taking someone’s life. She felt sick inside.
Diablo, who was riding ahead with Robin, looked back. He reined in his own horse until she was abreast of him, and she felt his watchful gaze settle on her. “Tell Yancy’s brother I did it.”
Nothing he could have said would have surprised her more.
“Why?”
“I can take care of myself.”
He couldn’t have insulted her more. “What do you think I just did?”
“I think you just killed your first man, and you don’t need another on your conscience. You certainly don’t need it on your stomach. You look like you’re going to upchuck.”
She glared at him. “I’m fine.”
“Good. Your brother isn’t.”
All of Nicky’s attention went to Robin. He was swaying in his saddle. She moved her horse around to his side. “Just a few more minutes, Robin. Hold on.”
“I’m sorry, Sis. I shouldn’t have gone with … Cobb Yancy, but—”
“Hush,” she said. “If you hadn’t, Yancy would have found something else. He was after more than me.”
But Robin wasn’t listening. He was holding on to his saddle horn for dear life, and his face was a white mask now.
“Maybe I should ride ahead,” she said. “Get some help.”
“You got a doctor in this place?” Diablo asked.
“Not right now. But Andy—”
“Andy?”
“The blacksmith. He knows some medicine, and I can sew up a wound.”
“Go on ahead, and get him ready,” Diablo ordered. “I’ll get your brother there.” He stopped his horse, slipped off and then mounted behind Robin, holding him upright in the saddle.
Could she really trust Diablo that much? Dare she leave him alone with Robin?
“I’ll take care of him,” Diablo said, more gently this time.
Nicky finally nodded and spurred her mare into a gallop.
Kane handled young Thompson gingerly. The boy reminded him of himself years ago, particularly the bravado. The kid was obviously in severe pain, but he wasn’t going to show it.
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