Diablo

by Georgina Gentry

  He wanted her with all the need any man ever felt for a beautiful woman. He wanted to crush that soft, moist mouth beneath his, run his hands over that ripe body, and take her completely so that she was his in sweet surrender.

  “Fat chance of that,” he grunted. Then he noticed the forgotten sunbonnet lying in the dirt at his feet. He leaned over, picked it up. It was a blue flowered calico with a trim of eyelet around the face. When he held it close to his nose, he smelled the scent of her soft hair. It smelled of sunshine, soap, and lilacs. He ought to return it to her.

  Even as he took a step, he saw her reach the buggy, and then Hurd Kruger came across the street to speak to her and lifted her up onto the seat.

  So she was Kruger’s woman, or maybe his daughter. Diablo gritted his teeth in rage as he watched. Well, then she would be part of his revenge. But not yet. Diablo had waited fifteen years for this, and he would not let emotion hurry his plans. Diablo folded the sunbonnet and slipped it inside his shirt. Then he went around back of the saloon, mounted his black stallion, and rode out of town, still thinking of the girl.

  Sunny had hurried to her buggy. “Oh, hello, Uncle Hurd.” Sunny noted the man with a sigh as he came across the road.

  “Oh, now Sunny, you can just call me Hurd.” He stood sucking his teeth and staring down at her in a hungry way like a coyote might look at a rabbit. “What you doing in town?”

  Somehow, she thought any information might lead to trouble for her father. “Just—just picking up a few supplies. I might ask you the same thing.” She gave him her warmest smile to distract him.

  “I was at the barber’s getting a shave and a haircut.” Hurd put his hands on her tiny waist and lifted her up onto the buggy seat.

  She saw the black dye still wet on his sideburns, too black on his gray hair.

  “Where’s Swen?” He frowned, looking up and down the street.

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe at the saddle shop.” She wished he would go away.

  About that time, Swen came out of the livery stable and strode toward them. His weathered face paled as he saw Kruger.

  “Well, Swen, what business you got in town?” Kruger smiled, but his cold dark eyes did not.

  “Uh, just—just gettin’ some supplies, that’s all.”

  “Yes,” Sunny blurted, “we had just been discussing how successful the Stock Growers Association has been about running the settlers out of Johnson County.” She tried to smile at the heavyset man.

  That seemed to divert his attention because he smiled too, and nodded. “Yep, them Texas gunfighters is doin’ the trick.”

  “She don’t need to hear the details,” Swen snapped as he climbed up onto the seat.

  Sunny wanted to comment on the pitiful, poor families and their ragged wagons, but knew she was expected not to start a controversy.

  Hurd smiled at her, looking at her intently in a way that made her feel he was mentally undressing her. “Well, it’ll be dark soon and I got things to do. Swen, you ought to come join us. We’re meetin’ at my place tonight.”

  Swen swallowed hard and fidgeted with the reins. “You know I won’t, Hurd.”

  “Some people forget when a favor is owed, I reckon. Well, good-bye, Miss Sunny. It was good to see you again. You’re the prettiest gal in the county, bar none.”

  “Thank you,” Sunny tried not to pull her hand back as Hurd grabbed it and waited until he had walked away before she wiped her hand on her blue skirt.

  “How long he been here?” Swen asked as they watched him mount up and ride away.

  “Just a minute or two.” She didn’t want to even think about the matter.

  Swen shrugged. “Just what I thought, sheriff said I ought to be on the side of the ranchers and he ain’t gonna get involved or he’d get voted out of office or maybe killed.”

  “Can’t or won’t?” Sunny challenged.

  “I don’t know, and you can’t blame him none. There’re at least twenty-five of the best Texas gunfighters here right now, and the Stock Growers Association is big and powerful. There’s liable to be more trouble, Sunny. I worry about what would happen to you if something happened to me.”

  “Now Dad,” she put her hand on his arm as he snapped the reins and the buggy moved out down the dusty street, “nothing’s going to happen to you.”

  He glanced over at her. “Where’s your sunbonnet?”

  She touched her head, feeling a bit foolish. “I—I don’t know. Reckon I lost it someplace. I’ll make myself another.” She must have dropped it in the alley when she was surprised and frightened by that cold, scarred gunfighter. She’d been in a panicked hurry to escape from him. The intensity of his dark eyes and his unsmiling face, his wide-shouldered masculinity had frightened her. He looked like the kind of man who took what he wanted, and the hunger on his scarred face told her he wanted her.

  “Honey, what are you thinking about?” Swen said as he took the buggy at a fast clip toward their ranch.

  “Nothing,” she lied. “I reckon as soon as the cattlemen scare all the settlers out of the county, they’ll send all those gunfighters packing?”

  “Reckon so,” Swen sighed. “There’s one . . .”

  She waited for him to finish, but her father seemed lost in thought as they drove the rest of the way home.

  Tonight, she thought, there’ll be some more barns set afire and settlers shot. She felt helpless to stop it. Then a thought occurred to her: Uncle Hurd seemed to have a soft spot in his heart for her. She’d ask him as a special favor to stop the killing and bloodshed.

  Diablo rode out to his camp, still thinking of the girl. Because he had been raised by the Santee Sioux, he could live outdoors, but living with the Durangos had gotten him used to having coffee and bacon. He’d seen Kruger in town with that beautiful blonde, so this was a good chance to scout out Kruger’s ranch. Most of his men would probably be out killing settlers or driving off cattle. He’d decided from what he’d heard that Kruger valued only certain things, so Diablo intended to destroy or steal them. He intended to see that Kruger ended up with nothing.

  He tied up his horse at a distance and moved silently toward the ranch house. There didn’t seem to be a soul around except an old Indian woman working in the kitchen. Diablo could see her and hear her singing as she walked out on the back porch to empty dishwater. He went around the house and through a window into what looked like the living area. The furniture was rough, but there was a bearskin rug before the fireplace. The sunlight gleamed on the rifle with silver and gold etchings on its barrel. It had to have cost a fortune, and Kruger must be so proud of it. He would be mad as hell when he realized it was gone.

  With a smile, Diablo reached up and took it off its mounts and went back through the window. As he walked away, he heard a dog barking and walked over to see a big, thin dog at the end of a chain. It looked like a cross between a wolf and some kind of shepherd. The dog snarled and strained at the end of his chain.

  Diablo liked dogs, and this one looked mistreated. “Be quiet boy, or you’ll alert the housekeeper. Your life not so good at this place? I’ll see what I can do.”

  He strode to his horse, put the prized rifle in the boot on his saddle, and got the rabbit he’d snared this morning. He could get another one, and the dog was evidently hungry. He returned and tossed the rabbit to the dog, who shied away as if used to being beaten. It blinked and hushed barking at Diablo, then grabbed the dead rabbit.

  “I’ll bring you another tomorrow,” Diablo promised in a soft voice.

  The savage dog watched him as if it couldn’t believe a man was being kind, then wolfed down the unexpected treat.

  Diablo rode back to his camp, still thinking of the girl. He intended to take everything Kruger valued before he killed him; he owed him that much. And if that meant Kruger’s beautiful daughter, so be it.

  Diablo pulled the sunbonnet out of his shirt and examined it. It was made of some fabric with tiny blue flowers and lace. When he closed his eyes and s
niffed it, it seemed he could smell the scent of her pale hair and the lilac scent she wore. In his mind, he remembered every detail of her lovely face and large blue eyes. His manhood rose at the thought of her round curves and soft skin. Oh, there was a lot he could do with Kruger’s woman to extract the revenge he craved. He owed it to his dead friends. But for now, he must be patient. He had waited fifteen years, he could wait a little longer.

  Kruger rode home from town, still picturing Sunny’s face. The more he saw of her, the more he knew he must have her. She was a little young, but she was the most beautiful woman in the whole county and other men would envy him. He could only imagine the pleasure he’d get from her pure, virgin body, and she would give him sons to carry on his empire.

  He entered the ranch house, went into the living room, and plopped down before the fire. He stared with satisfaction into the flames. These early spring days were still chilly.

  Now he looked around the room, imagining what Sunny would think of his house, then frowned and shook his head. No, this old log cabin was big and roomy enough for him, but for his future wife, he needed to build a fine mansion, maybe one of those expensive Victorian things with all the stained-glass windows he’d seen when he was on a cattle-selling trip back east.

  Back east. That was where Swen kept talking of sending Sunny to school. Of course the old man was bluffing about having the money to do so. Hurd would have to put a stop to that nonsense if he was to wed her. He walked to the window, grinned as he thought about the perfect location for the fine new house. When he got finished running all the settlers out of the valley and was in control of the whole county, he would build that mansion and lay his empire at Sunny’s feet. With all the power and money he offered, how could she turn him down?

  He frowned, thinking of Swen again. He didn’t think Swen had any idea Hurd wanted to wed his daughter, but Hurd was almost certain the old man wouldn’t approve. Yep, Swen Sorrenson was a problem. Sucking his teeth in thought, Hurd returned to his worn leather rocker and leaned back to feast his eyes on his prized Winchester. He looked again, blinked.

  “What the hell?”

  He jumped up, ran into the kitchen, and confronted the bent old woman. “Maria, anybody been here today?”

  She paused in her cooking and shook her head. “No, sir, just your men working around the barn.”

  “You stupid squaw,” he snarled, “did you take my fancy rifle down to dust it?”

  She looked baffled and shook her gray braids. “You mean, the one that hangs over the fireplace?”

  “Of course the one that hangs over the fireplace. Anyone been in the house?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Maybe Joe or one of the boys is playing a trick, the bastards! I’ll teach them to touch what’s mine!” He went storming out the back door toward the barn, pausing to kick at the snarling dog. “You son of a bitch, what kind of watchdog are you?”

  None of the men in the bunkhouse admitted to having any knowledge of the fancy gun even though Hurd raged and slammed things around. “By God, if one of you took it, I’ll have his hide pinned to the barn!”

  “Now, boss,” Joe made a soothing gesture, “We’d know better than touch it, knowing how much store you set by it.”

  “By God, it’s one of them settlers! They’re getting even with me by comin’ right into my house! They’re thumbin’ their noses at me, and I won’t stand for it—”

  “Aw, boss,” one of the men shook his head, “they wouldn’t have the guts to walk right into your house—”

  “Well, someone’s got the balls! I’m gonna tie that half wolf up at the foot of my bed from now on. If they can get past Maria and all my men, walk right into my house, and take stuff I value, that’s getting too close.”

  Joe tried to soothe him. “There’s been plenty of strange stuff already, boss, like hangin’ Smitty and Wilson instead of just shootin’ them.”

  “By God, I just won’t have it, you hear me? I’m president of the Stock Growers Association, and I’m gonna drive all those farmers out of the county. By God, they better not mock me.”

  One of the crew shivered and looked uneasy. “Boss, you reckon it’s a live person?”

  “What do you mean?”

  The man shifted his weight uneasily. “I hear the Indians have put a curse on you for all the Indians you killed.”

  Hurd paused in sucking his teeth. “Are you sayin’ a ghost or a spook? That’s the damndest thing I ever heard.”

  Nobody said anything. Blind with rage, but still uneasy at the thought that some unseen spirit might be shadowing him, he shuddered and turned toward the door, then stopped. “Oh, Joe, after we get these settlers run out, I want you and the boys to start clearing off that hill with the good view.”

  “What?” Joe blinked.

  “I’m going to build a big, fancy house. It ain’t fitting for the owner of the biggest cattle empire in Wyoming to be living in a tumbledown old ranch house.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.”

  “And there’s a thousand dollars in gold for the man who brings back my fancy rifle.”

  “A thousand dollars?” one of them repeated, and a murmur of excitement ran through the crowd. That was almost a year’s wages.

  “Yeah, and keep a sharp lookout. You boys must have been half asleep to let whoever it was walk right into my place and take my most prized possession.”

  Joe said, “Boss, you can’t blame us if this thing movin’ so quiet around the place ain’t human.”

  “Oh, hell, it’s human, all right, and I’m gonna nail his balls to a log and leave him for the coyotes to eat.”

  Still he wasn’t sure himself as he turned and stomped out of the bunkhouse. He didn’t really think any of the nesters had the grit to come onto his property and steal from him. As he passed the chained dog, he kicked at it again and it growled at him. “You mongrel sonovabitch, you ain’t worth the bullet to kill you. For letting someone take my rifle without raisin’ the alarm, you don’t get no food today.”

  He kicked at the dog again, and it snarled at him, straining against the chain. Maybe he ought to rethink chaining the beast in his bedroom. If it ever managed to break that chain, he had no doubt the dog would tear his throat out. He returned to the house and stomped up and down, thinking of all the ways he could torture the man who took his prized rifle. The settlers were getting too bold. Maybe it was time to turn up the heat, really let these nesters know he and the other ranchers meant business. Nate Champion and his friends were some of the main ones suspected of rustling. Tomorrow Hurd and his boys would gather up the others, attack the Champion place. When it was burned down and those rustlers killed, the nesters would get the message and move on.

  Finally he went to bed and dreamed of Sunny. She would make him a dutiful, beautiful wife, and in turn he would lay his fortune at her feet as well as that new mansion, which would be the finest in the state. Surely when Swen saw all that Hurd had to offer Sunny, he couldn’t object to the marriage. Or could he?

  Chapter 5

  Diablo watched from a distant rise as the smoke from the burning cabin curled in a thin black snake toward the blue sky. The dozens of men who ringed the burning cabin fired intermittently, evidently waiting for the flames to drive their prey out into the yard. So the Texas gunfighters and the big ranchers were escalating their war.

  Diablo frowned and cradled the prized rifle he had taken from Kruger’s den. Such unfair slaughter troubled him. They ought to at least give the poor bastards a fighting chance.

  As the flames gradually engulfed the building, a lone man, his clothes on fire, ran out into the yard, shooting as he came. He was greeted by volleys of rifle fire that almost cut him in half. He stumbled, took another step, and went down in a second barrage of gunfire.

  Diablo brought the fine rifle up to his shoulder, looked down the sights to center on Hurd Kruger, who had now stepped out to stand over the prone body. He had Kruger in his gun sights. It was a long shot, but Di
ablo could easily take him out from here. It was a big temptation. Diablo imagined the look of surprise on the man’s beefy face as he went down, wondering what had hit him.

  No, that wouldn’t do. Reluctantly, Diablo slipped the rifle back into the boot on his saddle. He had waited a long time to kill this man, and when he did, he wanted Kruger to know who had killed him and why and then to die slowly and in agony.

  He had been paid to take part in this slaughter, but the unfairness of it needled him. Damn, he must be getting soft. What was it to him if the farmers and little ranchers were slaughtered? Yet he wheeled his horse and galloped toward the little town of Buffalo. He reined in as the sheriff came running out of his office.

  “Stranger, what’s goin’ on? I’ve been trying to get through to find out.”

  “They’ve cut the telegraph wire!” Diablo shouted, “and right now, the Stock Growers Association is burning down another ranch!”

  “I’ll bet that’s Nate’s place; I heard he was at the top of their list. Thanks! I’ll take it from here!”

  As Diablo rode out, the sheriff commenced ringing the church bell and people ran up and down the street to find out what all the excitement was about.

  Diablo galloped out of town. No doubt the Buffalo townsmen would catch the killers by surprise. He found himself blinking as he rode toward Kruger’s place, wondering why he’d done it. He never gave a damn about killing men, and now he was trying to save the underdogs. Maybe that was it: he’d been an underdog all his life.

  He rode cautiously to the K Bar, but there didn’t seem to be anyone around. All the hands must be out in that killing party. He fed the wolflike dog, which now wagged its tail at him. Diablo walked over, squatted to pet the big beast. “I’ll take you next,” he promised as he stroked the big head. “And then I’ll get the horse. I will take or destroy everything that means anything to that bastard before I kill him.”