Diablo

by Georgina Gentry

  “You say that, but you burnt the new house down,” she snapped. “Wherever you go, you leave a trail of death and destruction behind.”

  He looked stung, but he frowned and growled. “Yep, that’s me. I’m a gunfighter, and I’ll die someday in the wreckage I leave in my wake. Now let’s get ridin’.”

  “I won’t go.”

  “But of course you will. I can do anything I want with you, including spanking that round little bottom.”

  “No.” She could feel his breath warm against her face, and she wondered if he would kiss her again, or more.

  “It’s not as if you have a choice.” He swung her up easily in his strong arms and carried her. “It’s been a long night, and I’m tired. Try not to try my patience any more.”

  “And suppose I do?”

  He chuckled. “And to think I once pictured you as a shy mouse of a girl. Get on your horse.”

  She tried to mount, but she was still shaking and she couldn’t do it.

  “Do you want to ride behind me?” he asked.

  “I can ride,” she snapped and tried again, “I don’t need your help.”

  “Of course you don’t.” His voice was gentle. He walked around and tied a bandana around her eyes, lifted her easily up on his big stallion onto the skirt of the saddle. His powerful arms felt comforting.

  “I don’t need your help,” she said again.

  “Maybe not, but you’re gonna get it, so hush.” She heard him whistle to the dog. “I’ll lead the bay.”

  He swung up into the saddle, and she put her arms around his waist so she wouldn’t fall off. He clucked to his horse, and they started off. He said, “I put the pink dress I found in my saddlebag. When we get back to the cave, you can clean up in the stream and put it on.”

  “You don’t like me in your shirt?”

  “Princess, I only have two shirts, and I’d like that one returned.”

  She leaned against his bare back as they rode. She could feel every hard muscle and sinew of his lithe body. “I hate you for using me as bait so you can kill people.”

  He laughed as they rode. “Kill him? Naw, that would be too easy. I’m going to make him beg for me to kill him.”

  “You don’t have a heart.”

  “More than he does, Princess.”

  “Why do you keep calling me that?”

  “It’s a fairy tale. You ever read fairy tales when you were young?”

  “Did you?” She was incredulous.

  “Mrs. Durango read me some. There’s one about a snooty princess who goes about lookin’ for a handsome prince.”

  “All the princesses in the stories were looking for handsome princes,” she snapped.

  “Then I won’t tell you how it ends because you must already know.” He sighed, and she wondered what made him so sad.

  “Let’s see,” she mused, “there was the princess who slept on all the mattresses with the pea under them. There was the one whose father, King Midas, turned everything he touched into gold. There was Sleeping Beauty, who fell asleep and didn’t awaken for years until a handsome prince kissed her.” She shrugged, annoyed that she couldn’t make the connection.

  He seemed to chuckle and said nothing.

  “Think of all the money you could get for me,” she said as she leaned against his bare back in spite of attempts to sit upright. She was very tired, and it felt so comfortable to lay her face against his brown skin.

  “I’m not after money, I’ve told you that,” he snarled as they rode “I’m after revenge. Sooner or later, Kruger will come lookin’ for you.”

  “Maybe he won’t,” she said, too aware of the warmth of his body against hers.

  “If you were my woman, I would.” He reached down and put his big hand over her small ones. “And I wouldn’t rest until I found you.”

  Her breasts rested against his back, and she was conscious of that, remembering that she had let him kiss her when she’d been so afraid of the tornado. “So you’re going to use me to lure him out?”

  “I said that, didn’t I?”

  She waited for more, but they rode in silence. “He must have done something terrible to you.”

  “So terrible, I can’t even tell you about it—something no man should do to another.”

  “Besides killing or torturing?”

  “Yes.”

  She tried to imagine what he might be hinting at, but she wasn’t sure she believed him anyway. Hurd had always been so good to her and her father. “How long ago?”

  “Fifteen years.”

  “That’s a long time to hold a grudge.”

  “Not for what he did. I’ve waited all these years to settle with him and three of his men.”

  A chill went up her back, and she remembered that two of Hurd’s longtime cowhands had been found hanged. Maybe this killer was willing to go to any lengths to get Hurd. If only she could warn him.

  She waited for Diablo to say more, but he kept his silence. Evidently this was a taciturn man who was used to a lonely life where he seldom mixed with people.

  After a long ride, she felt him rein in, and she heard Wolf barking and dancing about.

  “Be quiet, boy,” her captor said and dismounted. Then he said, “You can dismount now.”

  “That’s hard to do with a blindfold on,” she complained.

  “I’ll catch you.”

  She hesitated, but she knew his strength so she slid off the horse. He caught her easily and carried her over and sat her down on a rock. Then he leaned against her to reach behind her and untie the bandana. His body was hard and warm against her breasts, and she felt his breath hot on her cheek. His mouth must be only inches away. Would he kiss her again? Did she want him to? Sunny, are you loco? she asked herself.

  “There,” Diablo said and moved away.

  Sunny looked around. They were back at the cave. It was almost dawn.

  “I’ll fix us something to eat,” Diablo said, and she was conscious that he kept his scarred face turned away from her.

  If she was ever going to get away from him, it needed to be soon, before he decided she was too much trouble and killed her. Just dumping her dead body on Kruger’s doorstep might be revenge enough for this outlaw. “I can help.”

  He looked at her, distrust in those dark eyes. “All right, but don’t get any ideas.” He went over and sat on a rock.

  Wolf trotted over to join him, wagging his tail. Diablo patted the dog and played with its ears. She saw a rare smile on his chiseled face.

  “I bake a better biscuit than you do,” she said. “And if you’d shoot me a rabbit, I’d fry it up.”

  He looked at her a long moment as she reached for the frying pan. “Sure.”

  He and the dog got up and strode off through the brush while she made biscuits. In a few moments, she heard a pistol shot, and then the pair came back to the fire, Diablo carrying a fat bunny.

  “Well, that was fast,” she commented. “I only heard one shot.”

  He shrugged. “It only takes one.”

  “Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”

  “Trace Durango. He’s one of the best shots in the Texas hill country.”

  “Is he a killer too?”

  He didn’t answer, only began to skin the rabbit and toss the scraps to the dog. Then he handed her the meat. Their hands touched, and he looked at her. “Is that how you think of me, a killer?”

  “How else am I to think?”

  “Just cook the damned rabbit.” He strode over and washed his hands in the stream, then came back to sit on a rock and watch her cook.

  She felt him staring at her as she got the food ready, and it made her nervous and self-conscious. This man had kissed her intimately, and as much as she hated to admit it, she had liked it. Suppose he had liked it too and decided he wanted more? She must get away from him. Maybe tonight she’d have a chance.

  Diablo watched her as they ate. “You can cook,” he nodded in approval.

  “Thanks.”
She was having a difficult time keeping her eyes open. It was early morning, but she had had such a long, weary night. She tried to keep her eyes open, nodded, blinked, and finally let her empty tin plate slide off her lap as she dozed.

  Diablo thought she looked worn-out. Very gently, he picked her up, carried her back into the cave, laid her down, and covered her up. Then he tiptoed out of the cave and sat down by the fire. She might sleep all day if no one disturbed her, and she needed the rest. He thought of the two gunfighters and clenched his fists. If they’d hurt her, there was no telling what Diablo might have done to them. Killing them wouldn’t have been enough.

  Careful, he chided himself, you must not begin to care about her. She’s Kruger’s woman, and don’t you forget that.

  Even though he kept reminding himself of that, when he looked at her lying in his big shirt, sleeping peacefully, he wished she belonged to him, body and soul.

  Chapter 13

  It was late morning at the K Bar as Kruger shouted at a handful of his men in the den. Maria had quit three days ago, and the whole place was already disheveled.

  When Joe showed up, Hurd sent the men to the barn, and he raged at Joe. “You weasel! Where is everyone? Looks like half the crew is missin’.”

  Joe winced away from his anger. “Boss, they’re tired of your rages. Some of them have quit. This keeps up, there won’t be enough men left to keep the place goin’. You can’t keep a ranch this big runnin’ without a big crew.”

  “The ingrates! The miserable bastards! Once I get Sunny back, I’ll right everything that’s gone wrong around here. It don’t matter unless I get her back.” He paced up and down, the smoke from his cigar clouding the room and smelling it up like an old saloon.

  “But boss, you’ve put your whole life into this ranch. That tornado last night took out some fences and destroyed three feed sheds. Besides that, some of the shingles are blown off the barn and house, and they’ll leak if we don’t fix ’em.”

  “I don’t give a damn.” He stopped and eyed the running iron still lying on his mantel. “All I really care about is Sunny.”

  “There’re other girls,” Joe said, “and lots of them would be happy to marry you—”

  “Goddamn it! I only want her! I’ve always wanted her. I’ve built all this for her.”

  He paused, hearing a horse approaching the ranch, and ran to the window to see a rider galloping up on a gray horse. “Who is that?”

  Joe walked up and looked out at the wiry rider. “I think that’s Harry Bicker from the Lazy C.”

  “Maybe he’s heard something.” Kruger was almost pathetic as he ran out the door to meet Harry. “You got news?”

  The wiry man nodded and slipped from his saddle. “Found a campsite about twenty miles from here. Looks like there’s been big trouble. You’d better come, Mr. Kruger.” Kruger felt his heart lurch. He wasn’t in that good of health, and if anything happened to Sunny, if he didn’t get her back, he wasn’t sure he could survive the shock. The doctor in Cheyenne had warned him his heart wasn’t top notch.

  “Joe,” he yelled, “get the horses quick!”

  “But the men were gonna mend those broken fences today, boss, and there’s brandin’ and—”

  Kruger threw a coffee cup at him, and Joe ducked. It crashed against the fireplace and joined the broken whiskey bottles littering the floor. “I don’t give a damn about the ranch, not unless I have Sunny here as my wife. Now get some riders mounted!”

  In minutes, they were on the trail.

  Kruger turned to the Lazy C cowhand as they rode. “What did you find?”

  “Just a campsite, Mr. Kruger, but there was a woman’s dress, so I thought she might have been there, and some other signs.”

  He didn’t want to hear any more. In his feverish mind, he imagined Sunny fending off some brute of a nester as he took her down on the ground and raped her. He’d raped a woman or two in his life and even . . . hell, he didn’t want to think about that. He was a rich, important rancher, and the victims were nobodies, so that didn’t count.

  He chewed his lip and spurred his sorrel into a gallop. His beloved bride would have been screaming for help, and he wasn’t there to save her. Oh, he’d kill the man who hurt her. She belonged to him, and there was nothing, nothing he wouldn’t do to get her back.

  It was mid-afternoon with the horses blowing and lathered as Kruger and his cowboys rode with the Lazy C cowboy and arrived at the campsite. At first, he saw only ashes of a cold fire and buffalo grass trampled, as if a fight had occurred.

  His heart beat unsteadily as he saw the ragged blue print dress caught in a thicket. He strode over and pulled it free. It was still damp from the deluge of rain, but he recognized it. “Yes, it’s hers, all right,” he admitted, although his heart wanted to deny it was true. “See what else you can find.”

  Joe sniffed the breeze. “I smell something dead.”

  Hurd sniffed the air and had to swallow hard to keep from retching. It must not be Sunny. It couldn’t be Sunny. “You men spread out and look.”

  In a minute, Joe called, “Hey, boss, over here in the ravine, there’s two bodies.”

  Oh, God. Hurd ran toward the ravine though he wanted to run the other way. “Who—who is it?”

  “Two men.” Joe scrambled down the ravine as Hurd peered over the edge. Joe struggled to turn the bloated bodies over and when he did, he whistled. “Someone’s a good shot.”

  “Who are they?” Hurd peered down and was joined by the other men, who took a breath and backed away.

  Joe said, “Looks like two of those Texas gunfighters, maybe the one called Buck and his friend, can’t remember his name.”

  One of the other cowboys scratched his head. “Wasn’t his name Pug?”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” Joe nodded. “One’s hit squarely between the eyes; the other’s shot in the heart. Mighty fancy shootin.’”

  Hurd climbed down to have a look. The red-haired one looked surprised, his eyes wide open in his freckled face with flies crawling about his mouth. The other one’s ponytail was stiff with dried blood, and he was missing a number of teeth. Hurd coughed at the smell and frowned. “You’re right. Nobody but one of them Texas gunfighters can shoot like that.”

  “I saw one of them in the saloon kill a man,” volunteered another, “the one with the scarred face.”

  “Scarred face?” Joe asked.

  “Yeah,” the other nodded. “He was dressed all in black—a half-breed, I think. One side of his face looked like a monster, all burned and twisted.”

  Everyone turned and looked at Hurd. “You hire that one, Mr. Kruger?”

  Hurd shook his head. “Don’t remember him. No, I don’t think so.”

  He saw a look of growing horror on Joe’s face. “Boss, that sounds like the man who took Miss Sunny.”

  “What?” Now Hurd was very interested.

  “Another thing, boss,” Joe climbed back up the side of the ravine, “you remember about fifteen years ago—”

  “Oh, hell,” Hurd snapped as he climbed out of the ravine, “you’re lettin’ your imagination run wild.” Hurd sucked his teeth, trying to remember, but the memory was fuzzy because they had all been drunk. There had been a half-breed kid and three cowboys....

  “Well,” said the Lazy C rider, “shall we bury them right here?”

  Hurd shrugged. He didn’t give a damn about the dead bodies. “Is there no other sign of Miss Sorrenson?” he asked, not knowing whether to be disappointed or relieved. Before anyone could answer, he caught sight of a bit of white cotton fabric that had blown into the brush. “What is that?”

  The other men turned, but Hurd was already running to retrieve it. As he did, horror mixed with pure rage. “Goddamn it to hell !”

  “What is it, boss?” Joe strode over to join him.

  Tears came to Hurd’s eyes, blinding him. The object was a dainty pair of women’s white lace drawers, and they were torn and soaked in blood. He didn’t even want to thin
k about what might have happened, but the torn lingerie told a mute story of its own.

  The other men saw what he held and sighed, but no one said anything.

  Hurd clutched the torn undergarment and closed his eyes. His Sunny, his future bride. At the least, she had been violated. At the worst, she had been murdered too. He managed to get control of his voice. “Men, she’s still out here somewhere. I’m raising the reward to ten thousand dollars.”

  “Is that dead or alive, Mr. Kruger?” The Lazy C cowhand asked, and Hurd wheeled and put all his fury into his fist as he knocked Harry down. “You sonovabitch! She’s alive, I tell you, and I want her back!”

  Harry stumbled to his feet, rubbing his swollen jaw. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, Mr. Kruger.”

  Hurd was aware the men around him exchanged looks and someone mumbled “gone loco,” but he didn’t bother to look to see who it was. Maybe he was going crazy, but he was obsessed with the girl. He had loved her all these years and now some rascal had taken her virginity and maybe killed her.

  “I want Sunny back alive or her attacker dead, I’ll pay either way. You hear me?”

  The men mumbled agreement and turned away.

  “Boss,” Joe asked, “shall we bury those two now?” He nodded toward the ravine.

  “Hell, no, they had Sunny. Let the buzzards eat them.”

  “But, boss,” one of his other cowboys said, “that don’t seem right, just to leave ’em to rot like that—”

  “Leave ’em to rot!” Hurd said and swung up on his sorrel gelding. “They don’t deserve any better!”

  He heard grumbling from the men, but he didn’t give a damn. He didn’t care if they thought he was loco or unchristian. He didn’t need them; he didn’t need anyone but Sunny. And God protect the man who might be still holding her captive.

  As they mounted up at the campsite, Hurd looked toward the hills and the mountains beyond. “Has anyone looked up there in the foothills?”

  Joe shrugged. “I reckon they have, boss; I’m not sure. It’s rough country, too rough for white men.”