Diablo

by Georgina Gentry

  He moaned in his sleep and thrashed about.

  “Stop it,” she whispered, “or you might tear it loose and it’ll start bleeding again.”

  The only thing that seemed to quiet him was her putting her hand on his forehead. He muttered and talked in his delirium, and some of the things he revealed horrified her. She had picked up enough clues from his words to know a little about what had happened to his face, but she found it hard to believe Hurd and his men could have done something so cruel. Then she remembered that Smitty and Wilson had been found hanging from trees, and a chill ran through her as she realized that instead of nesters, Diablo must have been the one to do that, determined to take his revenge.

  Could he have killed her father, too? She shook her head. Her father had tried to protect the boy from the branding.

  Diablo muttered again, and tears came to her eyes. He had had a hard life. Almost no one, from the day of his birth, had been kind to him. No wonder he was such a hard case, such a merciless killer. And she was part of his revenge.

  He was helpless now and maybe dying. It would serve him right if she mounted up and rode off and left him. If he died, that would be his tough luck, and it would do away with the threat against her fiancé. Hurd. No, she couldn’t quite believe he would deliberately torture a half-breed boy.

  Would the chilly night never end? Diablo shivered again even though she piled both blankets over him and built up the fire. She could go for help and get him to a ranch, but he might die while she was gone. Anyway, she wasn’t certain anyone was willing to help one of the Texas gunfighters. If she managed to find her way back to the K Bar, Hurd would probably say it was a good thing the cold-blooded killer was dying and the world would be better off without him.

  Should she go for help or forget him and find her own way back to civilization?

  She mounted up and reined in, looking down at him. To desert him was all he deserved after what he had put her through. At that moment, he opened his dark eyes and looked up at her.

  “You—you leaving?” The torment in his eyes told her he expected nothing from her, from anyone. No one had ever done anything much to help him, except maybe that Texas family.

  He was ravaged both in body and soul, she thought, and he deserved not the slightest shred of compassion and expected none. “Good-bye, angel,” he whispered and closed his eyes again, shivering violently.

  Oh, my. No, she couldn’t leave him. He might be a hard-hearted killer who deserved to be shot, but the look in those tortured eyes, as though he expected nothing more from her, tore at her heart.

  She dismounted and unsaddled the horse, turned it out to graze, and then she built up the fire again.

  “Cold,” he murmured, “so cold.”

  She hesitated. If he didn’t get warm, he’d probably die before morning. She took a deep breath and took off her dress, crawled under the cover with him, warming his shivering big frame with her own. She placed his ravaged face against her bare breasts and stroked his hair. “It’s all right,” she whispered. “Everything is going to be all right. I’m not leaving.”

  She was a fool, she knew, for not taking advantage of his helpless state to ride out and desert him, escape her captivity, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she held his shivering body close to her warm naked one and stroked his hair. In the glow of the fire, she could see the ravaged side of his face, all burned and covered with red welts. Once she had thought he looked like a monster, but now she looked with her heart and saw only a sad, angry man who had never seen much kindness. He was no longer a heartless beast; he was only a mistreated, lonely boy who had grown into a hard, bitter killer.

  She held him against her bare breasts, and gradually he stopped shivering and slept. She had done everything she knew to help him, and now it was up to the Great Spirit of his Sioux people.

  It was almost dawn when she awakened and was startled to realize where she was. His ravaged face still nestled against her breasts, but he was no longer burning with fever. Hurd would never understand if he should come riding up suddenly. In fact, he would probably kill the gunfighter right there in his blankets.

  Then she realized Diablo was awake. She felt his warm breath on her breasts, and she stroked his hair a moment, before she got up and stood by the fire, buttoning the pink gingham dress she wore. She knew he was watching, but she didn’t care.

  He managed to say, “You—you saved my life.” He said it with a sense of wonder, as if he could not quite believe it.

  “Well, I shot you, so I figured I owed you that.” She turned away and busied herself at the fire.

  “After what I’ve done, anyone else would have ridden out and left me, or put a bullet in my brain.”

  “I reckon I’m a fool,” she snapped, feeling a bit silly because what he said was true. “Here, drink the rest of this willow bark brew, and I’ll see if I can make some broth from some of that dried jerky.”

  He just kept looking up at her in wonderment as she held his head and helped him sip the willow bark brew. “I—I never met anyone quite like you.”

  “Any decent human being would have done the same.” She cradled him close for a long moment before she returned to the fire.

  “I reckon I haven’t met many decent human beings.”

  “Now I can believe that.” She started making broth.

  He rose up on one elbow and winced. “I reckon I’m hurt worse than I thought.”

  “Lay back down,” she ordered. “You’re hurt. By the way, I saw all the scars on your body. I’m surprised you haven’t died before.”

  He managed a weak smile. “I reckon I’m tough as a boot heel. Mostly, I just did the best I could for myself when I got shot up.”

  She had the broth cooking now and came back to sit beside him. “Honestly I didn’t think you’d make it through the night.”

  “That would have been the perfect time for you to escape.”

  “I know it. I’ve still got your guns. When I’m convinced you’re okay, I’ll leave.”

  “And bring the boys from the K Bar back to finish me off ?”

  “Don’t be silly,” she snapped. “I didn’t save you to let Hurd kill you. I figure we’re even now.” She reached for a wet cloth and bathed his face.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean you should wipe the slate clean and ride out.”

  “In other words, you’re trying to save Kruger’s life?”

  “I’m trying to end this endless cycle of violence.” She gently washed the right side of his face.

  “Don’t it scare you to look at me?”

  She shook her head. “No. It’s just scars, that’s all.”

  “Most women back away from me in horror.”

  “I reckon I saw past the scars.” She got up and went over to pour him a cup of broth, brought it back, and knelt down beside him. She was aware, that she slipped her arm under his head, her bodice pulled open so that he could see her breasts, but she was too weary to care. He sipped the broth and lay back down on the blanket, looking up at her like a hurt dog.

  “I never expected anyone like you,” he murmured again.

  “So will you go back to Texas and leave us in peace here?”

  He managed to pull himself up into a sitting position, although he winced. “I told you I came for revenge, and I’m not finished with it.”

  “Lay back down before you start bleeding again.” she scolded.

  “I’m feeling better,” he said, but his face was etched with deep lines of pain.

  “I’ll stay until you can ride,” she said, “and then we’ll each go our own ways.”

  “I meant it about not leaving until I finish what I came for.”

  The dog came over to him and licked his face. It lay down next to him, and he stroked its ears.

  “You’re a hard case, Diablo.”

  “No more than you are, trying to save your fiancé.”

  “Is that what you think?” She sighed at his stu
bbornness.

  His face hardened. “You didn’t save me out of the kindness of your heart; you’re trying to protect Kruger and Joe.”

  “I don’t want anyone else killed, not even you.”

  “Are you still going to marry that mean bastard?” he almost snarled.

  “I—I don’t know.” She looked away. “It was my father’s dying wish.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Hurd. He said he found Dad when he’d been shot and that was the last promise Dad insisted on.”

  Feeling overwhelmingly angry and annoyed, Diablo chewed his lip. He could tell the girl what he knew, but she would never believe him and for some reason, the thought of the burly rancher marrying and bedding this girl set him in a fury.

  “What are you thinking?” the girl asked.

  “Nothing. Nothing at all.” No, she would never believe him. He looked at her and remembered the sweet smell of her, the softness of her skin, and the warmth of her full breasts, and he wanted her as a man wants a woman. If Kruger was going to own this girl, Diablo wanted her first, wanted to take her virginity and rob the rich rancher of that pleasure.

  “Lie down,” she said gently, “you don’t look like you feel too good.”

  He sank down with a sigh. “This is no good, me lying here helpless. Kruger and his men are searching high and low for you all over the county, and the more time passes, the better chance they have of coming back here. I reckon he’s got a reward out.”

  “A big one,” she said, pulling his blanket up over his chest.

  “How do you know that?”

  “While you were unconscious last night, I rode into Wildfire to get some medicine and bandages. I saw a poster in the pharmacy.”

  Now he looked really alarmed. “You were in a store? You saw someone?”

  “Only the clerk,” she shrugged. “Don’t worry, I didn’t say anything that would lead him to you.”

  “You’re so naive,” Diablo sighed and closed his eyes. “Don’t you think for any reward, that clerk will ride to the K Bar?”

  “I thought about that, but I didn’t know what else to do. You needed help.” She brushed her hair back from her face.

  His hand, lying on the blanket, clenched and unclenched. “It won’t go well with you if Kruger finds out you helped me and stayed when you could have escaped.”

  She reached out and took his hand. It was a brown hand with long fingers, a strong hand that had killed many a man. “Hurd adores me; he always has. He’d forgive anything if I marry him.”

  He looked at her small pale hand in his. Everything about this girl was delicate and beautiful. He wanted to protect her against the whole world, hold her close, and make her his in the most primitive way. But she was going to marry Kruger, and Diablo had nothing to offer her. Without thinking, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingertips tenderly. He saw tears in her eyes as he did so.

  “Don’t you have any other name but Diablo? You don’t seem like a devil to me.”

  “That’s because you haven’t been on the business end of my Colt.”

  “I think I will call you Jim.”

  “Jim?” He laughed. “Why?”

  “Because it sounds like a good, honest rancher, not a killer. What’s your last name?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t have one. I was fathered by a Santee Sioux brave who raped my mother. That white family didn’t want me, so they gave me to that warrior’s mother after he was hung.” He frowned and turned away, let go of her hand. “The Durangos offered me their last name, but I didn’t feel worthy of it since I’m a gunfighter.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you hurt.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I christen you Jim Durango.”

  He laughed without mirth. “That might be a good name for a law-abiding rancher, but I’m a hired gun, Sunny. I’ll be Diablo until the day a faster man shoots me down in some dirty saloon or a dusty main street.”

  “But you don’t have to be. You can choose to be Jim and go back to Texas, lead a peaceful life. Couldn’t you make a fresh start?”

  He frowned. “My need for revenge is the only thing that’s kept me alive these past fifteen years. Oh, Trace Durango offered to sell me a few thousand acres in the Big Bend country, where I could catch wild horses and break them, but I can’t see myself doing that. I can’t change—I’ll always be a hired gun.”

  She fought back the tears. “You’re so damned stubborn. That dusty street might be right here in Wyoming when you come up against Hurd.”

  He glared at her. “And now that we get down to it, he’s the one you’re really worried about, not me. You want to be Mrs. Hurd Kruger, wife of the richest, most powerful cowman in the county if not the state. You’re trying to keep me from killin’ him.”

  “Oh, you’re impossible!” She got up and stalked away, went out into the woods, and sat down under a tree. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the gunfighter. Once she had feared him, but not anymore. Behind her, she heard him up and moving around.

  She got up and ran back to the camp. “You’ll tear something loose and start bleeding again.”

  “I told you I was tough.” He seemed to be gritting his teeth, but he had found the weapons where she had hidden them under some branches near the cave. “Now, Princess, you’re my prisoner again.”

  “You rotten—” She couldn’t find words enough to express her anger, or maybe it was her disappointment in him. “If you’re in good enough shape to make it on your own, why don’t you let me go now?”

  His face looked ghastly white, and she noticed the bandage was slowly spreading fresh scarlet.

  “You’d better sit down, Jim,” she said softly. “You’re bleeding again.”

  He slid into a sitting position against a big rock, but he held onto the pistol and rifle. “I—I’m okay.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Well, I’ve got the guns.”

  “You didn’t need the guns. I wasn’t going to shoot you or bring someone who would.”

  He took a deep breath, and she could tell he was in pain. “I can’t trust anyone, never have.”

  “I haven’t sold you out, and I’ve had the chance.”

  He shook his head and closed his eyes. “I can’t figure that.”

  “Jim,” she whispered, “I won’t double-cross you. I just want to save you from dying on that dusty street somewhere.”

  “I can’t change, Sunny.”

  “Of course you can.” She put her hand on his knee. “Everyone can change. There’s no path in life that’s so set it can’t be changed.”

  “Stop talking to me,” he snapped. “You’re just trying to save Kruger’s neck. You know when I get on my feet I’m going to kill him.”

  “I know.” She moved over by the fire. “I guess I was wrong about you, Jim. I think I’ll leave now and get on with my life.” She got up and walked over to the grazing horses.

  He cocked the pistol. “I won’t let you leave.”

  “Are you going to shoot me?” She gave him a very direct look with those big sky-colored eyes and went on saddling her horse.

  “Damn you, sit down!” He ordered. “You won’t bring Kruger back here when I’m not ready to face him down.”

  “You know I wouldn’t do that.” She said it calmly as she saddled the bay.

  “I can’t take that chance.” His voice was cold and hard as his face when she turned to look at him.

  “I swear to you I won’t bring anyone back here.”

  “Sunny, don’t you understand? I can’t trust you—I can’t trust anyone.”

  “You poor, poor thing. You’ve got to trust someone in this world. Good-bye, Diablo. I reckon that’s who you really are.”

  “I’ll kill you, I tell you.” He waved the Colt at her, but she ignored him and grabbed the bay’s bridle, started to lead the horse past the gunfighter.

  “Goddamn you!” He swore and dropped the pistol, grabbed for her. They went down i
n a tangle of arms and legs, the horse neighing and rearing away from them.

  “Let go of me!” She looked up into his face as they struggled, and she did the only thing she could to escape his superior strength. She took her fist and hit the bandaged wound hard.

  He collapsed with a shudder and a moan.

  “Oh my God, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” She knelt by him and rolled him over on his back. Blood slowly spread over the white bandage. She grabbed his hands and pulled him back over by the fire, covered him up. His face was chalky white. “I didn’t mean it,” she whispered, “I didn’t mean it.”

  She didn’t even bother to pick up the pistol or the rifle. He would never use them against her, she knew that now.

  Now what? She ought to go ahead and ride out. He surely couldn’t stop her now, but he looked so vulnerable lying there, white faced and unconscious. “If only you could be Jim Durango instead of Diablo, the deadliest gun for hire in the whole West.”

  She kissed his forehead without thinking and brushed his black hair from his eyes. She should hate him and desert him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that.

  Druggist Homer Bledsoe could hardly see through the stinging dust that burned against his face. Once or twice, he lost track of the road and had to rein in and check. The sun came out, but with the wind blowing, it was only a pale disk in the sky. He was late finding his way to the K Bar ranch.

  A weasel-faced man let him into the big house. It looked dirty and neglected, which surprised Homer. He figured a rich man could afford some household help. “I’m here to see Mr. Kruger.”

  The cowboy looked him up and down. “I don’t know what you’re sellin’, but Mr. Kruger ain’t of a mind to see nobody today.”

  From inside came a bellow. “Joe, who is it?”