Free Diablo by Patricia; Potter Page B

only person he’d ever cared two hoots about. They’d been raised in a one-room cabin by a father who’d terrorized both his wife and children. They had run off when he was eleven and Cobb was twelve and they had been together ever since. John couldn’t believe his brother was dead.
    It had been the bitch—and Diablo—who’d caused his death.
    Both would pay. He would find Sanctuary. He knew some of the guides. He would keep looking until he found one, then follow him. He knew what to look for: a man with a steep price on his head.
    John Yancy didn’t care how long it took. He would find—and kill—the Thompson bitch, though he might enjoy her first. Then Thompson, and finally Diablo. He would kill them. He would do it for Cobb.
    Nicky cleaned the house. She scrubbed the floors and the pots and pans. She scrubbed them until her hands were red and raw. She wanted to scrub the image of Diablo from her mind, but all the soap and water in the world wouldn’t do that.
    He was the most infuriating man she’d ever met. The most contradictory. Hell’s bells.
    She scrubbed harder, ignoring her brother’s sideways glances. Her uncle had left this morning and had not returned, but he’d left a message telling her to plan on five for supper tonight. He had probably invited Jeb over.
    Nicky had cooked for Nat and Robin and often Mitch for as long as she could remember. She usually enjoyed it. Her mother had taught her a little, and she had picked up the rest catch-as-catch-can. She associated cooking with smiles, and she liked feeling useful. There was little to feel useful about in Sanctuary, little her uncle approved of her doing. The encounter with Cobb Yancy had proved his dire warnings right. So had her recent experience with Kane O’Brien.
    She still smarted from his dismissal, still tingled when she remembered his touch.
    She wished he would leave. Until he did, she would take no more rides to her hill. She suspected that he would be there. She could take a gun, but she feared a gun wouldn’t give her the kind of protection she needed.
    With effort, she turned her mind to other thoughts, like what to fix for supper that night. She heard a door opening and turned to see Robin coming into the room, his good arm carrying a box with the baby hawk in it.
    â€œCan you help me feed him, Sis?”
    She nodded. “How do you feel?”
    â€œReal good. I want to go over and see Diablo. Maybe he can tell me something about hawks.”
    â€œIt’s Mr. O’Brien,” Nicky said irritably. “And I don’t think he wants to be bothered.”
    â€œBut he brought him to me.”
    â€œYou know Uncle Nat’s rules. You know what happened last time you broke them.”
    â€œDiablo ain’t nothing like Cobb Yancy.” Hero worship was in his eyes.
    â€œSeems I remember you liked Cobb Yancy a few days ago.”
    Robin’s face turned bright red, and guilt surged through Nicky. She had been as deceived by Kane O’Brien’s charm as Robin had been by Cobb Yancy’s interest. Damn O’Brien. He had an easy way, a quick warm smile when he cared to use it. Don’t even think about it.
    If only she could stop.
    â€œHe’s an outlaw, a killer, just like all the others,” she said curtly.
    â€œUncle Nat’s an outlaw, and you like him.”
    â€œAnd he can’t go any place without being hunted. Is that what you want?”
    â€œNo one could catch Uncle Nat, and no one could catch me.”
    â€œThey caught Diablo,” she said, even as she realized reason wasn’t working. It never did. She would talk to Uncle Nat tonight, try to convince him to go to Mexico with her, or some other place where the law couldn’t find him. Now. Not six months from now.
    â€œYeah,” Robin said, “but they couldn’t keep Diablo in jail. They couldn’t keep me, either.” A gleam came into his eyes.