They were back on his horse again, Crista having remained silent, not having known what to say when he had told her about his brother and her sister-in-law. She kept her lips locked tight, questions wanting to spew from them, but this time paying heed to Ricardo’s words of warning… sometimes it is better to say nothing.
Her one worry was that Diablo wished to seek revenge against Esteban and Rosalita, and he could do that easily now that she was his captive. Yet he had told his men he had not approved her abduction, leaving her to believe he had had no intentions of doing so. He had also treated her well thus far, leaving her to think he meant her no harm.
Memories of the men being whipped flashed before her eyes. She had learned to speak her mind. Had been encouraged to do so. How could she hold her tongue captive when it was used to being free?
Crista let her mind chatter keep her occupied as they continued on, debating with herself over possibilities, some leaving her fearful, others hopeful.
Finally, she couldn’t keep her tongue contained any longer, she asked the question that had been on her mind since he had delivered that startling news.
“Do you seek revenge against my brother and his wife?”
“That is between me and your brother and I will speak no more about it.”
There was a particular tone to his deep voice that she had begun to distinguish that meant she’d be wise to say no more on the matter. This time she obeyed the warning, though she didn’t stop talking.
“Do you have family?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t mind a bit of chatter and thinking as much as she didn’t want to look upon the devil, she might be better off. The face often expressed more than words.
“A large one.”
“You have a wife and children?” she asked, thinking he couldn’t be all that bad if he had a loving family.
“Family is measured in different ways,” he said.
Thanks to Lucia, Crista didn’t have a problem admitting when she was wrong. The woman had told her that admitting being wrong was nothing more than a lesson learned and the more we learned the less wrongs we made.
“You’re right,” she said with a nod. “I left family in Spain that were more family to me than those here. I miss them terribly.”
Why she confided that to him, she didn’t know. She simply felt the need to tell someone, the pain of being separated from them growing more hurtful each day.
“It is painful being separated from those you love, those who can’t be replaced,” he said.
Was he speaking of losing his brother or had he lost more than just his brother?
“You have a large family, but no wife?” she asked.
“There you go with the constant questions again.”
There was no warning to his words for her to stop talking this time and she cautiously continued. “I sit on a horse in the arms of the devil whose face I cannot see, not knowing where I’m being taken or my fate. So please forgive me that it is beyond difficult to keep my tongue silent when fear continues to trickle through me.”
“How many times must I repeat that I will not harm you as long as you obey me before you finally understand it?”
“You’re asking me to take the word of el diablo?”
“What choice do you have?”
His response turned her silent. She hadn’t had a choice since her parents had put her on that ship to Spain and it had continued once she had returned home. Decisions had constantly been made for her and in the end they had always brought pain and hurt and an ache to her heart that never seemed to heal.
She gave a sad, little laugh and shook her head. “I’ve never had a choice.”
“How many of us do?” he asked.
She turned a narrowed brow on him.
“Life often makes decisions for us, sometimes through faults of our own, through choices of others, and sometimes through nothing more than fate. You seemed to have survived what fate threw in your path and are stronger for it. If you can survive that, I’m sure you can survive your time with el diablo.”
His words were wise enough, but it was that he mentioned her time with el diablo that caught her attention the most. It meant he didn’t intend to keep her. He would release her and knowing that eased her worry… a little.
Crista was overjoyed when they stopped and camped by a river shortly before nightfall. She went to rush to the water’s edge when her feet touched the ground, Diablo helping her off the horse, but a searing pain shot through her leg causing her to falter.
Diablo’s hands remained at her waist. “Give yourself a moment, then I will help you to the river.”
She wished her leg had healed well, the pain being a constant reminder of that awful day she would never forget. She did as he said, knowing it would help, and after a few moments of standing on her legs, he took hold of her arm and helped her to the water’s edge. He assisted her in removing her duster and jacket, then lowered her to sit. Only then did his hand leave her arm.
Once comfortable, Crista leaned over and splashed the cool, refreshing water in her face, letting it run down her neck and onto her blouse. Then she cheerfully scooped up a handful of water and drank eagerly. She continued to do that until her thirst was finally quenched.
Diablo watched as he led his horse to drink at the water’s edge a distance from her. She was a beautiful woman even more so when she smiled. She was short of height and her body slender and curved nicely in all the right places. To him she was the perfect size. Her breasts were much more than a handful and her hips nicely rounded—the kind a man could grip—and a gentle curve to her waist connected them both.
He turned away when he saw her nipples grow hard from the water that splashed on her blouse. He didn’t need to see that and he didn’t need his body to react to it. He couldn’t allow himself to do anything but keep Crista Cesare safe until he could get her home. And he couldn’t under any circumstances let her see his face. If he did, all the years of planning would be lost, all the promises he had made broken, and he couldn’t allow that to happen.
He built a small fire and spread a blanket near it. He was glad his hood covered his face or she would see his eyes go wide with concern when he went to approach her as she started to get to her feet.
“I can manage,” she said with a smile.
Though her movements were slow, he watched her get to her feet and approach him with a more secure gait than he had expected.
Her face glistened from the fresh washing and her hands went to her hair to pull the pins from it and let it fall loose. Her fingers immediately got busy raking through the long, dark silky strands that fell in waves well passed her shoulders. He found his own fingers aching to follow suit, the soft strands enticing.
He turned away from her. He would not let this foolish attraction hinder his plans.
“Rest and eat,” he ordered abruptly and handed her the small bag of what was left of the meat and pointed to the blanket.
“Thank you. You have been most kind,” she said, taking the bag and making herself comfortable on the blanket.
“The devil is far from kind. You would do well to remember that,” he warned and walked over to the river’s edge.
Crista truly didn’t know what to think of the devil. A good place to start might be not thinking of him as the devil. He was right, the devil wasn’t kind, but he had been kind to her, which meant there was some kindness somewhere in him.
“Is there another name I may call you?” she asked, busy pinning her hair up on her head.
“Diablo is my name,” he said without turning around.
“What is your birth name?” she asked intent on finding a name for him.
“That niño is no more.”
“What happened to him?”
He swerved around. “You wish to lose your tongue, Crista?”
Her name rolled off his tongue in a way she had never heard it pronounced before, smooth and yet so intense it sent a shivering tingle through her. But it was his warning that quickly had her shaking her head.
He turned his back to her. “Eat and sleep. We have a long ride tomorrow.”
Fear robbed what appetite she had left and she got to her feet and went behind a formation of rocks to see to her needs.
“Watch for rattlesnakes,” he called out to her.
If he thought to frighten her, he failed. Ricardo had taught her about snakes and where they were often found. Dark hiding places were a favorite of theirs, also low-growing bushes and plants. They didn’t like tremors so she would stomp on the ground in some places and watch how some would come slithering out of their hiding spots and be on their way.
The only thing she wished was that she had her knife. She knew how to use it and other weapons as well. One in particular she liked and she was upset when the nuns had refused to let her bring it home with her.
She settled once again on the blanket and it didn’t take long for her to surrender to fatigue and fall asleep.
Night turned to morning far too soon for her. She was up on his horse and in his arms not long after sunrise. Surprisingly, she didn’t find the need to talk. It wasn’t that her curiosity and fear had disappeared, it was that her thoughts centered more on her family here in Los Angeles and what they might be doing to rescue her.
Had a search party been sent to look for her? Would they be able to track her? What tracks would they follow since there had been so many? How long before they found the right trail? The more she thought, the more she feared her time with Diablo grow.
“Are your thoughts that heavy they keep you silent?” Diablo asked.
“I have good reason for heavy thoughts and I would think you would appreciate the silence.”
“I relish the silence, but I can feel your worry. You press closer to me when you grow tense and at the moment I don’t think you can get any closer.”
Crista pulled away from him, sitting straighter, making sure not to touch him, not having realized she had taken solace in his arms. He was an outlaw and supposedly a vicious one at that. Whatever was the matter with her?
Listen some to what others say, but judge on your own, you have good instincts. Not many do.
Ricardo had often reminded her of that, though it had taken a while for her to believe and trust it. Had she believed too fast that there was some kindness to the devil? Or should she pay heed to her lessons that the devil was a deceitful creature who wanted to corrupt every soul he could?
Listen some to others but judge on your own.
Was there enough time to judge the devil or would his deceitful ways rob her of her soul?
They were drawing closer to the San Gabriel Mountains and she assumed that somewhere in the mountains was his outlaw camp. Once there, would anyone ever find her?
They rode for a while longer, then stopped.
“A brief rest,” Diablo said, helping her off the horse and keeping his hands at her waist until he was sure she could stand without difficulty.
Crista paced back and forth, stretching the ache from her leg, while sipping water from the canteen Diablo had handed her, trying to make the most of the short stop.
“Say nothing and do nothing,” he suddenly ordered as he walked over to her.
She looked oddly at him as he turned away from her and that’s when she saw riders approaching. Four from what she could see, but would more suddenly appear as they had when her escort wagon had been attacked?
Hope suddenly sprang up in her. Could her family have sent someone? Where these men there to rescue her?
The four men came to a stop not far from them and none dismounted. They appeared as if they had ridden hard and long. They sat straight in their saddles, none appearing frightened of the devil.
“Diablo,” one said with a nod, then gave a nod to Crista. “We’ve been sent by Esteban Cesare to bring his sister home. He’s been made aware that you had nothing to do with the abduction and he asks that you release her to our care so that we may return her home.”
Joy soared through Crista. Her ordeal was done and she’d be going home. That was until the devil spoke.
“No,” Diablo said.
That he could make one word sound menacing astonished her.
The four men exchanged glances as if not sure what to do.
The same man spoke again. “Esteban will come for you with more men than you can conquer.”
“Tell Esteban I wait for him,” Diablo said, though it sounded more a warning. “Now leave before I kill you.”
Crista couldn’t see his face but she heard the devil in him, and she shivered.
“Do not be foolish and pay the devil no mind. I give you a chance to live.”
One of the other men leaned forward in his saddle and with a smirk said, “There’s four of us and one of you.”
“You mean there’s only four of you and the devil who will be only too pleased to have all of you serve him eternally in hell.”
One man paled and crossed himself.
The smirk on the one man’s face disappeared, though he held onto his bravado. “You’re a man and only one man at that.”
“Not one man… el Diablo. Do you really want to fight the devil?”
Everything happened so fast, all Crista could do was watch in horror.
The man who had first spoken went for his gun. Diablo gave her a shove, sending her to the ground. She couldn’t believe how fast his whip snapped the gun out of the man’s hand, causing him to tumble off his horse. Or how he threw his knife, without her even seeing him reach for it, to land in bravado man’s throat while his whip went flying once again in quick succession, knocking the other two men off their horses. By then the other men were scrambling for their guns, but Diablo already had a gun in his hand.
“The devil gave you a chance,” he said as he fired four shots, killing each of the men quickly.
Crista sat on the ground staring wide-eyed at the carnage. She watched as Diablo went and looked over each man and she cringed, closing her eyes tight when he fired another shot into one of the men.
He truly was the devil.
She continued to stare in horror as he gathered guns and knives off the dead men and stuffed them into saddlebags on the four horses. He then took the reins of the horses and walked the animals over by his horse.
“Can you ride?” he asked.
She nodded, thinking the black shroud he wore never looked more sinister or frightening.
“Do not think to make an escape. My whip reaches far,” he warned.
She nodded again, unable to speak.
She almost cringed when he reached down to help her up, but stopped herself and was relieved when he set her on one of the horses. He took a rope, coiled on one of the saddles, and tied the horses for them to follow behind his horse.
“Keep pace with me,” he ordered.
She had every intention of following that order and wondered why he had killed the men sent to rescue her. She doubted her family would look favorably on it.
“Your brother didn’t send those men,” Diablo said as if he knew her thoughts.
“How do you know that?” she asked stunned.
“Esteban Cesare would never send another to collect his sister from me. He will come himself for you.”