A leathered, bronze-skinned man sat solemnly in the shadows near the back wall of Skinny Tinley’s Saloon in Tucson, Arizona Territory. Except for a glass of half-drunk beer, the man was alone. No one walked up and asked him to sit in on their game; no one offered to buy him a drink; no one paid him any mind at all. He would appear to any fool who made it a point to be curious, a man without friends or acquaintances. A man without a country. On the contrary, he was a man whose country was in the hollow of his soul, in every blade of grass, every windblown and bent tree, every haunting howl of a far off wolf. He was the land, and it was him. He was reputed to be the best tracker within five hundred miles. And it came naturally.
But no one dared get too close for fear of … of what? Could it be the sixteen-inch stiletto strapped to his back that he could throw with such accuracy he could kill a running man at twenty yards? Or the .45 Colt nestled in his cross draw holster that he could pull, fire, and return to its place before an opponent could blink? Maybe it was the narrowed eyes that never blinked; yet saw every movement made by man or beast within a hundred yards? Or, could it be that it was rumored that a momma grizzly high up in the North Country had raised him? Yes, these and so many more embellishments of his reputation kept others at bay, as well as his being half Arapaho. He was either your best friend or your worst enemy, and he was called Diablo Smith.
As Smith sipped his beer, a short, stringy man with a flat-crowned hat and a vest with a gold chain dangling across the front came through the double-doors looking very self-important. A gust of wind swept a boot-full of dust in behind him. He stopped, looked around and came hurriedly over to the table at the back with only one man. He stopped short, took off his hat and wiped his hand across his broad mustache. His face was weathered from the sun.
“If you’re the one called Diablo Smith, I’d be obliged to have a word with you, sir.” He waited for a response.
Smith looked him up and down slowly, then nodded for the man to take a seat across from him. The man complied, nervously, being careful to keep his hands in plain sight. Smith’s reputation preceded him.
“Best be getting’ to it, then, before I fall asleep waitin’.” He lifted his beer to his lips and took a gulp. The man seemed nervous, unsure of himself.
“Uh, yeah. My name’s Joshua Kurtz. I’m a rancher a little east of here. I asked around and was told you’ were the best tracker in the territory. The liveryman said I’d likely find you here. I need help findin’ my wife.”
“Uh-huh. I haven’t been able to find myself a wife, so what makes you think I can find you one?”
“Oh, I already got one, or I did have one. She either run off or was kidnapped. I suspect the latter.”
“And just why do you figure she was snatched up and hauled away instead of just up an’ runnin’ ’crost country?”
“Lenore wouldn’t do a thing like that. She said plain enough on many an occasion that I was her man and she’d be by my side till the end.”
“Did you ever consider she figured it might just be the end?”
Joshua tightened his jaw and doubled up his fists as he grew impatient with Diablo’s stubborn reluctance to take him at his word. Diablo, on the other hand, was interested in seeing whether this man’s temper might get the better of him, a situation that could easily result in a run-away wife.
“You help me find her and we’ll ask her together. You in or not? I’ll pay you for your time.” Joshua took a deep breath, settled down and was suddenly as gentle as a kitten. He’d finally figured out what Diablo was up to. “I’d be obliged for your help.”
“I reckon I’m up for a little trackin’. What does the woman look like? You got a picture? You say her name’s Lenore?”
“ Yes, Lenore. And ’course I got a picture.” Joshua reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, framed tintype. He handed it to Smith, who smiled and whistled lowly.
“Got yourself a real looker, Mr. Kurtz. What’d she do before marryin’ you?”
“Why do you care?”
“Just curious why a fine lookin’ lady would take up with a scruffy old fart like you.” Diablo sipped again.
Kurtz snatched the tintype back with a frown, silently objecting to Smith’s leering comment. He placed it back in his pocket.
“That’s none of your damned business! When can we start?” he asked.
“We’ll have to start from your ranch. How far is it? And how long has she been gone?”
“Been a couple weeks. Ranch is two miles outside of town.”
“I take it you’ve already looked in all the places she might have run off, like a saloon, bordello, another rancher’s home sweet home.” Diablo got just what he’d expected. Kurtz exploded with a string of cussing and table pounding that would chase off a grizzly.
“Calm down, Kurtz. I’m just testin’ to see what you’re made of. Sounds like that temper could have been a reason for a pretty lady to hitch up her skirts and skedaddle.”
“That ain’t what happened! And I don’t like what you’re suggestin’.”
“Ain’t suggestin’ nothin’, yet. Let’s ride out to your ranch and see if there’s any sign of where she’s gone.”
Kurtz sat back in his chair and sighed, slumping like a rag doll.
“Best we start out in the mornin’ when the light’ll be better. By the time we get there the sun will be behind the cliffs off to the west. Trackin’ will be easier if we wait,” Kurtz said.
“All right. I’ll meet you at the livery at first light. That suit you?”
“Uh-huh.” Kurtz pushed out of the captain’s chair and ambled off toward the door. He looked back just once, with a frown, then turned and hurried out.
Diablo sauntered over to the bar. The bartender was wiping a glass. He looked up as the old gunslinger leaned on the oak top.
“You hear any of that, Skinny?”
“Every last word. My advice is to haul your ass out of here and don’t look back.”
“You sayin’ that nasty jackass is dangerous?”
“Don’t know how dangerous, but a skinflint and a damned liar, too.”
“Then you best tell me what you think I’m walkin’ into.”
The man sighed, stopped wiping the glass, and leaned both hands on the bartop.
“Diablo, you’re straightest shooter I’ve ever known. You’re tougher than any five men this anthill might throw at you. I’ve always thought of Joshua Kurtz as a liar and a cheapskate. I only hope his woman did get up the gumption to leave him; otherwise it was only a matter of time before either he killed her or she killed him. She’s his third wife, so I’ve been told. I’ve heard it said the other two disappeared and were never seen again. So, watch your back at all times.”
Diablo walked to the open door and stared out. He grunted as he stepped outside and started down the street. He walked to the livery and went inside. The liveryman was pitching hay down from a loft. Hearing footsteps on the gravel threshold, he said, “I’ll be right down, mister. Gimme a second.”
“No hurry. I just want to ask a couple of questions and take a look at a horse.”
“Oh, I got none for sale at the moment. Come back in a day or two. Maybe I can get my hands on somethin’ you’d be interested in.” When the old man climbed down the ladder, he realized it was Diablo Smith who’d stopped by.
“Oh, sorry Mr. Smith. I didn’t know it was you. Why do you need a horse? That roan you rode in on is a beauty. A fine piece of horseflesh. And well took care of, too.”
“No, I ain’t lookin’ to buy. I’d like to take a look at Mr. Kurtz’s horse. Which stall is it in?”
“Second stall on the right. Pitiful sight that one is. Kurtz shouldn’t be allowed to own a horse after the way he treats ’em.”
“He treat everything badly?”
“You can bet on it. That belly-crawlin’ snake would just as soon let a horse die as pay good money to take care of him.”
“You know anything about his wife?”
“Never met the lady. He never let her come to town. Probably afraid she’d meet up with a man who’d treat her right and run off with him.”
“Any man in particular?”
“No, none I can think off. Like I said, she didn’t come to town.”
Diablo ran his hands over Kurtz’s horse. The animal had been mistreated alright. It’s back was blistered from a saddle worn without a blanket and the shoes showed signs of never having been replaced and the hoof cleaned and cut back. Diablo was getting a picture of a man without regard for man or beast, or, in this case, woman.
He left the livery and stopped by the gunsmith’s shop. A man with glasses hanging on the end of a long nose looked up as he entered.
“G’day, mister. What can I do for you? Oh, it’s you, Mr. Smith. Didn’t recognize you at first.”
“Mr. Hurley, what do you know about a man named Kurtz?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. Only things I’ve heard, rumors mostly. Can’t put much stock in people’s whisperin’s.”
“What kind of things?”
“Only that he murdered his first two wives and the third ain’t likely to live long.”
“Did you meet either of his first two wives?”
“Naw. That was before he came here last year.”
“Haven’t been here long myself. But it is surprisin’ I haven’t heard of him before,” Diablo said.
“He’s downright private. Don’t get to town to socialize none. Kind of a hermit.”
“Do you know where he came from?”
“Heard he used to be a prison guard at Yuma Territorial Prison.”
“Thanks, Mr. Hurley,” Diablo said, and slipped back out the door. He headed for the hotel to get some sleep before his ride out in the morning with Kurtz, a ride he was increasingly skeptical of taking.
The fact that Kurtz had spent time guarding prisoners at Yuma Territorial Prison struck a cautionary cord with Smith. He’d known men who’d worked at that devilish hole and no one, not guard or prisoner, came away without mental scars.
On his way, he thought it prudent to stop at the sheriff’s office, a narrow little hole in the wall between the general store and the butcher shop. The only window was in the door, and the long room was dark and foreboding. He felt like he did the first time he set foot in a mine.
“Sheriff Granville, got a minute to chat about one of your erstwhile citizens?” Diablo said.
“Well, you’re keepin’ me from my nap, Diablo, but if you’ll make it quick, I reckon I can oblige.” Sheriff Granville was an unimposing man in stature with a deep voice and a head that could reflect moonlight. What little fuzz he had left curled over his ears. His nose looked to have been recently busted, some bruising was still evident. “Who’s the hombre?”
“Rancher name of Kurtz. You know him?”
“Everybody knows that jackass. What’s he want with you?”
“Wants me to track down his wayward wife.”
“Try the first whorehouse you come to. You’ll likely find her there, and she’d be better off than bein’ married to him. At least she won’t be gettin’ beat-on regular.”
“Know anythin’ about his previous wives? Ever meet one of ‘em?”
“Nope. Heard plenty, but just rumors and I don’t put much stock in the idle ramblin’s of womenfolk.”
“So, you never met his current wife?”
“Oh, yeah. I rode out that way several times on my way out to the ranch of a friend. Stopped by to water my mount. Sure was a blisterin’ day the last time. Shoulda knowed better than even start off on a day like that. He wasn’t around. When I saw her in the doorway, she invited me in for coffee. I wish you luck findin’ her. She’s a purty little thing.”
“Know how he met her?”
“Probably in a whorehouse down south. He always did take a fancy to that type of filly. I think he figured he could reform them. Good luck with that kind of thinkin’.”
“Thanks, sheriff.” Diablo said, as he strode out of the cramped office and one-cell jail.
***
The next morning, just as the sun was creeping over the hills to the East, Diablo was saddled and ready to go. He’d already stopped by the hotel restaurant and had three cups of coffee, bacon, eggs, and half a loaf of fresh bread. He sat atop his roan for several minutes before he spotted Kurtz stumbling down the street, pulling up his galluses, his hat cocked strangely on his head. The man stomped into the livery and returned a short time later with his horse in tow. He climbed into the saddle and yanked the reins to head the horse in the direction of his ranch.
“Let’s get a move on, Smith. I ain’t got all day.”
“Yessir, Mr. Kurtz, sorry to be holdin’ you up.” Diablo gave him a slow-eyed smirk.
Kurtz didn’t react to Diablo’s sarcasm.
They rode for nearly an hour when Kurtz stopped and pointed to a pair of hills in the distance. “My place is just the other side of those two humps. Not far. Maybe another hour or so.”
When they reached the crest of the farthest hill, Diablo reined in and stared across a landscape unlikely to recommend it to anyone but a collector of cacti. He saw no horses, no cattle, and damned little grass. A poor excuse for a ranch, he thought. How does he make money?
Kurtz had ridden on ahead toward the ranch house. A barn and two other ramshackle outbuildings completed what Kurtz referred to as his ranch.
When they rode up to the picket fence that surrounded a small nearly grassless yard, Kurtz dismounted. The fence needed paint, as did the house.
“C’mon inside. Let you look around. Get a sense for the kind of a woman I married.”
Diablo nodded and followed him inside. The place looked like it hadn’t been swept or dusted for awhile. Kurtz said his wife had only been gone for a couple weeks. His curiosity peaked, Diablo walked to what he figured was their bedroom, parted a curtain, and peeked in.
“You don’t need to go getting’ nosy, Mr. Smith. Just tell me what you’re lookin’ for and I’ll show you whatever you figure will lead us to Lenore.”
“Look, Mr. Kurtz, you hired me to find your wife. The more I know about her, the faster I get her back. If you’re goin’ to keep gettin’ in my way, you can find someone else to go traipsin’ off on some damned wild goose chase. Now do I get a look at her room or not?” Diablo growled, his patience sorely being tested.
Kurtz swallowed hard and shrunk back. He waived him through the doorway.
Diablo parted the curtains to the bedroom. He went first to the wardrobe and opened the door. Inside was just what he figured to find, nothing feminine. Only coveralls and shirts hung from the pegs in back. He looked through drawers and on the small dressing table. It appeared all of Lenora’s belongings had disappeared along with her. The question that remained was: why did she leave and where did she go? A kidnapper wouldn’t have bothered to take everything she owned, especially if a ransom was going to be demanded. If a kidnapper expected to bring her back after receiving cash for her, he sure wouldn’t pack up all her belongings for a two-way trip. And if he planned to kill her, she sure as hell wouldn’t need all her earthly comforts.
When Diablo came out of the bedroom, he glanced around the larger room that served as kitchen, dining room, living area. He opened a cupboard door and found pots and pans and a few dishes, cups and silverware. If she left of her own accord, she didn’t want to be burdened with heavy cooking utensils.
Smith then walked outside. He stepped off the creaky, splintered planks of the porch and headed for the barn. Inside he saw a buckboard and three stalls. In the corral out back was a mule slurping water from a scummy trough.
“Your wife have a horse?”
“’Course she did.”
“Where is it?”
“Gone. I figured the kidnappers musta took it. That adds horse stealin’ to the charge, don’t it?”
***
For the next several hours, Diablo pored over the out buildings and the house, itself. He had no idea what he was looking for. He figured he’d know it if he saw it, or didn’t see it. What he didn’t see bothered him the most. In the barn, only two stalls were being regularly used. The third, presumably his wife’s, hadn’t been host to an equine occupant for months. If the wife had only been gone for a couple weeks, what had happened to her horse before that? His suspicions of Kurtz’s honesty were being sorely tested.
Outside, he began the task of looking for tracks, horse or human. Kurtz walked with a slight limp. His tracks were easily separated from any others. He saw tracks of a woman, too, but always barefoot. Could Kurtz have been so frightened she’d run away that he wouldn’t let her have shoes, figuring that might be a deterrent to her wandering around in the desert? And, how would a kidnapper even know she was there if Kurtz never let her see the light of day? That part made no sense. As far as exacting a sizable amount in ransom money, any kidnapper would have to be seriously deranged. Kurtz was obviously barely getting by, with few prospects of that changing any time soon. Diablo decided kidnapping for ransom was unlikely, thus leaving only two other options: One, Kurtz killed his wife and was using Diablo to keep at bay any investigation into a possible murder by an earnest attempt at locating her, or, two, she did run off, perhaps alone, perhaps not.
The only recent tracks were those of one horse and a buckboard, possibly the one in the barn. Those tracks led off to the northwest, toward a low range of rocky hills and ravines. He knew the territory well. He’d hunted renegade Indians there for the Army. It had been a dangerous place then and it wasn’t much safer now.
He walked back to the house where Kurtz sat on the porch in a rocking chair, never taking his eyes off Diablo.
“You want to look in my pockets to see if I lifted a spare horseshoe?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m studying your tracking techniques. Can’t say I like you, but there’s no doubt you know what you’re doin’.”
“I can’t help wonderin’ where your livestock are. Horses, cattle, sheep? And don’t you have anybody helpin’ with the chores or tendin’ to livestock?”
Kurtz took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Reckon it’s time you knew. I got no money to pay you for your help in findin’ Lenore. I lost everything in a poker game two months back.”
“Everything?”
“Lock, stock and barrel. Everything.”
“Anyone else know about this turn of events?”
“Most, I reckon. Hard to keep a secret in that den of thieves ands charlatans.”
“Were you up front with Lenore?”
“Yeah. She said it didn’t matter. That we’d make out.”
“A good, forgivin’ wife, eh? I’m not so forgivin’. Whatever made you think I’d take on a job trackin’ a wayward wife for no pay?”
“I’ll find a way to get you paid, maybe a bank loan or somethin’. You got my word.
“Hope you don’t plan on goin’ back on that. It wouldn’t be your best decision. Now, one more question before we set out to find her. Did you ever strike your wife?”
Kurtz went from contrite to furious in the time it would take to swat a fly. He slammed his hand against the door.
“Where the hell did you get an idea like that?” His clenched fists and red face made an impression on Diablo. Do I believe one man or a town full of people with no particular reason to concoct a false story?
“All right, you’ve answered my question by your outburst. Let’s saddle up and start tracking,” Diablo said, as he swung into the saddle after one last securing tug of the cinch.
***
He tapped his horse in the ribs lightly to make her begin the slow, tedious job of crisscrossing the most plausible direction that whoever might have taken Lenore would choose, if indeed someone did. There’d been no rain for nearly three weeks and the ground was hard, unwilling to give up its closely held secret regarding the comings and goings of humans. Kurtz tried to keep his impatience from showing, but was unable keep his mouth shut. That was likely the character trait that had gone toward making enemies of the townsfolk. After several hours, the disgruntled rancher blurted out, “When in the hell are you going to pick up their trail? You can’t tell me there isn’t one single trace of whoever took her. Now, dammit, get to doing whatever it is you’re supposed to be getting’ paid to do!”
“Shut the hell up, Kurtz. I already know a lot more than I did when we left. I don’t choose to tell you everything. Now, keep you mouth closed or so help me, I’ll leave you out here alone to find your wife.”
Kurtz sat up straight. He clenched his teeth. He wasn’t used to being talked to like that. At first, Diablo considered making Kurtz ride ahead of him to reduce the risk of getting shot in the back, but thought better of that after he looked back and saw the anger had subsided. Kurtz once again looked like a beaten puppy.
When they came to a ravine with a wandering creek and a line of cottonwoods and good grass along the banks, he decided they’d camp for the night, as the light was already getting dim. Diablo slipped from his saddle and hobbled his horse. He pulled his saddle off and tossed his saddlebags over a hefty hunk of deadfall. He looked over at Kurtz, who had as yet not dismounted, still astride his mount staring into the gathering darkness like a statue, and thought of dressing the man down once more. Finally, he merely shrugged his shoulders and set to picking up sticks and limbs to make a fire. He went to the stream and scooped up a pot full of water, tossed in a handful of coffee beans, along with a pinch of chicory–a habit he’d gotten into in the Army–and set the pot on a ring of stones and placed it next to the flames. Diablo watched Kurtz’s glum expression for a few moments before speaking up.
“You bring along anything to eat?”
“You didn’t say I needed to,” the rancher answered, clearly taken aback by Diablo’s question.
“Didn’t sign on to be your nanny, Kurtz. Sit down. I’m goin’ to heat up a can of beans. Coffee’ll be ready in a few minutes. I’m willin’ to share, but you shoulda figured this wasn’t goin’ to be a short ride and come prepared.”
Kurtz hung his head. He wasn’t used to being shown the error of his ways so many times in just a few hours. The belittling given him by the half-breed tracker was pushing to his limit.
***
The next morning the sun was veiled by a thick fog. Diablo know it would burn off quickly and allow another blistering day to emerge. He wanted to be well under way before that happened. As they prepared to ride, Kurtz spoke up. “Do you know where we’re headed?”
“I’m just following a certain track, one which began at your ranch and is headed toward the bottoms, just over that next set of hills.”
“Wh-what tracks? I haven’ seen any tracks.”
“That’s because you don’t know what to look for. Fortunately for you, I do.”
Kurtz was bewildered by Diablo’s claim. He looked down and all around, shaking his head and mumbling something unintelligible every few seconds. He dismounted several times, leaning close to the sandy soil, sometimes getting down on his knees and muttering. Diablo chuckled at the rancher’s curious behavior.
“See anything, yet, Kurtz?”
“No, and I damned well don’t think you do either. Why if there were any tracks out here, I’d see ’em sure as hell. You just want to make a fool of me. And it’s best you know, I won’t stand for it.”
“We’ll see how you feel when I find your wife.”
“I don’t think you’re going to find Lenore. It appears to me we’re jus’ goin’ around in circles. You think I’m goin’ to pay you for jus’ lookin’?”
“I remember you hirin’ me and promisin’ to pay my fee, which, by the way, you will do, no matter what we find. If you don’t, the consequences could be fatal. I don’t take kindly to welshers,” the tracker said, dropping his hand ever so gently onto the butt of his revolver
Kurtz’s eyes grew wide at Diablo’s declaration. He swallowed hard and began breathing heavily. “You-you wouldn’t dare,” he spluttered.
“You keep on thinkin’ that’a way. Now, it’s time you do something more useful than be a constant thorn in my hide. I want you to ride back to your ranch and wait for me there. Also, if there is a kidnapper, that’s where he’ll be expectin’ you to be so he can make his demands.”
“How the hell can I get up any money to get her back? The whole town knows I’m flat busted.”
“I don’t think that’s what a kidnapper’ll be lookin’ for. Now git.” Diablo spurred his horse to a trot toward the hills ahead. He didn’t want to hear any more objections from Kurtz. When he looked back, the morose rancher had spun his horse around was heading back to his ranch at a trot. About time he started listening. Diablo nodded as he changed his course to get back on the trail he’d been following all along.
Diablo slowly continued on. He looked back every now and then to make certain Kurtz hadn’t doubled back. He studiously stayed on the track that was being laid out before him. He hadn’t told Kurtz that there were many subtle clues as to what had happened to his wife and he fully intended to keep it that way. The trail wound around almost as if the person who had snatched Lorene Kurtz needed to make damned sure there’d be no one coming up behind him. The tracker had traveled nearly ten miles when he came upon a tiny line shack nearly hidden in a copse of trees and brush. It looked as if it hadn’t been used for years.
He rode closer, being mindful of his surroundings and the many places where it would be easy for someone bent on an ambush to stake out the trail. He reined in and dismounted, dropping his reins; his well-trained horse stood in place. Keeping low he moved cautiously and silently nearer and nearer the cabin. He was surprised at seeing no evidence of any activity for some weeks. He saw no horses and no wagon, although there were subtle signs of a wagon that had been carefully covered. Since it was obviously merely a line cabin used by cowboys taking care of a herd, he saw nothing to alarm him to danger and no sign of any cowboys using the place recently. He made a run for the cabin and burst through the only door.
The termite-riddled piece of wood was instantly ripped from its flimsy and worn leather hinges. His revolver was in his hand when, as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness inside, he came face-to-face with a gut-wrenching sight. There, across the room, barely able to sit up on an iron bed frame without a mattress was a once lovely woman leaning against the wall. Lenore. He eased over to her. Her eyes were barely open but they managed to follow him with half-closed lids. She made no move to scoot away from this stranger, obviously too weak to make any attempt at escape. An empty canteen lay near her bare feet. Diablo’s anger welled up in him like a volcano about to erupt. He went back out to retrieve his own canteen from the saddle horn. He returned to find the lady had not moved.
“Here, ma’am, sip this slowly.”
He lifted the canteen to her parched lips. The first few drops dribbled down her chin, then after several tries she raised a hand to help hold the precious container. Slowly she drank by herself.
“Do you know if there’s a well outside where I can get more fresh water?”
She stared at him questioningly. Then, slowly shook her head. Some son-of-a-bitch is going to pay dearly for this. He looked around to see what else was in the cabin. To his amazement, there was noting. No sign of any of her personal belongings from the Kurtz homestead. No clothing, no food, nothing to enable her to sustain life for any period of time. He immediately set about finding a way to get some food in her and then to get her safely back to town. He’d brought some coffee beans, some flour, a couple of cans of peaches, several cans of beans and some beef jerky. He’d not planned on being out more than a few days and never considered needing to feed another person.
Out behind the crudely built cabin, he found a small stack of wood meant for building a fire, but the stove that had obviously once sat in the center of the single room had been taken out. The only way he could start a fire was outside. He gathered rocks to build a fire ring, stacking them two and three high to make an artificial hearth for his coffee pot, something everyone traveling alone on the frontier kept handy. As the wood began to catch, even though it was old and somewhat damp from lying on the ground for a long time, he used the rest of the water in his first canteen, splashed it into the pot, along with a handful of coffee and a little chicory and set it near the blaze.
When the coffee was starting to bubble, he went back inside to see if he could get the lady to come outside. As he entered, she’d already started for where the door had once been. The smell of coffee must have drawn her to it. She smiled a very feeble smile when she saw him. Too weak to make it outside without a hand, Diablo put an arm around her slim waist and guided her step by step around to the back of the cabin where he’d made a place to sit under the lone tree.
“I-I don’t know–”
“My name is Diablo Smith. I’m a tracker. I look for lost things and try to get them back to their rightful owner.”
“Did Mr. Kurtz hire you to find me?”
“Yes.”
She looked away as her eyes were flooded with tears. She began to sob uncontrollably and shook as if with a severe fever. She buried her pretty face in her hands.
“What if I don’t want to go?”
“Then you don’t have to. Can you tell me what happened to you? Was this done by your husband?”
“He might just as well have. He stood by and did nothing to stop them. He’s a craven coward.”
“How many were there?”
“Three.”
“Did you recognize them?”
“Oh, yes. The leader had stopped by on several occasions and forced me lie with him. Said if I didn’t, he’d kill Joshua. I believed him. When I realized Joshua had to know what was happening to me, I quit caring whether the man killed him or not. The next time the man came by seeking my favors, I refused. I struck him in the face with an iron frying pan; got him good, too. He left but came back later with two others and that’s when they took me, bound hand and foot and dropped me here in this wretched place to fend for myself. They left me tied, but I managed to free my hands and then my feet. But with very little food or water beyond what was in the canteen, and me barefoot, I realized quickly that escape was impossible. I just waited for the end to come.”
“So, you didn’t know the man?”
“No. Never saw him before he started coming by the ranch.”
“You never saw him in town?”
“I-I’ve never been to town. Joshua said it was a den of sin and I wasn’t allowed to go.”
Diablo mulled all the information the woman had given him. He was puzzled by her husband’s attitude toward her. Where did Kurtz acquire all his anger? It was as if the devil himself was inside him. But there was more to be learned from this badly abused lady before he dared take her into town. And he certainly couldn’t return her to the Kurtz ranch.
“Lenore, what do you know about Joshua before he married you? Had he been married before?”
“He never talked about it, but I had the unsettling feeling he might have been.”
“So, he didn’t come right out and tell you?”
“No, but when he’d get into one of his furies, he’d say things that led me to believe he’d had another wife way back.”
Like what did he say?”
“Oh, things like, ‘you ain’t the first bitch to rile me’ and then he’d start cussing a blue streak. That’s when he’d slap me around some because I’d dared disagree with him.”
“I’ve known men like him before. Nothin’ good ever comes to ’em. He’ll be paid back for his treachery.”
“H-how did you find me?”
“The little beads you managed to drop along the way. I don’t know how you managed with your hands tied, but it was pretty clever.”
“I had on a beaded shawl and was afforded just enough freedom to rip some of them off and let them roll off onto the ground. I’m so grateful you noticed.”
“Fortunately, your husband didn’t see them.”
“Do you intend to take me back to Joshua, now?”
“No, I don’t see how I can give you over to someone who’d probably beat on you again. But that does present a problem: how to get you to someplace safe without exposing you to Joshua or the men who kidnapped you.”
Her blank expression and the fear in her eyes told Diablo she wouldn’t be much help, especially since she’d not had any freedom to meet neighbors or go into town to form friendships. It was a dilemma the likes of which he’d never faced, before. Her helplessness was bound to sorely test his resourcefulness. Suddenly a solution presented itself that surprised even him. The subtle smile that came over his face brought a quizzical look from Lenore.
“I think I might have a way to bring the men to justice and still keep you safe. A woman shouldn’t ever have to live in fear. So, I suggest we take you to church.”
Lenore eyes got big. “But, I-I don’t think any church would have a woman like me. You see before I married Joshua, I, uh, lived a sinful life. A fallen angel some might call me.
“What you were before is of no consequence. I have a friend who is a preacher. He won’t look upon you any differently than he would anyone in need. That’s the kind of man he is. I think we can hide you in the church until such time as it takes to locate your kidnappers, which I don’t expect to be long.”
“How will we get there? Won’t people notice the two of us riding one horse into town?”
“We’ll plan to arrive well after dark and circle around, coming in from the far side of town. At that time of night, folks will pay us no mind. If you think you’re strong enough to handle the ride, we’ll start right away.”
“I can make it. I’ve seen tough times before.”
***
Since Diablo had taken a seemingly aimless and wandering route to the cabin in the first place, while trying to throw Kurtz off his tracking techniques, and watching the supposedly broken-hearted husband for signs that he actually knew where Lenore had been held, the trail they took back to town was far less circuitous. They reached the outskirts at the time Diablo had predicted, just after midnight. There were few lights to be seen, mainly those of establishments that customarily stayed open until all hours, like saloons, bordellos, and the hotel. He’d been right, there were no citizens on the streets and their trek to the church went unnoticed.
When they arrived at the back of the small, whitewashed church at the west edge of town, Diablo dismounted, then helped Lenore to the ground. He went to the small house that stood adjacent, across a dirt yard. He knocked on the door. Finally, after a few minutes, a light shown through the dusty pane of glass in a window off to the side. He heard shuffling of feet and a grumpy voice that sounded decidedly less than pleased at being awakened at such a late hour.
“Who is it and what do you want? Don’t you know what time it is?”
“It’s me, Diablo Smith, preacher, and I have a woman with me. We need your help.”
The door creaked open an inch and a weary eye peeked out. Recognizing the grizzled tracker, the preacher opened the door and waved the pair inside.
“What the devil are you doing traipsing around at this time of night? I’ve never known you to be one of those that shuns sleep.” A slight grin accompanied the preacher’s question.
“Preacher, this here lady is Lenore Kurtz. She was kidnapped and held a ways out in the scrublands. She was near to dyin’ when I came upon her. Her husband hired me to find her, but after hearing her story, I doubt returning her to her home would be in her best interest.”
“Mercy sakes, let’s get the lady settled in. This here is always a place of refuge for the weak and the weary, young lady. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like, or at least until Mr. Smith has time to wrap up the particulars of your situation, which I have no doubt he’ll achieve soon.”
“Thank you, preacher. She isn’t in the best of condition, not having anything to eat for several days, no heat at night in the flimsy cabin she was kept in, and no clothing other than what she has on. A despicable set of circumstances, I’d say.”
“Merciful heavens, young lady, it sounds like you’ve been visited by Satan hisself. I have a few things in the armoire that might fit. They were items of clothing left to the church to give to the needy. Haven’t had much opportunity to distribute them, but I’d have to say you qualify for their intended use.” The preacher pointed to a room off to his right, shaking his head in disgust as Lenore slipped through a curtained doorway “You’ll find what you need in there.”
“Thanks for your help, preacher. I’ll stop by tomorrow right after I set to making an enemy or two.”
The preacher snickered at Diablo’s reference to his well-known distrust of most folks in general and a strong disdain for anything smacking of treachery in particular. The tracker slipped out and walked his mare to the livery to get the animal bedded down for the night. He planned to visit Joshua Kurtz the next morning, very early.
***
As planned, at the break of dawn, Diablo Smith sat astride his horse not twenty feet from Kurtz’s front door. He shouted, “Kurtz, Joshua Kurtz. Get your soul-less ass out here and do it now!”
When the door creaked open a few minutes later, Kurtz stepped out buttoning his pants and tucking in his rumpled shirt. He shaded his eyes against the early sun, blinking to identify the stranger.
“Is that you, Smith? What are you doin’ here so early? And where is my wife? You failed to find her, didn’t you? I knew it. All that talk I heard about you bein’ the best tracker in the state was hogwash.”
“Shut up, you damned fool! Get the rest of your clothes on, saddle a horse and do it quickly. I’m in no mood to put up with your crap, today.”
“Where we goin’?”
“To see your wife. That’s what you hired me to do, wasn’t it? Oh, and you better dig up some of that money you been hoardin’ to pay my fee.”
“Wha–how’d you know about that?”
“I didn’t until you just told me. I just figured a tightwad bastard like you–one who wouldn’t even buy your lovely wife a pair of shoes–would have a hidden stash. Now, get my fee or get a bullet!”
“How do I know you found Lenore?”
“Only way you’re gonna know is by doin’ what I said. Get the damned horse!”
Joshua scurried back inside to reappear two minutes later with a jacket, shoes, and a gun belt. He finished dressing and strapping on his sidearm as he hurried to the barn. Diablo watched the man like a hawk watches its prey. He wasn’t sure what Kurtz had in mind for him, but he was taking no chances. He coaxed his mare to back up about twenty feet so Kurtz would be surprised he wasn’t where he’d last seen him. That split second of searching would be enough time for Diablo to assess the situation and bring the man down if he happened to emerge with gun in hand. But, Kurtz came out of the barn already astride his pony and walked the animal to where Diablo was.
“Follow me,” the tracker commanded, as he spun the mare around. Kurtz complied.
The ride to town was filled with silence. Diablo wasn’t certain why the usually mouthy Kurtz hadn’t uttered a word. Was it because he feared what Diablo was taking him to see. He hadn’t told the man that his wife was alive. He did that on purpose, of course. He wanted to find out how deeply involved into his own wife’s disappearance Kurtz was. When they rode up the main street, Diablo quickly reined his mare in front of the sheriff’s office, but stayed in his saddle. Kurtz looked him with a scowl.
“What’re you tryin’ to pull, Smith? You ain’t gonna blame Lenore’s kidnapping on me, if that’s what you’ve a mind to do.”
Diablo narrowed his eyes and pointed to Kurtz. “Get off your horse. Go inside and wait for me. Make certain the two deputies are there with the sheriff.”
The tracker walked his mare down the street toward the outskirts of town. When he got to the church, he dismounted and casually went inside. The preacher was down on his hands and knees scrubbing the wooden floor. Alongside him was Lenore Kurtz, smiling.
“Ahh, Diablo, you have brought me some wonderful help. Thank you my friend.”
“Well, preacher, I’m goin’ to need to burrow her for a few minutes. Lenore, I want you to come identify someone for me.”
The lady’s expression turned from joy to despair. Her lip trembled as she slowly rose to her feet. She was obviously scared of facing either her husband or her kidnappers. She didn’t know which one was soon to be her fate, but she wasn’t eager for either to come about.
“You needn’t be afraid of anything, Lenore. I’m here to protect you. I’ll not let anything bad happen to you. You’re simply goin’ to help me clean out a nest of vipers.” He held out his hand and she stepped forward and took it.
As they started down the boardwalk toward the jail, he stopped to pull a Winchester rifle from his saddle scabbard. He levered in a cartridge and continued along at a leisurely pace. He was aware of her reluctance to accompany him into the presence of her hated husband, which is who she was convinced the tracker was heading for. When it looked as if they were headed for the jail, she began to silently question why. Finally, unable to stand the lack of any explanation, she blurted out, “Joshua is an evil man, but he didn’t do anything illegal did he? Why would he be at the jail?”
“No, nothing exactly illegal, just immoral. However, he is going to be a witness to justice being served.”
***
Diablo stopped short of entering the door to the jail. A loud argument was ensuing inside. Heated words were being exchanged.
“What the hell is it you want with me, Kurtz. I told you before that whore wife of yours probably run off to get away from an asshole like you. Now get out of here before I find a reason the shoot you.” The sheriff’s angry shouts could be heard a half-block away. People in the street had noticed and were beginning to gather in the street. That was Diablo’s cue to step inside. He held Lenore slightly to his side and behind him, clear of his gun hand.
“In a shaky voice, Lenore whispered, “That’s him. That’s the man who forced me to do his will, then tied me up and dropped me in that horrible cabin to die. I’d know that voice anywhere.”
“That’s what I figured.”
“Well, well, come on in tracker. You’re all I need to make the party complete. Who’s that you got with you?” the sheriff bellowed. When Lenore stepped from behind Diablo, the sheriff gasped, his jaw dropped, and he started for his gun. That was probably his biggest mistake of the day. Diablo’s hand was full of Colt .45 before the sheriff could even clear leather. That stopped the sheriff’s hand from completing his draw.
Just then the two deputies came in from out back. They looked at each other and tried to run back out the way they’d come in. Diablo fired a shot over their heads. They stopped in their tracks.
“Come on back, boys, we’ve a little mystery to iron out. I’m assuming these two were the others who grabbed you at your ranch and took you into the brush lands to starve to death, after having their way with you, Lenore. That right?”
“Y-yessir. That’s the three of them. Took me for their despicable pleasure. They left me to starve. And I would have if it hadn’t been for you.”
Joshua Kurtz was dumbfounded by the revelation that his wife hadn’t run off and had actually been kidnapped and raped, but not for ransom. The sheriff wanted to make sure she didn’t tell her story to the whole community of sexual misconduct by the county’s highest ranking lawman. That’s when Kurtz did the unthinkable. Since the sheriff’s attention was focused on Diablo, he failed to notice the rancher drawing his Remington .44. The smoky blast shocked everyone in the room as Sheriff Granville’s head exploded. Kurtz then hung his head, dropping the gun. But one of the deputies drew and fired, killing Kurtz with one shot. Diablo didn’t hesitate. He killed the deputy as the other one held his hands in the air.
Lenore screamed in horror at the sight that lay before her. Three men lay dead in pools of their own blood. She turned and buried her face in Diablo’s chest, sobbing hysterically. He pulled her close to comfort her. The remaining deputy was shaking as he held his hands well away from any weapons. He didn’t want to give the impression he was intent on doing anything foolish.
***
After the whole story made the rounds and the town was resigned to finding a new sheriff, a job Diablo turned down, twice, things seemed to be getting back to normal. Diablo gave the deputy the option of jail or run for the hills. He took the latter. The tracker had also unearthed the location of Joshua’s hidden treasure. It was discovered that the insufferably greedy man, upon figuring his Lenore would never return traded all her jewelry and clothing to a village of Arapaho in exchange for some horses, which he then sold to the Army. Lenore Kurtz stayed on at the church, helping an overworked preacher keep his flock together. She was quickly accepted into society and even found a job three days a week at a dress shop. It didn’t take her long to sell the ranch, which, by rights, fell to her after her husband’s death.
Diablo Smith returned to his table at the rear of the saloon, only he no longer had to pay for his own beers. He sipped and waited for someone to offer him a tracking job. He doubted he would have to wait long. He never had. A man doesn’t get a reputation for being the best at anything just by sitting around.
***