He had, but he didn't know if it was wise to admit it. Still, she was looking up at him expectantly, her expression as vulnerable as a newborn babe's, and he couldn't bring himself to hurt her feelings.
"I liked them fine," he admitted gruffly. "See you in the morning."
There were only seven people at the grave site, including the preacher.
Creed stood a little way off by himself, hat in hand, while the parson talked about hell and damnation and the sure hope of forgiveness in the next life. He rambled on and on, warming to his subject as he talked of Mary Magdalene and how her accusers had quietly dispersed when the Saviour suggested that the one without sin cast the first stone.
All in all, Creed thought the whole sermon was in pretty poor taste, but he didn't think anyone else was listening. Jassy, wearing a long black dress that obviously belonged to someone else, was staring down at the plain wooden coffin. Her face was pale, and her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen with tears.
Beside her stood a tall, slender woman, also dressed in black. Creed recognized her as one of the soiled doves from the Lazy Ace. He couldn't remember her name. She was a pretty woman, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. A nice shape, too. And not bad in bed.
Milt Cambridge, owner of the Lazy Ace, stood on the far side of the grave, flanked by two of the doves from the saloon.
Creed watched Jassy's face as the preacher said the final amen and the coffin was lowered into the ground. The tall, slender woman tossed a handful of dirt into the grave, and it occurred to him, with sickening certainty, that she was probably Jassy's sister.
The parson took his leave, and shortly thereafter the grave site was deserted save for Creed and Jassy. She was crying now, making no effort to wipe away the tears running down her cheeks.
Shaking his head, Creed pushed away from the tree he'd been leaning against and started down the hill. He'd done what she'd asked; he'd attended the funeral.
Settling his hat on his head, he took a few more steps and then, cussing himself for being seven kinds of a fool, he went back to the grave and drew Jassy into his arms, wondering what it was about her that made him feel so uncharacteristically protective.
A sigh slipped past Jassy's lips as Creed's arms wrapped around her. There was comfort in his arms, in his mere presence. She didn't stop to wonder why he made her feel so safe; she knew only that she wasn't afraid of anything when he was nearnot the past, not the future.
She closed her eyes, wishing he would hold her like that forever. He smelled of whiskey and cigarette smoke, things she had always hated until now. He didn't say anything. No empty words of solace, no promises of a glorious reunion on the other side. He just held her close, one big brown hand gently stroking her hair.
Gradually, she became aware of other things:the silky texture of his shirt beneath her cheek, the strong, steady beat of his heart, the fact that she barely reached his shoulder.
Creed blew out a deep breath, a little bewildered by the emotions this girl aroused in him and even more puzzled by her effect on his anatomy. She wasn't much to look at, and he'd never been partial to red-headed women, yet she had taken up a good part of his thoughts since the first time he had seen her in that alley. He couldn't help noticing how right she felt in his arms, and that scared the hell out of him, because she was far and away too young for himand not just in years.
"Feelin' better now?" he asked after a while.
Jassy nodded. Just being in his arms made everything seem all right.
"You ready to go home?"
Jassy thought of the dreary little shack in the alley, and the room she shared with Rose, and shook her head.
"Well, we can't stand here all day. Come on, I'll buy you some lunch."
She smiled up at him as if he'd just offered to buy her a coach and four.
It crossed his mind that it probably wouldn't do Jassy's reputation any good, being seen in the company of a half-breed gunfighter, and then he grinned. Hell, her mother had been killed in a saloon brawl, so being seen with him probably wouldn't tarnish her reputation much more than it already was.
He took her to Jackson's, where he ordered steak and potatoes for both of them, a glass of milk for Jassy, and a cup of coffee for himself. And then, as the silence stretched between them, he wondered what he was doing, sitting there with a girl almost half his age.
"What are you gonna do, now that your ma's gone?"
"I don't know," Jassy answered dully. "Rosie says I'll be able to work at the saloon pretty soon."
"Rosie?"
"My sister."
Creed's grip tightened around the cup in his hand. "She the dark-haired one standing beside you at the funeral?" he asked, praying that the answer was no.
Jassy nodded. "She says it isn't so bad, most of the time."
It caught him unaware, the sudden killing rage that washed through him when he thought of Jassy going to work at the Lazy Ace, serving drinks to a bunch of no-good cowboys, letting strangers take her upstairs. . . .
Get hold of yourself, Maddigan, he chided himself. She's nothing to you.
"Is that what you want to do with your life?" he asked gruffly.
"No. I want to get married and raise a family. I don't want to have toto, you know."
He did know. He'd done it with her sister. The thought slashed through him like a Lakota skinning knife.
"Tell me about you," Jassy said. "Rosie says that you hire out your gun for a living, that you've killed hundreds of men."
Creed chuckled. Hundreds of men, indeed. "You believe her?"
A guilty flush stained Jassy's cheeks. "I . . . I don't know."
"Her count's a little high, but I've killed men, I won't deny it. And I've been known to hire out my gun, if the price was right."
He thought briefly about Burton. If he didn't get to Black Hawk pretty soon, the man would likely find somebody else for the job.
Jassy stared at Creed, trying to reconcile the man who had come to her rescue, the man who had comforted her such a short time ago, with the kind of man he said he was.
"Have you ever thought about . . . about getting married?"
"No."
"Oh."
Creed frowned. Surely she wasn't thinking about him as a possible husband? Hell, they'd just met a couple of weeks ago. Besides, she needed a young man, one who wasn't always looking over his shoulder, waiting for that one gunfighter who was just a fraction of a second faster on the draw, that one man who wouldn't flinch from shooting him in the back.
The waitress brought their dinner then, and they ate in silence.
Jassy finished her steak in record time and Creed insisted that she finish his as well. He ordered apple pie for dessert and urged her to have another glass of milk. She didn't argue, and he wondered if she was getting enough to eat at home. Surely her mother and sister made enough money to put food on the table, even if they couldn't afford to buy the kid a decent dress.
Jassy picked at her pie, not wanting the meal to end. Ever since the night her father had walked out, no one had paid much attention to her. Daisy had slept days and worked nights, so she had never had much time to spend with her youngest daughter, leaving most of Jassy's up-bringing to Rosie, who was three years older than Jassy. And then, when Jassy turned fifteen, Rosie had gone to work in the saloon, too, leaving Jassy pretty much on her own.
Not that she had minded. She liked to be alone, with only her books for company. Her father had been a scholar, and though she hardly remembered him, he had left a large box of books behind when he left. Her mother would have thrown them out, but Jassy had begged to keep them because they had belonged to her father. Grudgingly, Daisy had taught her to read. She had given Jassy the gold pocket watch Gregor had left behind too. It was Jassy's most valuable possession.
She glanced at Maddigan. She knew he was a frequent visitor to the Lazy Ace, and she wondered if he had paid to take Rosieor, heaven forbid, her motherupstairs.
"You about finished there?" Creed asked, wondering why
she was staring at him that way.
"Yes."
Creed tossed a couple of dollars on the table plucked his hat from the rack, and held the door open for her.
"Could we . . ." She looked up at him shyly. "Could we go for a walk?"
He hesitated a moment. "Sure, kid."
"I'm not a kid!"
"No?" He bit back a grin as he glanced down at her. She looked like a kid, he thought. Her black mourning dress was too large, the style far too mature, for a little bit of a girl like her, making her look like a youngster playing dress-up in her mama's old clothes. "Where do you want to go?"
Jassy shrugged. I don't know. Anywhere."
Creed dragged a hand over his jaw, then grunted softly. "Come on."
Happy just to be with him, Jassy followed Creed down the street, aware of the glances that fell their waysome curious, some disapproving, but she didn't care.
Soon, they had left the town behind and they were walking alongside the narrow stream that cut across the prairie south of Harrison.
Jassy had never dared wander too far from town. Her mother had warned her time and again of dire consequences if she strayed too far from home and Jassy had known, without being told, that men would consider her fair game, since her mother and sister both worked in the saloon.
Her mother had been right, too, Jassy thought bitterly. Harry Coulter certainly felt that way. He didn't dare frequent any of the saloons because his daddy was too well known, but he wanted the same thing from Jassy that men had wanted from her mother, only Jassy wouldn't give it to him. Ever. She wasn't going to live the kind of life her mother and sister lived. She wanted to get married and have children, dozens of children whom she would love and cherish, children who would never grow up feeling unwanted or unloved. Children who would know who their father was.
"What?" Jassy looked up, aware that she hadn't been paying any attention to where they were going.
"I asked if you wanted to sit down for a while?"
She nodded, her eyes widening as she looked around. They were in a secluded valley. Tall trees, their branches covered with bright shades of green, grew all around. A small blue lake sparkled in the sunlight. Multicolored flowers bloomed on the hillsides and along the water's edge. It looked like a fairy place, Jassy thought. She wouldn't have been surprised to see a knight on a white charger riding out of the trees.
Charmed by the quiet beauty of the place, she sat down beside Maddigan.
"Pretty, huh?" he remarked.
"Oh, yes," she breathed. "It looks like something out of a storybook."
"Does it?"
Jassy nodded, a smile curving her lips as she watched a small gray squirrel scoot along a tree limb. ''Do you come here often?"
"Once in a while."
"Wouldn't it be wonderful to build a house here?" She glanced around, imagining it in her mind. "I'd put the parlor here, with a big window looking out over the lake. And the kitchen over there, and the bedroom there, and maybe a nursery . . ." She smiled inwardly, watching the house take shape in her mind. "It's a perfect place for a house. Just perfect! Don't you think so?"
She was looking up at him expectantly, her eyes bright, as she waited for a reply. Young, he thought ruefully. She was so damn young.
"It's as good a place as any, I reckon."
She was disappointed in his answer. Her smile faded and the exuberance went out of her voice. "You think I'm silly, don't you, because I want a home and a family?"
"No. I hope you get what you want out of life, Jassy."
She leaned toward him, her head canted to one side, her dark eyes intent on his face. "What do you want?"
Creed shrugged. "I don't know."
"Don't you want a home someday? A wife, children?"
"Men in my line of work don't stay in one place long enough to settle down and raise a family."
She felt as if the sun had suddenly lost its warmth. "You aren't leaving town, are you?"
It was in his mind to tell her that he was planning on leaving in the morning. But he knew suddenly that he couldn't go. Not now. Not when she was looking at him like that.
"No, Jassy, I'm not leaving. Not for a few days anyway."
"Do you have to go?"
"There's a job waiting for me in Black Hawk. I should have left two weeks ago. "And he would have been long gone, if it hadn't been for her.
"A job?" Her gaze strayed to the gun holstered low on his left hip.
Creed's gaze followed hers. "It's what I do, girl."
"And you're good at it, aren't you?"
Creed nodded, frowning a little at the dismay he heard in her voice. He wasn't just good. He was one of the best.
"You could stop."
"Could I?"
Jassy nodded.
"Maybe I don't want to."
"Why? Do you like killing people?"
He glared at her. If she'd been a man, he'd have known how to handle her, but she was just a kid.
"Well," she insisted. "Do you?"
She had guts, he'd give her that. Most men knew better than to push him.
"Listen, Jassy, I do what I have to do to get the job done. It's not always pretty."
"Take me with you when you go."
She looked up at him, her dark brown eyes filled with despair. For the first time, he noticed the light sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her lips were a beguiling shade of pink, the color of the summer roses that grew along the banks of the Little Big Horn. Her cheeks were flushed. Sometime during their walk, she'd taken the ribbon from her hair and now it fell down her back and over her shoulders in a riot of soft red waves.
Her lips were far too tempting, he thought bleakly. Her hair invited the touch of his hand, and her eyes . . . He swore under his breath and then, without realizing what he meant to do until it was done, he lowered his head and kissed her, his fingers tunneling into the silky mass of her hair.
He knew immediately that she had never been kissed by anyone who knew how. And so he kissed her gently at first, his lips playing softly over hers, encouraging her to tilt her head to one side, to open her mouth so he could sample the honey sweetness within.
She was a quick study. In a matter of minutes, she was kissing him back, and what had started as an innocent expression of affection quickly escalated to something much more dangerous.
Desire streaked through him like chain lightning, startling in its intensity. He was breathing hard when he took his lips from hers.
"Will you, Creed?" she asked breathlessly. "Will you take me with you when you go?"
"No."
"Please."
He shook his head. There was no place in his life for a woman, especially a white woman. Especially one as young and innocent as Jassy McCloud. He'd learned long ago that getting mixed up with white women was a big mistake. He was a half-breed, a man caught between two worlds who was never at home in either, and so he had made his own world, taking what he liked from each and to hell with the rest.
With an oath, Creed released her and stood up. "Come on, kid, it's time to go back."
"I'm not a kid!" Jassy exclaimed, confused and hurt by his curt tone of voice.
"I'll say." His gaze lingered on her lips for a moment, and then he started walking.
He'd always been able to spot trouble a mile away, and this girl was trouble of the worst kind. Soft, warm, innocent trouble that caught a man unaware and snared him in his own trap.
Jassy scrambled to her feet and hurried after him. She had always said she would save herself for marriage, that she would never part with her virginity until she had a ring on her finger, but suddenly that didn't seem important anymore. What mattered was that Creed was going away and she would never see him again.
Her mouth was suddenly dry, and she licked her lips nervously. And then, not knowing how to say it any other way, she just said it straight out.
"Would you make love to me?"
"What?"
He halted in mid-stride.
Jassy, coming up behind him, slammed into his back, then stumbled backward.
Whirling around, he grabbed her by the arm to steady her. Then, remembering what she had asked, he let go of her and took a step backward. Stunned by her request, he could only stare down at her, wondering if he had heard her right.
"Make love to me. Please, Creed!
"Jassy . . ." He took a deep breath. "Why, Jassy? Why would you want me to make love to you? We're strangers."
"I love you."
Taken aback, he could only stare at her.
Suddenly bold, she burrowed into his arms. "Don't you want to?"
"Jassy, you don't even know what love is."
"Then show me."
She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing herself against him, her eyes filled with silent entreaty.
Creed swore under his breath. Maybe he'd been wrong about her from the first. Maybe she was more like her mother than he had realized. And maybe she was just feeling lost and confused.
"Jassy . . ."
"Rosie says no one but Milt or one of the other saloon owners will hire me. If that's so, if I'm gonna have to work in that awful saloon andand do what Rosie does, then I want to do it with you first."
She went up on her tiptoes, her hand slipping around his neck, pulling his head down to meet hers, and then she was kissing him.
It was hard to remember she was young and innocent when she kissed him like that, her lips warm and sweet and softly yielding, her tongue a welcome invasion.
Creed cussed himself then, because he knew he was the one who had taught her to kiss like that, and now it was coming back to taunt him. Her body was soft and supple where it pressed against his, her warmth beckoning to him, teasing him.
His hands slid up and down her back, then settled on her hips, pulling her hard up against him, letting her feel the heat of his desire, hoping it would scare her off.
But that backfired, too. She moaned low in her throat and strained against him, wanting to be closer, and he knew if he didn't back off soon, it would be too late.
Letting her go was the most difficult thing he'd ever done, and he managed it only by reminding himself that she was just a kid. Just a kid who was vulnerable and unhappy and looking for love wherever she could find it.
Madeline Baker - Lakota Renegade Page 3