Madeline Baker - Lakota Renegade

by Lakota Renegade (lit)

  Jassy stared at her sister, momentarily stunned. And then she shook her head. "How can you talk like that? How can you even think it?"

  "Don't be an idiot, Jassy. Your innocence is the only thing of value we've got, and we're gonna take advantage of it."

  "No. Never."

  "Now, Jassy," Rose said, wrapping her arm around her sister's shoulder, "it won't be so bad. We can use the money to fix this place up a little, maybe buy some new clothes. You'd like a new dress, wouldn't you? Something pretty?"

  "I don't need a new dress."

  "Well, I do! And I'm tired of living in this hovel."

  "How was Denver?" Jassy asked, hoping to change the subject.

  "Fine, just fine. Ray said he'd take me with him the next time he goes out of town. Maybe to San Francisco next time."

  "Why would he go to San Francisco?"

  "I don't know, I didn't ask. I think he's going to leave Tess, Jassy. I really do." A smile softened the harsh expression on Rose's face. "Maybe he will ask me to marry him."

  "Maybe," Jassy agreed doubtfully.

  Rose blew out a long sigh. "And maybe not. In the meantime, he gave me enough money to pay the rent on this dump for another two months. And he bought me a beautiful new coat, and a hat to match."

  Rose sat down on the sofa and took off her shoes. Leaning back, she closed her eyes. "Get me a cup of coffee."

  Jassy hurried to do as she was bidden, hoping that Rose wouldn't bring up the subject of working for Milt again. Maybe it would be a good thing if Coulter married Rose. Maybe he'd take them out of this dump. Maybe they could move to Denver and start a new life.

  Jassy made a sound of disgust low in her throat. She was getting as bad as Rose, daydreaming about things that were never going to happen. There was no reason for Coulter to marry Rosie, not when she gave him everything he wanted.

  Standing at the window while she waited for the coffee to heat, she stared at the jagged rip in the oilcloth, wondering what she would do when Creed arrived.

  She was pouring Rose's coffee when she heard the front door open, followed by the sound of Rose's voice.

  ''What are you doing here?" Rose demanded, her voice high-pitched and shrill.

  Jassy held her breath, but Creed's voice was low and indistinct.

  She heard Rose say, "We need to talk," and then there was only silence.

  Jassy peered around the door frame. She could see Rose and Creed standing on the porch, talking. She saw Creed jerk Rose up hard against him; his face was dark with anger. She saw the fear in Rosie's eyes when he pushed her away. If only she could hear what they were saying!

  She ducked back into the kitchen when she heard the front door slam open. A moment later, Rose was standing in the kitchen doorway. "You want to tell me what the hell has been going on here?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You know what I mean. How long has that half-breed been stopping by to look in on you?"

  Jassy squared her shoulders. There was no point in lying. Too many people had seen Creed coming and going. "Just since you've been gone. I mentioned that I didn't like being home alone at night, so he stopped by to make sure I was all right before going to the hotel."

  "And just when did you tell him you were afraid to be home alone?"

  "I don't remember."

  "You're not to see him again, do you understand?"

  "Why not?"

  "Because he's a dirty Injun, and because I said so. I'm responsible for you now, and I won't have you shaming me by associating with scum like that."

  "Shame you!" Jassy exclaimed, her anger making her reckless. "You work in a saloon. How could my talking to Creed shame you any worse than that?"

  Rose's face turned suddenly ugly, and Jassy knew she had gone too far. For a moment, she thought Rose was going to hit her, and she wondered if maybe she deserved it.

  And then Rose smiled, and it was more frightening than her anger. "I'll be talking to Milt about you in the next day or so, little sister," she said nastily, "and then you'll find out what shame really is."

  And with those spiteful words, Rose left the house.

  Jassy gave Rose enough time to get to the saloon before she hurried outside, anxious to find Creed, to learn what Rose had said that had made him so angry. She went to the hotel first, but he wasn't in his room, so she headed for the Lazy Ace.

  Slipping through the back door, she glanced around the crowded saloon, finally spying him playing poker at a corner table.

  Taking a place under the staircase that led to the second floor, she stood in the shadows, watching him. Jealousy stabbed at her heart when she saw one of the saloon girls hovering over Creed's shoulder, flirting with him. Of course, he flirted back, and she wondered how many of the girls he had taken upstairs. It was obvious that he was a special favorite with the doves, and it was easy to see why. He had a roguish smile, a voice like black velvet, and a laugh that made her stomach quiver. After a while, he slipped the girl a couple of dollars. She whispered something in his ear, kissed his cheek, and left the table.

  Creed's presence had a definite effect on the men, too. The women might find him fascinating, but Jassy could tell the men were afraid of him.

  In the last few weeks, she had often stood there, watching Creed. She had seen the wariness in the eyes of the other men whenever Creed took a seat at one of the tables. His mere presence made them nervous. Once, when he had accused a man of cheating, she had understood why. His eyes, those deep black eyes, carried the promise of death. The man had quickly apologized, then practically ran out of the saloon, not caring what anyone thought of his actions. Jassy realized that it would take a mighty brave man, or one who was a complete fool, to challenge Creed Maddigan.

  When she saw Creed grab his hat and leave the table, she slipped outside, keeping to the shadows so no one would see her waiting for him.

  She was about to cross the street to meet him when a voice cut across the stillness of the night.

  "Make your move, Maddigan."

  The voice, filled with menace, hissed out of the murky darkness.

  Jassy came to an abrupt halt, her gaze focused on Creed, her hand pressed to her heart as he whirled around, his left hand streaking toward his gun with the speed of a striking snake.

  She had never seen anything so fast. He drew the Colt with practiced ease, his thumb cocking the hammer as he drew the gun. The barrel cleared the holster in a smooth, flowing motion as it searched for the source of the threat.

  There were two blinding flashes, and the sharp staccato reports of two guns fired almost simultaneously.

  Jassy held her breath, but Creed remained on his feet, apparently unhurt.

  A moment later, Harry Coulter staggered into the center of the street.

  Images imprinted themselves in Jassy's mind: Creed's eyes, hard and cold, as black as ebony. The bright red slash of blood spreading across the front of Harry's shirt. The gray smoke curling from the barrel of Creed's gun.

  Harry stood there for stretched seconds, his hands pressed to the bleeding wound in his chest. He stared at Creed in mute appeal, and then his eyes glazed over and he toppled forward.

  He was dead. Jassy felt sick to her stomach. Even before that day in the alley, she hadn't liked Harry Coulter very much. He had always been something of a bully, always bragging about how tough he was, how he was gonna make a name for himself. He'd boasted on several occasions that he was fast with a gun, but she'd never dreamed he'd actually try to outgun anyone, least of all someone like Creed.

  Saloon doors were flung open on both sides of the street as people converged on the scene, all talking at once. And then the sheriff was there, demanding that Creed surrender his gun.

  From the shadows, Jassy saw the hesitation in Creed's eyes; then, with a sigh of resignation, he handed the sheriff his Colt.

  "Let's go," Sheriff Harrington said curtly.

  "It was self-defense," Creed said.

  "That's what they all say," Harrington m
uttered. "Anybody see anything?" the sheriff asked, his gaze sweeping the crowd. "That's what I thought. Let's go, Maddigan."

  "Dammit, the kid called me out, then fired at me from between those two buildings. What was I supposed to do?"

  Harrington snorted in disgust. "Why would a kid like Harry come gunning for you?"

  "We had some words a while back. He must have still been upset."

  "Words? About what?"

  "I caught him trying to force himself on a girl, and I set him straight."

  "And that's why he tried to kill you?" Harrington shook his head. "Who was the girl?"

  "It doesn't matter."

  "I'm afraid you'll have to do better than that. Harry Coulter was a good kid and well-liked in this town. Come on, let's go."

  Jassy started to run forward, but a hand on her arm restrained her, and when she looked over her shoulder, she saw Rosie standing behind her.

  "Let me go," Jassy said.

  "You're not getting involved."

  "But I saw the whole thing."

  "I don't care. That man can take care of himself. You stay out of it."

  "But Creed's telling the truth. Harry tried to kiss me in the alley behind Gratton's. He hit me when I wouldn't let him. Creed made him let me go."

  Rose shook her head. "All the more reason to keep your mouth shut. Ray thinksthought the world of his kid, and I'm not gonna have you saying anything to change his mind. Come on, we're going home."

  Still holding Jassy's arm, Rose started down the street, dragging Jassy behind her.

  Jassy glanced over her shoulder, but Creed was already out of sight. "Rosie, please . . ."

  The slap was hard and completely unexpected. "I said stay out of it! I told you I don't want you to have anything to do with that man."

  Jassy pressed a hand to her throbbing cheek, surprised by the anger glinting in her sister's eyes.

  "I mean what I say, Jasmine. You stay away from him, understand? A man like that can talk a girl out of anything, including her bloomers. You're gonna hang on to your innocence if I have to tie you to the bedpost, hear? That's something we can only sell once, and it's gonna be worth a small fortune."

  Jassy nodded, hardly able to believe what her sister was saying. Harry Coulter had just got himself killed, and all Rosie was worried about was money.

  "I shouldn't have hit you," Rose mumbled as they reached the front door of their house, and Jassy knew those few words were all the apology she was likely to get.

  Going to her room, Jassy closed the door, then fell across the bed, her eyes filling with tears. And even as she cried, she wasn't certain if she was crying for herself or for Creed.

  In spite of the time they had spent together, she really didn't know very much about him, but she knew on some deep, instinctive level that he wouldn't like being locked up.

  He didn't. Creed flinched as the lawman slammed the cell door behind him. Damn!

  Tossing his hat on the foot of the cot, Creed went to the narrow, iron-barred window and stared out into the darkness.

  On the way to the jail, Harrington had remarked that the circuit judge wouldn't be riding through town again for at least a week.

  A week! Creed ran a hand through his hair, then rubbed the back of his neck. He'd go crazy if he had to stay cooped up in this place for a week.

  He paced for an hour, then stretched out on the hard, narrow bunk, one arm flung over his eyes. A week! And what if they decided he was guilty? He could spend years behind bars, if they didn't hang him.

  It wasn't a thought conducive to pleasant dreams. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw himself walking up the thirteen steps to the gallows, felt the hood cover his face, shutting out his last glimpse of the sun, felt the rough hemp noose closing around his neck, growing tighter felt the trapdoor fall away, leaving him to swing in the cold empty air, his body convulsing, his feet kicking . . .

  Muttering an oath, he swung out of bed and paced the floor until dawn.

  "Hey, Maddigan, you got a visitor."

  Creed came awake instantly, his hand automatically reaching for the gun that was no longer on his hip. A vile oath escaped his lips when he remembered where he was.

  "You want to see her or not?"

  Her? A wry grin settled over Creed's face. He should have known she'd show up. "Yeah."

  She entered the cellblock as though she were the one being led to the gallows. Her face was scrubbed clean, her freckles all bright and shiny. She was wearing the skirt and shirtwaist he had bought her. He wished she had left her hair down, but it was pulled back from her face, secured at her nape with a bit of frayed yellow ribbon.

  "Still following me, I see," Creed said, grinning at her.

  Jassy nodded, her eyes wide as she took in the rumpled cot with its uncovered pillow and gray blanket, the battered chair, the slop jar under the bed, the cold iron bars that separated them. How could he make jokes at a time like this?

  "What are you doing here?" he asked, won-dering at her silence. "Your sister made it pretty clear that she didn't want you to have anything to do with me."

  Jassy shrugged, as if what Rose wanted was of no importance. "I brought you something."

  She'd been holding one hand behind her back. Now she brought it out, revealing a brown paper bag.

  Creed arched one black brow. "Cookies," he guessed. Taking the bag from her hand, he placed it very carefully on the foot of the cot. "You shouldn't have come here, Jassy."

  "I thought you might be lonely."

  Lonely? He was madder than hell at being locked up. He was more than a little worried about the outcome of his trial, especially considering his reputation, but he hadn't realized he was lonely until the words fell from her lips. It hit him with stark clarity that he'd been lonely most of his adult life.

  And for the first time in his life, he was worried about someone besides himself. He couldn't go to prison! Damn, he hated to think what would happen to Jassy when he was gone. Anger roiled within him, threatening to choke him, as he recalled how Rose had offered to sell him a few hours of Jassy's time.

  Damn. "Jassy . . ."

  "I saw what happened in the street last night."

  Creed frowned. "You did? How?"

  "I wanted to see you, to ask you what Rosie said."

  "Hell of a time for a girl your age to be prowling around," Creed muttered.

  "I wasn't prowling around. Oh, Creed, I was so scared. You might have been killed.''

  Relief washed through him, sweeter and more potent than wine. She'd seen it. He had a witness who could testify in his behalf.

  Creed swore under his breath. He hadn't wanted to involve Jassy in this mess, but now it couldn't be helped.

  "Are you all right?" Jassy asked, frowning at him.

  "Yeah." Lord, he hated it when she looked up at him like that, her brown eyes all soft and warm, her lips slightly parted. It made him think of warm summer nights along the Powder River, when he had been young and anything had been possible.

  Unable to help himself, he reached through the bars and took the ribbon from her hair, running his hands through the silken strands until they framed her face.

  "Why did you do that?" she asked.

  "Damned if I know."

  But he did know. He liked the way she looked with her hair down, and he wondered when red had become his favorite color.

  "You never told me what Rose said."

  And he never would, not when a lie would be kinder than the truth. "She told me to stay the hell away from you if I knew what was good for me."

  "Oh."

  "The hell of it is, I do know what's good for me."

  Jassy looked up at him, her brown eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Do you?" she asked, her voice quivering.

  "You're good for me, Jassy," Creed murmured. "Too good, but I can't seem to leave you alone."

  His words were the sweetest she'd ever heard, and she swayed toward him, unmindful of the bars that crushed her breasts. Slowly, she rose
up on her tiptoes, her gaze quietly beseeching him to kiss her.

  Creed hesitated for a moment, and then he put his arms around her as best he could considering the bars that stood between them and kissed her, savoring the taste of her lips. She was sweet, so sweet. She tasted of youth and innocence, of burgeoning womanhood. He'd never known anything so exhilarating, never felt such an intense need to possess or such a powerful urge to shelter and protect, which was pretty funny, seeing as how he was the one locked up.

  "Ah, Jassy," he murmured and kissed her again, his tongue delving into the dark, secret recesses of her mouth.

  Jassy's legs went weak, and she leaned against the bars, her arms wrapping around Creed's waist. She had been so afraid he would refuse to see her, afraid Rose had made him change his mind, but he was kissing her as if he would never let her go. She felt as if her blood was on fire, as if every nerve ending in her body had suddenly come to life, as if she had been asleep, like the princess in a fairy tale, until this very moment.

  She felt bereft when he took his lips from hers. "Don't stop," she begged.

  "Jassy . . ."

  "Please."

  It was madness to kiss her again, but it would have been easier to break the bars than to keep his mouth from hers. He let his tongue slide over the inside of her lower lip, savoring the warm silkiness.

  She moaned low in her throat, her arms tightening around his waist, and the heat of her, the scent of her, the touch of her, made him ache with bittersweet pain.

  Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps outside the cellblock door, Creed put Jassy away from him and took a step away from the bars.

  She blinked up at him, her eyes cloudy with passion, her lips swollen with the force of his kisses.

  "Go on," he said, not wanting to give Harrington anything to gossip about, "get out of here."

  Jassy stared at him, confused by his curt tone. Had she done something wrong?

  Creed swore under his breath when he saw the hurt in her eyes, but there was no time to explain.

  "Go home, girl," he said brusquely. "Go on, get!"

  Fighting tears, she practically ran out of the building.

  "A mite young, ain't she?" Harrington remarked as he ambled down the aisle.