Moments later, they were riding north.
Jassy stared at Creed, wondering what was wrong. Ever since she had flirted with him beside the stream, he had been trying to ignore her. At first, she had thought he was angry with her, but he didn't seem angry, just withdrawn. His face was like something cast in stonehard and unyielding. He spoke only when necessary, insisted they ride from dawn till dark, and then, as soon as they'd eaten and the horses were settled for the night, he had taken refuge in his bedroll, pretending to be asleep even though she knew he was awake. Awake and on edge, just as she was.
The attraction between them hummed like a telegraph line, sizzling like summer lightning. He had only to look at her, and her whole being seemed to come alive. Colors were brighter, sounds more clear. Her skin tingled with longing whenever he was within reach, though he made a determined effort not to touch her in any way.
He had kissed her. Kissed her and liked it. And she wanted more. More of his kisses, more of everything.
He had told her they would reach Rock Springs sometime tomorrow and that they would take a train to San Francisco. But Jassy had lost all interest in finding Rose. The money was no longer important. Nothing mattered except Creed and the wall he was erecting between them.
She stared at his profile, mentally running her fingers through his hair, tracing the hard planes of his face, lingering on the sensual line of his mouth.
Tonight, she thought, tonight she would find out what was wrong. One way or another, she would find out.
She was up to something; he could smell it in the air, the same way he smelled the promise of rain before the night was over.
He had been aware of her covert glances all day. Even now, as she spread their bedrolls beside the fire, he could feel her furtive gaze. She was as nervous as a new bride.
He swore softly. What the hell had made him think of that? Lurching to his feet, he headed for the shallow water hole located a short distance from their campsite.
"Creed?"
Her voice stopped him in his tracks. "What?" He didn't look at her, merely waited.
"Will you be gone long?"
"I don't know."
He waited a moment to see if she had anything else to say, then stalked into the darkness. He was burning up inside. His blood was on fire. His skin felt tight. And he ached. Oh, how he ached for her.
He flopped down on his belly at the water hole and buried his face in the cool water. Jassy. She was like a song he couldn't get out of his mind. Her sweetness, her ready acceptance of him in spite of who and what he was, drew him like a lodestone. He wished suddenly that he could be the man she wanted, the man she deserved.
For the first time in his life, he regretted the choices he had made and the kind of life he had lived. The ghosts of the men he'd hunted rose up to haunt him, their skeletal faces accusing and damning. There was blood on his hands, on his soul, and he would never be free of it, any more than he would ever be free of his past, of the fact that he was an escaped convict, a man on the dodge.
He swore under his breath. Life had been so uncomplicated before he met Jassy McCloud and yet he knew, deep down, that he wouldn't give up a minute of the time he had spent with her.
Sitting up, he shook the water from his face and hair, then prowled the darkness, edgy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockers. He paced for almost an hour to give her time to get to sleep, and then he padded silently back to camp.
The first thing he noticed was that there was only one bedroll, and Jassy was in it, her hair a riot of color against the dull brown blanket.
A muffled oath escaped his lips as he stared at her, his breath catching in his throat as she slowly sat up, letting the covers pool around her waist.
The firelight caressed her, glinting in her hair, shimmering on her naked shoulders and breasts. Wordlessly, she held out her arms, the silent invitation as old as time.
His feet felt like lead as he moved toward her. His voice was ragged as he whispered her name, and then he dropped to his knees beside her and wrapped her in his arms. Her skin was warm and moist. Inviting. Tempting.
He felt her arms go around his waist, heard his name on her lips, and then she was kissing him, pressing her body to his, drawing him down onto the blankets.
A distant comer of his mind told him this was wrong, urged him to resist, but the passion of her kisses made his blood flow hot and thick like lava, drowning out everything but the taste of her, the touch of her.
He covered her body with his, his hands gliding over her silky flesh, his mouth hot and hungry as he kissed her. He was a condemned man, and she was his only hope of salvation.
His arms tightened around her as he deepened the kiss, his tongue searching for hers. A muffled groan of pain and pleasure was trapped in his throat as her tongue met his, inviting him to taste, to explore.
Her hands roamed over his back and shoulders and chest, nervous, eager. She delved under his buckskin shirt, moaning softly as her fingertips came in contact with warm skin. She heard the sharp intake of his breath as her hands skimmed across his chest.
He wanted her. Every kiss told her so. She could feel it in the tension that caused him to tremble, in the sudden hard heat pressed against her belly. She heard it in the harsh rasp of his voice as he murmured her name, the sound filled with yearning, with need.
And she was trembling, too, longing for something she didn't quite understand. She wasn't ignorant of the act itself, but no one had ever told her of the wild tumble of emotions that accompanied the act of love. She felt afraid, excited, eager. And in the very depths of her being, she felt the need to give, to soothe Creed's doubts, to give him the love she knew he had never had.
She tugged on his shirt, and he shrugged it off. The touch of his bare flesh against her own was exhilarating, and she drew him closer. His skin was dark bronze; hers was translucent ivory. He was strong and hard; she was yielding and soft.
She gazed into the smokey depths of his eyes and saw her own yearnings, her own hunger, mirrored there. But more than that, she saw doubts. His doubts.
Hoping to erase his misgivings once and for all, she murmured that she loved him.
She had hoped to make him smile. She had thought he might reply that he loved her, too.
She did not expect him to draw back as if he had been slapped.
Creed stared down at Jassy for a long moment. Her lips were swollen from his kisses, and her eyes glowed with the flame of desire. He knew in that instant that he couldn't do it; he couldn't take her innocence. She was only seventeen, with her whole life ahead of her. She deserved more out of life than a used-up, half-breed gunfighter.
''Don't, Jassy," he said curtly.
"Don't what?"
She reached for his hand, but he caught both of hers in one of his, his grip merciless.
"I won't let you waste your love on a man like me," he said. Releasing her hands, he threw the covers over her and walked away.
"Creed! Damn you, Creed Maddigan, don't you dare turn your back on me!"
"Go to sleep."
"No."
He refused to look at her, knowing how dangerous it would be, knowing he would be sorely tempted to forget his good intentions and crawl back under the covers. "Dammit, Jassy, do what I say!"
"You're not my father." Her eyes narrowed angrily. "Or my husband! You can't tell me what to do."
He started to turn, then caught himself. Don't look at her, he told himself. You'll be fine if you just don't look at her.
"I want you," she said softly. "I love you and I want you, and I know you want me."
"I want a lot of things."
"Please, Creed, don't shut me out."
"This was a mistake from the beginning, Jassy. I'm no good for you. I never have been. I thought . . ." He blew out a long, weary sigh. "Hell, it doesn't matter what I thought."
"It matters to me."
He turned to face her then, his eyes dark and haunted. "Jassy, you don't know anything abou
t me." He held up a hand when she started to protest. "Just listen. I'm a wanted man, and nothing's going to change that. I thought if I took you far enough away, it wouldn't matter. But it won't work. I can't ask you to spend the rest of your life on the run, always looking over your shoulder because of something I did."
"Creed, you're forgetting about the letter from Judge Parker! He said he'd look into your case. We could go back. I could tell him what I saw"
"No, Jassy. I've made up my mind."
"But . . ."
He shook his head. He should have left her in Harrison, he thought bleakly. At the time, he had convinced himself that he was doing the right thing, rationalizing that he couldn't walk out on her, that he couldn't leave her alone. He knew now it had been a mistake. She had been captured by Indians because he had been too damned selfish to leave her behind. If Chah-ee-chopes hadn't taken a liking to her, Jassy could have been killed, or worse. Somehow, he had to make her understand.
"Jassy, Harry's not the only man I ever killed. If Parker starts nosin' around in my past, there's no telling what skeletons he's liable to dig up."
"Why didn't you ever tell me that before?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. It didn't seem important at the time, and then . . . I guess I just didn't want you to know."
He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. It had all happened so long ago, he hardly ever thought about it anymore, but it was there, a dark shadow in his past, the only killing he had ever been ashamed of.
"And now you want me to think you're all bad, is that right?"
"Think whatever you like."
"I don't understand you, Creed Maddigan," she exclaimed, her anger rising. "You keep telling me you're no good for me, that I'm too young. Well, you're wrong! I'm not too young. A lot of girls are married and have a couple of kids by the time they're my age. And as for your not being good enough for me . . ." She shook her head. "My mother was a whore, Creed. Maybe what you really mean is that I'm not good enough for you!"
"Dammit, Jassy, that's not true and you know it! And in spite of the way you grew up, you're still just a kid, and if you don't want to end up like your mother, then you'd best hang on to your virginity for as long as you can!"
There was no use arguing with him, not now, when they were both angry, when anything she said would only make him more determined to leave her behind.
"Very well, Creed," she said with feigned resignation. "If that's the way you want it."
"It is."
She gave him a long, accusing look and then, with a sniff, she turned her back to him and closed her eyes. That might be the way he wanted it, she thought, but that wasn't the way it was going to be.
She smiled into the darkness. She might have lost the battle, but she was determined to win the war.
Chapter Twenty-One
Creed's gaze darted left and right as they rode down the dusty street that was Rock Springs' main thoroughfare. Back in the 1860s, Rock Springs had been a trading post and stagecoach station on the Oregon Trail. Now it was a coal mining town for the Union Pacific Coal Company. The population, mostly male, numbered less than two hundred.
Four years had passed since peace had been made between the settlers and the Sioux. In that same year, 1868, Wyoming had been organized as a Territory. A year later, the new Territory had granted women the right to vote.
Even though Rock Springs wasn't much of a town, and they were pretty far from Harrison, there was always a possibility that a wanted poster carrying his description might turn up, although Creed thought the chances were slim. But there was no help for itthey were out of supplies and out of money. He'd sell the horses and buy two tickets to Sacramento. For Jassy's sake, the sooner he got her settled and got the hell out of her life, the better. For both of them.
There was only one store in town. Located on the south side of the tracks, it was officially known as the Beckwith Quinn Store, but everybody called it The Big Store.
Creed had never seen the place before now, but he'd heard about it. Besides being the company store for the mine, it housed the mine office and the post office. It was also the undertaking parlor, with the delivery wagon doubling as a hearse when necessary. The Big Store sold everything from blasting powder to clothing, mining tools to groceries. When the miners needed entertainment, they used the counters for a stage and danced in the aisles.
Jassy wandered through the store while Creed haggled with the owner about what their horses and saddles were worth. There were several men in the place, and they all turned to stare at her.
Feeling uncomfortable, she made her way back to Creed, who was waiting for her near the door.
"Did you get a good deal?" she asked.
"Good enough to get us a couple of train tickets and a change of clothes."
Jassy nodded, trying not to notice the way the miners were staring at her. Creed didn't look too out of place in buckskins, but she was acutely conscious of her fringed doeskin dress and moccasins.
"So," Creed said, "what do you want first? Something to eat, or something to wear?"
"Clothes, please."
The Big Store might be big, Jassy thought, but there weren't a lot of choices in ladies ready-to-wear, and even less in her size. She finally settled on a blue gingham dress, since the only other choice was an ugly brown wool. Shoes were the next item of business, and she picked out a pair of low-heeled black leather boots. Cheeks flushing, she selected a pair of cotton stockings and garters. Lastly, she bought a hairbrush and a packet of hairpins.
"That all?" Creed asked.
Jassy nodded. Her chemise and pantalets were still in reasonably good condition, she thought gratefully, because she'd hate to have to buy new ones with Creed and a handful of scruffy miners looking on.
She stood nearby while Creed selected a pair of black twill trousers, a dark green wool shirt, and a black hat. To her surprise, he decided to keep the moccasins. He also bought a used Navy Colt and a holster.
He paid for their purchases, tucked their parcels under one arm, and headed for the door.
It was after dark by the time they checked into the hotel.
"You'll have to pretend to be my wife," Creed told her as they crossed the lobby. "We don't have enough money left for two rooms."
Jassy nodded. Contrary to what Creed might think, she was glad they'd be sharing a room.
The hotel clerk's gaze moved over Creed in a long assessing glance that made it clear he didn't cotton to the idea of having a half-breed under his roof.
Creed returned the man's gaze, daring the clerk to ask him to leave. Finally, with a shrug, the man slid the hotel register across the counter.
Glancing over Creed's shoulder, Jassy watched him sign in as Mister and Missus Monroe from Sheridan, Montana.
"We'll need some hot water," Creed said.
"That'll be two bits extra."
"Fine. Send it up right away, will you?"
"Yessir, Mr. Monroe," the clerk replied. He handed Creed two keys, then closed the register with a bang.
Jassy followed Creed up the narrow stairway and down a dark hallway to their room.
Inside, he dropped their packages on the bed, then crossed the floor to the window and stared down at the street below. It was going to be hell, sharing a room with Jassy, he thought as he watched a mud wagon rumble past. The room was small. The bed was small. And she was all too willing . . .
He could hear the rustle of paper as she unwrapped her purchases.
"That hot water should be here soon," Creed remarked, turning away from the window. "I'll go downstairs so you can have some privacy." He buckled on the gunbelt and checked to make sure the Colt was loaded. "Don't leave this room till I get back."
"You will come back, won't you?"
"Yeah." His gaze lingered on her face for a long moment, and then he was gone.
Creed made his way to the town's only saloon and stepped inside. He ordered a glass of whiskey, then stood there, staring into the clear
amber liquid. Earlier, he'd gone to the Union Pacific ticket office and bought two second-class tickets to Sacramento. The good news was that the tickets didn't cost quite as much as he had expected; the bad news was that the train wouldn't arrive until Thursday morning. That meant sharing a room with Jassy for the next two nights.
Two nights in the same room. The very idea made him break out in a cold sweat. That day by the river, she had discovered what every woman discovered sooner or later; now that she knew what a powerful weapon her sexuality was, he figured she was going to want someone to practice on. And he was that someone.
Jassy sat at the window, staring down at the street, wondering what was keeping Creed. He'd been gone for over an hour. In that time, she'd bathed and washed and dried her hair. Now, fully dressed, she waited impatiently for his return.
When another thirty minutes went by, she began to wonder if he was ever coming back. She knew he regretted bringing her with him. He thought he was too old for her. He said he had nothing to offer herno future, no hope. He had escaped from prison, and there was a price on his head. But none of that mattered. Why couldn't he see that? Why wouldn't he admit that they were good together? That he needed her just as much as she needed him?
There had to be something he wasn't telling her, something in his pastbut what? He said he had killed people. Was that it? Had he killed someone in cold blood? She knew he was capable of violence, of taking a life, but she couldn't imagine Creed killing for killing's sake.
She glanced over her shoulder when she heard a key turn in the lock. "Creed!"
He nodded at her, trying not to notice how beautiful she looked sitting in front of the window with the lamplight shining on her hair and her eyes glowing with happiness.
As if he had been gone for years instead of hours, she flew across the room and hugged him. "I missed you."
Madeline Baker - Lakota Renegade Page 17