Later, with her head pillowed on his shoulder, her arm draped over his waist, Jassy let out a long, contented sigh. She felt as if she had waited her whole life for Creed Maddigan, and it had been worth the wait.
Chapter Twenty-Two
"Where did you get the dress?" Jassy asked a long time later.
"It belonged to the hotel clerk's mother. I asked him if there was any place to find a wedding dress in this town, and she overheard me and offered to let me borrow hers. She decorated the dining room, too."
"And the suit?"
"Borrowed it from the undertaker," he admitted with a wry grin.
Jassy laughed softly. "Thank you, Creed, for everything."
"You deserve more than a borrowed gown and a bouquet of wildflowers," he replied, his voice laced with bitterness. "Hell, at the very least, you deserve a man who doesn't have to sign a phony name to the marriage license."
"I've got what I want." Jassy traced the line of his jaw with her forefinger. "More than I ever hoped for."
The town held a party at The Big Store for the newlyweds that night. Creed had tried to get out of it. He was a man on the run, after all, and being the center of attention didn't seem like a good idea, but the miners refused to take no for an answer, viewing the occasion as a good excuse to raise hell.
Jassy was embarrassed to be the center of attention, but Creed urged her to join in the spirit of it all, since there didn't seem to be any way to avoid it.
The music was furnished by a fiddle player, who was accompanied by a jug, an accordion, a banjo, and a harmonica. The band, such as it was, played loud and lively, and Jassy found herself dancing with men old enough to be her father and young enough to be her brother.
Creed stood on the sidelines, watching good-naturedly, cutting in every now and then to twirl her around the floor.
Two hours into the celebration, Jassy begged Creed to take her outside. "I need some fresh air," she complained softly, "and my feet hurt."
Smiling proudly, Creed took his wife's arm and led her outside. Wife, he thought. Damn, but that was going to take some getting used to. In all his life, he'd never had to look out for anybody but himself. And now he had Jassy to protect, to provide for. A wife meant responsibility, children. . . . He swore under his breath, hoping she would never be sorry, hoping he would never let her down.
Jassy drew in a deep breath. The night was cool and clear, the sky bright with a million twinkling stars. She slid a glance at Creed. Her husband. He had held her and loved her until she couldn't tell where she ended and he began. She had responded to his caresses with a boldness, a shamelessness, that had embarrassed her even as it had pleased him.
She let her gaze move over his profile, thinking again how handsome he was. She wished he would take her in his arms and hold her close. And then, to her surprise, she reached for him instead.
Creed grinned as Jassy wrapped her arms around his waist. "Something I can do for you, Missus Maddigan?"
"Yes, indeed," she replied.
Jassy pressed herself against him, hoping he would understand what she wanted so she wouldn't have to say the words aloud.
"You wouldn't be wantin' to dance, would you?" Creed drawled, a hint of laughter in his tone.
"No," Jassy replied, letting her hands glide up over his shoulders and down his shirt front.
Creed grunted softly. "A walk, perhaps?"
With a frown, Jassy slipped her hand under his shirt and caressed his skin. It was warm and solid, and touching it made her whole body quiver with desire. "Creed . . ."
He laughed out loud as he swept her into his arms. "Don't worry, Jassy, I'm pretty sure I know what you want."
A flood of heat burned its way up her neck and into her cheeks. "Do you think I'm terrible?"
"I think you're wonderful." His lips nuzzled her hair. "Don't you think it's what I want, too?
"What about the party?"
His eyes blazed with a fervent heat as his gaze met hers. "Well have our own party, Missus Maddigan," he replied, his voice thick with desire. "Just you and me."
She buried her face against his shoulder as he carried her down the street to their hotel, her heart hammering with anticipation, her nostrils filling with his scent. She threaded her fingers through the long hair at his nape, loving the way it felt in her hand.
Effortlessly, he carried her up the stairs to their room, and then they were alone, just the two of them. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered her feet to the floor, letting her body slide over his, letting her feel the proof of his need, his desire. His love.
He had promised to tell her he loved her every day of his life, and now, as he undressed her and caressed her, he murmured the words over and over again, fervently, solemnly, so she would never forget.
"And I love you," Jassy replied, her body welcoming his sweet invasion, rising to meet him, to gather him close. "Love you, love you, love you!"
And then she was reaching for the moon and the stars, and he was giving them to her with both hands, until she was wrapped in moonlight and starlight, safely cocooned in her husband's arms.
He had to coax her out of bed in the morning. Weary from a night of lovemaking, shyly eager for his embrace, Jassy tried to pull Creed back into bed with her. Instead, he lifted her into his arms and carried her across the room. Standing her on her feet, he bathed her from head to foot. He might have got through it okay if she hadn't started caressing him, letting her fingertips slide over his chest and down his belly. She poked one finger into his navel, then dropped her hand until it rested on the rising bulge in his trousers.
"Imp," he growled, and made love to her there, on the floor.
The sound of the train whistle reminded him that they didn't have all day. Drawing Jassy to her feet, he tossed the washcloth at her.
"You'd better wash yourself this time," he said, "or we'll miss the train."
She had never ridden on a train, and she could barely contain her excitement as Creed helped her aboard. She was going to San Francisco!
San Francisco. It conjured up images of miners and mansions and millionaires.
She followed Creed down the narrow aisle until he came to an unoccupied seat. Jassy slid in first so she could sit near the window.
Her heart was pounding so loudly that she thought it would surely drown out the wail of the whistle and the sound of the wheels as the engine lurched forward.
She sat with her nose pressed to the glass, watching the countryside race by. When the conductor came by to punch their tickets, he told her proudly that the train traveled at an amazing speed of twenty-five miles an hour, more than twice as fast as a stagecoach. He also told her that there were thirty thousand miles of track laid from one end of the country to the other.
Spurred on by Jassy's interest, the conductor spent the next ten minutes telling Jassy more about trains than she had ever cared to know. He mentioned that the first locomotive to run on rails had been built in 1825 by Mr. John Stevens of Hoboken, New Jersey. The train ran on a half-mile track located behind Stevens's house.
''Fascinating," Jassy murmured.
"Isn't it?" the conductor agreed, then went on to tell her that the first railroad company in America had been the Baltimore and Ohio, chartered in 1827.
"Very interesting," Jassy said.
"Enjoy your trip, ma'am," the conductor said, and tipping his hat, he made his way to the next car.
The novelty of riding on a train quickly lost its charm, and Jassy decided that, while traveling by rail might be quicker than traveling by coach, it wasn't a whole lot more comfortable.
As the hours passed, and the train rattled on, she found herself wondering what would happen if the engineer fell asleep. Would the train keep going? Would the cars jump the tracks?
Occasionally, ashes and cinders drifted through a window. She overheard the conductor telling a young boy that trains had once been called brigades of cars, but way back in 1830, the Baltimore and Ohio had used the term "train of cars"
in an advertisement, and the word train had stuck.
Later, Jassy heard one of the lady passengers complain that she had once counted thirteen holes burned in her dress due to the engine's constant belching of sparks.
Fortunately, there were stops along the way. At Bryan, there was an hour's delay to change locomotives.
Creed and Jassy left the train to walk through the town. Creed pulled his hat low, his gaze darting right and left as they made their way to a small restaurant.
"What's the matter?" Jassy asked.
"Just being careful. I'm still a wanted man, you know."
"I didn't see a sheriff's office," Jassy said. "Maybe you're worrying for nothing."
"Maybe."
Creed stared out the window, hoping Jassy was right, hoping that he was, indeed, worrying for nothing. They were a long way from Harrison.
They ate quickly, then returned to their seat in the train.
Soon they were on their way again, passing through Evanston on their way to Ogden. The country they passed through was beautiful. The Bear River Mountains rose in the distance and Jassy felt a sudden longing to go exploring, to climb mountains and explore caves, to ride in a canoe, to wander through the vast wilderness.
A new husband, a new world, a new life. She had never been happier, she thought, snuggling against Creed. Gradually, the hum of the wheels and the motion of the train lulled her to sleep.
Carefully, so as not to awaken her, Creed eased Jassy down on the seat, cradling her head in his lap, his hand lightly stroking her hair as he stared out the window. He felt a mild twinge of regret as he realized that his bounty-hunting days were over. Like a bird whose wings had been clipped, he was no longer free to fly from place to place, following the wind or a whim. He had a wife now, responsibilities. Sooner or later, he'd have to find a place to settle down, a job. . . .
He swore under his breath. Who in hell would give him a job? He was wanted by the law. The only things he was any good at were tracking and fast-drawing a Colt.
Damn. He'd thought he had overcome his doubts, but now they rose in full force once again. Who did he think he was, to take on a wife when he had nothing to offer her? He was an escaped convict with a price on his head. A half-breed. People would never forgive him for that, or forgive Jassy for marrying him. And what if she got pregnant? The thought chilled him to the marrow of his bones. What if she was pregnant even now?
He placed a hand over her flat stomach, trying to imagine it swollen with his child. What kind of father would he be? He didn't have any experience at all with kids; he wasn't even sure he wanted any, but most women wanted a passel of kids. Damn, he thought again, why hadn't he kept his hands off Jassy McCloud and left her in Harrison where she belonged? Except she wasn't Jassy McCloud anymore. She was Jassy Maddigan. Missus Creed Maddigan, even though the name on the license said Monroe.
He glanced down at her face and knew why he hadn't left her behind. He needed her, and he loved her, loved everything about her. She was the best thing ever to happen to him, and he was terrified that he would let her down, that he wasn't good enough for her, that in the end he would prove himself to be no better than most people thought.
Damn, but women sure made life complicated.
The Union Pacific line ended in Ogden. Leaving the train, Creed went to the Central Pacific depot and bought two tickets for Sacramento; then they made their way to the hotel.
Creed didn't miss the look of contempt that passed over the hotel clerk's pasty face as he tossed their room key on the counter.
"Room six, top of the stairs, Mr. Jones," the clerk said. His voice was high-pitched and filled with disdain, his gaze speculative as his gaze slid over Jassy.
"She's my wife," Creed said, his voice hard and flat.
"Iwhat?" the clerk stammered.
"I thought you might be wondering what our relationship was," Creed retorted. "Now you know. So keep your eyes off her."
"Yessir," the clerk replied quickly.
Creed grabbed Jassy by the arm and practically dragged her up the stairs.
"Creed, you're hurting me!" Jassy exclaimed.
He loosened his hold on her arm instantly. "Sorry," he muttered contritely.
"You can't fight the whole world, you know."
He paused on the landing. "Dammit, Jassy, he was leering at you like you were a . . ."
"Whore?" she supplied.
"Yes, dammit, that's just what he thought. Because you were with me."
Anger boiled up inside heranger at all those thoughtless people who had made Creed feel that he was inferior because he was half-Indian. And anger at Creed himself, because he let those opinions affect the way he saw himself.
"Listen to me, Creed Maddigan," she said, her hands fisted on her hips. "I don't care what anybody else thinks of me, or of you. All that matters is what you think and what I think. And I think you're the most wonderful man in the whole wide world." Her eyes threw a challenge at him. "What do you think?''
I think you're beautiful when your back is up," he said, grinning broadly as he reached for her hand. "Come on, I want to show you something."
"What?"
"What do you think?"
The expression in his eyes warmed her cheeks and sent shivers of excitement coursing through her as she followed him into the room.
She stood in the middle of the floor while he closed and locked the door, then threw his saddlebags in a corner.
"Come here, Missus Maddigan," he drawled softly.
"Why?"
"Don't you want to see what I have to show you?"
Swallowing the urge to laugh, she tried to look uninterested. "I think I've already seen it."
Humor glinted in Creed's dark eyes. "Tired of me already, are you?"
"What do you think?"
"I think I'm the luckiest man in the worldor I would be, if you'd get the hell over here."
Hips swaying provocatively, Jassy closed the distance between them. Tilting her head to one side, she gazed up at him, her lips slightly parted, her heart racing at his nearness and the knowledge that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.
"I'm here, Creed."
"Jassy . . ." With a low moan, he swept her into his arms and carried her to bed.
He had thought to make love to her slowly, to seduce her with soft words and gentle hands, but the spark within him roared to life, fanned by her nearness, by the taste of her lips, the touch of her hands delving under his shirt to caress his back.
Pressing her into the mattress, he kissed her deeply, burying his doubts in her sweet acceptance of who and what he was.
And for those few moments, there was nothing in all the world but the woman in his arms.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The train left early the next morning. Jassy was still half asleep as she followed Creed out of the hotel toward the train, but not too tired to admire his broad back and the loose-limbed way he walked.
She felt a flush of heat as she recalled how he had made love to her the night before. Making love to Creed was more wonderful than she had ever imaginedand certainly worth the wait!
She smiled up at him as he climbed aboard the train and offered her his hand.
My husband, she thought, and joy bubbled up inside her. She slid across the seat while Creed stowed the carpetbag containing their extra clothing under the seat, then sat down beside her.
With a sigh, she pillowed her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, utterly content.
Creed wrapped his arm around Jassy's shoulders, all his protective instincts coming to the fore as he held her close. His wife. Damn, but that took some getting used to.
A wry grin twisted his lips. It was no wonder she was tired. He'd made love to her until the early hours of the morning, possessing her again and again as if to prove she was really his, that he could take her as often as he wished. He'd never had a woman like Jassy. She had come alive in his arms, her body like fire and silk beneath his hands. He had buried him
self in her warmth, in her smooth softness. And when he'd finally drawn away, forcing himself to leave her alone so she could get some sleep, she had draped herself over him, arousing him anew with her hands and her lips, surprising him with the depths of her passion.
Jassy. He stared out the window, determined to give her everything she wanted, everything she deserved.
His reverie came to an abrupt halt when he saw a tall man clad in a sheepskin jacket and a flat-brimmed black hat walking down the narrow aisle. A warning bell rang in the back of Creed's mind. He'd seen that man beforebut where?
The man's eyes, as blue and cold as a frozen lake, flicked over Creed as he passed by.
Damn! Creed felt a sudden itching between his shoulder blades as the man settled into the seat behind them.
Creed froze as the man leaned forward, his voice pitched low.
"Don't make any sudden moves, Maddigan, unless you want your guts splattered all over the lady."
"What do you want?"
"We're getting off the train, real slow. See that hombre near the door? The one in the tan duster?"
Creed nodded.
"He's my partner. I want you to pass me your iron, real easy like, using your right hand."
Moving slowly, Creed reached for his gun. Had he been alone, he never would have surrendered his Colt. But he wasn't alone, and he couldn't take a chance on Jassy being hurt.
"I'm waiting," the man hissed.
With a sigh of resignation, Creed slid the .44 out of the holster and passed it, butt first, to the man behind him.
"Good. Now, you get up and make your way toward the door. I'll bring the lady with me."
"Who the hell are you?"
"No time to explain now," Black Hat said. "The train's gettin' ready to pull out."
Creed glanced at Jassy. She was staring at him, her eyes wide with fright.
"You'd best do as he says, Jassy."
"But . . ."
"Just do it."
She nodded, and Creed stood up, then walked slowly down the aisle toward the door. He grunted softly as he recognized the man waiting there for him.
Madeline Baker - Lakota Renegade Page 19