Creed started toward Jassy, but one of the men behind him warned him not to move.
"Is she all right?" Creed asked.
"She's fine. For now."
Creed turned toward the sound of the voice. Ray Coulter stood inside the doorway, his hand curled around the butt of a well-used Colt revolver.
Coulter nodded to the men standing in the hallway, and one of them closed the door.
"What do you want?" Creed asked.
Coulter tossed him a pair of handcuffs. "For starters, put those on."
Creed stared at the irons, revulsion rising within him. For a moment, he weighed the odds of jumping Coulter and trying to get his gun, but even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew Coulter was expecting just such a move.
Muttering an oath, Creed clamped the handcuff on his wrists. "Now what?"
"I was gonna turn your body in for the reward," Ray replied, holsteting his Colt. "But I decided that would be too quick, too easy. I want you behind bars. I want you to wake up in the morning and go to bed at night thinking about your woman, wondering where she is, if she's still alive."
"Dammit, Coulter, she's got no part in this!"
"That's where you're wrong. She's a pretty woman. After the baby's born, I know a place or two that will pay me a hefty sum for her services."
Nausea churned in Creed's gut as he imagined Jassy locked in a room in some distant brothel, never to be free again, forced to do whatever she was told until she got too sick or too old.
"And the child?"
Coulter shrugged. "Easily sold."
Creed took a step forward, murder in his eye, only to find himself staring into the yawning maw of the other man's Colt. "Don't even think about it."
"Let her go."
"No."
"I've got some money. Not much, but I can get more."
Coulter shook his head. "No. You go back to prison, and she goes to the highest bidder. No loose ends."
"Ray, is that you?"
"Go back to sleep, Rose."
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. And then she saw Creed. "What are you doing?" she asked, glancing at the gun in Coulter's hand, then at Creed and back again.
"Nothing you need to concern yourself about."
Rose stood up, swaying unsteadily. It was then that she saw Jassy. "What's my sister doing here?"
"She came to visit. Don't you remember?"
"No . . . no." Rose looked at Coulter again, her eyes filled with confusion. "The note. You made me sign a note."
"Shut up, Rose."
"Why is my sister tied up?"
"Shut up, dammit!"
Rose disregarded the warning in Coulter's voice. "I want to know what's going on."
"He's sending me back to prison," Creed said, his gaze fixed on Coulter's face. "And then he's gonna sell Jassy to a brothel, after he sells your niece or nephew."
"Ray, you wouldn't!"
Coulter looked at her as if she wasn't too bright. "You fool. Where do you think I get the money to buy that opium you love so much?"
"I don't know. I guess I never thought about it."
Coulter shook his head. "It's a good thing you're pretty," he muttered, " 'cause you sure ain't smart."
Creed glanced at Jassy while Coulter and Rose continued to hurl insults at each other. Jassy was awake now. Creed shook his head slightly, warning her to stay still, to remain quiet.
"I'll do what I damn well please!" Coulter shouted, and Creed's attention was drawn back to the confrontation between Coulter and Rose.
"She's my sister," Rose retorted. "And you're not selling her into slavery."
"She was your sister when we took all that money," Coulter reminded her with a sneer. "That didn't seem to bother you."
"That was your idea and you know it! I let you talk me into it because you promised to marry me."
Coulter snorted. "Who'd marry a whore!"
Rose recoiled as if she'd been slapped, but she refused to back down. "Send Maddigan to prison, if you want. I don't care what you do with him. But you can't hurt Jassy or the baby."
"I'll do whatever I damn well please," Coulter said, drawing out each word. I own you body and soul, and if you don't want to find yourself in some brothel on the other side of the world, you'll remember that."
Rose stared at Coulter, all the color draining from her face. "You wouldn't!"
"I'll do what I have to do."
"I'm sorry, Jassy, so sorry." With a sob, Rose threw herself on the bed and pulled Jassy into her arms. "Sorry, so sorry," she repeated over and over again.
Coulter swore a vile oath as he watched the two women rock back and forth.
Seeing that he was distracted, Creed took a step forward, but Coulter's gun immediately centered on his chest again.
"I wouldn't," he said, "unless you'd rather be dead. Don't matter to me, you know? The reward says dead or alive."
Creed froze. He'd be no good to Jassy dead, he knew, though he was of damn little use to her now.
And then Rose was standing up, her face buried in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably, staggering toward Coulter, her hand clutching his arm as she begged him not to sell her sister and the baby.
Momentarily thrown off balance, Coulter tried to brush her off, and Creed lunged forward, his cuffed hands reaching for the gun.
Jassy screamed and bounded off the bed, throwing herself in front of Creed as Coulter lined the barrel on Creed's chest.
The sound of gunfire filled the room. Jassy staggered backward, a bright red stain spreading over the bodice of her dress.
With a cry, Rose flung herself on Coulter.
The second gunshot was muffled, and then Rose fell backward, her hands clutching at Coulter, dragging him down with her.
Creed lunged forward, his hand closing around the gun. Jerking it from Coulter's grasp, he brought the butt down on the man's head, then pivoted on his heel, thumbing back the hammer as the door burst open and Coulter's two henchmen filled the doorway.
Creed fired twice, and both men went down.
The ensuing silence was deafening. He waited a minute, listening for the sound of footsteps in the hall, but apparently gunfire was commonplace at the Wayfarer Saloon, and no one came running to find out what was going on.
Shoving the Colt into his waistband, he knelt beside Coulter and fished the key to the handcuffs from the man's pocket.
After removing the irons from his hands, Creed gathered Jassy into his arms, one hand smoothing the hair from her face.
"Jassy? Jassy, can you hear me?"
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she tried to smile. "You're alive. . . ."
"You little fool! You could have been killed."
"Love . . . you . . ." she whispered, and then her head fell back over his arm.
Gently, he eased her down on the floor and unfastened her bodice. Blood poured from a jagged hole high in her right shoulder. Only her shoulder, he thought, weak with relief. Thank God. Tearing a ruffle from her petticoat, he tore it in two. Pressing half of it over the wound to stanch the bleeding, he used the other half to hold the square of cloth in place.
Then, reluctant to leave Jassy, he dragged Coulter across the room and handcuffed the man's hands behind his back When that was done, he shut and locked the door, then went to examine Rose's wound. He knew at a glance that it was fatal.
"Is . . . Jassy . . . ?"
"She'll be all right," Creed said as he placed a wad of cloth over Rose's wound, then bound it in place with another ruffle torn from Jassy's petticoat.
"I need . . . paper."
"Later."
"No . . . now. Must write . . . confession."
"Confession?"
"I saw . . . what happened . . . with Harry."
"You were there?"
Rose nodded. "Saw . . . everything." She closed her eyes. "Paper . . . in desk."
Moving quickly, Creed found a sheet of paper, an inkwell, and a pen.
"You . . . write what I say . . . I'll sign.
. . ."
Fifteen minutes later, Rose signed her name to the paper. "Tell Jassy . . . sorry . . . for every . . . thing."
"I will."
"Tell her . . . not to . . . hate me. . . ."
Creed nodded.
"Cold . . ." Rose whispered. "So . . . cold."
With a sigh, Creed gathered Rose into his arms and held her close. Held her and rocked her until the last breath whispered past her lips and she lay still in his arms.
Rising, he placed her on the bed and drew the covers over her.
After folding Rose's confession in half and stuffing it in his pocket, he gathered Jassy into his arms. Holding her close, he carried her to the doctor's office.
Chapter Thirty Creed
paced the floor outside the examining room, his thoughts chaotic. Rose was dead, but she had signed a paper saying she had seen the shooting, that it had been self-defense. Yet none of that mattered now because Jassy was hurt, bleeding.
In labor.
He dragged a hand through his hair as he went to stare out the window. Six hours had passed since he brought her here. Six hours! Damn!
Turning away from the window, he began to pace again, stopping in mid-stride when he heard her cry out, her voice weak and filled with pain as she sought to bring their child into the world.
What if she died? How would he live with himself, knowing it was his fault?
And what if the child died? How would Jassy ever forgive him?
He paused in the middle of the room and raised his arms over his head. Throwing back his head, he closed his eyes. ''Wakan Tanka," he murmured, "please don't let her die. It doesn't matter what happens to me, but please don't let her die."
He stood there for a long while, the same prayer repeating itself in his mind over and over again.
He shivered as he heard her scream again, and yet again. "Please . . ."
Another hour passed, and his nerves were raw with waiting. When he couldn't wait another minute, he opened the door and stormed inside.
The doctor looked up, startled by his sudden entrance.
Jassy turned toward the door. Her face was as white as the sheet that covered her. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes, her brow was sheened with perspiration, and her hair was damp.
"Creed . . ." She tried to reach for him, but lacked the strength to lift her arm.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Macklin, but you'll have to leave."
Jassy shook her head weakly. "No."
In two long strides, Creed was at her side, taking her hand in his.
"Mr. Macklin!"
"Shut up, Doc. I'm stayin'."
"This is most irregular. Men are not allowed to be present at the birth."
"You're here."
"I'm a doctor."
"And I'm the father." Creed glared at the man, daring him to deny him his right to be there.
With a sigh, the doctor relented. "Very well, sir, if you insist on staying, you might take that cloth and wipe your wife's face and neck."
"Sure, Doc," Creed said. Lifting the cloth from the table, he dipped it in a bowl of water, wrung it out, and ran it over Jassy's face and neck. "Feel good?"
"Hmmm."
She grabbed his hand, her body arching, every muscle tensing, as a contraction caught her unaware. A low groan rose in her throat.
"Hang on, Jassy, honey."
She nodded, relaxing as the pain receded.
"You've got to ride the pain, honey."
"Ride it?" She stared up at him through eyes glazed with pain and exhaustion.
"Pretend it's a wild mustang. Don't fight it, tide it out."
"I can't." Her eyelids fluttered down. "I'm so tired, Creed. So tired . . ."
"Come on, Jassy, you can do it. Try. For me." He smiled down at her, his hand caressing her cheek. "I'm mighty anxious to see that baby."
His nearness and his words infused her with new strength.
Twenty minutes later, she gave birth to a red-faced, dark-haired baby girl.
Creed sat beside Jassy, holding her hand, while the doctor took care of the baby, disposed of the afterbirth, then laid the baby in Jassy's arms.
"She's beautiful," Creed murmured, daring to run a finger over his daughter's downy hair. "You're beautiful."
"You're not disappointed that it's not a boy?" Jassy asked.
"Hell, no," Creed said, smiling at her. "Boys are no damn good. Everybody knows that."
Treed, what happened back there? Where's Rose?"
"She's gone, Jassy."
"Gone?"
He swore softly, wishing he didn't have to tell her the truthnot now, not after all she'd been through.
"Creed?"
"She's dead, Jassy. She died to save you and the baby."
"No!"
He squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, honey."
Two fat tears rolled down Jassy's cheeks.
"I'm sorry," Creed said again, wishing he knew how to comfort her.
Jassy looked up at him. "Would you mind if we named the baby Rose?"
Creed took a deep breath. He hated like hell to name his daughter after a whore, even though that whore had been Jassy's sister. But one look into Jassy's eyes and he knew he couldn't refuse her.
"Whatever you want, honey," he said, pressing his lips to the back of her hand. "You'd best get some rest now, okay?"
Jassy nodded. "You won't go away?"
"No."
She smiled at him, her eyelids fluttered down, and she was asleep.
"Maddigan."
Creed glanced over his shoulder to see the doctor standing inside the door. The sheriff stood beside the sawbones, gun in hand. Two deputies stood behind the lawman, both armed with rifles.
Slowly, Creed stood up, careful to keep his hands from the gun shoved into his waistband.
"Creed Maddigan?" the sheriff asked.
"Yeah."
"You're under arrest."
"For what?"
"Murder. I want you to pass me that shooter, real easy like."
Creed's gaze flicked over the two deputies. They were both middle-aged, solid, and experienced. Using his left hand, Creed drew the pistol from his waistband and handed it, butt first, to the sheriff.
"Turn around and put your hands behind your back."
Creed did as he was told, his gaze lingering on Jassy and the baby. He hadn't done many things right in his life, he mused, but he'd fathered a beautiful child. He felt his throat close up as he stared at his daughter, sleeping peacefully in her mother's arms.
And then the sheriff was locking a pair of handcuffs in place, hustling him out of the room, down the street, and into the jail.
Creed paced the narrow confines of his cell, frustration and anger churning within him. Damn! He had to get out of here.
He'd shown the lawman the paper Rose had signed, urged the man to send a wire to Judge Parker, but all in vain. The sheriff, whose name was Brick Cameron, didn't give a damn about Rose's statement, declaring it was probably a fraud. Maddigan had killed two men and possibly a woman in his town, and he was determined to see justice done. The fact that the two men were both shady characters with no visible means of support didn't seem to matter. There had been a shooting. Two men and a woman were dead, and Ray Coulter was accusing Maddigan of assault. That was all Cameron seemed to care about. He didn't intend to send Creed back to Harrison to pay for shooting Harry Coulter. He wanted to see Creed brought to justice for what he'd done in San Francisco.
Creed ceased his restless pacing as the door at the end of the cellblock swung open. Moments later, Annie Ross was standing in front of his cell, slowly shaking her head.
"Well, Mr. Macklin, you seem to be in a spot of trouble."
"Yes, ma'am. And the name's Maddigan. Creed Maddigan."
"Maddigan!" Annie exclaimed. "Dear me."
Creed's hands closed around the bars. "Have you seen Jassy? Is she all right?"
"She's fine. Still weak from all the blood she lost, but she's going to be just fine."
"And the baby?"
Annie Ross clasped her hands to her ample breasts. "A lovely child. She's doing right well."
"Does Jassy know I'm in here?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so. Sheriff Cameron spoke to her this morning. He asked her about what happened in Mr. Coulter's room and had her sign a statement."
"Is she still at the doc's?"
"Yes. He wants to keep her there another week or so, until she regains her strength. She's still a mite under the weather from the birthing and from the wound in her shoulder. Don't worry about her, Mr. Maddigan. I'll look in on her to make sure she's being well taken care of. And when Doc Potter says it's all right, she can go home with me."
"What about Coulter?"
"He's in the hospital with a bad concussion.
Wyatt tells me Mr. Coulter spends most of his time telling anyone who'll listen how you broke into his room looking for your wife, and when she said she didn't want to leave, there was a struggle. According to Coulter, Rose tried to help him, and you shot her. And then two of Mr. Coulter's friends came in, and you shot them, too."
"Damn," Creed muttered; then, sensing Annie Ross's censure, he said, "Sorry, ma'am."
"I didn't think that was what happened," Annie Ross said.
"It isn't. Listen, Annie, I need you to do something for me."
"If I can."
"I want you to send a wire to Judge Parker. Tell him I've got a signed statement from someone who saw the shooting in Harrison. Tell him I'm here, and that I need his help."
"I can do that."
"Bless you, Annie," Creed said, gratitude making his voice gruff. "I'm sorry I lied to you, but . . ." Creed shrugged.
"But you didn't think I'd rent a room to a wanted man," Annie Ross remarked candidly. "And you would have been right."
"You're a good woman, Annie."
"Don't try to sweet-talk me, Creed Maddigan. Now, is there anything you want me to tell Jassy?"
"Just tell her I . . ." Creed swallowed. It had been difficult enough to say the words to Jassy;
he didn't think he could ask Annie Ross to carry his love to Jassy.
"I'll tell her," Annie Ross said, her eyes brimming with understanding and compassion. "Can I bring you anything?"
Madeline Baker - Lakota Renegade Page 26