Frontier Woman

by Joan Johnston

  She jerked in Creed’s arms as he suggested to Long Quiet, “Why don’t you keep her with you.”

  “You know I’m headed back into Comanchería.”

  Long Quiet stared at Creed until he admitted, “All right, that was a stupid idea. But what are we going to do with her?”

  “Why not take her to San Antonio?” Luke suggested.

  “That’s fine for a while,” Creed replied. “What do I do with her when I have to meet Commodore Moore in Galveston?”

  “You could take her with you,” Luke said.

  Creed snickered. “I don’t think Cricket’s going anywhere with me peaceably. How am I supposed to explain the struggling woman under my arm to the commodore?”

  The suggestions Cricket was hearing were alarming, to say the least. Surely Creed couldn’t seriously be contemplating kidnapping her. She kicked and jerked vigorously in his arms, doing her best to make sure the three men understood that Creed was right—she had no intention of cooperating with them.

  “How about if I grab her by the hair and haul her after me like some fur trapper with his squaw,” Creed demanded, suiting deed to word and wrapping Cricket’s braid in his fist. “That would surely pacify the commodore and go a long way toward proving to the American chargé we’re not savages in Texas. And what do you propose I do with this—this brat in buckskins—while I’m trying to conduct my business? She’s going to stick out like a cactus in a patch of bluebonnets.”

  At that, Cricket lay still in Creed’s arms, panting. She told herself she was waiting for her second wind. Creed’s words hadn’t meant a thing to her. He wasn’t saying anything she didn’t already know. She’d always been a little different. And she wasn’t ever going to change.

  Her scalp hurt where Creed had yanked her hair. She told herself it was that pain that choked her throat and caused the burning threat of tears at the corners of her eyes. It had nothing to do with caring about what some wag-wit Texas Ranger thought of her. After all, she had Rip’s approval and . . . and . . . oh, God! What good was Rip’s approval going to do her if he married her off to Cruz Guerrero?

  Cricket listened, but the three men only had half her attention. She knew they’d eventually decide they had no choice except to let her go. Right now she had to start figuring out some way to convince Rip when she got home that he’d made a big mistake even thinking about wedding her to the Spanish hacendado.

  “You could take Cricket along as your sister,” Luke suggested.

  Creed smiled wryly. “And keep her in the same room with me?”

  “You could keep her in the same room if she were your wife,” Long Quiet said.

  “My wife?”

  Creed’s exclamation startled Cricket so much she shouted the same thing into his hand, but it came out “Myffe!” The three men suddenly had her full attention again.

  “Why not?”

  “It’s ridiculous, that’s why,” Creed said.

  Cricket agreed with him wholeheartedly. She bobbed her head up and down behind his hand.

  “No, it’s not,” Long Quiet said. “It solves another problem, as well, which is how to keep Rip from hunting for Cricket when she suddenly disappears.”

  “It’d work,” Luke said. “You could write a letter to Rip saying you’d eloped with Cricket, and—”

  “And by the time you get back from New Orleans with the American chargé we’ll have this whole business with Sloan Stewart settled one way or the other,” Long Quiet finished.

  “It won’t work.”

  “Then make another suggestion,” Long Quiet said.

  Cricket wrenched her head up so she could see Creed’s face. He didn’t look happy. Good. Because she wasn’t the least bit thrilled by this latest suggestion, either.

  “You could spend some time with your brother and his wife before you leave for Galveston, maybe smooth some of the rough edges off the girl,” Long Quiet added, to sweeten the sour pill he and Luke had offered Creed.

  Creed frowned. A sham marriage was a terrible solution to the problem of what to do with Cricket, but he couldn’t think of anything better. On the other hand, it would be a marvelous opportunity to show her a life beyond the unnatural role Rip had preordained for her. They’d never actually consummate the marriage, so they could each go their separate ways with no harm done once the need to keep Cricket away from Three Oaks ended.

  He assiduously avoided thinking about all those nights Cricket would be in his bed—but not really his wife. However, with Cricket’s attitude toward intimacy, he was certain she’d make sure nothing happened between them, even if his willpower wavered.

  “I’ll do it,” Creed said at last.

  Creed released his hold on Cricket’s mouth so she could speak, but held on to her arms, lest she flee.

  “Well I won’t,” she snapped. “The sun will freeze cotton before I’ll marry you. I’m never going to be a wife to any man!”

  Creed smiled sardonically. His theory on the chastity of their marriage bed was proving correct.

  “As far as the law’s concerned in Texas, Brava, once we announce our marriage and start living together as man and wife, the deed’s done.”

  “I’ll never let you—”

  “You already have,” Creed interrupted Cricket. “Last night.” He wasn’t about to let her use the consummation of the marriage as an excuse to foil the only plan they had to deal with her.

  Cricket blanched.

  “I’d certainly be willing to make sure we don’t repeat the mistake,” Creed added. “Not only that, but when we get back from New Orleans, I’d be willing to divorce you.”

  Cricket winced. So, she’d enjoyed herself immensely but “it” hadn’t been so good for Jarrett Creed. That troubled her, but she didn’t know why.

  “Perhaps you need a little more incentive,” Creed said. “Unless you go with me to New Orleans, we’ll arrest Sloan now. We know enough to connect her with Antonio Guerrero, who’s the leader of a small band of Mexican revolutionaries. Even Rip Stewart won’t be able to keep a threat to the Republic—like your sister—out of jail.

  “On the other hand, if you cooperate, we’ll do everything we can to exonerate Sloan if she’s not a traitor, and you’ll get a short holiday in New Orleans.”

  Cricket remained stubbornly silent, thinking. She sought for a way she could help Sloan without succumbing to Creed’s ultimatum, but nothing came to mind. Furthermore, so long as she stayed with Creed, her father couldn’t marry her off to Cruz Guerrero. She was pretty sure even Rip wouldn’t be able to pawn off his divorced daughter on the Spanish hacendado . Maybe Creed was about to do her a big favor after all.

  “What do you say, Brava? Will you come along with me and behave yourself?”

  “I don’t seem to have much choice,” she snapped. “Do I?”

  Creed dismissed the nagging feeling that besieged him when Cricket acceded without more of a fight. But he couldn’t afford to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Good, then it’s settled. We’ll start for my brother’s plantation, Lion’s Dare, tonight.”

  Creed released Cricket as he turned to Luke. “I’d like you to come with us. I’ll give you a letter when we reach Lion’s Dare that you can take to Rip.”

  As soon as Creed turned away, Cricket realized there was still a chance she could escape before this bizarre plan was set into action. “Rogue!” she commanded. “Watch!”

  The wolf was immediately all fangs and fur as he crouched before the three men. Cricket raced for her horse. She was congratulating herself on her success when a heavy weight came down on her shoulders, then curled around her, twisting to break her fall.

  “Dammit, Brava, stop siccing that wolf on me,” a furious Creed hissed, his arms tight around her.

  Cricket couldn’t breathe, but she wasn’t sure her breathlessness had anything to do with her fall. She was lying full length along Creed’s body, her back to his chest, her head resting on his shoulder, his nose next to her ear. Their legs were tangle
d together, and his forearms cinched her breasts. One large male hand grasped her hip and the other clutched the space between her thighs, which had suddenly flooded with heat.

  Cricket’s fury kept her from examining the strange sensations in all the places where Creed was touching her. Instead, she focused on the fact that the stubborn-headed jackass holding her had foiled her attempt to escape. “Why don’t you let me go?”

  “I can’t.” The way Creed said it, so calmly, so certainly, infuriated Cricket even more.

  “Rip will come after you when he finds out what you’ve done,” she raged.

  “That’s my problem, isn’t it?” Creed shoved Cricket off, then lurched to his feet and yanked her up after him. “Now call off your wolf.”

  Cricket started to argue again, but reconsidered when she saw the savage look on Creed’s face. “Rogue,” she called, “it’s okay.”

  The wolf trotted over to be petted by Creed.

  “Traitor,” Cricket muttered.

  Creed kept a trembling hand on the wolf’s head, waiting for the tension to ease. God, how he wanted to touch that wild, fierce woman! He wanted to hold her and kiss her and feel her all around him. Now she was going to be his wife— in name only. It was going to be torture. He’d rather be sent unarmed to face a dozen Comanches.

  “One more try like that, and the deal’s off,” Creed threatened tersely. “Sloan will be in jail before you can say ‘traitor to Texas.’ Settle down and resign yourself to the situation, do you hear?”

  Mulishly, Cricket remained silent.

  Creed grasped her shoulders and shook her hard. “Do you hear?”

  Cricket nodded slightly, clenching her teeth to restrain the retort on the tip of her tongue.

  Creed released her so abruptly she almost fell. He sought out Long Quiet to discuss the half-breed’s efforts to assuage the Comanches’ anger over the Council House massacre.

  Luke approached Cricket as she massaged her aching arms. “You trained your wolf pretty well,” he said in a soothing tone of voice. “He seems to like Creed, though, doesn’t he?”

  Cricket looked for the first time at the youth who’d been talking with Creed and Long Quiet. She felt an affinity to the young man she couldn’t explain. She searched his features for an answer as to why she felt so at ease with him. He had dark brown hair and hazel eyes, and he was very tall and thin, with sharp, high cheekbones and a narrow nose over a wide, full mouth. He couldn’t be much older than she was, but she could feel bitterness emanating from him like waves against the sandy Texas gulf coast.

  “I’m Luke Summers,” he said.

  “You’re a Ranger?”

  “Yeah.”

  Luke seemed too somber to Cricket, and his eyes were sad. Perhaps that was what made her uncharacteristically reach out to him.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Luke,” she said, extending her hand. The young man hesitated before he clasped her palm. The feeling of empathy with Luke was even stronger when they touched. She looked up quickly to see if the young man felt the same thing she did. His mouth had tightened grimly, and his eyes had gone totally blank. Cricket shivered at the desolation she saw on his face. He didn’t speak, merely nodded and released her hand as quickly as he could. Cricket couldn’t take her eyes off him and held him prisoner with her gaze.

  Creed gritted his teeth against the jealousy that flared within him when he saw Luke holding Cricket’s hand. He thought of Luke’s reputation with the ladies in San Antonio. The kid must have some sort of magic in his touch, Creed fumed, because here was his brava acting funny and staring at Luke with glazed eyes. Enough was enough.

  “We’d better get started,” he said, interrupting them.

  “Sure,” Luke replied, tearing his gaze from Cricket’s. “I’ll get the horses.”

  Cricket stared after Luke until Creed took her by the arm.

  “You can ride with me.”

  “Why should I do that?”

  “So I don’t have to spend the rest of the night worrying about you taking off on your horse,” Creed said.

  Cricket sulked, but she didn’t argue.

  “I’ll be heading back into Comanchería now,” Long Quiet said. “I’ll do what I can to keep tempers calm. But you should expect some reprisals for the Council House massacre and take the best care you can to guard against them. Warn your brother and his wife to be careful. I’d hate for anything to happen to them or their son.”

  “We’ll be careful,” Creed said. “Don’t worry about us. Just take care of yourself.” Creed stretched his arm out to the half-breed who clasped it elbow to wrist.

  “Good-bye, haints,” Long Quiet said. He glanced at Cricket and smiled. “And good luck.”

  Long Quiet had disappeared into the darkness by the time the other three had mounted up, with Cricket behind Creed and Valor on a tether attached to his saddle.

  “Where’s your brother’s plantation?” Cricket asked as they rode north on the Atascosito Road.

  “Lion’s Dare is near the settlement where the Texas declaration of independence was signed, our own Washington, on the Brazos River,” Creed replied. “If we ride hard we should be there to meet Tom and Amy sometime late tomorrow.”

  “What if they don’t like me? What if they don’t want me there?”

  “You’re my wife, Cricket. For that reason alone, they’ll love you.”

  Cricket snorted. That was a laugh. She’d met lots of people like Tom and Amy Creed. They’d treat her no differently than all the others, their looks condescending and pitying, even if they bit back their criticism in deference to Creed.

  But did it have to be that way? For the first time in her life she’d be making decisions based on what she wanted, and not on what she thought Rip would approve . . . because Rip wasn’t going to approve of this at all. So maybe . . . maybe things would be different.

  Of course, she had no intention of changing any of her habits. Creed was welcome to chip away at her rough edges, but he wasn’t going to find any diamond. She tightened her grasp around Creed’s waist, conscious of the ridged muscles she could feel through his shirt with her fingertips. There was a strange sensation in her chest, where the tips of her breasts rubbed against his back. She held him tighter, hoping the feeling would go away, but instead, it got worse.

  It was too bad she couldn’t remember more about the night she’d spent in Jarrett Creed’s arms. Although she and Creed would be man and wife, she’d insisted on giving up an important part of that relationship. It was probably better that way, though. When Creed finally divorced her, there would be no intimate memories to hold them together.

  No, it was definitely wiser to avoid being Jarrett Creed’s wife in that one particular way.

  Chapter 12

  DESPITE THE FACT THAT LION’S DARE APPEARED exactly as Cricket had pictured it, she was proved startlingly wrong about her reception by Tom and Amy. From the instant Creed introduced her as his wife, she was literally taken to the bosom of the young couple, who greeted them both effusively at the front door of their white frame plantation house.

  “My dear,” Amy said, hugging Cricket and drawing her inside the central hallway, “you are precisely the kind of woman I’d have chosen for Jarrett.”

  “I am?” Cricket blurted.

  “Why, of course,” Amy said, laughing. She released Cricket and gently ruffled the fringe on her buckskin shirt. “Jarrett deserves a bride as much in love with the wilderness as he is.”

  “Congratulations, Jarrett,” Tom said, shaking his brother’s hand with both of his. “I must say I’m surprised, but pleased. Two visits in four years, and you suddenly show up with a bride at your side. I hope you’re planning to stay a while this time.”

  “We can’t stay long. I have to travel to New Orleans in a few weeks and Cricket’s coming along with me. I hoped you and Amy would be willing to put up with us till then.”

  Cricket tensed when Creed’s arm encircled her waist but didn’t jerk away. He’d expl
ained to her on the long ride to Lion’s Dare that she’d need to endure certain signs of affection from him for the sake of appearances. No one was to know the true, temporary nature of their relationship. However, she couldn’t keep from flinching when his lips brushed her cheek in a swift caress.

  Amy smiled approvingly at the tender gesture.

  “It’s our pleasure to have you here, Jarrett,” Amy said with a dazzling smile. “We’re so glad you thought to come to us.”

  Cricket watched Amy move into Tom’s arms, saw how naturally his hands encircled her hips, how she leaned her head back against his shoulder, how his lips caressed her temple in much the same manner as Creed’s had caressed her cheek. Tom and Amy were obviously very much in love. How were she and Creed ever going to fool them?

  “When did you two get married?” Tom asked.

  “We eloped yesterday,” Creed announced, his grasp on Cricket’s waist tightening as he felt her pulling away. “We didn’t want to wait any longer to be together. I’m sending a letter to Cricket’s father to let him know she’s fine, and we’ll be in touch. I’d rather he didn’t know where we are, so we can have a little time alone before we greet Cricket’s family as man and wife.”

  Tom winked at his brother. “Can’t say as I blame you.”

  Cricket felt a flush rising as the two brothers exchanged crooked grins.

  “You must be tired,” Amy said to Cricket.

  The two brothers exchanged a second set of leering grins—of which Amy appeared oblivious, but which caused Cricket’s flush to worsen.

  “Come upstairs with me, Cricket, and I’ll show you to your room,” Amy said, moving from Tom’s arms. “You can rest for a while and change your clothes before supper.”

  Cricket turned within Creed’s arms and looked up at him beseechingly. She wasn’t the least bit tired, and she had no other clothes with her besides the buckskins on her back. She realized Amy thought she’d worn the buckskins to travel in, much as another woman might wear knickers under her skirt. It bothered her to think that after this friendly greeting she’d have to bear the other woman’s censure.