Lakota Renegade (17 page)

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 corner 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. Hear it in the harsh rasp of his voice as he murmured her name, the sound filled 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 smoky 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 bruised from his kisses, 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.

And 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 about 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 stage coach station on the Oregon Trail. Now it was a coal mining town for the Union Pacific Coal Company. The population, mostly male, numbered at less than two hundred people.

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 he thought the chances were slim. But there was no help for it, they 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 hair pins.

“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. Soft and inviting. 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 ‘til 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 women 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 her, no 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 past, but 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 in 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.”

Gently, he disengaged her arms from his waist. “Why don’t you go down to the dining room and get something to eat while I take a bath?”

“I’d rather wait for you.”

“I already ate,” he lied.

“Oh.”

Her disappointment pierced him, sharp as an Apache arrow.

But it was better this way. He needed to put some distance between them.

Turning his back to her, he unbuckled his gunbelt and placed it over the back of the chair she’d been sitting in. He started to remove his shirt, then thought better of it.

A few minutes later, a couple of tow-headed boys arrived with hot water. After several trips, the tub was full.

Creed looked at Jassy, one eyebrow raised in question, after the boys left the room the last time.

“I could stay and wash your back,” she offered, the flush in her cheeks belying the calm tone of her voice.

“I don’t think so. Go on, get something to eat,” he said, pressing a greenback into her hand. “You’ve got to be hungry.”

“You can’t avoid me forever,” Jassy replied tartly.

Jassy was almost to the door when Creed’s stomach rumbled twice. Loudly, hungrily.

Very slowly, she turned around to face him, her eyes filled with hurt and silent accusation.

“Jassy…”

“Enjoy your bath, Mr. Monroe,” she said, and turned away before he could see the tears in her eyes.

Creed swore under his breath as Jassy quietly closed the door behind her. He didn’t like the idea of Jassy going down to the dining room alone, but it couldn’t be helped. She was liable to get into a lot more trouble staying here, with him, than downstairs by herself.

Stripping off his travel-stained buckskins and moccasins, he eased himself into the tub, leaned back, and closed his eyes. What was he going to do about Jassy?

He stayed in the tub until the water grew cool, then washed quickly. Drying off, he pulled on his shirt and pants and moccasins, strapped on his gunbelt, and went downstairs.

At first glance, the hotel dining room appeared to be deserted. And then he saw Jassy sitting at a small table in the far corner. She was smiling, and then he heard her laugh, a sound of pure joy.

As he drew closer, he saw that she wasn’t alone.

Jassy clasped her hands in her lap as Creed approached the table. And then she flashed her dinner companion a radiant smile.

“Jassy.”

She looked up, as if noticing Creed for the first time. “Oh, Mr. Monroe. Hello.” She smiled at the man sitting across from her. “Jim Phillips, this is Creed Monroe. Creed, this is Jim. He works at the Company Store.”

Jim Phillips stood up, his hand extended. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Monroe.”

Creed shook the man’s hand. Jim Phillips was tall, lean, and pretty-boy handsome, with a shock of blond hair and honest blue eyes. His handshake was firm and friendly. His brown tweed city suit indicated prosperity and good taste.

Creed disliked him on sight.

“Won’t you join us, Creed?” Jassy asked, her tone indicating she didn’t really want his company but was merely asking to be polite.

“Thanks,” Creed replied. “I think I will.”

He drew a chair up to the table and sat down, his face schooled into an impassive mask.

Jassy tried to ignore him, but it was impossible. He didn’t say anything, just sat there, glowering at her.

“So, tell me, Jim,” she said brightly, “how long have you been here?”

“Just a few months. Will you be staying long?”

“I’m not…”

“No,” Creed said, fixing Phillips with a hard stare. “She won’t be staying long.”

Phillips glanced at Jassy. It was obvious, from the expression in his eyes, that he was wondering about her relationship to Creed.

Jassy shifted uncomfortably in her seat, embarrassed by Creed’s rudeness.

Creed continued to stare at Phillips, his gaze openly hostile. Finally, Phillips took the hint, bid Jassy a hasty farewell, and left the dining room.

“So,” Creed said, “how’d you meet him?”

“He was alone. I was alone.” Jassy shrugged. “He asked if he could join me, and I said yes. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Creed stared at her, surprised by the jealous rage that swept through him. She was supposed to be in love with him, yet she’d had no trouble at all finding another man. A younger man. A settled man, one with a steady job and no doubt an impeccable reputation. A man who could give her everything she wanted.

Everything she deserved.

“Following in your mother’s footsteps?” Creed asked nastily, wanting to hurt her.

As soon as the words were out, he wished he could call them back, but it was too late.

Jassy drew back as if he’d slapped her, her eyes growing wide with shock, then narrowing with anger.

“You don’t want me,” she said quietly. “You’ve made that very clear, so why should you care?”

“Jassy, I’m sorry.”

“Are you?” She stood up, her stance proudly defiant, her eyes glittering with fury. “It was probably a man like you who turned my mother into a whore. Good night, Mr. Monroe.”

He stared after her, feeling as though he’d been gutted and left for dead. And then he stood up.

“Jassy, wait.”

But she was gone.

He gave her a few minutes to compose herself, and then he went upstairs. But she wasn’t in their room.

“Phillips,” he muttered darkly.

He paced the floor, his hands clenched into angry fists. Had she made plans to meet him? Was she with him even now?

The image of Jassy in the arms of another man was like a knife cutting into his vitals.

Where was she?

The room seemed to close in on him. Muttering an oath, he grabbed his hat and left the hotel. It was a small town. How hard could it be to find her?