Lakota Renegade (25 page)

Annie Ross stepped onto the porch as they climbed the stairs, her arms folded over her ample breasts.

“Good afternoon, Annie,” Jassy said, smiling.

“Good afternoon, Jassy,” Annie Ross replied. She remained in front of the door, her bulk blocking the entrance. “What is
she
doing here?”

“This is my sister, Rose.”

“Sister!” Annie Ross exclaimed.

“Yes. She’s the reason we came to San Francisco.”

“But she’s a wh—?”

Jassy stared at the older woman, daring her to say the word.

“I mean…” Annie Ross shook her head in defeat. “She can visit, but she can’t stay the night.”

“Thank you, Annie. Do you think you could fix us a pot of tea?”

Annie Ross glared at Rose, then smiled at Jassy. “I’ll bring it up when it’s ready.”

“Thank you, Annie.”

“You’ve developed some gumption since you left Harrison,” Rose remarked as she followed Jassy up the stairs.

“A little,” Jassy agreed. Opening the door, she pulled off her gloves and removed her hat. “Make yourself comfortable, Rose. The tea should be ready soon.”

“Why are you being so nice to me, Jassy? I don’t deserve it.”

“You’re my sister.”

“I know, but…never mind.” Rose sat down on the chair at the foot of the bed. “How long have you been in Frisco?”

“Not long. It seems like a fascinating city, what little I’ve seen of it.”

“Yeah, fascinating,” Rose muttered.

A few minutes later, Annie Ross knocked on the door. She stared balefully at Rose as she handed the tea tray to Jassy.

“Thank you, Annie,” Jassy said.

Annie Ross
harrumphed
and closed the door.

Jassy put the tray on the dresser, poured two cups, added cream and sugar, and handed one of the delicate china cups to Rose. “Here. This will make you feel better.”

“I doubt it,” Rose said.

Jassy studied her sister as she sipped her tea. Rose had been a beautiful woman once. Now, her hair was dull and lackluster, her skin was sallow, there were dark circles under her eyes.

Rose stared into her tea cup, embarrassed by her sister’s scrutiny. How could she make Jassy understand what her life had been like these past months? She had gotten sick after the abortion. If Coulter hadn’t given her money for a doctor, she would have died. It was Coulter who had given her a place to stay, opium to ease the pain in her body, to dull the guilt that had assailed her when she regained consciousness after the operation and faced the stark reality of what she had done.

“You look tired, Rose,” Jassy remarked, taking the empty tea cup from her sister’s hand and setting it aside. “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

“Sleep? Yes, I’d like that.”

Jassy pulled back the covers on the bed, helped Rosie out of her dress and shoes, tucked her into bed. Moments later, Rose was asleep.

* * * * *

Rose was still sleeping soundly when it was time for Creed get home from work. Jassy had convinced Annie Ross to let Rosie spend the night, then she had spent the afternoon sitting at the window, watching the traffic in the street below. Not long ago she had hated her sister—hated her for refusing to let her testify at Creed’s trial, for hitting her, for stealing her money and papa’s watch. But she couldn’t hate Rose, not now. Now she felt only pity.

She stood up when she heard Creed’s footsteps in the hall. Convincing Annie Ross to let Rose spend the night hadn’t been easy, but she knew convincing Creed would be nigh impossible.

She was smiling when he opened the door. “Hello there,” she murmured.

“Hello.” He frowned as he tossed his hat on a chair. “Why is it so dark in here? Were you asleep?”

“No.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her, and for a moment, she forgot everything else.

“So,” Creed said, gazing down at her. “Have you already had dinner?”

“No, I waited for you. Annie said she’d keep something warm for us.”

“Let’s go eat, then,” he suggested. “I haven’t had anything since five. I…” His words trailed off as he glanced at the bed. “Who’s that?”

“Rose.”

“Rose? Your sister, Rose?”

Jassy nodded.

“What the hell is she doing here?”

“Shhh. She’s sick, Creed.” Jassy took his arm and urged him out of the room. “I had to bring her here.”

“Dammit, Jassy…”

“Creed, listen,” Jassy whispered, mindful of the ears of the house. “She’s been sick. She couldn’t work, and then some man gave her opium, and…”

“Opium!” Creed swore under his breath.

“Creed, she said she sold herself to this man, that he owns her.”

“So what? She’s been selling herself for years.”

“I know, but not like this.”

“What difference does it make if she sells herself to one man or a hundred? It’s all the same. Dammit, Jassy, if it wasn’t for Rose, I wouldn’t have spent all that time in jail.”

“I know.”

“She stole four thousand dollars.”

“I don’t care about the money.”

“Well, I do. I worked damn hard for that money. Dammit, I almost got my head blown off earning it.”

Jassy laid a placating hand on her husband’s arm. “Creed, I can’t turn her away. She’s my sister. Except for you, she’s all the family I have in the world. I have to help her if I can.”

“Help her! I was thinking of having her arrested.”

“You’re not serious!”

“I was,” Creed muttered, “but I guess that’s out of the question now. Come on, let’s go down and see what Annie left for us to eat.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Rose stretched and yawned, then groaned as she sat up. Where was she? She glanced around the room, then gasped as her gaze came to rest on Creed Maddigan. He was sitting in a chair at the foot of the bed, his expression cold and hard.

Clutching the covers to her chest, Rose pressed herself against the headboard.

“You want to tell me about it?” Creed asked.

“About what?”

“Don’t play games with me,” Creed said, his voice sharp.

“Where’s Jassy?”

“Downstairs, taking a bath. We’ve got time for a nice long talk.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“Well, I’ve got plenty to say to you.”

“Does Jassy know you slept with me?”

Creed frowned. “Of course not!”

“What do you think she’d say if she knew?”

“If you’re smart, you won’t tell her.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Damn right!” Creed stood up. “You stole the money, and I don’t guess there’s any way to get it back, but if you’re smart, you won’t say anything to hurt Jassy. You understand? She’s been hurt enough.”

“I understand,” Rose replied sullenly. “If you’ll leave, I’ll get dressed and be on my way.”

“My pleasure.”

She waited until he left the room, then jumped out of bed and yanked on her dress and shoes. She had to find Coulter. Soon. She would do anything he asked, everything he asked, just as long as he gave her what she craved. What she needed.

* * * * *

“Where’s Rose?” Jassy glanced around the room.

“She’s gone.”

“Gone? Where?”

“I don’t know. Come here, I’ll brush out your hair.”

Frowning, Jassy sat on the edge of the bed. Usually, she loved to have Creed brush her hair, but now all she could think about was Rose.

“She’s sick, Creed.

“She’s an addict.”

“What?”

“She’s addicted to opium.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s true. I could smell it on her last night.”

Jassy shook her head. “No.” It was impossible. She knew, of course, that opium dens were common in Chinatown and on the waterfront, but surely Rose didn’t frequent those places.

“Listen, Jassy, what do you say we leave here? There’s no way we’re gonna get the money back, so why don’t we make tracks for greener pastures. Montana, or Wyoming, maybe?”

“Leave? Without Rose? I can’t. She needs me.”

“You can’t give her what she needs, Jassy. Nobody can.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, taking her in his arms, “she needs to want to get better. She needs to want to change the kind of life she’s living. Until then, nothing you can say or do is gonna change a thing.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Okay, okay,” Creed muttered, brushing her lips with a quick kiss. “Have it your way for now.”

* * * * *

Creed dealt the cards automatically. Another hour, and then he could go home. Funny, how quickly he had become accustomed to the idea of having a home to go to, of having Jassy there, waiting for him. It frightened him sometimes, how deeply she was embedded in his heart, in the very fabric of his life. It was hard now to believe there had been a time when she hadn’t been there, when he hadn’t known the warmth of her smile, the tenderness of her touch. So much love wrapped up in such a neat little package. And soon they’d have a child.

He swore under his breath as he shuffled the cards and dealt a new hand. A baby. As nervous as he was at the thought of being a father, he was beginning to think it might not be so bad.

* * * * *

“Where’ve you been?”

Rose shrugged, not meeting Coulter’s eyes. “Just out.”

“You look like hell.”

“I’m hurting, Ray.”

“I can see that. Where were you all night?”

Rose looked up at him. There was no point in lying. He’d find out the truth one way or another. “My sister’s in town. I stayed with her.”

“Sister? The one you stole all that money from?”

Rose nodded. “Please, Ray, I’m hurting awful bad.”

“Is the ’breed with her?”

Rose stared at Coulter. “Why?”

“The longer it takes you to answer my questions, the longer it’ll be ’til you get what you want. What you need.”

She nodded slowly, hating herself for her weakness. She’d stolen Jassy’s money, and now she’d put Maddigan’s life in danger. But it couldn’t be helped. She tried to tell herself that Maddigan was no good, that he was a hired gun, an escaped convict, but nothing she said eased her conscience. Jassy had offered to help her, and she was repaying her sister’s kindness with treachery. Again.

“Where are they staying?”

“Annie Ross’ boardinghouse.” Rose placed her hand on Coulter’s arm. “Please, Ray, leave them alone. My sister’s gonna have a baby.”

“So what?”

“She needs her husband.”

“I’ll take care of her.”

“No, Ray.”

Rose stared up at him, wondering at her sudden concern for Jassy’s welfare. Maybe it was the fact that she was dying that made her long to right the wrong she’d done her sister. Maybe, at long last, she had grown up enough to realize that she’d brought most of her misery on herself. Whatever the reason, it was important that Jassy stay clean, that Jassy’s baby have a mother and a father, something neither she nor Jassy had ever had.

Rose licked her lips when Ray unlocked the closet and pulled a small box from the shelf.

He grinned knowingly as he tossed it to Rose. She fell on it like a duck on a June bug, all else forgotten as she sought the relief she craved.

Coulter went to look out the window. So, Maddigan was here. He cursed viciously. Damn Rimmer! Either he’d been too stupid to trail the ’breed, or he was dead. Either way, Maddigan was in Frisco. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm, to think. There was money to be made, he mused. There was a bounty on Maddigan’s head. The baby could be sold for a good bit of change. And so could the woman, either into a brothel, or to one of the ships that dealt in the white slave trade.

A wry smile tugged at his lips. Yes, he stood to make a tidy sum. The only thing to decide was whether he should kill the ’breed and take the woman now, or wait until the baby was born.

He dragged a hand over his jaw. It would be easier to take the woman first, he decided, and use her for bait.

He turned away from the window. “Rose?” He shook his head in disgust when he saw the slack expression on her face, the blank look in her eyes. “Rose!”

She blinked up at him, and he swore under his breath. He’d have to write the note himself.

* * * * *

Jassy glanced up from the mending in her lap as Annie Ross entered the parlor.

“This just came for you,” Annie said, handing Jassy a sealed envelope.

“For me?” Jassy frowned as she opened the envelope and took out a single sheet of paper.

“Everything all right?” Annie asked.

“I don’t know.” Her gaze moved to the bottom of the note.

“It’s from my sister.”

Jassy, I need your help. Please come to the Wayfarer Saloon tonight after ten. Take the back stairs. Coulter will be gone from ten to eleven. Please don’t tell anyone, especially Creed.

Jassy read the letter a second time. The handwriting wasn’t Rose’s, but the signature was. Had Rose been too ill to write the note? She felt a flutter of excitement building within her as she wondered if Rose had found the courage to leave Coulter.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost ten now. Folding the note, she slipped it inside the shirt she had been mending, then stood up.

“I’m going out for a little while,” Jassy said. “I won’t be gone long.”

Annie Ross frowned. “Going out? At this hour?”

“Yes, I…Creed wants to meet me for a late dinner.”

“You be careful, hear? It’s not safe for decent women to be walking the streets this time of night.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jassy said. “Don’t worry.”

“I’ll worry if I want,” Annie Ross retorted.

Jassy smiled at the older woman. Annie’s voice might be gruff, but she had a heart as big as the Pacific. Annie Ross was the first real friend Jassy’d ever had, and she treasured her friendship.

Minutes later, Jassy left the house. The Wayfarer Saloon was near the waterfront, a place Jassy had avoided until now.

As she made her way down the dark streets, she wondered at the wisdom of going after Rose alone. If Coulter was gone, surely it wouldn’t have mattered if she had brought Creed with her, she mused, and then blew out a sigh of resignation. Rose and Creed didn’t get along. It was likely they never would.

She heard raucous music and male laughter long before she neared the saloon itself. Taking a deep breath, she made her way to the rear of the saloon. The stairs were clearly visible in the moonlight.

Taking a deep breath, Jassy lifted her skirts and started up the stairway.

Heart pounding with trepidation, she opened the door and stepped into a short narrow hallway. There was only one door. She hesitated a moment, wondering if she should knock. Deciding against it, she opened the door and stepped inside.

“Rose?”

A low groan sounded from the far side of the room.

“Rose, is that you?” She peered into the darkness. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she saw a bed against the far wall. “Rose?”

The figure on the bed groaned again and Jassy crossed the room.

She was halfway across the room when she heard the door shut behind her. There was a whiff of sulfur, a flash of light as someone struck a match, and then the flickering glow of a candle.

Jassy spun around, a gasp lodging in her throat when she saw the man standing in front of the door.

She’d forgotten how tall and intimidating Ray Coulter was. He wore a gun on his right thigh, a knife on his left.

A slow smile curved his thin lips as his gaze ran over Jassy. “Evenin’, Jassy,” he drawled.

Jassy stared at him, unable to speak past the fear congealing in her throat. She glanced over her shoulder. Rose was tossing fitfully on the narrow bed. Her face was pale and sheened with perspiration.

“My…” Jassy licked her lips and tried again. “Is my sister all right?”

“Hardly.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Didn’t she tell you?”

Jassy shook her head.

“She’s dyin’.”

“Dying? No! Has she seen a doctor?”

“Yeah.”

“Can’t they do something?”

“Nope. It’s just a matter of time.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Coulter shook his head. “Just stay with her.”

“Of course.” Jassy took a step toward the door. “I’ll need to go back to the boardinghouse and leave a note for my husband, pick up a few things.”

“I don’t think so.”

Jassy met his gaze then. For the first time, she saw the feral gleam in his pale green eyes. “Rose didn’t write that note, did she?”

“She wrote what I told her,” he said, his voice hard. “She always does what I tell her. If you’re smart, you’ll do the same.”

Jassy took a step backward, her arms wrapping protectively around her stomach. “What do you want?”

“All I can get.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You and that half-breed make up a nice package,” Coulter remarked. He leaned back against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s a nice reward for the ’breed.” His eyes turned hard and cold. “Though I may just kill him myself for what he did to Harry.”

“It was self-defense!”

“Bullshit! Harry was just a kid.” He made a vague gesture with his hand. “One way or another, I’ll have my revenge.” A cruel smile twisted his lips. “I know some folks who’ll pay a hefty sum for a white woman and a newborn babe.”

Jassy stared at him, more frightened than she’d ever been in her life. Being captured by Indians had been nothing compared to the horrible fright that clawed its way through her. Her legs suddenly refused to hold her and she sank down on the floor, feeling dazed and lightheaded. He was talking about selling her baby, about white slavery. She remembered reading an account in one of the papers about women who had been kidnapped and sold into foreign brothels, never to be heard from again.

She stared at Coulter for a long moment, and then she began to laugh hysterically. All her life she had tried to avoid becoming what her mother had been. She had left Harrison, married Creed, and come to San Francisco, certain she had escaped the stigma and threat of becoming a whore. And now this man was going to sell her to a brothel. It was funny, so darn funny, tears streamed down her face.

And then she began to sob. Arms folded over her stomach, she rocked back and forth, hardly aware that her laughter had turned to tears.