Lakota Renegade (8 page)

“Dammit, girl, go home!”

She stared at him a moment more and then, afraid to make him mad for fear he wouldn’t let her see Creed the next day, she headed for the door, her steps heavy with despair.

Friday. In three days, he’d be gone and she’d never see him again.

Chapter Ten

“Tumbleweed wagon’s here.”

Creed grimaced as Harrington entered the cellblock, followed by his deputy, Jace Rutledge.

“Stand away from the door, Maddigan,” Harrington ordered as he slipped the key into the lock.

Creed’s gaze washed over Rutledge in a long assessing glance. The kid was young and eager. Judging from the look in Rutledge’s wide-set brown eyes, Creed knew the deputy was hoping he’d make a break for it, or jump Harrington, anything to give Rutledge an excuse to pull the trigger.

Heaven save him from young men with guns, he mused with a sigh, and stepped away from the cell door.

“Turn around,” Harrington said brusquely. “Put your hands behind your back. And don’t try anything stupid.”

Creed did as he was told, the place between his shoulder blades itching furiously. He could feel Rutledge’s gun trained on his back, knew the deputy’s finger was caressing the trigger, hoping, waiting, for Creed to make one wrong move. Jace Rutledge wanted a reputation of his own, and taking down a known gunman would give him a start.

Creed flinched as the cuffs were locked in place, knowing he had just given up any chance he’d had of escaping.

“Let’s go.”

Harrington led the way out of the cellblock, his hand hovering over the butt of his gun. Rutledge brought up the rear.

Outside, Creed blinked against the sunlight. As his eyes adjusted to the glare, he saw Jassy standing across the street, her cheeks wet with silent tears. She was wearing a green dress, although it wasn’t the same one he had bought her, and the boots he had picked out for her. He smiled a little, knowing she had picked that particular dress because of the color, knowing that she had worn it today so his last memory of her wouldn’t be in that ugly blue dress.

Jassy. She had come to the jail every day. Like a single bright ray of hope, she had come to him, smiling bravely. Each kiss had been sweeter than the last and he had wished that his life had been different, that he had met her in another time and place.

She had cried when she told him that Harrington had refused to believe her, but Creed hadn’t expected anything else. No one was going to take the word of a sixteen-year-old girl, or a gunfighter with a bad reputation.

“Move it, Maddigan,” the sheriff said, prodding him in the back with the barrel of his Colt. “Wagon’s ready to roll.”

“Give me a minute. I want to tell Jassy goodbye.”

Harrington snorted. “Why? You ain’t never gonna see her again.”

“That’s why,” Creed snapped.

“All right, but make it quick.”

“I don’t suppose you’d take these cuffs off for a couple of minutes?”

“Not a chance.”

“Dammit, Harrington…”

“You’re wasting time, Maddigan.”

Muttering an oath, Creed started to cross the street but Jassy was already running toward him. She threw her arms around him, hugging him close.

“Oh, Creed, it’s so unfair!”

“Nobody ever said life was fair, honey.”

She pressed herself against him, not caring that Harrington and Rutledge and half the town seemed to be staring at them. What did that matter now? She wished Creed’s hands were free so he could hold her one last time, felt a fresh wave of tears well in her eyes as she felt his lips move in her hair.

“You look real pretty,” he murmured and wished he could run his fingers through her hair just once more, feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips, taste the innocent sweetness of her kisses.

“Thank you.” She didn’t tell him she had bought the dress with money she had taken from under Rose’s mattress. “I’ll write you every day,” she promised.

“And send me cookies?” He tried to keep his voice light, but the thought of never seeing her again, of spending the next twenty years caged up, made anything resembling humor impossible.

She looked up at him, her gaze moving over his face, memorizing every detail. His hair was long and thick and black, his skin the color of smooth copper, his jaw strong and square. His eyes were as deep and black as a pool of liquid ebony, framed by thick black lashes and straight black brows. And his mouth…she had learned to love his mouth, the shape of it, the texture of his lips, the slick velvety warmth of his tongue that tasted faintly of tobacco and whiskey.

Creed was doing the same, imprinting her image on his mind to hold against the empty years ahead. The sunlight danced in her hair, threading the red with gold. Her eyes were as brown and warm as a handful of sun-warmed earth. He loved the way her nose tilted up just a little at the end, the soft curve of her cheek, the pouty fullness of her lips…ah, those lips that made him ache with desire even now.

“You take that money, Jassy,” he said, his voice suddenly husky. “Take it and get away from here.”

“No. I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes.”

Creed shook his head. “No, Jassy. I don’t want anybody waiting for me. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You take that money and get out of this town. You forget what happened here. Forget about me. Make a new life for yourself. Promise me.”

“I can’t. This is all my fault. If only I’d been there…”

“You’d have been there if you could, honey. I know that. Don’t waste your life like I wasted mine. You find yourself a decent man and have that family you want.” He gazed deep into her eyes. “Promise me, Jassy. Please.”

She nodded, unable to speak the words, her heart breaking because he was facing a long prison sentence and he was still worried about her. How could she help but love him? He was the only one who had ever cared whether she lived or died.

Creed closed his eyes, his chin resting lightly on the top of Jassy’s head. Her arms were tight around his waist, her breasts crushed against his chest. Twenty years. He’d be an old man when he got out. And she’d be all grown up, married, with a passel of kids. As much as it hurt to think of her with another man, he knew it was the life she wanted, the kind of life she deserved. The kind of life he could never give her.

“You about done there?” Harrington asked impatiently.

“Keep your shirt on, lawman,” Creed muttered.

“I’ll miss you,” Jassy whispered. Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to his, and he tasted the salt of her tears.

“I’ll pray for you every day.”

“Jassy, I…” The words backed up in his throat. What was the point of telling her he loved her? It didn’t matter now.

“Take care of yourself.”

She nodded, her throat clogged with tears. One more kiss, one more touch, and then Harrington stepped between them, shoving Creed into the back of the prison wagon, locking the door.

The image of his face staring at her through thick iron bars imprinted itself on her mind, and with it the knowledge that she would never see him again.

She ran after the wagon until she couldn’t keep up anymore, her tears blurring his face, and then she sank down in the dirt and cried until she had no more tears left.

Her steps were heavy as she made her way toward the Harrison House. The hotel clerk stared at her when she asked for directions to Creed’s room, but he didn’t try to stop her.

The room was small, not much bigger than her bedroom at home. She wandered around the room, running her hand over the bed he had slept in, picking up his razor, his hair brush. She went through the chest of drawers. He didn’t have much. Several changes of clothing. Another pair of boots.

She found his saddlebags under the bed. Inside, she found an extra pistol and a couple boxes of cartridges. A doeskin shirt that was almost white in color. A pair of well-worn moccasins. A choker made of blue and yellow beads. And four thousand dollars stuffed into a small buckskin pouch.

She counted the money three times, unable to believe it was hers, knowing she would gladly give it all away to have Creed with her again. Four thousand dollars.

A sudden rush of pleasure warmed her heart. She had money now. She could leave Harrison. She could go to Canon City to be near Creed.

Humming softly, she counted out enough money to replace what she had taken from Rose and dropped the rest back in the pouch.

She stuffed Creed’s belongings back in his saddlebags. Rising, she considered packing his clothing and taking it with her, but, in the end, she decided against it because she didn’t know how she’d explain it to Rose.

She was about to leave the room when she turned and went back to the bed. Picking up the pillow, she shoved it into the saddlebag, too. She had never stolen anything in her life, but Creed had slept on that pillow. Now she would sleep on it, too, and dream of him.

She crept into the house, peeking into Rose’s room to make sure she was still asleep, before going into her own bedroom.

For once, she didn’t notice how dark and dismal her room was.

Shutting the door, she removed the money pouch from the saddlebags, then slid the heavy leather bags under her bed. Crossing the floor, she lifted a wrinkled picture of an angel holding a little girl from the wall. There was a small hole behind the picture where Jassy kept her father’s watch. She held the money pouch for a few moments, then tucked it into the hole with her father’s watch and replaced the picture.

She smiled as she looked around the room. She wouldn’t have to stay here much longer. There would be a stage leaving for Canon City in a couple of days, and she’d be on it.

Finding a sheet of paper, she began to write a letter to the judge, telling him everything that had happened, swearing it was the truth, vowing she would take an oath on the Bible, if only he would believe her.

When that was done, she wrote a long letter to Creed, pouring out her heart and soul, telling him that she would never forget him, didn’t want to forget him. With tears staining the page, she wrote that she loved him, that she would wait for him no matter how long it took.

She was sealing the envelope when the door swung open and Rose entered the room. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“What’ve you got there?”

“A letter.”

Rose shut the door behind her, then leaned against it. “A letter? To who?”

“To Creed.”

“Give me that!”

“No. I can write him if I want to.”

“You little tramp. If you can put out for that ’breed, then you can start working tonight.”

“He never touched me!”

Rose snorted, her disbelief evident in her tone.

“It’s true.”

Rose held out her hand.” I’ll take that letter.”

“No!”

“Very well.”

With a shrug, Rose opened the door. She had a friend who worked at the general store. All she had to do was ask, and Tug would destroy any letters Jassy tried to send.

Rose paused, her hand on the door knob as she glanced over her shoulder.

“Don’t you go anywhere until you’ve made the beds and washed up the dishes, hear?”

Jassy nodded. She frowned as she watched her sister leave the room, surprised that Rosie had given up so easily. She had never understood why her own sister disliked her so much. In the past, Jassy had tried to win Rosie’s affection, but all her attempts at amity had been rejected. Now, after what Rosie had done to Creed, Jassy no longer felt any fondness for her sister, only a deep and abiding anger.

Tucking the two letters inside her bodice, Jassy went into the kitchen. She had expected to find Rosie there, but apparently her sister had left the house. Perhaps she had gone to work early, Jassy mused. She did that sometimes, when she knew Coulter was going to work the early shift at the saloon.

With a sigh, Jassy poured some water into a kettle and put it on the lopsided cast iron stove to heat. She looked around the tiny kitchen while she waited for the water to get hot. The walls, almost thin enough to see through, had once been green.

Now they were a dingy shade of gray. The floor, badly warped and discolored, was made of wood. And the rest of the house was just as bad. Everything was worn or faded or about to fall apart.

She thought of Creed as she washed and dried the dishes, wondering how far the wagon had gone in the last few hours, praying that he would be well-treated, that he’d be pardoned in a short time, that he would answer her letter. She smiled as she thought how surprised he’d be when she came to visit him.

Putting the last chipped plate in the cupboard, she went into Rose’s room, remembering how much better things had been when her mother had been alive. Had it only been a few days since she died? It seemed like years.

She made the bed quickly, slipping the money she had borrowed under the mattress, then went into her own room and straightened the bedspread, making sure Creed’s saddlebags were out of sight.

When that was done, she left the house and made her way across the street toward Gratton’s Mercantile. The post office was located in the back of the store. Tug Harper smiled at her as she slid the letters toward him.

“Hi, Jassy. Don’t think I’ve ever known you to send a letter before, and now you’ve got two.”

Jassy smiled as she pulled a twenty dollar gold piece out of her pocket and handed it to Tug. “Would you send them out as soon as possible?”