Authors: Madeline Baker
Creed rose early the next morning, irritable after having spent a long, sleepless night on the broken-down sofa in the parlor.
Sitting on the edge of the sofa with his head cradled in his hands, he quietly cursed his desire for the girl sleeping in the next room. What was there about Jassy McCloud that sent his blood racing and made him feel as randy as a fifteen-year-old boy who’d just discovered that girls were different?
Hell and damnation, he should have left town weeks ago, yet here he was, playing nursemaid to a kid with big brown eyes and soft pink lips…except Jassy was no kid. She was young, there was no arguing with that, but she kissed like a woman who knew her own mind. And that was his undoing, because no other woman had ever kissed him with such guileless passion, such innocent longing.
And it was as seductive as hell.
He stomped his feet into his boots, grabbed his hat, and left the house, knowing he had to put some distance between the two of them. He’d check in on her later to make sure she was okay, and he’d spend the night again if she needed him, but right now he needed some time alone.
Outside, he threw a saddle on his horse and rode to the nearest saloon. Early as it was, there were a couple of old-timers hanging over the bar.
Creed ordered a bottle of whiskey and carried it to one of the tables in the back of the room. Sitting back, his feet propped on a chair, he poured himself a drink, then let out a sigh. No doubt Burton had found someone else to handle his problem in Black Hawk, Creed thought, and then shrugged. He was tired of hiring out his gun, tired of putting his life on the line to settle someone else’s problems.
Hell, he was just tired.
Taking the bottle, he left the saloon. He’d grab a quick breakfast over at the hotel, get some sleep, and then lose himself in a poker game for a couple of hours.
* * * * *
“Three queens.” Creed spread his cards on the table, then raked in his fifth pot of the night. There was some good-natured grumbling from the four other players, but Creed quickly dispelled it by ordering a round of drinks.
He glanced around the saloon while the man on his left dealt them a new hand. Usually, there was nothing he liked better than a good card game in a smoke-filled saloon, but tonight…he shook his head as he picked up his cards. Tonight he’d rather be with Jassy, which was why he was staying right where he was.
The evening might have passed quietly if the man sitting across from Creed had just kept his mouth shut. But he didn’t.
“So,” Ray Braddock remarked, grinning. “How is she?”
Creed’s face remained expressionless. “She?”
“Daisy’s daughter. She as good in the sack as her old lady was?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Creed replied, his voice deathly quiet.
“Come on,” Braddock urged, “you can tell us. It’s all over town that you two have been shacking up since Rosie took off.”
Creed swore under his breath. “Is it?”
Braddock nodded. “So, how is she?”
There was a moment of silence and then, in the blink of an eye, Creed was on his feet, reaching across the table. Grabbing Braddock by the shirt front, Creed slammed his fist into the man’s face, hard, twice, relishing the pain that splintered up his arm, the warm rush of blood that spread over his hands.
When Creed spoke, his voice was lethal. “If you ever lay a hand on Jassy McCloud, I’ll kill you.”
Ray Braddock glared up at Creed, his eyes bright with pain and humiliation, and though he didn’t say a word, gut instinct told Creed he’d better watch his back whenever Braddock was around.
Creed held the other man’s gaze for a long moment, then shoved him back in his chair. “Remember what I said.”
Creed’s gaze swept over every man in the room, a silent warning blazing in the depths of his eyes.
Collecting his winnings, he left the saloon.
Outside, he drew in a deep breath and then, unable to fight it any longer, he headed for the ugly little shack in the alley.
* * * * *
She’d been crying. He knew it the moment he opened the door. And knew, with equal certainty, that he had been the cause of her tears.
It was time to cut and run, he thought, before he got in any deeper, before it was too late for both of them.
And then she was in his arms, and he knew it was already too late.
“Jassy…”
She buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder. His shirt smelled of lye soap and cigar smoke and man.
“I got up and you were gone,” she said, her words muffled. “I thought…”
“I know,” he said, stroking her hair. “I know.” He swore under his breath. When had his concern turned to caring, his affection to something deeper, something he refused to put a name to? And what the devil was he going to do about it? About her?
“Don’t cry, honey. I’m here now. Please don’t cry.”
* * * * *
They rode to the valley again the next day. It had become their place, Jassy thought as they walked hand in hand toward the pool. If she could have one wish, it would be to build a house here and share it with Creed.
“Want to go for a swim?” he asked when they reached the pool.
Jassy glanced at the pool, then back at Creed. “Is it cold?”
“Not very. Are you game?”
She nodded. Turning her back, she removed her shoes, stockings and dress, then, before she could change her mind, she slid into the water. Creed watched her swim for a moment, then removed his boots, socks, shirt and gunbelt and joined her in the water.
They swam and splashed until Jassy was breathless, then Creed helped Jassy out of the pool and they sat on the grass, letting the sun dry their clothes.
“I love it here,” Jassy remarked. “I wish we never had to leave. It’s such a pretty place. So peaceful.”
Creed nodded, but it wasn’t the beauty of the land he was admiring. It was Jassy.
With a sigh of resignation, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She melted into his embrace, a soft moan whispering past her lips as their mouths fused together.
Creed drew in a sharp breath as Jassy ran her hands over his bare back. He heard her gasp with shock when her questing fingertips encountered the first scar. Her hands stilled for a moment, and then, very slowly, moved across his flesh, tracing each one.
“What happened to you?” she asked.
“I was on the wrong end of a whipping.”
She looked up at him, distress evident in her expression. “Someone beat you?”
He nodded curtly.
“Who?”
He let her go then, the pain of that whipping, and the reason for it, as vivid in his mind as if it had happened yesterday instead of almost thirteen years ago.
“Can’t you tell me?” Jassy asked softly.
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
She nodded, but he could see the hurt in her eyes.
“It was a long time ago, Jassy,” he said.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Then tell me.”
“Jassy…” He cussed under his breath and then, with a sigh of exasperation, he pulled her back into his arms and rested his chin on her head. “When I was sixteen, I fell in love with a girl. A white girl. Her father didn’t approve of me, and neither did anybody else in town, so we ran away.”
He paused, remembering the joy he’d felt when Deborah had agreed to go away with him, to marry him. Sweet, beautiful.
Deborah Carey with hair as pale as sunlight, eyes as blue as a Colorado sky, and skin the color of fresh cream. Never in his life had he known anyone as beautiful; never had he dreamed that she’d learn to care for someone like him. They had made it as far as New Mexico before Gareth Carey and his men caught up with them. Carey had slapped Deborah several times, calling her an Indian lover and a whore, and then Carey’s men had tied Creed to a tree and whipped him until he lost consciousness. When he’d come to, he was lying face down in the dirt, naked as the day he’d been born. Carey had taken his clothes, his boots, and his horse.
“Creed?”
“We ran away,” he said again, and then he shrugged, as if it no longer mattered. “We ran away, and we got caught.”
“And her father whipped you?”
Creed nodded.
“Did you ever see her again?”
“No.” By the time he had healed up enough to go after her, it was too late. Carey had sent her away. He had tried for two weeks to find out where she was, but it was as if she had disappeared off the face of the earth.
“I’m sorry,” Jassy murmured. Gently, she touched her fingertips to each scar as if it were a badge of honor.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?”
He caught her hands in his. He hated being reminded of those scars. Nothing in his whole life had hurt as much, or been as humiliating, as that whipping.
“Creed?”
He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time and slowly shook his head. “It won’t work, Jassy.”
“What do you mean?”
He let out a long sigh. “You and me. It just won’t work.”
“Why?”
“You’re too young, for one thing.”
“I am not!”
“Then I’m too old.”
She shook her head vigorously.
“Jassy, it’s not just the difference in our ages, it’s my whole life. I can’t outrun my past.” Suddenly restless, he stood up. “I can’t outrun who and what I am, not even for you.” A sigh of regret rose from deep within him. He’d been running his whole life, Creed thought bleakly. He had run away from the reservation when life got too hard, he had tried to run away with Deborah, and he was running now, running away from responsibility, running away from his feelings for Jassy.
“Forget it, girl,” he said curtly. “I’ve got no future to offer you.”
“I don’t believe that!”
“Dammit, Jassy, what can I say to convince you?”
“Nothing, Creed. I know you think I’m too young, that I don’t know my own mind, but I do.” She met his ominous stare head-on. “I know you care about me, whether you want to admit it or not. You need me, Creed Maddigan, and if you turn your back on me now, you’ll regret it as long as you live.”
A slow smile spread over his face as he stared down at her.
“Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know. You’ll never find anyone else who’ll love you as much as I do. Who…who needs you as much as I do.”
She smiled up at him, a tenuous smile that wrapped around Creed Maddigan’s heart and hung on for dear life.
“Jassy, honey…”
Jassy took a deep breath. “I love you, Creed,” she said fervently, and then her smile turned impish, “and I don’t have a father for you to worry about.”
He couldn’t help it. He threw back his head and laughed, and then he took her in his arms and kissed her.
“I’m not making any promises,” he said, hugging her tight. “But we’ll give it a try, Jassy girl, if that’s what you want.”
The next five days were wonderful. For Jassy, it was like playing house. She cooked Creed’s meals, washed his clothes, mended his shirt. They usually slept late, then went out riding or walking in the afternoon. About nine o’clock, Creed went to the saloon for a few hours, because, as he said, he had to do something to earn a living since it seemed he was through hiring out his gun for a while.
For Jassy, the hours without him seemed to last forever. She always met him at the door, her heart swelling with gladness as she welcomed him home. He continued to spend his nights at her house because he knew she didn’t like to be alone, but he always slept on the sofa. A part of her appreciated his gentlemanly conduct while another, less honorable part wished he’d try to take advantage of her.
She spent the hours waiting for Creed to come from the saloon by reading her father’s books, losing herself in faraway places, imagining herself as a beautiful lady in distress, and Creed as her brave knight in shining armor.
Now, sitting on the lumpy sofa, waiting for Creed to come home, Jassy pondered their relationship. She hadn’t known him very long, but after the last few days, it seemed as if they had always been together.
Hearing footsteps on the porch, she closed the book she had been reading and ran to open the front door, smiling because he was early tonight.
“Rosie!” Jassy exclaimed, the smile fading from her lips. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here, remember,” Rose retorted. She pushed past Jassy to drop her suitcase on the floor, then whirled around, her brows drawn together in a frown. “Just who were you expecting?”
“Me? Expecting?” Jassy shook her head. “No one.”
“So that big smile was for me?”
Jassy nodded vigorously. “Of course. I’m…I’m glad to see you.”
Rose muttered a crude oath under her breath as she glanced around the room. The parlor had been swept clean, the rickety furniture had been dusted and waxed.
Still frowning, she went into the kitchen. There was a new cloth on the table, together with a tin can filled with wild daisies. She opened the cupboards, surprised to see them stocked with food.
“You’ve been busy,” Rose remarked, returning to the parlor. “Where’d you get the money to stock the shelves?”
“I…”
“You’ve had a man here, haven’t you?” Rose demanded.
“No, of course not!”
“You’re lying. Who was it? How much did he pay you?”
“Nothing, Rose, I…”
Rose took a threatening step forward. “Don’t tell me you gave it away?”
“No!”
“You’d better not be lying to me,” Rose warned. “You can only sell your virginity once, and I already know six men who are willing to pay a high price for it.”
Jassy stared at her sister, momentarily stunned. And then she shook her head. “How can you talk like that? How can you even think it?”
“Don’t be an idiot, Jassy. Your innocence is the only thing of value we’ve got, and we’re gonna take advantage of it.”
“No. Never.”
“Now, Jassy,” Rose said, wrapping her arm around her sister’s shoulder, “it won’t be so bad. We can use the money to fix this place up a little, maybe buy some new clothes. You’d like a new dress, wouldn’t you? Something pretty?”
“I don’t need a new dress.”
“Well, I do! And I’m tired of living in this hovel.”
“How was Denver?” Jassy asked, hoping to change the subject.
“Fine, just fine. Ray said he’d take me with him the next time he goes out of town. Maybe to San Francisco next time.”
“Why would he go to San Francisco?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t ask. I think he’s going to leave Tess, Jassy. I really do.” A smile softened the harsh expression on Rose’s face. “Maybe he will ask me to marry him.”
“Maybe,” Jassy agreed doubtfully.
Rose blew out a long sigh. “And maybe not. In the meantime, he gave me enough money to pay the rent on this dump for another two months. And he bought me a beautiful new coat, and a hat to match.”
Rose sat down on the sofa and took off her shoes. Leaning back, she closed her eyes. “Get me a cup of coffee.”
Jassy hurried to do as bidden, hoping that Rose wouldn’t bring up the subject of working for Milt again. Maybe it would be a good thing if Coulter married Rose. Maybe he’d take them out of this dump. Maybe they could move to Denver and start a new life.
Jassy made a sound of disgust low in her throat. She was getting as bad as Rose, daydreaming about things that were never going to happen. There was no reason for Coulter to marry Rosie, not when she gave him everything he wanted.
Standing at the window while she waited for the coffee to heat, she stared at the jagged rip in the oilcloth, wondering what she would do when Creed arrived.
She was pouring Rose’s coffee when she heard the front door open, followed by the sound of Rose’s voice.
“What are you doing here?” Rose demanded, her voice high-pitched and shrill.
Jassy held her breath, but Creed’s voice was low and indistinct.
“We need to talk,” Rose said, and then there was only silence.
Jassy peered around the door frame. She could see Rose and Creed standing on the porch, talking. She saw Creed jerk Rose up hard against him, his face was dark with anger. She saw the fear in Rosie’s eyes when he pushed her away. If only she could hear what they were saying!
She ducked back into the kitchen when she heard the front door slam open. A moment later, Rose was standing in the doorway. “You want to tell me what the hell has been going on here?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. How long has that half-breed been stopping by to look in on you?”
Jassy squared her shoulders. There was no point in lying. Too many people had seen Creed coming and going. “Just since you’ve been gone. I mentioned that I didn’t like being home alone at night, so he stopped by to make sure I was all right before going to the hotel.”
“And just when did you tell him you were afraid to be home alone?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You’re not to see him again, do you understand?”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s a dirty Injun, and because I said so. I’m responsible for you now, and I won’t have you shaming me by associating with scum like that.”
“Shame you!” Jassy exclaimed, her anger making her reckless. “You work in a saloon. How could my talking to Creed shame you any worse than that?”
Rose’s face turned suddenly ugly, and Jassy knew she had gone too far. For a moment, she thought Rose was going to hit her, and she wondered if maybe she deserved it.
And then Rose smiled, and it was more frightening than her anger. “I’ll be talking to Milt about you in the next day or so, little sister,” she said nastily, “and then you’ll find out what shame really is.”
And with those spiteful words, Rose left the house.
Jassy gave Rose enough time to get to the saloon before she hurried outside, anxious to find Creed, to learn what Rose had said that had made him so angry. She went to the hotel first, but he wasn’t in his room, so she headed for the Lazy Ace.
Slipping through the back door, she glanced around the crowded saloon, finally spying him playing poker at a corner table.
Taking a place under the staircase that led to the second floor, she stood in the shadows, watching him. Jealousy stabbed at her heart when she saw one of the saloon girls hovering over Creed’s shoulder, flirting with him. Of course, he flirted back, and she wondered how many of the girls he had taken upstairs. It was obvious he was a special favorite with the doves, and it was easy to see why. He had a roguish smile, a voice like black velvet, a laugh that made her stomach quiver. After a while, he slipped the girl a couple of dollars. She whispered something in his ear, kissed his cheek, and left the table.
Creed’s presence had a definite effect on the men, too. The women might find him fascinating, but Jassy could tell the men were afraid of him.
In the last few weeks, she had often stood here, watching Creed. She had seen the wariness in the eyes of the other men whenever Creed took a seat at one of the tables. His mere presence made them nervous. Once, when he had accused a man of cheating, she had seen why. His eyes, those deep black eyes, carried the promise of death. The man had quickly apologized, then practically ran out of the saloon, not caring what anyone thought of his actions, and Jassy realized that it would take a mighty brave man, or one who was a complete fool, to challenge Creed Maddigan.
When she saw Creed grab his hat and leave the table, she slipped outside, keeping to the shadows so no one would see her waiting for him.
She was about to cross the street to meet him when a voice cut across the stillness of the night.
“Make your move, Maddigan.”
The voice, filled with menace, hissed out of the murky darkness.
Jassy came to an abrupt halt, her gaze focused on Creed, her hand pressed to her heart as he whirled around, his left hand streaking toward his gun with the speed of a striking snake.
She had never seen anything so fast. He drew the Colt with practiced ease, his thumb cocking the hammer as he drew the gun, the barrel clearing the holster in a smooth flowing motion as it searched for the source of the threat.
There were two blinding flashes, the sharp staccato reports of two guns, fired almost simultaneously.
Jassy held her breath, but Creed remained on his feet, apparently unhurt.
A moment later, Harry Coulter staggered out into the center of the street.
Images imprinted themselves in Jassy’s mind: Creed’s eyes, hard and cold, as black as ebony. The bright red slash of blood spreading across the front of Harry’s shirt. The gray smoke curling from the barrel of Creed’s gun.
Harry stood there for stretched seconds, his hands pressed to the bleeding wound in his chest. He stared at Creed in mute appeal, and then his eyes glazed over and he toppled forward.
He was dead. Jassy felt sick to her stomach. She hadn’t liked Harry Coulter very much. He had always been something of a bully, always bragging about how tough he was, how he was gonna make a name for himself. He’d boasted on several occasions that he was fast with a gun, but she’d never dreamed he’d actually try to outgun anyone, least of all someone like Creed.
Saloon doors were flung open on both sides of the street as people converged on the scene, all talking at once. And then the sheriff was there, demanding that Creed surrender his gun.
From the shadows, Jassy saw the hesitation in Creed’s eyes, and then, with a sigh of resignation, he handed the sheriff his Colt.
“Let’s go,” Sheriff Harrington said curtly.
“It was self-defense,” Creed said.
“That’s what they all say.” Harrington muttered. “Anybody see anything?” the sheriff asked, his gaze sweeping the crowd. “That’s what I thought. Let’s go, Maddigan.”
“Dammit, the kid called me out, then fired at me from between those two buildings. What was I supposed to do?”
Harrington snorted in disgust. “Why would a kid like Harry come gunning for you?”
“We had some words a while back. He must have still been upset.”
“Words? About what?”
“I caught him trying to force himself on a girl, and I set him straight.”
“And that’s why he tried to kill you?” Harrington shook his head. “Who was the girl?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that. Harry Coulter was a good kid and well-liked in this town. Come on, let’s go.”
Jassy started to run forward, but a hand on her arm restrained her, and when she looked over her shoulder, she saw Rosie standing behind her.
“Let me go,” Jassy said.
“You’re not getting involved.”
“But I saw the whole thing.”
“I don’t care. That man can take care of himself. You stay out of it.”
“But Creed’s telling the truth. Harry tried to kiss me in the alley behind Gratton’s. He hit me when I wouldn’t let him. Creed made him let me go.”
Rose shook her head. “All the more reason to keep your mouth shut. Ray thinks…thought the world of his kid and I’m not gonna have you saying anything to change his mind. Come on, we’re going home.”
Still holding Jassy’s arm, Rose started down the street, dragging Jassy behind her.
Jassy glanced over her shoulder, but Creed was already out of sight. “Rosie, please…”
The slap was hard and completely unexpected. “I said stay out of it! I told you I don’t want you to have anything to do with that man.”
Jassy pressed a hand to her throbbing cheek, surprised by the anger glinting in her sister’s eyes.
“I mean what I say, Jasmine. You stay away from him, understand? A man like that can talk a girl out of anything, including her bloomers. You’re gonna hang on to your innocence if I have to tie you to the bed post, hear? That’s something we can only sell once, and it’s gonna be worth a small fortune.”
Jassy nodded, hardly able to believe what her sister was saying. Harry Coulter had just got himself killed and all Rosie was worried about was money.