Lakota Renegade

by Baker, Madeline

  Jassy. His body’s response to her nearness was immediate and unmistakable. For a moment, he kept his eyes closed, content to stay as he was, to bask in her warmth, to imagine what it would be like to wake beside her each morning of his life.

  He shook the thought from his mind. He’d been a fool to think he could settle down, and an even bigger fool to think he could just walk away from his past. Trouble seemed to dog his every step. Until Jassy came along, he hadn’t cared. But now…he shuddered to think what could have happened to her.

  “Pilamaye, Ate,” he whispered softly. Thank you, Father. For letting me find her, for keeping her safe.

  Jassy stirred beside him but didn’t awake, and Creed opened his eyes. How beautiful she was! Her skin was soft and smooth and lightly tanned. The wealth of her hair was like molten flame, spilling over her shoulder and across his chest.

  Unable to help himself, he caressed the curve of her cheek with his knuckles. Soft, so soft. Creed bit back a curse. What kind of life could she have with him? He was a half-breed. A hired gun. An escaped convict. Lord knew she deserved more out of life than he’d ever be able to give her. Even if he somehow managed to clear his name, he would still be a half-breed, a man straddling two worlds, at home in neither.

  Creed stared up at the small patch of sky visible through the lodge’s smoke hole. Jassy deserved the kind of life a decent man could offer, and he intended to see she got it.

  He glanced down to find Jassy gazing up at him, a smile curving her lips.

  “You are here,” she murmured. “I was afraid I’d dreamed you, that I’d wake up and you’d be gone.”

  “No.”

  She reached for his hand and held it to her heart. “I missed you.”

  Creed nodded. “I missed you, too.”

  “Will they let us go?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled down at her. “I wasn’t just fighting for you, you know, but for our freedom, as well. We’ll leave this morning.”

  Jassy expression was dubious. “Do you feel up to riding?”

  “Not really, but I want to get you out of here.”

  “We can stay another day or two if you want. I don’t mind.”

  “I mind. I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

  “Who? Chah-ee-chopes?”

  Creed snorted. “Who else?”

  “He’s been very kind.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “Creed, it’s not like that.”

  “Like hell. I saw the way he looked at you.” Creed stared at Jassy, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Maybe you want to stay here. With him.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  “I’m sorry.” Creed ran a hand through his hair, wincing slightly as the movement put pressure on his bruised ribs.

  “I think we should wait,” Jassy said.

  “And I think we should go. And that’s the end of it.”

  *

  It was just after noon when they rode out of the village.

  To show there were no hard feelings, Chah-ee-chopes had provided them with a couple of parfleches of food, a waterskin, and a rifle. He had offered Creed a pair of buckskin leggings, a loose-fitting shirt, and a pair of moccasins, which Creed had accepted with a terse word of thanks.

  Prior to saying goodbye, Chah-ee-chopes had given Jassy a pretty little bay mare, apparently as a going-away present of some kind, or perhaps a token of his esteem. Creed hadn’t missed the possessive way the warrior had looked at Jassy when he handed her the mare’s reins, or the way his hands had lingered at Jassy’s waist when he lifted her onto the bay mare’s back. Nor had Creed missed the scorching glance of jealous hatred that Chah-ee-chopes had sent in his direction.

  Gritting his teeth, Creed had swung up on the back of his horse. They weren’t getting out of the village any too soon, he had mused ruefully.

  And now it was dark. He had insisted on traveling until well after nightfall, in spite of Jassy’s suggestion that they make an early camp.

  He grimaced as he overheard her muttering something about “stupid, stubborn men” under her breath, but he wanted to put as many miles between themselves and the Crow as possible, and if it meant aggravating his already sore ribs, then that was just too damn bad; he had seen the way Chah-ee-chopes had looked at Jassy, and he hadn’t liked it one damn bit.

  Though he refused to admit it, he was exhausted by the time he agreed to make camp. The beating he had taken, the long ride to the Crow camp, the fight with Chah-ee-chopes, had all taken their toll on his endurance. His ribs ached like the very devil and all he wanted to do was lay down and close his eyes.

  He grunted softly as he slid from the back of his horse.

  And suddenly Jassy was there beside him, her arm slipping around his waist, her brow furrowed with concern.

  “I’ll take care of everything,” she offered. “Don’t move.”

  She was as good as her word. She found a smooth stretch of ground and spread a blanket for him to lie on, unsaddled and hobbled the horses, built a small fire.

  When that was done, she knelt beside him. Removing the wide strip of cloth she used as a belt, she soaked it in water and carefully bathed his face and neck. She helped him out of his shirt, then bound his ribs with the cloth.

  “Does that help?” she asked as she tucked the end in place.

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “You rest now,” she said with a smile. “I’ll fix us something to eat.”

  Creed nodded, but his battered body needed rest more than food, and he was asleep within minutes.

  *

  Stretched out beside Creed, Jassy stared up at the stars.

  He’d been asleep for hours. She had eaten dinner, washed her hands and face and neck, run her fingers through the tangles of her hair.

  Turning on her side, she studied his face. It still amazed her that he had survived the brutal beating, that he had traveled across miles of barren ground to find her. Like a mythical hero in one of her father’s books, Creed had risked his life on her behalf, rescuing her from the clutches of the black knight…

  With a sigh, she combed a lock of hair from his forehead.

  Even bruised and battered, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

  Handsome and brave, she thought, and because she had to say the words or die, she whispered that she loved him.

  *

  Creed felt better after a good night’s sleep. He woke a couple of hours after dawn, aware of Jassy lying beside him, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Last night, she had whispered that she loved him. The memory of those three words, fervently and sincerely spoken, had kept him awake long after Jassy had fallen asleep.

  She loved him. And he loved her. But was that enough?

  How could he ask her to share his life when he had no life? He was a bounty hunter with a price on his head. Hardly the type of man for a woman to pin her hopes on.

  He swore softly as he became increasingly aware of her body pressed against his. He loved her, loved everything about her, and that was why he was going to let her go.

  Carefully, he eased away from her, then made his way to the shallow stream that cut across the prairie some fifteen yards away from their camp.

  It was a pretty spot, sheltered by slender cottonwoods and shrubs. The stream was wide and shallow, with a slow current and a sandy bottom.

  He removed the cloth that bound his ribs, shucked off his pants and moccasins and rolled everything together. Tossing the bundle onto a flat-topped boulder, he plunged into the deepest part of the stream, gasping as the cold water swirled around him. He sat on his haunches, his eyes closed, while the water flowed past him. He would take Jassy to Frisco, find her sister, get his money back, get Jassy settled somewhere, and then get out of her life before it was too late, before she wrapped herself so firmly around his heart that he would never be able to let her go.

  Abruptly, he stood up, shaking the water out of his hair.

  It wouldn’t be easy to let her go, but he’
d done difficult things before, and, somehow, he would get through this, too.

  The sound of muffled footsteps interrupted his thoughts, and he swore softly as he realized he’d left the rifle back at camp. He whirled around, then dropped to his knees. “Dammit, girl, what are you doing creeping up on me like that?”

  Jassy shrugged, her eyes wide as she took in the broad expanse of Creed’s bare chest. Water droplets clung to his copper-hued skin, twinkling like diamond dust in the early morning sunlight. His hair fell over his shoulders, as sleek and black as a raven’s wing.

  “I came down to wash,” she said, unable to keep her gaze from straying downward. The rolling water covered him from the waist down, blurring what lay beneath.

  She felt the blood rush to her face, but she couldn’t seem to stop staring. She’d seen naked men before. Considering what her mother and sister did for a living, it had been inevitable.

  But she had never been in love with any of those men. Never wanted them to hold her, to touch her.

  She had never wanted to touch any man the way she wanted to touch Creed Maddigan. Just looking at him made her want to slide her hands over his hard-muscled chest, to trace the outline of his jaw with her fingertips, to soothe the half-healed scar on his cheek, to run her fingers through the heavy thickness of his hair. She yearned to caress the thick muscles in his arms, to explore the curly black hair sprinkled across his chest. To feel his hard body pressed against her own.

  “Jassy.” Creed’s voice sounded strange, as if he were in pain.

  “What?”

  Her hair was like a living flame in the sunlight. Her cheeks were a becoming shade of pink. Her brown eyes were wide. And curious. Like Pandora’s before she lifted the lid. Like Eve’s, when she first saw Adam.

  Creed swore under his breath. Her every thought was mirrored in the depths of her eyes, magnifying his desire, until the need within grew painful. Immersing one’s self in cold water had long been touted as the best way for a man to cool his lust, but in this case it was like trying to put out a raging forest fire with a cup of water. It just wasn’t working.

  “Dammit, girl, you’d best stop looking at me like that.”

  She met his gaze then, a saucy grin curving the corners of her mouth as she fisted her hands on her hips. For the first time since she’d known him, he looked a trifle disconcerted. It gave her a sudden sense of power.

  “Like what?” she asked innocently.

  “Like a hungry kitten contemplating a bowl of fresh cream.”

  She took a slow step forward. “And if I don’t?”

  “I won’t be responsible for what happens,” he growled. “Now, go on, git!”

  She shook her head as she walked closer to the water, her hips swaying provocatively. “Aren’t you getting cold in there?”

  Cold, he thought. Hell, he was surprised the water wasn’t boiling.

  She lifted a hand to the ties that fastened her dress. “Shall I join you?”

  The sound that emerged from his throat was a strangled gasp, like that of a man going down for the third time.

  “Jassy, for the love of heaven,” he pleaded, “go back to camp.”

  “Why, Creed? Why can’t I stay here?”

  “You know damn well why.”

  She grinned, and then she laughed. Why hadn’t her mother ever told her how delightfully exciting it was to charm a man, to flirt, to tease? She felt a kind of power she had never felt before, a sense of daring, of exhilaration.

  Creed glared at her, his eyes narrowed. “I’m gonna count to five,” he said, clipping off each word, “and then I’m coming out. One…”

  She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

  “Two.”

  He wouldn’t do it, she thought confidently. He was only bluffing.

  “Three.”

  Her confidence begin to wane. ”Creed…”

  “Four.”

  Fire blazed in his black eyes. A muscle ticked in his cheek. Slowly, he began to rise out of the water.

  For a moment, Jassy stared at him, the image of sleek black hair and smooth skin glistening like wet bronze imprinting themselves on her mind. Tiny rivers of water cascaded down his broad chest, arrowing down, down…

  With a startled cry, she turned on her heel and raced back to camp.

  The sound of arrogant masculine laughter rumbled behind her. She knew, in that instant, that he had been bluffing.

  For a moment, she was tempted to turn right around and go back, to prove that she wouldn’t be made sport of, but then she remembered the fire blazing in the depths of his black eyes, the tension that had been evident in every taut line and muscle of his body.

  Perhaps, in this instance, prudence had been the wisest course of action.

  But it galled her just the same.

  Creed swore under his breath as he watched Jassy’s headlong flight back to camp. How was he going to keep his hands off her on the long journey to San Francisco? He wanted her as he had never wanted a woman in his entire life, wanted to bury himself deep within her sweetness. But that wasn’t all. He wanted her heart and her soul. He wanted her smiles and her laughter. He wanted to comfort her when she cried, to share her heartaches and her joys. He wanted her face to be the first he saw in the morning, the image he carried into sleep at night.

  He wanted her.

  And she wanted him.

  How was he going to keep his hands off her?

  More importantly, how was he going to keep her hands off him? She wouldn’t run forever. She thought they were going to be married, and that implied a certain amount of intimacy—hugs, at the least, followed by long, slow kisses, and maybe a caress or two.

  Muttering an oath, he submerged himself in the water, knowing that even a dip in Arctic waters in mid-winter wouldn’t be cold enough to cool his desire.

  Chapter Twenty

  Snuggled in her bedroll, Jassy gazed up at the night sky. Stars by the millions twinkled like diamonds scattered across an indigo canvas.

  But it wasn’t the stars that she was thinking about. It was the way Creed had looked in the river that morning, his dark bronze body shining wetly in the sunlight, his long black hair framing the most handsome, masculine face she had ever seen.

  Creed… Just thinking of him caused her pulse to race and her stomach to curl with pleasure.

  She slid a furtive glance at him from the corner of her eye. He was lying on top of his bedroll, fully clothed, his arms crossed beneath his head, apparently lost in thought. Was he thinking of her? What would have happened if she had stood her ground by the river? At the time, she had been certain he was bluffing, but what if she hadn’t run?

  A hot flush washed into her cheeks as she imagined what might have happened, imagined Creed emerging from the water, taking her in his arms, kissing her, making love to her…

  He wanted her. She wanted him. Why did they have to wait?

  She chewed thoughtfully on her lower lip. What if she went to him now? Would he send her away again? Or take her in his arms and make love to her?

  Only a few feet of ground separated them. She was gathering her courage when Creed’s voice bridged the gulf between them.

  “The Lakota call the Milky Way Wanagi Tacaka, the Spirit Road,” he remarked quietly. “They believe the nagi, or spirit, travels the Milky Way to Wanagi Yatu, the Place of Souls. It’s a long journey. Tate, the Wind, guards the Spirit Trail, but there are some who believe the spirits of the departed must pass by an old woman before they can enter the land of many lodges. This old woman, whose name is Hihankara, the Owl Maker, looks for certain tattoo marks which must appear on the chin, wrist, or forehead of the deceased. If she can’t find a tattoo, she pushes the spirit off the trail and it falls back to earth to become a ghost.”

  Jassy smiled, charmed by the tale. Creed’s description made it easy to picture an old woman with long gray braids standing at the edge of the Milky Way, her black eyes sharp as she checked for the necessary tattoo.
r />   “Is that what you believe?” she asked, certain he wouldn’t admit to believing such a fanciful thing even if he did.

  “I’m not sure,” Creed answered. “My grandmother believed it, though. I guess if it’s true, I’m destined to become a ghost.”

  “Didn’t your grandmother give you a tattoo?”

  “No. My mother wouldn’t permit it. She said it was a heathen tradition. I always meant to get one, but somehow I never did.”

  Jassy stared at the Milky Way, trying to imagine what it had been like for Creed, growing up with the Indians. It must have been nice, having grandparents, being part of a family. She fingered the beaded choker at her throat. She had never known her own grandparents. She knew almost nothing about her mother and father, except that her mother had been born on a farm in Pennsylvania.

  “It’s pretty, the Milky Way, I mean,” she mused.

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you believe in heaven?”

  “I don’t know. I believe in hell, though.”

  “I don’t think you can have one without the other,” Jassy remarked. She rose on one elbow and faced Creed. “Reverend Padden said my mama’s soul was bound for hell. Do you think he’s right, Creed? Do you think my mama’s burning in hellfire?”

  Creed shook his head. “I don’t know, honey. I’m in no position to judge anyone else.” He turned on his side, facing her, his jaw cradled in his palm. “I wouldn’t pay much attention to what that Bible thumper said if I was you, Jassy. Your mama did what she had to do, same as the rest of us.”

  “I guess so.” Jassy looked up at the sky again. Overwhelmed by the beauty of it all, she felt suddenly small and vulnerable. Stars without number, she thought.

  “Good night, Jassy.”

  “‘Night, Creed.” She snuggled under the covers, and then, before she could change her mind, she scrambled out of her bedroll and slid in beside Creed.

  “Jassy, what the…?”

  “I don’t want to sleep alone, Creed, please.”

  “This isn’t a good idea, Jassy, believe me.”