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.
She didn’t protest when Coulter lifted her from the floor and laid her down on the bed beside Rose. Lost in the horror of what lay ahead, she stared at the ceiling while he tied her hands together. She should have stayed in Harrison, she thought wryly. At least she’d have had a certain amount of freedom. At least she wouldn’t have to go to bed with strangers.
Fresh sobs tore at her throat as she felt her baby stir within her womb. What would become of her child? What would happen to Creed when he came looking for her? Would Coulter kill him outright?
Frightened beyond words, she closed her eyes and began to pray.
*
“What’s this?” Creed stared at the folded sheet of paper Jack Teal had dropped on the table in front of him.
“Beats me. Some guy gave it to me and said it was for you.”
Creed grunted softly as he picked up the paper. I have your wife. If you want to see her again, come to the Wayfarer Saloon at midnight. Come alone. No weapons. It was unsigned.
Creed swore under his breath as he tossed his cards on the table, stood up
, and grabbed his hat.
“Hey, where are you goin’?” called one of the players at the table, but Creed didn’t hear him.
Outside, he drew in a deep breath, his mind racing. Jassy! Forcing himself to calm down, he headed for Annie’s boardinghouse. It took only minutes to ascertain that she wasn’t there.
“Mr. Macklin, is that you?” Annie Ross opened her bedroom door and peered down the hallway.
“Yeah, it’s me. Do you know where Jassy is?”
“She went to see her sister.”
“When?”
“Oh, about ten, as I recollect. Someone brought her a note. She was right upset when she left.”
Creed swore. “Did you see it? The note?”
“No.”
“Damn!” He paced the length of the hall, then stopped in front of Annie Ross’ door. “If she comes back, you keep her here.”
“I will.”
“Thanks.”
Creed went to their room, stepped inside, and closed the door. Removing his gunbelt, he tossed it over a chair. He had a derringer tucked inside his left boot. Now, he slid a knife inside his right sock and hoped it would be enough.
It was midnight straight up when he entered the Wayfarer Saloon. A few men glanced his way as he stepped through the swinging doors. Hard men. Sailors, mostly.
Creed made his way to the bar and ordered a drink, which he held in his left hand, but didn’t touch.
He didn’t have to wait long. Two men walked toward him. The one on the left said, “follow me,” then turned and walked outside. Creed fell into step behind him, aware of the second man close on his heels.
Outside, they turned left and went to the rear of the saloon. Creed stiffened as he felt the nudge of cold steel against his spine. He stood there, rigid, while the first man searched him.
It was a very thorough search. Creed swore under his breath as he felt the man’s hands prod between his thighs, in the hollow of his back, down each leg. The man grunted when he found the derringer and the knife.
“The boss said no weapons,” the man muttered. “If you’re smart, you won’t make any more mistakes.”
He didn’t expect a reply and Creed didn’t offer one. The man at his back gave him a little push and Creed climbed the narrow staircase.
A short time later he was standing inside a small room that smelled heavily of unwashed bodies and opium. A movement on the bed drew his gaze, and he swore under his breath when he recognized Jassy. She appeared to be asleep. Her sister lay beside her, obviously heavily drugged.
Creed started toward Jassy, but one of the men behind him warned him not to move.
“Is she all right?” Creed asked.
“She’s fine. For now.”
Creed turned toward the sound of the voice. Ray Coulter stood inside the doorway, his hand curled around the butt of a well-used Colt revolver.
Coulter nodded to the men standing in the hallway and one of them closed the door.
“What do you want?” Creed asked.
Coulter tossed him a pair of handcuffs. “For starters, put those on.”
Creed stared at the irons, revulsion rising up within him. For a moment, he weighed the odds of jumping Coulter and trying to get his gun, but even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew Coulter was expecting just such a move. Waiting for it.
Muttering an oath, Creed clamped the handcuff on his wrists.
“Now what?”
“I was gonna turn you in for the reward,” Ray replied, holstering his Colt. “But I decided that would be too quick, too easy. I want you behind bars. I want you to wake up in the morning and go to bed at night thinking about your woman, wondering where she is, if she’s still alive.”
“Dammit, Coulter, she’s got no part in this!”
“That’s where you’re wrong. She’s a pretty woman. After the baby’s born, I know a place or two that will pay me a hefty sum for her services.”
Nausea churned in Creed’s gut as he imagined Jassy locked in a room in some distant brothel, never to be free again, forced to do whatever she was told until she got too sick or too old.
“And the child?”
Coulter shrugged. “Easily sold.”
Creed took a step forward, murder in his eye, only to find himself staring into the yawning maw of the other man’s Colt.
“Don’t even think about it.”
“Let her go.”
“No.”
“I’ve got some money. Not much, but I can get more.”
Coulter shook his head. “No. You go back to prison, and she goes to the highest bidder. No loose ends.”
“Ray, is that you?”
“Go back to sleep, Rose.”
She sat up, rubbing her eyes. And then she saw Creed. “What are you doing?” she asked, glancing the gun in Coulter’s hand to Creed and back again.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself about.”
Rose stood up, swaying unsteadily. It was then that she saw Jassy. “What’s my sister doing here?”
“She came to visit. Don’t you remember?”
“No…no.” Rose looked at Coulter again, her eyes filled with confusion. “The note. You made me sign a note.”
“Shut up, Rose.”
“Why is my sister tied up?”
“Shut up, dammit!”
Rose disregarded the warning in Coulter’s voice. “I want to know what’s going on.”
“He’s sending me back to prison,” Creed said, his gaze fixed on Coulter’s face. “And then he’s gonna sell Jassy to a brothel, after he sells your niece or nephew.”
“Ray, you wouldn’t!”
Coulter looked at her as if she wasn’t too bright. “You fool. Where do you think I get the money to buy that opium you love so much?”
“I don’t know. I guess I never thought about it.”
Coulter shook his head. “It’s a good thing she’s pretty,” he muttered, “‘cause she sure ain’t smart.”
Creed glanced at Jassy while Coulter and Rose continued to hurl insults at each other. Jassy was awake now. Creed shook his head slightly, warning her to stay still, to remain quiet.
“I’ll do what I damn well please!” Coulter shouted, and Creed’s attention was drawn back to the confrontation between Coulter and Rose.
“She’s my sister,” Rose retorted. “And you’re not selling her into slavery.”
“She was your sister when we took all that money,” Coulter reminded her with a sneer. “That didn’t seem to bother you.”
“This was your idea and you know it! I let you talk me into it because you promised to marry me.”
Coulter snorted. “Who’d marry a whore?”
Rose recoiled as if she’d been slapped, but she refused to back down. “Send Maddigan to prison, if you want. I don’t care what you do with him. But you can’t hurt Jassy, or the baby.”
“I’ll do whatever I damn well please,” Coulter said, drawing out each word. “I own you, and if you don’t want to find yourself in some brothel on the other side of the world, you’ll remember that.”
Rose stared at Coulter, all the color draining from her face. “You wouldn’t!”
“I’ll do what I have to do.”
“I’m sorry, Jassy, so sorry.” With a sob, Rose threw herself on the bed and pulled Jassy into her arms. “Sorry, so sorry,” she repeated over and over again.
Coulter swore a vile oath as he watched the two women rock back and forth.
Seeing that he was distracted, Creed took a step forward, but Coulter’s gun immediately centered on his chest again.
“I wouldn’t,” he said, “unless you’d rather be dead. Don’t matter to me, you know? The reward says dead or alive.”
Creed froze. He’d be no good to Jassy dead, he thought, though he was of damn little use to her now.
And then Rose was standing up, her face buried in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably, staggering toward Coulter, her hand clutching his arm as she begged him not to sell her siste
r and the baby.
Momentarily thrown off balance, Coulter tried to brush her off, and Creed lunged forward, his cuffed hands reaching for the gun.
Jassy screamed and bounded off the bed, throwing herself in front of Creed as Coulter lined the barrel on Creed’s chest.
The sound of gunfire filled the room. Jassy staggered backward, a bright red stain spreading over her bodice.
With a cry, Rose flung herself on Coulter.
The second gunshot was muffled, and then Rose fell backward, her hands clutching at Ray, dragging him down with her.
Creed lunged forward, his hand closing around the gun. Jerking it from Coulter’s grasp, he brought the butt down on the man’s head, then pivoted on his heel, thumbing back the hammer as the door burst open and Coulter’s two henchmen filled the doorway.
Creed fired twice, and both men went down.
The ensuring silence was deafening. He waited a minute, listening for the sound of footsteps in the hall, but apparently gunfire was commonplace at the Wayfarer Saloon and no one came running to find out what was going on.
Shoving the Colt into his waistband, he knelt beside Coulter and fished the key to the handcuffs from the man’s pants pocket. After removing the irons from his hands, Creed gathered Jassy into his arms, one hand smoothing the hair from her face.
“Jassy? Jassy, can you hear me?”
Her eyelids fluttered open and she tried to smile. “You’re alive…”
“You little fool! You could have been killed.”
“Love…you…” she whispered, and then her head fell back over his arm.
Gently, he eased her down on the floor and unfastened her bodice. Blood poured from a jagged hole high in her right shoulder. Only her shoulder, he thought, weak with relief. Thank God. Tearing a ruffle from her petticoat, he tore it in two. Pressing half of it over the wound to stanch the bleeding, he used the other half to hold the square of cloth in place.
Then, reluctant to leave her, he dragged Coulter across the room and handcuffed the man’s hands behind his back. When that was done, he shut and locked the door, then went to examine Rose’s wound. He knew at a glance that it was fatal.
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