Lakota Renegade (27 page)

She pressed her lips to his, felt his quick response as he pulled her up against him. She didn’t care that the bars cut into her breasts, didn’t care that her shoulder ached. She needed the reassurance of his touch, needed to feel the solid strength of his arms around her, to know he loved her. She fought down the urge to cry, to pour out her fears. She was so afraid that no one would believe Rose’s statement, that Coulter would find a way to convince a jury that Creed had killed her sister and his men.

She blinked back her tears, not wanting him to know how worried she was, but he knew. She felt it in the way he held her, heard it in the soft words he whispered in her ear.

He drew back, a wry smile on his lips as he cupped her breast. Glancing down, Jassy saw faint dampness that stained her bodice.

“It’s feeding time,” she murmured.

“You’d better go then. Give my daughter a kiss for me.”

“I will.”

He hugged her close and then, reluctantly, let her go.

“I love you,” Jassy said.

“I know.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Creed nodded, unable to speak past the rising lump in his throat. Fists clenched at his sides, he watched Jassy walk down the corridor. She turned at the door, waved, and was gone.

* * * * *

The wire from Parker arrived two days later. Creed read the terse words twice. Parker had reviewed all the evidence in the Coulter case, but was holding his decision pending Creed’s trial in San Francisco. Should Creed be found guilty in California, there would be no need to take further action regarding the Coulter incident. Should he be found innocent, he was to be extradited back to Harrison for retrial.

Creed swore a vile oath as he wadded the paper into a ball and hurled it across the cell. Damn!

* * * * *

The trial was four days later. Creed figured Tuesdays must be a slow day in Frisco, judging by the number of spectators.

He’d met his attorney three days earlier, explained what had happened over and over again while the man—Marcus Feather, his name was—made copious notes.

Creed wanted to believe that he’d get a fair trial, but he couldn’t help but remember how things had gone in Harrison. The only thing in his favor now was the fact that Feather seemed to believe him when he said he was innocent. Now all they had to do was convince a judge and twelve of his peers. The thought made him grimace. Twelve of his peers. That was funny.

Jassy came to see him every day, just as she had when he’d been in jail the last time. She put on a brave face for him, always forcing a smile when he knew she wanted to cry. One afternoon she even brought him cookies. Her thoughtfulness, her unending compassion and devotion, almost brought him to his knees. He had blinked back the tears that burned his eyes, knowing if he surrendered now they would both be lost.

And then, the day before the trial, she brought the baby to see him.

Creed stared at his daughter. No longer red-faced and wrinkled, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. She stared up at him through unblinking blue eyes, and he felt as if she were probing his soul. In that instant, he regretted every cruel and unlawful thing he had ever done.

He reached out to touch her cheek, and her hand curled around his finger, and around his heart.

“Jassy…” He looked at her, unable to put his feelings into words.

“I know,” Jassy said, blinking back the tears that welled in her eyes as she looked at her daughter’s tiny hand curled around Creed’s calloused finger. “I know.”

Now, sitting in the courthouse with his hands shackled, Creed held tight to the memory of his daughter’s face, his wife’s love.

He stood up when the judge entered the room, listened impassively while the magistrate read the charges against him. The prosecution pleaded eloquently for a guilty verdict, then called Ray Coulter to the stand to testify.

Creed grimaced as he took a good look at the man. In an effort to look like a law-abiding citizen, Coulter wore a boiled shirt, a dark blue suit, obviously brand new, and a black cravat. His hair was slicked back. A stark white bandage was wrapped around his head.

He was sworn in, and then, speaking in a low, humble voice, he told how Mrs. Maddigan had come to see her sister, how Creed had busted into the room and tried to drag his wife away. Fearing for Mrs. Maddigan’s well-being, Coulter had tried to defend Mrs. Maddigan. It was then that Creed had drawn a gun. In the ensuing struggle, Maddigan had shot Rose, and then killed Bob Sykes and Tom Gillis when they tried to help.

The prosecutor thanked Coulter for his testimony, and then, as he was their only witness, reiterated that Creed Maddigan was a menace to the law-abiding citizens of San Francisco and should be found guilty of murder and hanged forthwith.

Then Creed was called to the stand. After he took an oath to tell the truth and nothing but the truth, Marcus Feather asked him to explain, in his own words, exactly what had happened on the night in question.

When Creed had finished testifying, Feather called Jassy forward.

Rising, Jassy carefully placed her daughter in Annie’s arms, then took the stand. Placing a white-gloved hand on the Bible, she spoke clearly and succinctly as she swore to tell the truth.

Marcus Feather guided her carefully through her testimony, offering Rose’s note to the judge as Exhibit A, pointing out that the handwriting in the main body of the note matched Ray Coulter’s handwriting. Only the signature was Rose McCloud’s. In a deep voice worthy of an Old Testament prophet, Marcus Feather explained how Ray Coulter had used the note to lure Jassy to his room above the Wayfarer Inn. He went on to explain that Coulter planned to turn Creed in for the reward, then sell Jassy to a brothel. Lowering his voice, his expression filled with indignation, he informed the jury that Coulter then planned an even more despicable act, that of selling an innocent child to the highest bidder.

When he was certain he had the jury’s complete attention, he produced Rose’s dying declaration stating that she had seen the shooting in Harrison and that Creed Maddigan was innocent of any and all wrong-doing.

“Would you send an innocent man to the gallows?” Marcus Feather demanded, his voice ringing with fervor. “Would you deprive this beautiful child of her father? Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I know that you will find it in your hearts to bring forth the only possible verdict in his case and declare Creed Maddigan innocent!”

Creed slid a glance at the jury. It was impossible to tell from their expressions whether they believed Jassy’s testimony, whether they had been swayed by Feather’s fervent remarks.

His gaze moved to Jassy’s face as the judge dismissed the jury, and then the sheriff was taking him by the arm, pulling him down the aisle toward the door.

Creed glanced over his shoulder, searching for Jassy. She smiled at him, and then she was lost from sight as Cameron hustled out of the courtroom and up the stairs to a small holding cell.

Chapter Thirty-One

Creed paced the floor for several minutes, stopped to stare out the window, and then began to pace again as he wondered what was taking the jury so damn long to decide his fate. Was it a good sign, them taking so long, or a bad one?

He paused at the window again, looking down on the people in the street below. People who were free to come and go as they pleased. Would he ever know that kind of freedom again?

He glanced up at the sun. Damn. The jury had been out for over two hours. His nerves were strung out and raw and he began to pace again. He hated this small room, which was even smaller than his cell at the jail. Hated being handcuffed. Hated being away from Jassy and his daughter. His daughter. She was almost two weeks old and he hadn’t seen her for more than a few minutes.

“Why don’t you sit down, Maddigan? All that pacing ain’t gonna make the time go faster.”

Creed glared at Cameron. “You ever been locked up, Sheriff?”

“’Course not,” the lawman replied, obviously insulted that Creed would even ask. “Why?”

Creed shook his head. “If you’ve never been locked up, then you wouldn’t understand,” he muttered, and began pacing again.

Creed stopped in mid-stride as the bailiff appeared at the iron-barred door. “They’ve reached a verdict,” he said. “The judge wants Maddigan downstairs in five minutes.”

“Right,” Cameron said. With a sigh, he stood up, his hand resting on the butt of his gun. “Ready?”

Creed nodded, feeling suddenly sick to his stomach now that the waiting was over. In a few minutes, he’d find out if he had any future to look forward to, or if all that awaited him was a trip to the gallows.

Cameron unlocked the door, then stepped back, motioning for Creed to walk out ahead of him.

Taking a deep breath, Creed walked down the stairs that led to the courtroom.

“Maddigan.”

Creed glanced over his shoulder, his gaze meeting Cameron’s.

“Good luck,” the lawman said quietly.

“Thanks.”

Squaring his shoulders, Creed entered the courtroom and walked down the aisle toward the table where his lawyer waited for him. He paused when he saw Jassy and the baby. She was sitting on the aisle and she reached out to squeeze his hand.

“It’ll be all right,” she murmured. “I know it will.”

Creed nodded, his gaze moving from Jassy’s face to his daughter and back again.

“Let’s go, Maddigan,” Cameron said.

“Yeah.” He forced a smile for Jassy, and then he took his place at the defense table.

Moments later, the judge entered the courtroom and took his seat. “Has the jury reached a verdict?” he asked.

The foreman of the jury stood up. “We have, Your Honor.”

“Very well.”

The bailiff took the folded sheet of paper from the foreman and handed it to the judge.

Creed held his breath, his gaze fixed on the judge’s face.

“The prisoner will rise while the bailiff reads the verdict.”

Creed stood up, his hands clenched, as the judge handed the verdict to the bailiff.

The bailiff read it, then cleared his throat. “The jury finds Creed Maddigan innocent on all counts.”

Relief washed through Creed, warm and sweet.

“The prisoner will be reprimanded to custody until such time as he can be transported to Harrison, Colorado. Case dismissed.”

Creed turned to face his lawyer. “Thank you, Mr. Feather. I appreciate everything you did.”

“My pleasure, sir,” Marcus said, slapping Creed on the shoulder. “My pleasure. Should you feel the need of my services in Colorado, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

“I will,” Creed said.

And then Jassy was there, throwing her arms around him. “I told you it would be all right,” she said, hugging him close.

Lifting his bound hands, Creed put his arms over Jassy and she snuggled against him.

“Where’s the baby?” he asked.

“Right here,” Annie Ross said. “Sleeping like the angel she is.”

Creed glanced over Jassy’s shoulder to where Annie Ross stood. Annie drew back the blanket so Creed could see his daughter.

She did look like an angel, he mused. Soft and pink and beautiful.

Behind him, he heard Cameron clear his throat. “Maddigan?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s time to go.”

Reluctantly, he lifted his arms from Jassy, who took his hand in hers.

“We’ll go with you.”

“Ma’am, I…”

“Surely there can’t be any harm in my walking down to the jail with my husband? I can assure you I don’t have a weapon hidden in my daughter’s diaper.”

Creed stifled the urge to smile as Cameron’s face turned beet-red.

“No, ma’am, I’m sure you don’t but…”

“Please, Sheriff?”

“Well, all right.” He fixed Creed with a hard stare. “I want your word that you won’t try anything, Maddigan.”

“You’ve got it.”

“And yours, too, ma’am.”

“My word, Sheriff,” Jassy said, smiling sweetly.

“You didn’t ask, but you’ve got my word, too,” Annie Ross declared.

“Yes, ma’am,” Cameron said. “Thank you, ma’am.”

They made an odd parade, Creed mused as they left the courthouse. Jassy walked beside him, her head high, her hand on his arm. Annie Ross followed them, the baby cradled in her arms. Cameron brought up the rear.

When they reached the jail, Annie Ross took a seat while Cameron escorted Creed into the cellblock. After locking Creed in one of the cells, he removed the handcuffs and left the cellblock, leaving Creed and Jassy alone.

Creed reached through the bars. Folding his arms around Jassy’s waist, he kissed her gently.

“Ah, Jassy,” he murmured, “you feel so good.”

“You, too. I’ve missed you so much. So much.” She reached up to stroke his cheek, then ran her hand through his hair, let it slide down to curl around his neck, drawing his face closer so she could kiss him again, and again.

“How long do you think it will be before they send you back to Harrison?”

“I don’t know.”

“I hope it will be soon,” Jassy said.

Creed nodded, wishing he was as certain as Jassy that everything was going to be all right. Just because he was going to be retried didn’t mean Parker would find him innocent. He tried to tell himself that Rose’s statement, along with her admission that she had committed perjury at the first trial, would make all the difference. He told himself that a death bed confession was sure to carry some weight with a jury. But, deep down, he didn’t believe it. He was a half-breed and, right or wrong, he had killed a white man.

But he couldn’t worry about that now, not with Jassy in his arms, her body pressed against the bars in an effort to be closer to him. And then she was kissing him, her hands delving under his shirt, roaming up and down his back. He groaned softly. Her nearness, her touch, aroused him instantly. It had been weeks since they had made love. It would probably be even longer before he made love to her again.

“Jassy…”

“I know.” A soft moan escaped her lips. “I know. Touch me. It’s been so long. So long.”

He kissed her then, his hands caressing her soft curves. It was the sweetest kind of pain, touching her but being unable to possess her. Their kisses became desperate as their bodies yearned toward each other.

“Creed…” She gazed up at him, her eyes glazed with desire.

Reluctantly, he drew away and took a deep breath. “You’d better run for the hills if they ever let me out of here,” Creed muttered with a wry grin, “’cause if I catch you, I’m never gonna let you outta my sight again.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He ran his finger over her swollen lips. “I want to see my daughter, Jassy.”

“I’ll get her.”

She left the cellblock, returning a few moments later with the baby cradled in her arms.

“She gets prettier every time I see her,” Creed said.

“She is pretty, isn’t she?” Jassy remarked.

“Just like her mother.”

His praise warmed Jassy’s heart. “Say hi to your daddy, sweetie,” she crooned. “Yes, that’s him,” she said, smiling. “He’s pretty, too, isn’t he?”

Creed snorted. “Pretty, indeed!”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Jassy reminded him with a saucy grin. “And we think you’re beautiful.”

“I wish I could hold her.”

“You will, Creed.”

“Yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair, felt the walls closing in on him as he stared at Jassy and the baby, so near, yet out of his reach. “Damn.”

“It’ll be over soon, Creed. I know it will. And then we’ll be together, and I’ll be pestering you to take care of her so much you’ll be looking for excuses to get away.”

Creed nodded, wishing he could play along, praying that what she said was true.

A muscle worked in his jaw as he heard the cellblock door open. “Time’s up, Mrs. Maddigan,” Cameron called.

“I’m coming,” Jassy answered. She looked up at Creed, hating to leave him, knowing how desperately he hated being locked up. “Do you need anything?”

“Just you.”

She swayed toward him, lifting her face for his kiss. She wouldn’t cry! He didn’t need to see her tears, not now.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said. “Are you sure I can’t bring you anything?” She smiled up at him. “Some cookies, maybe?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

“I love you,” she whispered. “See you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.”

Hands clutching the bars, he watched her walk away. She turned at the door and blew him a kiss, and then she was gone.

Two days later, they were on an eastbound train. Jassy and Annie Ross had bid each other a tearful farewell at the station, and now Jassy was sitting across from Creed, the baby in her arms. One of Cameron’s deputies, a tall, broad-shouldered man named Stuart Flanders, had been detailed to escort Creed back to Harrison. The deputy sat beside Jassy, his long legs crossed, a rifle cradled in his lap.

Creed sat near the window, his right hand cuffed to the seat’s iron frame, his face impassive as he watched the countryside roll by. It had been damned humiliating, being marched on board in handcuffs. People had turned to stare as he walked down the aisle. He had heard their remarks as they whispered back and forth, remarking on his Indian blood, wondering what crime he’d been convicted of, assuming that Jassy was the lawman’s wife.