by Faye Adams
Cass shrugged. "I wouldn't know. She's never very friendly to me."
"She's not?"
Cass shook her head. "It's all right. It's her right to like or not like whomever she wants."
Ramsey locked his hands together, then touched himself just under the chin with two fingers. '"Perhaps I should speak to her about it," he reflected out loud.
Cass snickered. “I don't think that'd be a very good idea," she told him.
Turning to look at her, he asked, "Why not?"
"Because she doesn't seem to like you any better than she likes me," she explained.
"It did seem that way, didn't it? But Rosie has a strange way about her. She rarely shows how she's really feeling," he answered.
Cass studied Ramsey's eyes as he spoke. "You know her well?" she inquired. She'd have been willing to bet otherwise.
"We've spent time together," he answered.
Cass raised her brows in surprise.
"I think I will speak to her." He seemed to be thinking out loud again. "But not today. I don't want to spoil today." He smiled down at Cass. "Are you about ready to go to the circus?"
"Just about," she answered. "Let me excuse myself for just a minute. By the time I get back, Brett will probably have returned."
"Oh, joy," Ramsey grumbled.
Cass ignored his comment and stood up, straightening her skirt. Leaving him sitting there, she headed through the hotel toward the rear entrance. The outhouses were behind the hotel. As she left the lobby she met Brett. The look on his face gave her some concern. "Is something wrong?" she asked.
"Not with me. I've got a feeling something is terribly wrong with Rosie, though."
"You followed her?"
"I wanted to know what spooked her so badly in the lobby."
"What was it?"
"I don't know, she wouldn't discuss it with me." Cass shrugged.
"I'm sure it has something to do with Ramsey," Brett told her.
Cass remembered Ramsey had just told her he'd spent time with Rosie. "Maybe they quarreled," she offered.
"It's more than that," he said. "Much more."
"If it's important it'll come out."
"I suppose." He then looked her up and down. "Where were you going just now?"
"Out back. Go wait with Ramsey in the lobby. I'll hurry."
Brett grimaced.
Cass grinned. "Go on. And try to be nice," she told him as she walked away.
Brett sighed. She was so beautiful, so desirable. She'd given him her virginity in the most passionate bout of lovemaking he'd ever experienced, and now she was completely ignoring his wishes, keeping company with Ramsey Tylo in order to gain information about his father, the man she was certain had murdered her family. He clenched his jaw to tamp down the frustration that burned in his belly. He would never understand women if he lived to be a hundred.
Re-entering the lobby, he sat down in a chair facing Ramsey. As he planned his next action, he stared at the blond man. "Rosie seems to be afraid of you. Do you know why?" he asked.
Ramsey lowered his eyelids a bit. "I couldn't tell you, Marshal. Women are strange creatures."
Brett had just had similar thoughts about Cass, but Rosie's case was different. "She wouldn't tell me anything when I asked her about it."
"That's because there's nothing to tell."
"I'm sure there is. She's just afraid to talk."
Ramsey shrugged. "You're letting your job go to your head, Marshal."
"Because I refuse to believe a lie?"
"Because you refuse to believe the truth."
Neither man spoke again.
"Are we ready?" asked Cass a few minutes later when she returned.
The circus proved to be quite entertaining, and the chicken dinner, served at long tables outside, was delicious. And as Cass tilted her head back to see the fireworks light up the night sky, she pondered the day behind her. She hadn't found an opportunity to question Ramsey, but there was still the ride home. Brett's presence during the afternoon had kept her senses on edge, his silver-gray eyes assessing her every move. And she hadn't been able to keep herself from stealing glances at him when he wasn't looking his powerful body reminding her again and again of how he'd felt as he possessed her. The tension between Brett and Ramsey had been a palpable thing, but she'd managed to referee well enough to keep them from starting an all-out brawl, though if it came down to that, she doubted Ramsey would accept a challenge from Brett.
She stole a glance at each man, standing one on either side of her. They were both tall, but as different as night and day. It was strange that they were vying for her attention. She felt certain Brett had no ulterior motives behind his advances. He'd been very honest about his attraction to her. Ramsey, however, was another story. Her eyes narrowed as she studied his profile. She let her mind wander over the things that had happened in recent days: Jackson's murder-she was still certain it was murder- Ramsey's homecoming and his remarks about his father’s letters. Was his homecoming a coincidence? Or had her own arrival prompted Hunt to notify his son to come home?
She continued staring at Ramsey's profile in the reflected light of the fireworks. Did he know his father had something to do with murdering her family? Did he have something to do with it himself? No, she reminded herself, he wasn't even in town when the murders took place. She was just getting desperate. Sighing, she lowered her gaze. On the ride home perhaps she'd get some answers.
"'The fireworks seem to be about over, my dear," observed Ramsey. "Perhaps we should start back to the buggy."
"I suppose. I just wish this day didn't have to end." She sighed.
Brett looked down at her, the colored reflections from the last burst of fire in the sky glistening on her shining hair. He'd spent the entire day with her, not the way he'd threatened, following her like a shadow, but at her invitation, and despite Ramsey's protests. But now it was time to let her go, and it was killing him to think Ramsey would be alone with her on the long ride back to her ranch. He didn't trust the man, and he was sure Cass had underestimated him. "It doesn't have to end. We could go to the hotel for a nightcap."
"I think we've had enough excitement for one day, Marshal," Ramsey said. "I'm sure Cass is getting tired. I know I am." He raised his arm and, taking her hand, placed it in the crook of his elbow. "It's time to go."
Brett scowled at him. "Then I'll walk you to your buggy."
"That won't be necessary," Ramsey said in a slightly threatening tone.
"I insist." Brett met the challenge.
Ramsey looked down at Cass for a second. "All right, Marshal," he said, giving in.
The walk to the spot where they'd left the buggy was pleasant. Passersby stopped to say hello and to welcome Ramsey home. Cass was even included in the salutations, and she enjoyed the momentary respite from their usual animosity.
"This is where I left the buggy," observed Ramsey. "'Where the hell is it now?"
Cass looked around. The buggy was, indeed, missing.
"The smithy probably took care of it for you," Brett offered.
"I didn't ask him to," complained Ramsey.
Cass looked up at him. "'He probably assumed you'd want him to take care of the horses. You did park right outside the livery, and it was an awfully hot day to leave the horses standing outside the way we did," she commented.
Ramsey let out an impatient sigh. "I'll go see if the horses are inside. You wait here."
Brett smiled to himself. This would be the first time today he'd had a chance to be alone with Cass. He watched as Ramsey stalked off in search of his buggy and team. Then, touching Cass gently on the arm, he motioned for her to follow him.
Cass was suspicious of Brett, but she followed him toward a small stand of trees not far from the livery. "I shouldn't go too far away. Ramsey will wonder where I went," she whispered as he stopped under the concealing shadow of several tall trees.
"Let him wonder," said Brett, his voice a soft growl.
C
ass's pulse took a leap at the tone of his voice. "Brett, I should go back," she told him.
Brett could just make out her features in the dark. She was so beautiful. He'd wanted to touch her all day, had suffered every time Ramsey had claimed his right as her escort. But now was his chance. Stepping forward, he raised his hands to her shoulders and slowly began to pull her to him.
Cass's heart skittered in her chest. She knew she shouldn't let this happen. Ramsey would come looking for her at any moment. Yet she couldn't stop the tremendous attraction that gripped her every time Brett touched her. She felt drawn to him as to a magnet. Staring up into his gray eyes, she watched as he lowered his head to claim her lips. Closing her eyes at the last moment, she felt herself begin the slow burn that would turn her into a mass of liquid fire.
Brett kissed Cass possessively, opening his mouth over hers, slipping his tongue tenderly between her lips. He heard her moan against his kiss and felt his heartbeat become erratic, sending blood charging through his body, bringing his manhood to life with a surging force. Lowering his hands to her back, he pulled her closer, thrusting his hips forward, making her aware of what she did to him.
Cass groaned at the evidence of Brett's desire, so blatantly pushing against her abdomen. She knew from experience what Brett could make her feel. She knew that if she didn’t end this kiss she'd be grasping and clawing at him, encouraging him to make love to her. Tearing her lips from his, she gasped for air. "I have to go, Brett."
"No, you don't. Don't let Ramsey take you home. Stay here with me. I'll see to it you get home safely.” He said this while kissing her lightly all over her face.
Cass's breath caught in her chest. "No, Brett. I have to go with Ramsey. I have to ..." Her words were stifled as his lips covered hers once more.
"Please, Cass?" he said against her mouth.
Cass could barely breathe. Her heart raced. Her senses reeled. It would be too easy to stay with Brett. Leaning away, she pushed against him with her hands. “No, I have to go. Ramsey will be looking for me soon."
As if to emphasize her words, Ramsey's voice carried on the night air. "Cass? Where are you?"
"I have to go, Brett," she told him again.
"Don't."
"I have to."
Brett slowly released her, his desire diminishing only slightly. "I don't trust him, Cass," he said.
"He got me to town safely enough."
"It was high noon, not ten o'clock at night. You'll be at his mercy, Cass. Remember what you're accusing his father of, and tell me you trust him completely."
Cass's eyes filled with storm clouds. "I know what his father did, Brett. And if Ramsey knows anything about it, I might be able to find that out. But only if I'm alone with him. He's certainly not going to confide in me, or let something slip accidentally with you around. Wasn't today proof of that?"
"What if he tries something?"
Cass sighed. “All right. Let's say for the sake of argument that he knows his father's a murderer, and he knows I know it. Even if he wanted to do away with me, he's certainly smart enough not to try to hurt me after spending the entire day with me in front of the whole town."
“Cass!" Ramsey yelled louder.
"I'm coming," she called back. "Now I really have to go, Brett." She stepped back, seeing the frustration in his steely eyes.
"You're making a mistake, Cass."
"It's my mistake," she responded, then turned, leaving the shadows of the trees. "I’m over here, Ramsey," she called, walking quickly to join him once more.
"What were you doing over there?" he asked, looking around "And where's the marshal?"
"He went back to his office," she answered.
Ramsey looked suspiciously at the dark shadows under the trees and repeated his first question: "What were you doing over there?"
"I just went for a little walk," she explained, then quickly asked, "Were the buggy and horses in the livery?"
Ramsey looked down at her, gauging her truthfulness. "Yes, the smithy is getting them ready now." He looked back at the stand of trees. "Shall we take a walk together while we wait? Perhaps we could walk back under those lovely trees."
"No," Cass answered hurriedly. "I'm really getting quite sleepy. Let's just wait here."
"All right," he agreed.
Cass nearly sighed her relief. She didn't know for sure whether or not Brett was still standing among the trees, but her woman's intuition told her he probably was.
Ramsey had studied the shadows under the trees and was certain he'd seen something, or someone, moving there. He felt it was reasonable to assume it was the marshal. Narrowing his eyes, he pondered what Cass was doing with him under those trees. He couldn't allow Cass to become romantically involved with another man. He needed her for himself.
The smithy guided the horses and buggy out of the livery doors and stopped in front of Ramsey. "'That'll be one dollar, Mr. Tylo," he said.
"What for?" Ramsey asked.
"Why, for taking care of your horses and rig, sir."'
Ramsey's expression darkened. He hadn't asked this man to take care of his rig. It was the fool's loss for doing something he hadn't been asked to do. He then glanced down at Cass's expectant face. Gritting his teeth, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a dollar. After tossing it to the smithy, he led Cass to the buggy. "Let's go, my dear," he murmured, keeping his temper under control.
Cass wondered why Ramsey seemed so cross. He was definitely given to strong mood swings.
The buggy creaked and jostled over the rutted road that led out of town. The night air had cooled slightly from the day's earlier heat, and tiny bats swooped and dipped around the vehicle in search of insects. Cass smiled as she listened to the sound of crickets calling their mates. She loved summer nights. Taking a deep breath, she sighed. "Mmmm, doesn't the sage smell wonderful?" she asked.
"I suppose so," commented Ramsey.
Cass closed her eyes, letting her head fall back in pure enjoyment of the moment. "Sometimes, during the summer, I walk for hours at night."
“Alone?”
"Yes," she answered, opening her eyes once more.
"Aren't you afraid?"
"Why would I be afraid on my own property?"
"Well ... a woman alone ..."
"I'm not afraid," she said firmly.
"You're a brave woman, Cass," he told her.
Cass thought about his words. She didn't feel particularly brave. She just saw no need to be afraid. She'd seen death. She'd stared it right in the face while waiting for an opponent to draw. She'd listened to the pounding of her own heart, knowing that each beat might be her last. She'd taken deep, slow breaths, savoring her precious existence. And she knew there were worse things by far than death. There was nothing more horrifying than watching the death of someone you loved. "After you've seen what I have, you find there's not too much out in the world that can frighten you anymore," she said quietly.
Ramsey glanced down at her. She'd lowered her head.
"Your family?" he asked.
Cass raised her eyes and nodded. "Did your father write and tell you about it?"
"Yes.”
"You'd only been gone for about a week when it happened," she said, remembering.
"I'd left for school."
“Yes. It was about two weeks after our fathers argued about the water access across our land," she said.
"I don't remember that."
"You were there, Ramsey," she reminded him. "You were with your father that day. How can you not remember the way your father threatened mine?"
Ramsey shrugged slightly. "I guess when you grow up with a man who threatens violence every other day, you get kind of used to it," he explained.
"Did your father ever threaten you?" she asked.
Ramsey looked down at her with a derisive expression. "All the time, Cass."
She looked at him with a condemning glint in her eye.
"But he never carried out his threats, Cass. I know
what you're getting at. You practically accused my father of having something to do with murdering your family. Well, I know he didn't do it."
"But you weren't even here, Ramsey. How do you know for sure he wasn't involved?"
"I just know. My father is loud and overbearing at times. He raised me with a strict hand, and sometimes I thought he was cruel in his methods. But he doesn't have it in him to be a murderer, Cass. He doesn't have what it takes.”
"And what's that?" she hissed.
"No conscience," he murmured, leaning closer to her.
Cass's skin crawled at his words. Someone with no conscience, she thought. Hunt Tylo still fit the bill as far as she was concerned. He did threaten her father, and Ramsey telling her he never carried out his threats didn't change things. He'd protect his father the same as she would if her father were still alive. "I don't blame you for defending your father, Ramsey," she said softly,
"I'm not just defending him, Cass. I know my father didn’t kill your family," he said.
Cass didn't answer. She'd taken her shot at questioning him about the murders. She'd accomplished nothing.
Ramsey watched her face in the moonlight. She’d grown into such a beautiful woman. The thought of having sex with her made his manhood begin to throb.
"Perhaps we could talk about something else for a while?" he asked.
Cass looked up. "I suppose," she said curiously.
He pulled on the reins, stopping the buggy. “I'd like to go on seeing you, Cass," he began. "I know how you feel about my father, but someday you'll learn how wrong you were about him. I don't want this . . . misunderstanding to keep us apart."
Cass glanced around them in the dark. He’d stopped the buggy at a turn in the road, just next to a bluff, giving them the feeling of privacy. “It won't keep us apart…" she began to explain.
"I'm so glad," he interrupted, inching closer. "We could be so good together."
Cass frowned at his misinterpretation of her words. "That's not what I mean, Ramsey. The way I feel about your father has nothing to do with the way I feel about you."
"Good." He slid his arm across the back of the buggy seat behind her.
"No. You're not letting me finish." She didn't want to deliberately hurt his feelings, but she added, "I don't feel we should keep seeing each other, Ramsey."