by Faye Adams
Brett leaned against the counter and watched her go. It took him a second to realize she was limping slightly. Walking back to where Cass was scraping the last crumbs from her plate, he sat down. “You’ve known Rosie for a long time, haven't you?” he asked,
"Yes. I've known her most of my life,” she answered.
"Does she have a limp?”
"Not that I'm aware of,” she answered, swiveling in her seat to look in Rosie's direction. “She is limping, Brett. Did you ask her why?”
Brett shook his head. “I didn’t notice it until we were through talking.”
"Maybe she fell,” Cass surmised.
"Maybe," Brett answered.
"Did she tell you why she was staring at you? Did she confess that she’s madly in love with you?” she teased.
Brett gave her a half grin. “I told you on the Fourth that I thought there was something wrong with her. I think she’s in some kind of serious trouble, and I think it has something to do with Ramsey.”
Cass thought for a moment. “He did say they'd spent time together," she offered.
"Did he say anything more than that?”
"No. I was surprised, though," she remarked.
"Why?”
"Well, this may sound a bit snobbish, but Rosie just isn’t Ramsey's type."
"And you are?” Brett asked.
“I knew you'd take me wrong. To be honest, I’m still baffled as to why he wants to spend time with me,” she confessed.
"Really, Cass," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes for emphasis.
Cass frowned at him. "Ramsey never knew I existed when we were growing up. He's only just noticed me since he came back home. And as far as Rosie's concerned," she paused here, remembering the taunts, “he was cruel to her, Brett."
"Cruel?"
"He teased her unmercifully. And not just the usual kind of teasing children do to one another."
"Like what?"
Cass thought for a moment. "Rosie was the first girl in our school to develop. All the boys noticed, of course, but Ramsey used to chase her home. He'd corner her, then grab her breasts and yell to everyone that she felt just like his old milk cow. It was really horrible," she recalled.
“He never did things like that to you?"
"As I said, he never noticed I was alive. Something I was grateful for at the time," she said,
"Really?" he teased.
"Ramsey was the son of the wealthiest man in town. A lot of the girls had secret crushes on him. But not Rosie. I'm sure she hated him."
"Maybe that's what she meant," he said, thinking out loud.
"By what?"
"She said she'd wanted to kill someone."
"And you think she meant Ramsey?"
"Maybe."
"But that was years ago, Brett. We've all grown up."
"Then why is Rosie still so afraid of Ramsey?"
Cass looked down at her empty plate for a moment. Shrugging, she glanced back up. "I don't know.'"
Two days later Cass woke up to discover she wasn't pregnant. A great sigh of relief escaped her as she dressed. Now she had to tell Brett. But if she told him, would he leave? Biting the inside of her lower lip, she wondered why the thought of him leaving gave her such an empty feeling.
"Missy Cass," Soony called down the hall.
"Yes, Soony, what is it?”
"Your uncle wants you to come quick,” he said.
Cass opened her door. “Where is he?”
"Outside, Missy."
Cass ran through the house and raced outside, fearing that Darby was ill or injured. “What is it, Uncle Darby?” she asked when she reached him. He was standing by the barn.
“Darby looked sadly up at her. “I have to show you,” he murmured.
Cass followed her uncle behind the barn. The stoop to his shoulders and his slow gait told her something was terribly wrong. It wasn't until they climbed the hill and looked down to the little valley below that she knew what was troubling him so. Someone had desecrated her family’s graves. “No!” she shouted in anger as she ran toward the tiny cemetery.
The gravestones had been ripped from the ground and dragged by horses some distance from the graves. Then the same horses had trampled the mounds, destroying the grass and flowers that had grown there. “The bastards!” she swore, running to where the gravestones were strewn haphazardly across the ground. When she reached them, her anger grew even hotter. Across her mother's stone someone had scrawled the word ‘slut’ with a piece of old charcoal apparently taken from the burned-out house.
Falling to her knees in front of the stone, she began to rub out the offensive word. “I’ll get them, Mama. I’ll get them for doing this. Those bastards are going to pay for this," she promised.
She then found her father's headstone. It was lying face down, the inscription hidden beneath it. Struggling with all her might, she turned it over. There was a message scribbled there, too: ‘You started this.’ Letting her head fall back, she screamed to the sky, “And I’ll finish it, too!”
Two hours later she replaced the last of the gravestones, that of her little sister, and smoothed over the mounds as best she could. Kneeling on the ground, looking over the grave sites, she burned with a renewed hatred. "Tylo has to be stopped," she said.
Standing up, she brushed the dirt from her trousers and turned back toward the house. It took her only seconds to strap on her guns, then mere minutes to saddle her horse. As she rode out, she could hear her uncle calling after her, but she didn't stop. She was headed to the Lazy T.
As she rode, Brett's words of warning rang in her ears, but she pushed them back, refusing to listen to his logic. She knew Tylo was responsible for last night's destruction, just as she knew he was responsible for murdering her family.
When she rode into Lazy T property she was met by several riders.
"You got business here, gal?" one man asked her.
"I want to talk to Hunt Tylo," she stated flatly.
"Say, ain't you that little gal Ramsey's taken up with?"
He turned to his cronies and laughed, continuing before she could confirm or deny his statement. 'Yeah, this is Cassidy Wayne, our neighbor, boys. Ooooh, don't we feel honored you've come to call," he said snidely.
His tone informed her she probably wasn't welcome on the Lazy T after telling them their cattle could no longer use her land, but it didn't matter. She wouldn't be welcome after she talked to Tylo, anyway. "So where's Tylo?" she asked.
"He's up at the house. But I don't know if he wants to Bee you. You better wait here while one of us goes back and asks him. The rest of us will keep you company." He turned to an underling. "Go on up to the house, Squirt. Tell the boss Cassidy Wayne wants to talk to him."
"Aw, Jake, do I have to?" Squirt belly-ached.
"Don't give me no lip, boy. Do as you're told."
"Yes, by all means, do as you're told, Squirt," Cass taunted.
Squirt glared at her, but he turned and rode toward the house.
"Now what should we do with you while we wait?” the leader asked innocently.
Cass stared at the dirty man. He was thin, with a scraggly beard and bad teeth. "I think we'll just sit here and wait,” she told him in a monotone.
"I don't know. Maybe we could think of something else to do?"
Cass pulled one gun with lightning speed and shot a hole through the middle of the letter A in the Lazy T sign hanging over the gate. "I think we'll sit here and wait,” she repeated.
The men's eyes were wider after her demonstration. They'd all heard about her. They’d heard she was fast. But their male egos had refused to let them believe she hadn’t been lucky. Now they shut up their blustering and waited quietly until Squirt returned.
"The boss says let her come," called Squirt, riding hard to rejoin them at the gate.
Cass aimed her gun at them. “After you, gentlemen," she ordered.
Following them to the house, she fought the urge to shoot them out of their saddle
s. They might have been the ones who had desecrated her mother's gravestone and trampled the graves. They might have written the message letting her know the war had started. But she couldn't shoot them in the back even if they were the ones. And she wasn't sure yet that they'd had anything to do with it. “Damn,” she muttered.
"Why do I have the honor of your presence, Cassidy?” asked Hunt Tylo as he sat behind his big desk smoking a cigar. His tone was sarcastic, his expression rude, his eyes filled with evil intent.
"There was some trouble out at my place last night,” she told him.
"Really? What kind of trouble?”
Cass glowered at him. She could tell he was well aware of what had happened at her place. “You don’t know?” she challenged.
"How would I know, Cassidy? Are you insinuating I had a part in whatever it was?" he drawled.
"I'm more than insinuating, Tylo. I'm saying it to your face. You did it yourself, or you had some of your boys do it. Either way, my family's graves were desecrated during the night."
Hunt flicked the ash from the end of his cigar into a huge copper ashtray and leaned forward. "I don't take kindly to people coming on my land and accusing me of doing things I don't know anything about," he said in a menacing tone.
"You told me there'd be trouble if I fenced my place. You know I ordered the barbed wire. The trouble began last night."
"The whole town knows you ordered the wire, Cassidy. And I never threatened you. I just gave you a friendly warning. There are a lot of folks around here who don't take kindly to the idea of barbed wire. It could have been any one of them who was at your place last night. But it wasn't me,"
Cass took a step toward the desk, a menacing scowl darkening her features.
"Are you going to shoot me here in my own study, Cassidy?" he asked mockingly.
"I'd like to, Tylo. I'd like to."
"Talk is cheap, Cassidy. So until you can prove I'm guilty of anything, or you're ready to pull the trigger on one of those Colts, get the hell off my land," he ordered.
Cass scowled and stood her ground. She wanted so badly to rid the world of Hunt Tylo. She knew in her gut he was the man she'd been seeking for so long. "I'll be waiting for your next move, Tylo." She ground the words out between clenched teeth.
Hunt laughed at her. "You do that, Cassidy. And we'll see who loses more sleep, me or you."
Cass turned on her heel and stormed from the room. As she flung open the front door, she ran headlong into Ramsey.
“Cass? What is it? What's wrong?” he asked when he saw her expression.
Cass looked up into his thin face, his pale blue eyes. She shook her head. "Go ask your father,” she said, stomping away from him.
"My father? What's my father got to do with anything?” he questioned, alarms going off in his head. He followed her down he porch steps and stood by as she swung up into the saddle.
Cass looked down on him from her vantage point high atop her horse. The sun glinted off Ramsey’s blond hair. His complexion had tanned some since he’d arrived home, giving him a healthier look than he’d had when he arrived, but she still found him wholly unappealing. “Just go talk to your father. I'm sure he'll enjoy filling you in.”
"But, Cass, you're so angry. You're not angry with me, are you?" He let himself hope.
She couldn't respond. She couldn't give him any encouragement. Right now all she felt was frustration and hatred. She finally spat out a reply, "We'll talk later, Ramsey." Then she glanced up at the house. "Maybe,” she added. Tugging on the reins, she turned her horse around. “Good-bye, Ramsey," she said. Spurring her mount, she took one last look over her shoulder as she headed toward town, and Brett. She had to tell him what had happened. As she rode away, she could hear Ramsey bellowing for his father, demanding to know what he'd done.
Shaking her head, she almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
Brett had just come out of the hotel where he’d been told Sharky had never shown up again when he saw Cass riding into town. Tugging his hat farther down over his eyes, he walked out to meet her. She was just tying her horse when he approached her. "Cass?" he said with a smile.
Cass whirled to face him, her torment showing clearly on her face.
"What’s wrong? What's happened? Is it Darby? Soony?” he demanded instantly.
"No. Let's go inside," she said, walking toward the door of the sheriff's office.
Once inside, she slammed herself down into the chair in front of the desk, then restlessly stood back up.
"Cass, what's wrong?" Brett asked again.
"It's Tylo," she stated. "He's started the war.”
"What did he do?" Brett's gut clenched tightly as he waited to hear the worst.
"He desecrated my family's graves. He pulled out the headstones and trampled the mounds."
"You saw him do this?"
"Of course not. If I had, he'd be dead."
"If you didn't see who did it, how do you know it was Tylo?"
"I just know."
"You can't accuse a man without proof."
"That's pretty much what he said, but I didn't believe him."
"You confronted him already?" Brett demanded.
"Yes." Cass raised her chin defiantly.
"At the Lazy T?"
“Yes.”
"You are crazy," Brett accused. "Do you know you might have been killed? Jesus, Cass, would you think before you go running off like that?" he scolded.
"Well, I wasn't killed, and I'm not going to be, so you can stop your worrying."
Brett sighed an exasperated breath. "What did Tylo say when you accused him?" he finally asked.
"He denied it, of course" He said a lot of people are angry over the barbed wire, and any one of them could have done it."
"He's right," stated Brett.
"Like hell he's right. He did it, Brett. I know he did. I could tell by the way he looked at me when I accused him of it."
"You think he did it. You don't know it for sure. And until you get some solid evidence against him, there's nothing I can do about it."
"Damn you, Brett. Whose side are you on, anyway,” she demanded.
"I'm on yours, only you're too pigheaded to see it.”
Cass turned her back on him and stomped to the window. Staring out into the street, she saw nothing. She was remembering. Remembering just enough to keep her tormented, but not enough to solve the mystery. Rubbing her temples, she felt Brett walk up behind her.
"Cass, I know how hard this is for you. But you have to trust me. So far, the men you've killed have deserved it, and you've committed no crimes. But if you go out to the Lazy T without proof of Hunt Tylo's involvement in any of this, and you end up shooting him, I'll have to arrest you. Do you understand?"
She nodded, her back still turned on him.
"I'd fight to the death to protect you, but I don't think the good people of Twisted Creek would wait for the circuit judge to convict you. Have you ever seen a lynch mob, Cass? Have you ever seen a man hanged?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"I'd prefer a bullet to a rope any day."
Cass turned slowly to face him. “I know Hunt Tylo did it," she said softly, letting her eyes stare up into his. “And I know this is only the beginning."
Brett thought for a moment. As he stared down into Cass's blue eyes, his heart contracted with emotion. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to take care of her. Suddenly he knew he would feel this way for the rest of his life. Catching his breath as his heart seemed to stop, he realized he'd fallen hopelessly in love with Cassidy Wayne, the Lady of the Gun.
Cass saw a change in Brett's eyes. Somehow they delved deeper into her own. They caressed hers with a gentle emotion that touched her soul. Reaching up with one hand, she touched him on the shoulder. Rising onto her toes, she leaned forward to kiss him tenderly.
Brett saw stars explode behind his eyes as he closed them to receive Cass's kiss. The merest brush of her lips sent him reeling and caused his p
assion to rise to a heated pitch. Opening his mouth, he deepened the kiss that had started out gently, touching her lips with his tongue, then probing deeply when she opened to him.
Cass felt the desire within her flame to life. Brett's taste and smell filled her senses. His touch drove her mad with the urgent need for more. But not now, she thought, not with things the way they were in her life. She pulled away gently.
Brett opened his eyes and gazed down at her curiously.
"I can't. Things are too mixed up right now," she whispered.
He smiled. "That's okay, I understand." He leaned forward and placed his arms around her, pulling her into a protective bear hug.
Cass felt no threats in his embrace. She let her head fall to his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat. He was solid and real. He made her feel safe, and she found herself hoping he would stay in Twisted Creek. Then she remembered why he was staying. She had to tell him she wasn't pregnant.
"Brett?"
"Yes?"
"Brett, I'm not . . ." She stopped"
"Not what?"
If she told him, would he pack up and leave? Not until the new sheriff was elected, probably, but shortly thereafter. Taking a deep breath, she knew she had to be fair to him. Leaning away from him a bit, she said, "Brett, I'm not pregnant."
Brett stood stock-still. He knew he should feel relieved, but he didn't. Looking down at her beautiful face, he realized that he'd been hoping she'd tell him otherwise. "Oh," he murmured.
"Aren't you happy about it?" she asked quietly.
"Sure," he answered. Releasing her from his arms, he stepped back a few feet and leaned on the back of the chair. He studied her features, her eyes, her nose, her skin, her mouth. He loved every one. He loved almost everything about her, everything except her need to exact revenge for the murder of her family. But even that couldn't change the fact that he'd fallen in love with her. If she’d been pregnant she would have been tied to him forever. Now he had to find another way to stay close to her. “I’ve decided to run for sheriff," he said suddenly.
Cass blinked at his rapid change of subject. “You have?”