by Faye Adams
Brett took Cass into his arms and began to move with the music. He gazed down into the blue of her eyes and felt his heart pounding fiercely within his chest. "Cass, you're the most beautiful woman here," he whispered.
Cass flushed at his words. "I doubt that," she demurred.
“You are," he assured her. "And I'm the lucky man you're dancing with."
"I don't see too many others standing in line, Brett," she said.
"That's because they know they don't stand a chance with you as long as I'm around," he teased warmly.
"Is that so?"
"That's so." He whirled her around in a dizzying circle and felt her begin to laugh. His own laughter mingled with hers as the music ended.
“I need a drink," Cass said breathlessly.
"I'll get you something," Brett offered. "Wait here for me and we'll dance the next one."
"All right," she answered, smiling. As she watched him head toward the tables near the house, she remembered what it felt like to make love to him, and her pulse took a sudden wild leap.
"Cass? May I have the next dance?"
Cass jumped at the voice behind her. "Ramsey? What are you doing here?" she blurted.
Ramsey frowned. "Cass, I was hoping you'd be happy to see me," he pouted.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It's just that . . . Well, you weren't here all day. I didn't expect you to show up now."
"I know, and I'm sorry. I should have come and helped with the barn, but I still find myself a little incapacitated."
Cass looked at his nose. "The swelling around your eyes is about gone, and you're not quite so black-and-blue," she commented. The thinness of his face seemed to exaggerate the bruises left behind by Brett's punch, but she didn't have the heart to be cruel to him. She still felt a little guilty for having let him think she was interested in him.
Ramsey nodded. "I still can't breathe through my nose, though. The doc says it'll be at least another week for that."
He looked so pitiful that she couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
"Cass, please dance with me?"
Cass looked quickly around. Brett hadn't started back with the drinks yet, and the next song had begun. "I guess it wouldn't hurt," she murmured.
"What's that?"
"Nothing," she said. "All right, I'll dance this dance with you."
Ramsey beamed a huge smile, then flinched. "It still hurts to move my face too much," he quickly explained when he saw her curiosity. Taking her in his arms, he began to lead her gracefully around the wooden floor of the barn. She followed him easily, the music flowing through her as she moved, and his heart filled with excitement at her nearness. Pulling her closer to him, he relished the feel of her breasts against him.
"Ramsey, please," she urged, stepping back from him slightly. The feel of him so near reminded her of his advances in the buggy and caused a shiver of revulsion to course through her.
"I'm sorry," he said sheepishly. "But you can’t blame me. You're so beautiful."
"Thank you," she acknowledged his compliment stiffly. Just then she saw Brett at the edge of the dance floor staring blackly at her. She averted her gaze quickly, not wanting to duel with him now. As she glanced elsewhere, she noticed Rosie sitting on a bench in a shadowed corner. She was staring directly at Ramsey.
"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" she asked.
"Of course. Do you think I'd pay you false compliments?" he asked, feigning hurt.
"I don't know. You didn't know I was alive when we were children."
"You've grown up since then."
She glanced back at Rosie. "We've all grown up, haven't we?"
"Yes, and you've become a very exciting woman,"
“Thank you again. What do you think of Rosie?" she asked innocently. "You told me you and she have spent time together. What do you think of her?"
Ramsey studied her for a moment, his jaw tightening. "Why? Has Rosie been talking about me?"
"Not at all. She'll barely speak to me about anything. We're certainly not close enough to discuss men."
"Then why would you ask me about her?"
"I was just remembering how you used to tease her. She was truly afraid of you. I would have never guessed you'd end up friends."
"Yes . . . well . .. she's a nice enough person," he finally said. "But enough about her. Right now I'd like to get a drink. Care to join me?"
"That won't be necessary, Tylo," Brett's voice broke in. "I have Cass's drink right here." He handed her a glass of punch, then placed his hand possessively at her waist.
Ramsey glared at Brett. He was going to destroy this man. "Very well," he murmured. "I'll get myself a drink." He stared down at Cass. "I'll be back to dance with you again," he informed her.
"She'll be busy," answered Brett.
"I'll let the lady decide," challenged Ramsey.
"Brett, Ramsey, that will be enough," Cass cut in. This verbal parrying over her was tiring, especially when it was so unnecessary. Brett knew the only reason she'd paid attention to Ramsey was to get information about his father. "If you'll both excuse me, I have something to take care of," she announced abruptly. Turning her back on the two men, she left the barn and headed toward the house. Once inside, she went to the kitchen where Soony was preparing a fresh pot of coffee. She set her glass of punch on the counter, and thought about Brett and Ramsey, probably still butting heads. There was no satisfaction in having two men fighting over her so ridiculously.
"You look tired, Missy," Soony observed.
"I am tired, Soony," she sighed. "But I don't think I could sleep. I'm going to take a walk. If anyone comes looking for me, tell them I'm lying down."
"Very good," he told her.
Cass left the house and stayed in the shadows, skirting the party and heading toward the Losee. On her way she noticed her uncle and Mrs. Wettle laughing together at a small table set outside. She smiled at the sight.
She looked for Brett's tall form and saw him standing in the open doorway of the barn. He was watching the house, probably looking for her. She searched the faces of the others, looking for Ramsey. Not finding him, she wondered if he'd left. "Not likely," she said out loud.
As she wandered down to the river, she felt herself begin to unwind. The heat of the day had softened, cooling the night with a light breeze. She could hear the leaves rustling overhead, and the trickling, burbling water soothed her frazzled nerves. Sitting down in the tall, soft grass beside the river, she let herself fall back, cradled by the earth, and gazed up at the stars. Maybe I should sleep out here tonight, she thought, this has to be the most peaceful spot on the earth. Closing her eyes, she let her mind wander back to the days before the massacre of her family, back to a time when she'd spent every day laughing with her brothers and sister. She was soon breathing deeply and evenly, dreaming of happy times.
Brett watched the house and waited. Ramsey had disappeared, and that made him nervous. What if he was with Cass? What if he harmed her in some way? Finally, when he'd worried himself into a frenzy, he went to the house.
"Soony, where's Cass?" he asked, entering the kitchen.
"She's sleeping," he answered.
"Sleeping?" Brett asked, disbelieving. "Cass wouldn't go to bed before the party was over," he said.
Soony shrugged. "She said to tell anyone who asked that she'd be sleeping," he repeated.
Brett left the kitchen and stood in the empty living room. Glancing down the hallway, he knew there was only one way to find out. He'd never been in Cass's room, but he needed to find her. If she was in there, and was angry with him for intruding, he'd deal with her anger. And if Ramsey was in there with her . . . His fists doubled up at the thought of punching the blond man again. Turning the doorknob, he pushed open the door. "Cass, are you in here?"
Cass had left a lamp burning low on her nightstand. The room was empty. "Where are you?" he whispered. After backing out of the room and down the hallway, he turned and charged through the living room, then headed
outside. His heart pounded in his chest as he thought of all sorts of horrible things that could be happening to her at that very moment.
Cass lay sleeping in the grass near the Losee. Her dreams were pleasant, fond memories of childhood pranks and loving afternoons. She could see herself running over their land with her brothers. She could see Becky trying to keep up and failing, and the boys finally picking her up and bringing her along. She could see her parents holding hands, following their children on a sun-soaked afternoon.
Then the sun was suddenly blotted out by an ominous black cloud. "No, not again," Cass murmured in her sleep.
The clouds kept coming. Then she heard the hoof beats of the horses…dark horses that carried even darker figures. She could hear her mother cry out in anguish as she watched her husband murdered. She could see her brothers, brave and strong, running toward the house to save Becky. She watched as they were riddled with bullets, their beautiful bodies falling awkwardly to the ground. She heard Becky crying in the house, the flames bursting through the windows. Then she saw her mother, her beautiful mother, lying over her husband's body. She saw the men, two of them, standing over her. One seized her mother's arm and pulled her up while she fought and cursed him. Then she heard the bullet, one bullet for her mother.
Cass was gasping for air. She usually woke up here, but this time as she fought to leave this dream place she found she couldn't. Instead, she heard the men. "This one's for the old man," one of them said, his voice grating in her head like the grinding of a millstone. "This one's for the old man . . . for the old man . . . for the old man... ."
Cass's eyes flew open as she screamed for him to shut up. "Nooo!"
Brett heard Cass scream, and his heart stopped beating. He hadn't found her anywhere at the party and had started looking for her out in the dark. Running toward the sound, he was ready to murder whoever was hurting her. He'd do it with his bare hands. "Cass, where are you!" he shouted.
Cass wasn't sure she was awake yet. Did someone call her? Was her dream another new piece to the puzzle?
"Cass, try to answer me!" Brett called again, running in the direction of her voice.
Cass realized the sound was real. Someone was looking for her. Sitting up and wiping the perspiration from her neck, she called back, "I'm over here."
Brett nearly choked with relief. He'd managed to get very close to her, and within a few seconds he'd reached her. Kneeling beside her, he reached out to make sure she was all right. "Are you hurt?" He felt her forehead and cheeks and found them damp. "Have you been running from someone?" he demanded. "Tell me who it was and I'll kill him. Was it Ramsey?"
"It wasn't anyone," She sighed. "I wasn't running. I was sleeping ... and dreaming."
Brett looked at her, confused. "Dreaming?"
"A nightmare. I don't have them as often as I used to. They're always the same."
"About your family?" he asked softly.
She nodded. "This time I remembered more. I remembered something one of them said."
"Will it help you identify the last man?"
She shook her head. "It doesn't make any sense. He said, 'This one's for the old man.’ I don't know what he meant. What old man, Brett?" Her frustration put an edge in her voice.
Brett touched her gently on the shoulder. "It probably doesn't matter, Cass. It's just another small clue. Someday you'll remember something that will tie all of the details together. Then everything will make sense."
"I hope so. I'm beginning to think I might never catch Tylo," she confessed.
"I know," he murmured.
Pulling her knees up under her chin, she sat very still. "What will I do if I can’t…”
"You'll get on with your life. You'll get married and start having those twenty kids."
She let out a sardonic laugh. "And when those twenty kids ask me what I was like when I was younger, I get to tell them I killed five men . . so far."
"You don't have to tell them."
"If I don't, somebody else sure will."
"I suppose you're right. It's kind of hard to live down being a legend."
"Lady of the Gun?" She grimaced.
“Exactly."
"I can just hear it now. 'Little Suzy, what did your mama do before she got married?' 'Oh, my mama was a killer. She hunted men down and shot them,"' she said sarcastically. "Or how about this one? 'My mama can beat up your mama."'
"Cass, don't do this to yourself. You did what you thought you had to do. Your children will understand""
She looked up at his handsome face, and her heart twisted at the sight of him trying to console her. Sighing heavily, she spoke, “I guess I am what I am, and there's nothing I can do about it now. Everyone has to live with the past. Besides, I'm not through yet. One more man still has to pay.”
Brett stared down into her eyes. "Unless you stop."
"I can't," she whispered.
"Just for tonight?"
Something inside her rebelled against giving up for even a second, but his expression was so plaintive, so eager for her to give an inch. "All right, for tonight it's forgotten."
Brett lowered his head and brushed his lips tenderly across hers. His heart was so full of emotion. "Cass, love me," he whispered over her lips.
“Brett . . ." She tried to pull away.
"Don't fight me, Cass," he begged. "Don't let anything come between us right now."
Cass remembered their first night of passion. It had been hot and fiery, full of blazing passion, an adventure in desire. Their second time together had been just as hot, but even more urgent. Tonight was different. Tonight he was gentle, tender, loving. Letting him lay her down on the soft grass, she relaxed as he bent over her.
Brett covered Cass with his body, letting the sweet warmth from her body mingle with his. He kissed her again and again, touching her face, her neck, her hair. He wanted to love her gently. To take away the hurtful memories. To replace them with something beautiful. "Cass?" he whispered her name. When she nodded, he sat up and began to remove his clothes.
Cass reached up and unbuttoned her shirt. Her trousers, boots and undergarments all came off in order. She then watched as Brett lowered himself over her once more. He entered her slowly, fully. She felt as though her very soul was being filled, and it was wonderful. It was as though something within her that had never quite formed was now becoming complete. She reached up and pulled his face to hers for another kiss. She kissed him as though she was dying of thirst and his lips possessed the sweet spring water from an early morning rain. Meeting his thrusts with her own urgent writhings, she soon felt herself rising to that explosive peak he'd taught her about the first time. "Brett," she gasped his name. "Brett... ""
Brett felt her tightening around him. He thrust again and again until he knew he'd given her what she needed. As she shuddered and cried his name he filled her with his seed, this time praying they'd created a new life.
Afterward Cass lay nude in his arms, contented to stay there, listening to his heartbeat and the night breeze. How could I ever feel any safer than this, she wondered, snuggling closer to him.
Brett felt her stirring against him and pulled her closer to his chest. He loved her so dearly that he wanted never to let go of her. He wanted to build a fortress to keep her in, and to hire a thousand men to protect her. But no, he would never try to lock her up or stifle her. She was a wild thing, fragile in her strength. If he tried to hold her too tight he'd lose her. Sighing against her hair, he breathed almost silently, "I love you."
Cass thought she heard him say something. "'What?" she whispered.
"Nothing. I was just thinking out loud," he whispered back.
After a few seconds she tilted her head up to look at him. "Do you think anyone misses us at the party?” she asked.
"I'd completely forgotten about the party,” he said.
"Me too," she breathed, then giggled.
"But you've got Soony telling anyone who comes looking that you're sleeping, so I don't t
hink anyone will worry.”
"That's true." She cuddled even closer. “You smell good," she said.
"I'm glad you think so," he replied, smiling.
A few seconds passed. "Well?”
"Well what?" he asked,
"Do you like how I smell?”
"I like everything about you,” he growled.
"Everything?"
He thought for a moment. “No. I lied.”
She pushed herself up. "'What don’t you like about me?”
"Your singing," he said. "It’s absolutely awful.”
She began to laugh. "It is, isn’t it? I never could carry a tune."
"I could tell in church. The minister probably wouldn’t care whether or not you wore your guns into the church if you promised not to sing," he teased.
"Take that back!" she ordered.
"I will not. The poor man is probably worried he’ll lose his hearing if he has to listen to you anymore."
"Oh!" She reached out and pinched his arm. “Take that, you beast."
“Brett laughed at her attack. It was hard to picture this beautiful, teasing creature as a gunfighter. Here, naked in the moonlight, she looked more like a wood nymph giggling under the stars. The chestnut curls that lay over her shoulders, half concealing her breasts, glistened in the soft light of the night sky. Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and the lips he so loved to kiss were parted with laughter. Raising one finger, he poked her in the side, testing whether or not she was ticklish, grinning when she squealed. “I’ve got you now," he threatened wickedly.
"No, Brett. No fair tickling," she warned, trying to scoot away from him.
"You have no chance of escape," he said like an evil villain. Grabbing her around the waist, he wiggled his fingers at her rib cage, sending her into a wild fit of giggles.
"Brett " . . you stop . . . this . . this instant!" she shrieked between gasping laughter. "I . . . mean... it!"
Brett continued to tickle her until she lay in a helpless heap of uncontrollable giggles. When he stopped, he pulled her on top of him. "Gee, I guess you're ticklish," he said calmly.