by Faye Adams
"Why?"
"I just want to know what I'm up against. If you taught Henry and I beat him, I can no doubt beat you. It makes sense," she tried a little rattling of her own.
Bobby chuckled. "Trying to ruffle my feathers?" he asked.
"A little, maybe. We both know what we’re doing," she offered, seeing him sidestep again.
"That we do, Miss Wayne. That we do," he said calmly, as though he had all the time in the world to spend standing in the street.
Cass realized this man was different. He wasn't in a hurry. And he wasn't afraid. He just might beat me, she thought in surprise. In all other gunfights, she had known the danger of dying was present. There was always the possibility she'd underestimate her opponent. There was the possibility of a lucky shot from a man who normally couldn't have beaten her on his best day. But this time was different. She could feel it in her bones. She'd have to be at her very best to win this duel. Raising her jaw slightly, she readied herself to draw.
Bobby instinctively adjusted his stance. He could see the time was drawing near.
Cass felt his every move, his every breath. Facing down a gunman was like becoming a part of his soul for a brief period. She realized it was a little like making love, only instead of creating life, you created death.
She thought about making love to Brett. If she died here today he would never know she loved him. Yes, she realized, she loved him with all her heart. It was so blazingly clear. Why hadn't she seen it until now, when she was staring death in the face?
Then something caught her eye. Several people had seen what was happening and stepped into the street to watch. Ramsey was standing behind Bobby Fleet. Then he reached up to lower the brim of his hat to shade his eyes, something flashed in the sunlight. Cass blinked. There was another flash as Ramsey moved his hand again.
Suddenly it was a morning five years earlier. She was lying on her stomach in the tall grass not far from her home. Becky was screaming as she died inside the burning house. Her brothers lay dead in the dirt. Her mother was crying over her dead husband's body. One of the murderers pulled her away from her husband and shot her. "This one's for the old man," he said, laughing. Then Cass saw the dark figure on horseback sitting not far from the mayhem. He started to come into focus. He was laughing and waving his gun - his silver gun. "Come on, boys, we're through here. I'll take care of Cassidy myself later," he shouted waving to the murderers again. Only it wasn't a silver gun that flashed so brilliantly in the sunlight. It was a heavy silver chain. Ramsey’s silver bracelet. It was Ramsey! Ramsey! her heart screamed. It had been Ramsey all along!
She was back on the street facing down a gunfighter, but she could see Ramsey behind him. Ramsey the murderer!
Cass had looked away from the gunman for only a second, but that one second was all Bobby needed. She knew it too late. His arm had jerked downward before she could clear leather. Dropping as she drew, Cass pulled her guns, aimed, and fired. The explosions of gunfire ripped apart the stillness of the late morning. Cass felt the impact of the bullet as it slammed into her chest just below her right shoulder.
Brett heard the gunfire and raced out of Rosie's house to see what was going on. The scene that met his eyes nearly killed him. Cass lay bleeding in the street, and a man lay not far from her. Several people were running closer. “Cass!" he shouted in anguish as he rushed to her side. Kneeling in the dirt, he felt for her pulse. It was weak. "What did you do?" he cried. Picking her up, he ran for the doctor's office.
"Doc!" he yelled as he charged inside. The waiting room was empty. "Doc!" he yelled again.
"What is it?" the doctor asked, coming out from behind the curtain carrying a sandwich.
"Cass has been shot, Doc."
The doctor dropped his sandwich on the floor and ran to hold the curtain back. "Bring her in here," he said.
Brett rushed past him, carrying Cass into the examination room.
"Put her here," the doctor indicated an exam table.
Brett gently laid Cass on the table. "Do something, Doc. Don't let her die."
The doctor pulled Cass's shirt away from her body. Inserting scissors in the hole the bullet had made in the fabric, he started cutting. The shirt was soon lying open over her chest. "It looks pretty bad," he commented.
Brett swallowed hard. His heart was slamming against his chest in terror that she'd die. "What can I do?" he pleaded.
"Just let me do what I have to do," the doctor answered. "Please wait outside."
Brett glowered at the doctor. "You couldn't get me to leave by threatening me with a bear rifle," he said.
The doctor sighed. "Suit yourself." He proceeded to probe the wound. "The bullet didn't go through… but I can't feel it. That means it probably ricocheted around inside her a bit. I'll have to go in after it."
Brett watched as the doctor began to cut. His heart ached a little more with each incision, and he wished it could have been him on the table in her place.
"It nicked her lung," the doctor said after a moment.
"Doc?" Brett said anxiously.
"I think she'll be all right, Marshal," the doctor replied. He continued to search for the bullet.
Several people peered into the room through the curtain. "How's she doin', Doc?" one of them asked.
"Wait outside, please," the doctor told them. "I'll talk to you later."
"Somebody sent for Soony. We figured he'd want to know what's happened," someone else said.
"Fine. Fine," said the doctor, feeling around inside Cass's chest with his fingers.
"And we sent that dead gunslinger to the undertaker's. Cass nailed him right between the eyes. That girl can sure shoot."
Brett glanced briefly at the faces of the people trying to see how Cass was doing. He could see Rosie crying between two of them. Leaving Cass's side for only a moment, he went over to her. "Rosie, you go on home. I'll let you know how she'd doing as soon as I can," he told her.
Rosie nodded and turned to leave. Brett noticed an expression of fear fill her face as she stepped out onto the sidewalk. Then he saw Ramsey on the opposite side of the street. If that bastard says one word to Rosie, I'll kill him, he thought. He walked outside and watched her make her way home. Ramsey watched her too, but he didn't approach her. Brett glared at the man. "It won't be long until I lock you up," he whispered to himself.
Back at Cass's side a few seconds later, he jumped when the doctor began shouting. Brett questioned, "What is it, Doc?"
"I found the bullet! I found it!" the doctor exclaimed.
“Take it out," Brett urged.
"It'll take me a little while. It's lodged inside her right shoulder blade. I have to be careful digging it out."
It took the doctor several minutes to remove the bullet, then another half hour to close up the wound. As he bandaged her, he looked up at Brett. "Now we pray," he said softly.
"Pray?"
"I did what I could. The Lord has to do the rest."
"But she'll be all right, won't she, Doc?" Brett urged.
The doctor shrugged. "She lost a lot of blood, and though no arteries were severed, the bullet did nick the lung. She could get an infection. She could get pneumonia. She won't be out of the woods for a while, Marshal."
Brett looked down at Cass's beautiful face, so pale right now, and felt tears welling up in his eyes. "I love her, Doc," he said softly.
“I know you do," the doctor answered, pretending not to see Brett’s tears.
Soony burst in through the curtain. "Missy Cass!" he exclaimed. "She's shot?"
Brett nodded. "But she'll be fine, Soony."
Soony crossed to where Cass lay unconscious. "She looks so white," he said, taking her hand. "Missy Cass, get well please," he said quietly to her.
Brett looked around the examination room and frowned. He'd completely forgotten about Darby. "Where's her uncle?"
"Darby is at Mrs. Wettle's home," answered the doctor.
"I thought you said you wanted him to stay h
ere overnight so you could watch him," said Brett.
"I did. But he woke up and had ideas of his own. I couldn't fight both him and Mrs. Wettle," the doctor explained. "I told him I wouldn't be responsible for what happened if he left. Mrs. Wettle said she would be."
Soony looked up from Cass. "Mr. Darby says he likes it fine at Mrs. Wettle's house. He's sleeping in her bed." He let his gaze fall back to Cass.
Brett and the doctor exchanged glances. Soony obviously didn't realize how his words sounded.
"Mr. Darby will worry about Missy Cass," Soony murmured.
"Oh, no," Brett sighed. "I promised to let Rosie know how Cass is doing." He gazed at Cass's pallor. "I'm afraid to leave her for even a little while, Doc," he said.
"She'll sleep for hours, Marshal. Maybe days. She'll never know you left."
“But will she still be here when I come back?" he breathed.
The doctor hesitated. "The good Lord willing.”‘
Brett said a silent prayer. "All right. I'll be back as soon as I can."
Brett left the office and went to Rosie's house. Finding the door unlocked worried him. Had Rosie forgotten to lock it? Knocking gently, he pushed it open. He could hear Rosie crying inside. "It's all right, Rosie. Cass is alive. She's going to be fine," he called, willing his words to be true. Entering the kitchen, he found Rosie bent over the sink crying. "Rosie, did you hear me? She's alive." He touched her on the back. When she turned to face him, he cursed with rage, "I'll kill that bastard!"
Rosie's nose was bleeding and one eye was swelling shut. "Ramsey came in right after I got back from the doctor's office," she sobbed.
"I'm going after him, Rosie."
"He'll kill you. He hates you for stealing Cass away from him."
"Cass was never his," he hissed.
"He thought she was, or that she could be. Your arrival in town changed all that. He kept saying something about his father being angry he'd botched things up so badly. He's crazy, Marshal."
"Crazy people belong in institutions. I'll do what I can to see to it he spends some time in one, the state prison. Did he say where he was going when he left here?"
"He said he was going home, but don't go out there, Marshal," she pleaded.
"Don't worry about me, Rosie. I'm going out to the Lazy T, and I'll be fine. I have to be. Cass needs me."
Rosie nodded.
Brett left Rosie locked in her house and headed for the sheriff’s office. He was going to take an extra rifle with him when he went to the Lazy T. Crossing the street, he passed Mrs. Thompson's energetic nephew, Buster.
"Howdy, Marshal," said Buster. "How's Miss Wayne doing?"
Brett stopped and looked at the red-haired young man. "She's going to be fine."
"I'm right glad to hear that. She seems like a nice person. Sure can shoot, too," he said with some awe.
'"Yes, she's special." Brett looked at the young man. "Are you still searching for a job, Buster?"
"Yes, sir."
"Are you set on punching cows?'
Buster shrugged. "It's all I know how to do."
"Ever thought about being a lawman?"
"Who, me? You're joking with me, aren't you, Marshal?"
"No, Buster. I've never been more serious. I'm running for sheriff in this town. If I win, I'll need a deputy. I think you'd be perfect for the job."
"Gosh, Marshal, I guess I'd love that," said Buster, a giant grin stretching across his freckled face.
"Good. Would you be willing to do something for me now?"
"Sure thing."
“I have to go somewhere for a while. I'll probably be gone several hours. There's a lady in that house over there," he pointed to Rosie's house, "who needs some protection. Would you go sit with her until I get back?"
"You just want me to sit with her?"
“I hope that's all you'll have to do. If Ramsey Tylo tries to get in to see her . . . shoot him," he said.
"Shoot him?" asked Buster, his eyes wide.
"Shoot him."
"Dead, sir?"
"Can you do it, Buster? I need to know."
"You betcha."
Brett grinned. "I knew I could count on you, Buster. I'll see you later.” He turned and headed for the office once more.
Riding onto Lazy T land a while later, Brett was surprised not to be met by armed riders. He rode right up to the house and dismounted. Knocking on the door, he waited only seconds before Hunt Tylo himself swung the door wide "I've come for Ramsey, Mr. Tylo," he announced, entering the house.
"What for?" Hunt asked belligerently.
“Rape and assault," Brett said as he walked deeper into the house.
"Hah! My boy never had to rape any woman. Who's telling such lies? That dirty little waitress, Rosie, right?"
"It doesn't matter who's doing the accusing, Mr. Tylo. The crime's the same no matter who the victim is."
"There is no victim. And you can't just barge into a man's home and start snooping around," his voice boomed as he followed Brett through the house.
"Yes, I can. Ramsey made it very easy for me. I was about to draw up a warrant and get it to the circuit judge to sign, but now I don't have to. Ramsey beat up Rosie again today. I'm in pursuit of a criminal, Mr. Tylo. I'm going to arrest your son and put him behind bars." He continued to search through the many rooms of the house.
"Like hell you are."
"I hope it’s like hell for him, Tylo. Now, where is he?"
"He's not here. And you can look all you want for him. You won't find him."
"You've hidden him."
"He's my son."
"Are you willing to let him get away with rape and assault just because he's your son?" he asked, searching through bedrooms.
"I still say he didn't do anything wrong. That little slut's been after him for years," Hunt said, following the marshal as he searched through the house.
Brett wanted to smash Tylo's face in with the butt of his rifle, but he controlled the impulse. He stopped searching and turned to stare at Hunt. "Her name is Rosie," he said through clenched teeth. "If I ever hear you call her anything that filthy again I'll knock you on your ass, Tylo. Do you understand?"
Hunt glared at Brett. "I'm entitled to my opinion," he stated defiantly.
"Not around me, you're not," said Brett.
"You're asking for more trouble here than you can handle, Marshal," Tylo said.
"I don't take kindly to threats."
"I don't threaten. I promise."
"And I get justice. Remember that, Tylo." He turned and headed back toward the front door. He hadn't found Ramsey in the house, and the Lazy T was a big place. He could be hiding anywhere. "You tell your son I'm looking for him, Tylo. You tell him the next time I see him I’ll arrest him'"
He stormed down the porch steps and swung up into the saddle.
Hunt walked out onto the porch. "And you hear me, Marshal. If you ever trespass on the Lazy T again without a warrant I'll shoot you on sight."
"I guess we know where we stand, don't we, Tylo?" Brett ground out.
"I guess we do."
Brett tugged the reins, directing his mount away from the house. He spurred the animal to a gallop, frustrated he'd been unable to find Ramsey. "I'll get you next time, Ramsey," he hissed into the wind. "But right now Cass needs me."
After Brett was out of sight, Ramsey sauntered out of the house and stood by his father. "I guess I'll have to kill him," he said, staring in the direction Brett had ridden.
"Seems so," answered Hunt. "Do you think you can handle murdering the marshal better than you handled Cassidy?" he questioned.
"Cassidy is a different kind of problem," Ramsey answered. “Besides, Cass may die from that gunslinger's bullet yet."
“I hope you're right. If not… you've had your last chance with her, boy. I want Cassidy dead."
"Don't worry. I'll take care of everything."
Chapter Nineteen
Brett rode like the wind to get back to town. He
cursed the whole way that he'd come up empty-handed in his search for Ramsey. "At least he knows his days are numbered," he breathed.
Before going to the doctor's office, he stopped at Rosie's house to make sure she was all right. He jumped from his horse and took the porch steps two at a time. Buster!"' he yelled, knocking on the door.
Buster opened the door and met the marshal with a grin. “Yes, sir?"
Brett couldn't help but return Buster's smile. It was infectious. "I wanted to let you know I’m back. I need to be with Cass, but I don't think Rosie should be left alone. Can you stay on here for a while?"
"Sure thing, Marshal. Rosie's real nice."
Brett smiled again. "Thanks. I'll stop by once in a while to see how you're doing. And I'll send Soony to run errands for you, to get you food and things."
"Will I be here long, sir?" Buster asked.
Brett thought for a moment. "Maybe a few days."
"All right. I guess I'll see you later, then, Marshal." Buster backed away from the door and began closing it.
"Remember what I said about Ramsey," Brett reminded him.
"Dead, sir," Buster said.
Brett smiled and walked away, knowing Rosie was in good hands.
Cass was sleeping peacefully when he entered the doctor's exam room minutes later. "How's she doing, Doc," he asked as he went to her side, taking her left hand in his.
"The same. I told you it might take some time to see a change in her. And then it might not be for the better."
"She's going to be fine," Brett said. "She's got to give me twenty children."
The doctor's eyebrows went up. "Whatever you say, Marshal. But do you mind if she recovers first?"
Brett looked up at the doctor and smiled. “Not at all.”
“I’ll be back in my apartment. Call me if she wakes up before I return,” the doctor said.
Brett nodded and watched him go. He then turned his attention to Cass. She was so beautiful, even pale and weak, her dark chestnut hair framing her face with soft curls. Looking at her features, he saw her lashes sending long shadows over her cheekbones. He let his gaze follow their path, slipping downward to her mouth, her lips pallid with just a touch of blue at the corners. How he longed to see those lips pink and curled up into a teasing smile again. "You've got to pull through this, Cass. I love you," he whispered.