by Faye Adams
Cass felt the deep, intimate growl in Brett's voice. It was the voice of a lover. She tried to smile, but didn't open her eyes. "I might," she attempted to tease back. Brett let his finger graze the silken skin of her jaw. "You might get cold. Besides, isn't the ground getting awfully hard?"
Brett was right. The ground had ceased to be a comforting cradle for their lovemaking and had turned back into a cold, hard, rocky surface she usually wouldn’t walk barefoot over, let alone lay down on. Drawing on all the courage she had inside her, she finally opened her eyes and looked up. Brett was smiling down at her, his gray eyes shining silvery in the moonlight, his dark, almost black hair illuminated from behind by the light. The sight of his handsome features began to melt her insides again. "I guess we'd better go in now," she said, her voice crackling nervously.
"I guess so," Brett agreed. Pushing himself up, he stood, unashamed of his nudity.
Cass blushed at the sight of him. She knew she was being foolish. She'd just made love with this man, yet the sight of his body before her caused the blood to rush to her face. His hand, reaching out to help her up, gave her something to focus her eyes on other than his nude form. She took it, grateful for the concealing darkness. Once standing, she hurriedly looked for her nightgown, bending to snatch it quickly from the ground.
Brett watched as Cass tugged the light gown over her head and down around her body, hiding her luscious curves from his sight. "I guess I'd better get dressed too," he commented.
Cass's gaze fell to the pile of clothes on the ground. "Yes, I think you should," she said quietly.
Brett pulled his clothes on quickly, not bothering to tuck in his shirt or put on his boots.
"Don't you think you should finish dressing before we go back to the house?" Cass asked nervously.
Brett raised an eyebrow at her words. "I am finished. We're just going to go to bed when we get back."
"I beg your pardon?" asked Cass.
Brett took a step backwards. He studied her quietly. "You are going to go to bed in your room, and I am going to go to bed on that awful thing you put me on in the living room," he explained,
Cass lowered her eyes again. "Yes. Yes, of course," she mumbled, "I just didn't want you to think ..." She let her voice trail off.
"I didn't, Cass. Your uncle's in the house. I wouldn't compromise you by trying to climb into bed with you," he said.
"Of course," she stammered, embarrassed by her own assumption. "Then let's go," she said, taking off toward the house.
"Cass," Brett called softly. "Wait."
Cass sighed and stopped walking. "What?" She turned around to face him.
"Cass, we need to talk before we go into the house."
"About what?" she asked as nonchalantly as she could.
Brett glanced down at the site of their lovemaking. "This,” he said pointedly. "What happened here."
Cass swallowed hard. This was a conversation she didn't want to have. She had no idea what he expected or wanted from her. Would he think he now had a say in her life? He didn't. Did he want her to absolve him of responsibility? She would; she was equally to blame. She just didn't want to discuss it, "I'm awfully tired now," she offered. "Besides, it wasn't that big a deal," she said, hoping this would appease him.
Brett let his breath out in a gust. "It wasn't that big a deal?”
"No, so you don't have to worry about me blaming you."
"I don't have to worry about you blaming me?" His eyes widened with surprise.
"Would you please stop repeating what I say?" she asked. "I know men worry about things like this. You don't have to. I don't blame you for what happened."
Brett crossed his arms in front of him, his boots still dangling from one hand. "And just where did you learn that men worry about things like this? From all your vast experience with men, no doubt." He had answered his own question.
Cass clenched her jaw against the anger that began to grow in her middle. “Don't taunt me, Brett. I know what happened here tonight. I just don't want it to change things."
"Between us?" he asked incredulously. "It's too late for that. Things have changed, baby, and they're going to stay changed."
"Like hell they are," she argued. "I made a mistake tonight. I admit it, and now I want to get on with my life. My mistake doesn't have to affect you."
"And what if you're pregnant? I think that would affect me, don't you?"
Cass's heart stopped beating. Pregnant? She hadn't thought that far ahead yet. How could she have been so stupid? Breathing deeply to alleviate some of the shock she was feeling, she glared at him. '"If I'm pregnant, which I doubt, you'll be the first to know. If not . . . we aren't obligated to one another."
"And what if you go and get yourself killed while you're on this ridiculous quest for revenge?" he demanded.
Cass's jaw jutted upward at his remark. "Then I'm dead, and you're none the worse for it," she hissed.
"Hah!" he nearly shouted.
"Shhhh! You want to wake up my uncle Darby and Soony?" she whispered.
"I don't care if I do. If you're killed while carrying my child I'll be a whole lot the worse for it, don't you think?" It occurred to Brett while he was speaking how much he would care if she was killed, and it wouldn't matter whether she was pregnant or not. This woman had gotten completely under his skin in just a matter of hours. And if she was pregnant with his child, he'd be damned if he would let anything happen to her. "You might as well face it, Cass. What you did here tonight pretty much guaranteed that I'm going to be a part of your life for a while."
“You can’t…"
"Just try to stop me. I'm going to see to it that you stay alive despite yourself. Now let's go to bed." He took a step toward her, raising his free hand to guide her to the house.
"Don't touch me," she warned. "Don't you ever touch me again.”
"Whatever you say, sweetheart," he drawled sarcastically.
Cass jerked around and started for the house once more. She didn't hear Brett following her, and she didn't care if he did. "I don't care if you stay out here all night and freeze," she mumbled to herself, though she knew there was no chance of freezing on this lovely summer night.
Brett watched Cass stomp to the house. Once she was inside, he sank down on the same pile of stones she'd been using when he carne upon her earlier. Dropping his boots, he rubbed his eyes hard with the heels of his hands. "How did this happen?" he asked himself. He was usually so careful about avoiding virgins. How did he not know Cass had been one? "Because she's hotter than a brush fire out of control," he grumbled.
As he sat and thought about Cass, he wondered if she would respond to other men's kisses the way she had to his. He doubted it. If she had, she'd have lost her virginity a lot sooner. Pulling on his boots, he started for the corral and barn. He needed to go for a ride. A long one.
Cass heard Brett ride out some time later, “Damn you," she whispered into the darkness of her room. She could see his handsome face as though he stood before her. What was it about him that had caused her to abandon her senses? Other men were as tall as he was. Other men had marvelous body’s, muscular from hard work. Other men had shiny dark hair that curled softly and begged to be touched. Other men even had gray eyes. What was it about Brett that set him apart from the others? "'What?" she breathed. Turning over abruptly and punching her pillow, she cursed into the night. "Damn you, Brett Ryder. Damn you to hell."
Brett rode in frustrated circles for over an hour before he came upon the gate to Hunt Tylo's ranch, the Lazy T. All seemed quiet on the road to the house, and he could see no lights burning in any windows to indicate that anyone was losing sleep. He could hear the faint barking of a dog somewhere behind the house, and he could hear cattle lowing softly in the distance. Then, just as he was about to turn away, he heard a gunshot. Pivoting in the saddle, he listened. The shot had come from far off, and he wasn't sure from exactly which direction. Relaxing a bit, he waited. Who would be shooting this late at night? he
wondered. After quite some time had passed, he decided he wasn't going to hear anything else. With narrowed eyes, and a suspicious heart, he headed back toward the Wayne ranch, and Cass.
Cass forced herself out of bed the next morning. Knowing Brett had left in the night made it easier for her to face everyone, though neither her uncle nor Soony knew how foolish she'd been. As she crossed her room to the washstand, she noticed a tenderness between her legs and an extra sensitivity to her breasts, "Oh, hell," she whispered. It wasn't until she looked at herself in the mirror that she really began to curse.
Facing her reflection, she studied the effects of Brett's lovemaking. Her lips were swollen, looking almost bruised, and her cheeks and neck bore red marks where his whisker stubble had scratched her skin. Uncle Darby and Soony would have to be blind not to notice how she looked.
Trudging back to her bed, she plopped down to sit on it. "What am I going to do?" she asked herself. What am I going to say if they ask what's wrong with me? she wondered. Soony's noises in the kitchen told her breakfast would be ready in a minute, so she had to decide what to do if she was questioned. Finally, after frantically searching her mind for some plausible excuse, she gave up. "If they ask me any questions, I'll tell them it's none of their business," she announced" Hurriedly dressing, she was ready to eat when Soony called down the hall that breakfast was getting cold. She wasn't ready, however, to see Brett sitting at the table and helping himself to some eggs. Her first impulse was to run back and hide in her room.
"Good morning, Cass," called Darby when he saw her emerge from the hallway.
Cass knew she was trapped. "Good morning, Uncle. How are you this morning?" she asked as she continued into the room.
"Fine, fine. Slept like a baby," he told her. “Come sit down now. Soony says the breakfast's getting cold."
"Soony always says the breakfast's getting cold," she replied. As she crossed the room, her heart hammered out of control at the sight of Brett's broad back as he sat facing away from her. He hadn't said anything yet. He was probably waiting to say something scathing to her after she'd sat down. She decided she'd speak first and not give him the opportunity to make any smart remarks. "Good morning, Brett. Did you sleep well?” she asked innocently.
Brett eyed Cass as she sat down. "You know I didn't," he answered.
"Oh , . ." she stammered.
"You didn't sleep well?" asked Darby.
Brett didn't take his eyes off Cass as he spoke to her uncle. "No, so I went out for a ride."
"In the middle of the night?"
"Mmmm," answered Brett, still studying Cass. "That's when I saw Cass." He directed a question to Cass. "How are you feeling this morning?"
Cass's eyebrows went up in startled surprise at his question. Last night he'd said he wouldn't compromise her by trying to sleep with her, but that had been before she'd angered him. Apparently he felt the need to get even. "I'm fine," she said deliberately. "Why wouldn't I be fine?"
"Well, after the fall you took out there in the trees I'd have thought you'd be a little sore."
"Fall?" Darby questioned. "You took a fall out in them trees? I've told you and told you not to go walking around out there in the dark, but do you listen to me? Of course not. Now you've gone and taken a spill. Let me look at you… Yes, I see you got scratched up some. Well, it's no more than you deserve. You're lucky you didn't break your stubborn neck. Now maybe you'll listen to me when I tell you something."
Cass only half heard Darby’s tirade. It had taken her a second to realize that Brett had covered for her, giving her an excuse for the marks on her face, and then she couldn't tear her eyes from his. He winked at her as he raised a cup of coffee to his lips, and her heart did a little flutter. "Thank you," she mouthed.
"And you found her in the dark?" continued Darby.
"Yes. She'd just fallen as I rode back into the yard. I heard the sound and went to investigate. I have to say I was surprised to discover what Cass is capable of doing in the dark." He winked at her again, his eyes twinkling at the double meaning of his statement. He grinned when he saw her face redden.
"Well, yes. Cass is a capable person," agreed Darby. "But I still don't like the idea of you walking around in the middle of the night," he added, glaring at his niece.
"I have to agree with your uncle, Cass," Brett said solicitously. "I mean, if some other man had come along last night . . .you never know what might have happened."
Cass glowered at trim. His barbed remarks hit her just as he intended, and she didn't like it one bit. "I suppose you're right," she said sweetly. "Anyone else might have taken advantage of me. I hate to think what might have happened if I'd been found by a cad, someone with no moral fiber. I daresay if that had happened I wouldn't be sitting here calmly eating breakfast. I’m sure I’d be in my room crying my eyes out at my lost innocence."
Brett choked on a bite of biscuit, red-faced in response to the meaning behind her words. Darby began pounding him on the back, and Soony rushed to help in the rescue. Cass grinned widely. Picking up two biscuits, she rose and sauntered to the door. Opening it, she turned her back on the scene. Brett continued choking, coughing loudly, tears streaming from his eyes. He tried to get up to follow her, but was pushed back down into his chair by Soony. Uncle Darby continued to beat him between the shoulder blades. "I think I’ll go for a walk," Cass informed them breezily. She giggled as she stepped outside into the early morning sunshine.
Chapter Seven
You're not going with me, Cass," Brett argued later that morning. He tugged on his saddle cinch one last time and turned to face her. "And that's final."
Cass glared up at him. "I'm going, and you can't stop me. Tylo killed Sheriff Jackson, and I'm certain he had something to do with my family's deaths. If anyone has a right to question him, I do."
Brett let out an exasperated breath. "You don't know that Tylo had anything to do with either crime." He held up a hand to silence the protest she was about to make. “You have no evidence. Do you know what evidence is, Cass? It's facts. Facts that prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the accused actually committed a crime. All you have is a gut feeling. Gut feelings might help in an investigation, but they don't hold up in court. And if Hunt Tylo had anything to do with Sheriff Jackson's death, or with your family's, then I'll do my best to prove it and see that he's brought to justice."
"And if you go out to the Lazy T and ask him if he's a murderer, and he says no, then what? You just let him go?" Cass demanded. "Do you think he's going to tell you he did it? He might need some persuading.” She rested her right hand over the butt of the gun at her right hip.
“That kind of persuading can only hurt your cause, not help it." He stepped closer to her. “Listen to me, Cass. If Hunt Tylo is the man you think he is, he’s a lot more dangerous than the others you caught up with.”
"A bullet won't think so," she stated firmly.
Brett shook his head. "You're not going with me."
Cass glowered defiantly up at him. “If I don’t go with you, Marshal Ryder, I'll go by myself.”
Brett turned away from her and let his head fall back, raising his arms in an exasperated arch. “Most damned stubborn woman I ever met," he growled to the sky. When he turned back around she was staring hard at him.
“Well?” she asked.
“All right, fine," he groused. “But you listen to me.” He took a threatening stance. "I'm in charge. I ask the questions. You just stand there and listen. And if you hear something you don't like, you wait until we're out of there before you tell me about it. You don't make assumptions, and you don't start shooting. Do you understand me?”
"But… "
"No buts, Cass. If you do anything to hamper this investigation I’ll throw your pretty ass in jail. You got it?”
Cass clenched her teeth and squinted in anger at him. Moments passed while she decided whether or not to believe him. The look in his steely eyes gave her the answer. “I've got it," she finally grumbled.
“Good." Brett stepped over to his horse and swung up into the saddle in one smooth movement. He watched as Cass did the same.
The ride out to the Lazy T gave Cass time to think about what Brett had said. He was right about one thing. If Hunt Tylo did have her family killed and if he had something to do with Sheriff Jackson's death, as she believed, then he was more dangerous than the others she’d found and dealt with.
The men she'd caught up with had been common criminals. Too evil or stupid to do anything worthwhile with their lives, they'd turned to crime as a way of life. She'd caught one of them, a man named Slick Henry, outside a small town about three hundred miles north of Twisted Creek. He'd taken up with a whore named Lucy Mae and was pimping for her, an occupation he'd found most appealing as Lucy Mae did all the real work and he kept all her money. Cass remembered the poor woman didn't seem too upset when Slick lay dead on the street. She didn't even blame Cassidy for shooting him. Slick had been a blight on society.
The other three men Cass had hunted down had fallen into similar categories. One was suspected of robbing a stage. She'd found him out on the range, camped for the night. He'd gone for his gun, and she'd sent him to meet his Maker.
Another of the remaining two had run to Mexico to hide. She'd called him out in a cantina just over the border. A blink of an eye later, he'd cursed her as he died.
The fourth man had been in jail in Denver. She'd paid his bail to get him released, then met him in the street in front of the sheriff's office. She'd been arrested that time, the sheriff there thinking Denver was too big and sophisticated a town to allow gunplay in the streets. It didn't matter; the murderer had fallen like his comrades before him, and she'd been released from jail with no charges filed.
It was there the trail had grown cold. Always before, she'd been able to glean information from the people the murderers had associated with. But at that point she had nothing further.
Realizing she wasn't too far from Twisted Creek, she'd decided to go home and check on Darby. It was while she traveled homeward that the idea had struck her: there were no further clues to the fifth man's whereabouts because he'd never left the area. He'd been in Twisted Creek all along.
