Lady of the Gun

by Faye Adams

  "Certainly, sir. Just let me get my reticule from the house."

  Ramsey followed Cass into the tiny house and looked around. She’d had the house built shortly after the murder of her family, and her uncle had lived there and tended the place while she was gone. All this he'd learned from his father’s letters. "You have a lovely home, Cass," he ventured.

  "Thank you, Ramsey. It's nowhere near as impressive as your home, but it's comfortable," she answered' "Ready?"

  "Hello, Ramsey," said Darby as he entered from his bedroom.

  "Hello, sir. You must be Cass's uncle Darby." Ramsey held out his hand.

  "Yes, that's right. You don't remember me?" Darby shook his hand.

  "Sorry. It's been a long time since I was home last. Before that, I have to admit, I was a little wild. I didn't set too much store on meeting or knowing anyone much older than I was. Childish pride, I suppose," Ramsey offered in explanation.

  “I suppose," replied Darby. "Would you care for a drink before you two leave?"

  "Uncle Darby, Ramsey does not want a drink now. It's barely past noon." She turned to Ramsey. "I'm sorry. My uncle has a habit of drinking much too early in the day."

  She then faced Darby. "And I certainly wish he'd stop it," she said meaningfully.

  "Don't badger me, girl," said Darby. "'When a man gets as old as I am, he has a right to drink whenever he chooses. Isn't that right, Ramsey?"

  "Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir," Ramsey said with a grin.

  "But, Ramsey, don't you think…"

  "I'm not getting in the middle of this," he interrupted, holding up his hands in surrender.

  When he raised his arms, Cass noticed he was wearing a heavy chain around his wrist. "'What's that?" she asked, pointing to the bracelet.

  Ramsey looked down. "It's something my father gave me. See, here are my initials on the side"" He turned his wrist so she could see the monogram RST.

  "Very nice," she complimented him.

  "I've always worn it," he responded quietly, smiling.

  "Well, I guess we'd better get started to town, I don't want to miss anything."

  Ramsey bowed again. "Your wish is my command, fair lady."

  "Good-bye, you two," said Darby. "Have fun, and Ramsey, take good care of my girl, won't you?" He felt a little melancholy about Cass going off with a young man. He knew she would probably have been married and settled down with children of her own by now if she hadn't used up the last five years hunting down criminals, but seeing her like this, all dressed up and going out, made him realize it might not be long before she married and went to live in another man's house. He glanced at them and hoped it wouldn't be Ramsey she lost her heart to.

  Cass glanced at her uncle and thought she read a little sadness in his eyes.

  "I'll take excellent care of her, sir," Ramsey promised.

  Cass still studied her uncle. “Would you like to join us, Uncle?" she asked.

  “Not on your life. I'd only be in the way. Besides, Soony and I might come to town later ourselves. Soony doesn’t like anyone else's cooking, but I know he’ll like the fireworks," Darby told her, the momentary sadness gone.

  "Good, then I hope we see you there. Maybe we can all sit together during the fireworks display.” She turned to Ramsey. "Would that be all right?”

  Ramsey hesitated only a second before answering. He had plans of his own for Miss Cassidy Wayne, and they didn't include chatting with her uncle, but if that was what it took to get what he wanted from her, so be it. “We’d love to have you join us, sir."

  Darby felt the second of Ramsey’s hesitation tick by slowly. He knew he couldn't blame the young man for not wanting him to butt in on his time with a pretty girl, but it made him just the tiniest bit angry, anyway. “We’ll see,” he answered. "Maybe Soony and I will find you in the crowd and maybe we won't."

  Cass leaned forward and put her hands on either side of Darby's whiskered cheeks. Tilting his face down, she kissed him on the top of his head. "I hope you’ll find us,” she said quietly. She then turned to Ramsey, smiling. “Let’s go."

  The ride to town wasn’t pleasant; Ramsey tried to be entertaining, relating what he thought were amusing stories about his life at college, but a few of his college pranks had bordered on cruelty. One in particular made her skin crawl. It seemed one of his dormitory mates was unable, for whatever reason, to keep his room up to standards. The rules were such that if any room failed inspection, they all did, and the students lost privileges because of it. Ramsey’s prank, or revenge, was to find out what frightened the young man most and to use it against him. It seemed he feared death and was very superstitious, having been raised in the deep South by a nanny who practiced voodoo. One night Ramsey and a bunch of his cronies broke into the nearby funeral parlor and stole a corpse. Bringing it back to the dormitory, they placed it under the boy's bed. In a very short time the stench made the discovery imminent. A note was attached to the corpse, telling the young man to clean under his bed more often. He was so traumatized by the incident that he ended up leaving school.

  Cass noticed the relish with which Ramsey told the story, and though she smiled for him when he told it, she was repulsed by the tale. After that, she could find no way to bring up the subject of her family's murder without adding to the gruesome mood Ramsey had set.

  As they neared town, Cass could hear the music of a band. "The parade has started!" she exclaimed. "Hurry, Ramsey," she urged, hoping to lift the pall on her spirits a bit.

  Ramsey pulled the horses to a stop just outside the livery and put on the hand brake. "We'll leave the horses here and walk. You don't mind, do you?"

  Cass could see the street was crowded with buggies and wagons. It seemed everyone had come to town for the celebration. "0f course I don't mind."

  "You're wonderful," Ramsey told her. Climbing down from the buggy, he held out his hands to assist her.

  Cass glanced uncertainly at his hands before she gave him hers and stepped from the buggy. It was then he pulled her to him.

  Ramsey bent his head and stole a kiss, pressing his lips firmly to hers.

  Cass was so shocked by Ramsey's unexpected behavior that she didn't know what to do except stand there. His lips were dry and too hard, pressing roughly against hers. He pulled her to him swiftly and held her tightly, his thinness apparent in the sensation of his ribs pressing into her chest. "Don't!" she finally said, frowning, trying to step back from him, turning her head away from his mouth.

  Ramsey released her reluctantly and looked at Cass. “You find my kiss distasteful?" he asked when he saw her frown.

  Cass fumbled for an answer. She didn't want to offend him, as she hadn't yet found the moment to question him about his father, but she certainly wasn't a good enough actress to make him think she'd enjoyed his kiss. “Oh, no, Ramsey, I'm sorry. I was thinking of something else,” she blurted.

  "I don't know if that's any better,” he said sardonically.

  "No ... I mean ... I'm sorry. I can't explain it. I liked your kiss, really I did.” She tried to lie. “It’s just that you took me by surprise." She looked up into his pale eyes and smiled. Briefly, something in the cold depths of his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. Then he smiled back at her, his features softening boyishly. Had she imagined seeing that short moment of dark emotion?

  "That's all right, my dear. I’ll try to do better later,” he promised, giving her a lecherous grin and holding out his arm to her.

  Cass took his arm and let him lead her toward the music.

  Brett scowled blackly from just inside the livery. He’d been looking for the smithy to tell him he'd found a will among Sheriff Jackson's things and that, according to the will, Jackson had left his horse and saddle to his sister. Since the horse had been taking up space in the livery, Brett wanted to let the smithy know about the will.

  He hadn't found the smithy. Instead, he’d witnessed a scene that had made his blood boil. How dare Ramsey Tylo kiss Cass? And why the hell didn’
t she slap his face when he did it? Clenching both fists at his sides, he fought the impulse to rush out and beat the man to a pulp. Just as he was losing the battle, he saw them turn and walk away. "You don't want me to follow you, Cass? Too bad. I'm going to stick to you like a tick on a hound dog,” he grumbled between clenched teeth.

  Cass accepted the glass of lemonade Ramsey held out to her. Putting it to her lips, she sipped the cool liquid. "Mmmm, delicious," she murmured after she’d swallowed. It was hot standing in the sun watching the parade, and Ramsey had purchased the libation from a street stand.

  "Almost as delicious as you are,” he whispered, leaning closer. His first attempt to sway Cass in his favor hadn’t turned out the way he'd hoped. She hadn't responded to his kiss as he'd wished. In fact, she'd acted slightly repulsed by it.

  Cass blushed slightly at his suggestive statement. She was uncomfortable with Ramsey's sexual attentions, but she refused to admit that maybe she'd taken on more than she could handle. He was her best link to Hunt. Sipping her lemonade once more, she decided that not commenting on Ramsey's innuendo was the wisest move, so she turned her attention back to the parade.

  A small circus had found its way to town that very morning, and some of its performers and their animals had joined the parade. A baby elephant was marching past, a tiny man riding on its back, and Cass laughed as the man lifted his hat to her. It was then she noticed Brett on the opposite side of the street, watching her through the crowd. When their eyes met, he winked and tipped his hat to her also. Feeling her pulse rate increase to a fevered tempo, she looked away. Why did he have such an effect on her? She wondered.

  "There's the marshal, my dear," announced Ramsey. "Oh, damn, sorry, but he's coming our way."

  Cass looked back across the street to the spot Brett had occupied. It was empty. As she turned to search the crowd, he appeared in front of her. "Hello, Cass," he said, ignoring Ramsey. "You’re as pretty as a moonlit night," he said softly.

  "How very poetic, Marshal. I didn't know you had it in you," drawled Ramsey.

  Cass stared up into Brett's silver-gray eyes. She knew what he meant. He was reminding her of that night. Her heart beat wildly, and she was suddenly much hotter than she'd been moments before. She remembered the way he'd looked and felt. She remembered the way he'd tasted and the things they'd done together. "I, ah . . .My, it's warm out here," she finally stammered.

  "Yes, it is," agreed Ramsey. "Quite unpleasant," he stated, staring hard at Brett. "Let's go into the hotel and rest for a while."

  “That sounds like a good idea, Ramsey,” Brett parried.

  “I didn’t mean for you to join us, Marshal,” Ramsey said rudely, a cold edge to his voice"

  "I didn't say I was joining you. I just agreed it might be a good idea to go inside to cool off."

  Ramsey lowered his eyelids perceptibly. “Very well. Come, Cass." He touched her arm.

  Cass saw the tense set to Ramsey’s jaw, the way his eyes narrowed. It made her nervous to see such anger being held in check. She suddenly wished she’d worn her guns to town, then picturing herself in her beautiful dress with her guns strapped to her hips brought a cloud over her mood as swiftly as if someone had just blotted out the sun.

  Brett noticed the change in her. “What’s wrong, Cass?"

  Lowering her eyes, she shook her head. “Nothing. I’m fine," she said, thinking about what she was becoming. It couldn't be helped, she reasoned. She had to finish what she'd started. She'd promised herself, and she’d promised her family. Raising her eyes again, she gazed at Brett. Yes, he understood her. "Would you like to join us in the hotel?” she asked.

  Ramsey's hold on her arm tightened at her words, but she didn't care. "It would be rude not to invite the marshal to join us, Ramsey. He is, after all, a newcomer to Twisted Creek. We should make him feel welcome.”

  Ramsey gritted his teeth to hold in the words he wanted to say. After a moment he was able to speak civilly. ‘Of course, you're right, my dear.” He couldn't bring himself to echo her invitation, though. He simply began walking toward the hotel, leading Cass by the arm.

  Brett had to clench his fists once again at the sight of Ramsey touching Cass in such a possessive way.

  Moments later, comfortably settled in the lobby of the hotel, Cass tried to recapture her earlier good mood. “So, gentlemen," she said, addressing them both, “what should we do with the rest of the afternoon?”

  "We could go to the circus,', suggested Brett.

  "We?" asked Ramsey.

  "I wouldn't want to impose . . ." Brett left the comment open.

  "You wouldn't be imposing, Brett," Cass offered. She remembered his warning about following her all day and stifled a smile. If he was going to be standing on every street corner, and lurking in every shadow, she might as well have him sitting next to her. She certainly wasn't going to get rid of him by being rude.

  “Thank you. Then I vote for the circus," Brett announced.

  Ramsey couldn't believe this day was turning out so badly. The last thing he wanted was to have the marshal tagging along with them everywhere they went. He was determined to kiss Cass again, maybe more than once, if he could manage it, but the marshal’s presence would ruin any chance for a sexual encounter. He looked at Cass, sitting so coolly in her beautiful dress. He had to get closer to her. I suppose, he thought, if the way to her heart is through ridiculous gestures, I can put up with it for a while. He glared at Brett and wished her need to be generous didn't include this particular man. "If the circus sounds good to Cass, it sounds good to me," he said as convincingly as he was able.

  Cass nodded. "Wonderful," she agreed. It was then she saw Rosie coming from the hotel restaurant with a tray of glasses. She smiled at the young woman, only to be snubbed once again.

  "Rosie, is that you?" Ramsey called when his gaze followed where Cass's had led.

  Rosie stopped dead in her tracks and turned slowly around. Her normally white complexion grew even whiter, and she dropped the tray of glasses. Shattered glass flew everywhere as the tumblers hit the hardwood floor of the hotel lobby.

  Cass studied Rosie curiously. She seemed to be unaware of the broken glass at her feet or of the many people coming to her aid. She could only stand and stare at Ramsey. Cass frowned at her odd behavior. She knew Ramsey had teased Rosie unmercifully when they were children, but that had been years ago. They were adults now. It was hardly likely Ramsey would begin to taunt her today.

  Ramsey rose from his chair and crossed to where the waitress still stood like a statue. "Rosie, are you all right?” he asked.

  Rosie backed up without saying a word and headed toward the kitchen, leaving the mess behind.

  "Odd," Ramsey said, turning back toward Cass and Brett.

  Brett thought the same thing. Rosie was terrified of Ramsey, and he wanted to know why.

  Chapter Nine

  “Excuse me for a moment, won't you?" Brett said as he rose from his chair.

  "Of course," answered Ramsey, rejoining them. "Take your time."

  Cass saw that Brett was staring intently at the door between the hotel lobby and the restaurant. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

  "I'll only be a minute," he said, not answering her question. Leaving Cass and Ramsey sitting together in the lobby, he pushed open the swinging doors to the restaurant. The dining room was closed for the day, but the staff was serving cool drinks, cakes, pies, and sherbet to people in the lobby and on the long front porch of the building.

  Brett stepped inside and scanned the room. He'd eaten most of his meals here in the last few days, and Rosie had waited on him many times. She was usually a jovial sort, ready with a friendly smile as she poured the coffee.

  Spotting her behind the lunch counter, he noticed she was having a hard time composing herself. She was wringing her hands, visibly shaken. Her complexion was even whiter now than it had been before, and she was chewing on her lower lip.

  "Rosie," he called, his voice echoing across
the large dining room.

  Rosie jumped at the sound and took several backward steps, as though she felt afraid.

  "Rosie, I'm not going to hurt you," he offered. "I just wanted to see if you're all right. You looked pretty upset out there."

  "I'm fine," she said quickly, still wringing her hands.

  Brett's eyes narrowed imperceptibly. "Are you sure? You seemed upset to see Ramsey Tylo." He saw her breath catch when he spoke Ramsey's name. "Do you have reason to fear Tylo?"

  Rosie dropped her hands to her sides and raised her jaw defensively. "No, sir," she answered. "Ramsey means nothing to me."

  Brett could tell she was lying, but why? "You know, if he's threatened you in any way…"

  "No, sir," Rosie interrupted. "Ramsey ain't ever threatened me,"

  "All right. But if he ever does, or if he gives you trouble of any kind, you can come to me with it. I'll handle it for you," he offered.

  "Nobody can stop Ramsey from doing nothin'," she said solemnly. "Not when he sets his mind to it. His daddy raised him to be that way."

  Brett frowned. “I'm the law, Rosie. I could stop him."

  She snorted her disbelief. "Not likely. Sheriff Jackson couldn't."

  "I'm not Jackson," he responded, wondering why she’d mentioned him.

  "No, sir, you're not. But you don't know Ramsey."

  "Why don't you tell me about him? Start with why you're so afraid of him," he said.

  "I ain't saying a word. Please just leave me alone. I don't want to talk about it."

  Brett pondered her choice of words and the implication in them. "You don't want to talk about what, Rosie?"

  "Nothin'. Just nothin'," she answered adamantly. "I've got to get back to work now, Marshal." She began to look around her for something to do.

  Brett watched her for a couple of seconds. It was obvious that she was through talking to him, and whatever it was that frightened her about Ramsey was going to remain her secret. "Damn," he mouthed. Turning slowly, he left the restaurant.

  "I can't imagine what got into Rosie," Ramsey commented to Cass.