by Faye Adams
"Yes. This town needs a good sheriff, and I need a place to settle down," he sounded convincing, even to himself.
"Good. I'm glad," she responded, smiling.
"Are you?"
"Yes. You’ll make a great sheriff.”
"Is that all?"
Cass lowered her eyes. She knew she had feelings for him. She just couldn't define them yet. Her life was much too complicated. "No. That's not all.” She looked up at him once more. "You're my friend, Brett. I don’t have many. I'm glad you're staying."
He grinned sardonically. Leave it to me to fall in love with a woman who considers me a friend, he thought. Then a little voice inside his head reminded him that she might talk like a friend, but she kissed like a lover. His grin turned into a wide smile. "Yes, I'm your friend, Cass,” he told her, then started for the back of the sheriff’s office. “Come help me pack," he said.
"You're packing? But you just said you were staying in Twisted Creek." She followed him down the hall to his room.
"I am.” He began pulling his things from the armoire and rolling them up to put in his saddlebags.
"Then where are you going?,' Cass asked from the doorway.
"To your place," he said over his shoulder.
Cass was stumped. "My place?"
"As you said, I'm your friend. Well, friends stick together in a crisis. You can't watch your place night and day, and that's what's going to have to be done from now on if we're ever going to catch whoever's responsible for the trouble."
"We?"
“We.”
Cass grinned and entered the room. Walking up behind him, she threw her arms around his middle. "Thank you," she said as she squeezed hard.
Brett turned in her arms. "You're welcome, but wait to really thank me until after we catch the bad guys, okay?" he said in a seductive tone.
Cass felt him heating up in her arms. "This isn't going to work if you react like this every time I touch you," she said.
"Are you planning on touching me often?"
"I don't know. Sometimes I just can't help myself."
"Like now?"
“Yes. Like now. But the hug is over. You can let me go now." She pushed against his arm.
"I suppose I'll have to." He looked down at the bed.
Cass could read his mind. She pushed her way out of his grasp. 'You finish packing. I'll wait outside."
"All right," he gave in. "I’ll only be a minute."
Cass left him in the bedroom and headed outside through the office. She sat down on the wooden step of the sidewalk. Smiling to herself, she thought about the teasing side to Brett's personality.
"Penny for your thoughts."
The voice startled her out of her reverie. "Ramsey?" she acknowledged, surprised. Rising immediately, she looked up at him. "What are you doing here?" she blurted.
"What do you mean? Is there some reason I shouldn't be in town?" he asked. He'd had a violent argument with his father and the anger still burned in his chest.
"No, of course not. I just meant. . . I'm " . . I'm surprised you still want to talk to me after . . ."
Ramsey gazed down at her. "I discussed the situation with my father, as you suggested. He told me about your false accusations. Cass, I told you before that I understand why you feel you must point the finger at someone. I am, of course, saddened that the person you've chosen to accuse is my father, but that shouldn't come between us. I know my father is innocent, and one day you'll know it too. In the meantime I'm attracted to you, and I'd still like to call on you, if you'll let me."
Cass felt that something was terribly wrong with his words. He seemed sincere enough, but she couldn't help but think that if someone had accused a member of her family of murder, she'd be spitting fire and ready to knock his block off. She certainly wouldn't want to spend time with him. She didn't answer.
"Please don't say no, Cass," he asked.
She watched the emotions that crossed his face. She'd led him on by going out with him once, and whether or not her motives were reasonable, she shouldn't have done it. She wasn't attracted to him in the least. Continuing to let him hope would be cruel. "I don't think.."
“Please, Cass?" he tried again. "I have to admit, I have some plans for us," he said hurriedly.
Brett stepped out of the office at that moment, slamming the door behind him. "Ramsey, what do you want?" he demanded. "Are you bothering Cass?"
Ramsey's eyes narrowed in anger. “What goes on between Cass and me is no one's business, least of all yours."
"Is that right, Cass?" Brett asked.
"No..." she began.
"Cass?" Ramsey turned to her.
Cass let out an exasperated breath. "Ramsey, I think you've misunderstood…"
"But, Cass…"
"You heard her, Ramsey. Now back off," ordered Brett.
Ramsey glared at the marshal with enough hatred to fill hell. "Who do you think you are, telling me to back off? You've got no claim on Cass." He sneered at Brett, then turned to Cass. "Or does he?"
Cass couldn't admit out loud that there was anything between her and Brett. "Things are very complicated right now. Brett is going to be staying out at my place for a while, just until things settle down a bit," she explained.
Brett frowned at her explanation.
"He's staying in your home?" Ramsey questioned, obviously surprised.
"Yes, just until…"
"And where will he be sleeping?" he demanded. A split second later a powerful fist crashed into Ramsey’s face and the world disappeared.
Chapter Twelve
“Brett! Oh, my God! What have you done?” Cass demanded, instantly kneeling beside Ramsey, who lay flat on his back on the sidewalk.
"Did you hear what that bastard implied?” Brett bellowed. "I ought to punch him again!” He doubled up his fists.
"You'll do no such thing!" Leaning over Ramsey’s bleeding face, she saw his eyes flutter open. “Good God, Brett. I think you broke his nose," she told him, grimacing at the sight.
Ramsey felt as if he'd just been kicked by a mule. His head felt as if it might explode, and his nose…oh, Lord, his nose throbbed so badly he could barely stand it. Raising his hand to feel it, he was swept by a wave of acute nausea when he found the crushed mass that was once his nose. “Ohhhh,” he moaned, rolling onto his side to retch.
Cass helped him tum over, then held his head while he vomited. "Brett, the least you could do would be to go inside and get some towels and the washbasin.”
"The least I could do is nothing," he returned.
Cass glared at him with such a vengeance that her eyes snapped with angry fire. "Get me some towels," she demanded. "And do it fast."
Brett turned on his heel and stomped back into the sheriff’s office. That bastard had received exactly what he'd deserved. Why couldn't Cass see that and leave him to take care of himself? Grabbing a towel and the washbasin, he went back out and set them roughly on the sidewalk beside her. Water sloshed over the side, wetting Cass's trouser leg and causing her to give him another scathing look.
Ramsey moaned again. Things were becoming clearer now that his stomach was empty. Someone had hit him. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was surprised to see Cass sitting next to him, helping him. Looking up, he saw Brett. It was Brett who had broken his nose. "You son of a bitch," he groaned. "I'll get you for this, Marshal. If it's the last thing I do in this town, I'll get you for this."
Brett looked down on him with disdain. "Don't make threats you can't carry out, Tylo."
“Oh, I can carry this one out. And by the time I'm through with you, you'll wish you'd never been born."
Brett scoffed. "You're too late. I have days like that already." He turned to Cass then. "Are you ready to go?"
"I have to stay here and help Ramsey," she said, dipping the towel in the basin. She couldn't leave him lying in the street despite her own distaste for him.
"Fine. I'll be in the office when you're finished with him," Brett
told her, turning his back on both of them. Closing the door behind him once inside, he sat down on the edge of the desk. Crossing his arms over his chest, he fumed. Why was Cass so angry with him? He'd only given Ramsey what he deserved. Shaking his head, he pondered the female mind. "I'll never understand it," he said out loud.
"Ramsey, can you stand up?" Cass asked when Brett was inside.
Ramsey still felt as if he'd been kicked by a mule, but he nodded, the motion sending another torturous spasm of pain shooting through his face. With Cass's help, he pushed himself to his knees. Then, using her for support, he managed to stand.
"Can you walk?" she asked.
Breathing through his mouth, he answered, "I think so."
Cass pulled his arm over her shoulder and started them on their way to the doctor.
Ramsey felt as though the whole world was spinning around him. His legs felt wobbly, making his steps uncertain, and he relied on Cass's strength to pull them along. After what seemed like an eternity, they were climbing the steps to the doctor's office.
"Doc?" Cass called as they entered the tiny waiting room of the town’s only doctor.
"Yes?" a voice called from the back of the building. "Is someone here?"
"Doc, it's me, Cassidy Wayne," she called.
The doctor, a tiny, balding man with thick spectacles, came through a curtain-covered doorway. "Cass, are you injured?" he was saying. "Oh, my, it's seems not. But someone is." He hurried to help. "Bring him in here," he directed, leading them through the curtain to an examination room.
Cass helped Ramsey get up on the table, then stepped out of the way. "I think his nose is broken," she offered.
The doctor looked over his spectacles at Ramsey. "I'd say you've made an accurate diagnosis. How many men jumped you?" he asked Ramsey.
Ramsey just glared at him.
"Brett Ryder, the marshal, did it," Cass explained.
"One punch?" the doctor asked.
Cass nodded.
"My, my. He does seem to pack a good one," he said. Turning toward Cass, he stepped closer. “I think you might want to leave while I set his nose, Cassidy, It won't be a pretty sight." He glanced back over his shoulder at Ramsey. "And he might do a little yelling. That can embarrass a young man'"
"Oh. All right. I'll wait outside.'
"Cass," Ramsey said, his voice thick with pain and anger, "you go on home now. I'll be fine."
Cass stepped around the doctor and went to Ramsey's side. "Are you sure? I'll wait outside if you want me to."
"No. You don't have to wait." He lowered his eyes. "The marshal is waiting for you," he said accusingly.
Cass felt a small stab of guilt at hearing the jealousy in his voice. She'd really started trouble by accepting that one date with Ramsey. And right now, with his face so swollen and his nose broken, she felt truly sorry for him, even though his own stupid remark had caused the punch.
"Brett's coming out to the ranch because of what happened last night. He's worried there'll be more trouble and that I won't be able to handle it alone," she told him, feeling compelled to explain.
“My father told me someone desecrated your family cemetery, but you and your uncle weren't harmed. Perhaps the trouble is over," he mumbled through swollen lips.
"I don't think it is. The intruder left me a message, Ramsey. Last night was only the beginning. Having Brett on the place will give me another gun. I can't turn that down."
"I see," he said, frowning angrily through his pain.
Cass shivered at the painful grimace covering Ramsey's face. "You let the doctor do what he has to do. I'll see you later," she told him.
Cass turned toward the doctor "Okay, Doc, he's all yours." She raised one hand in farewell to Ramsey as she left.
Ramsey watched Cass leave and felt the urgent need to follow her. Glancing up at the doctor approaching him with the wooden sticks he would use to straighten his nose, Ramsey knew it would be a while before he'd be up to courting her again. Filled with intense hatred, he thought about the marshal staying out at the ranch with her. The marshal wanted Cass too, that was obvious, but how did Cass feel about the marshal? It would be too bad for her if she fell in love with the wrong man.
Back at the sheriff’s office, Brett paced impatiently, waiting for Cass to return. He'd seen her help Ramsey in the direction of the doctor's office, and was glad he knew what the doc was going to do to him. Having a broken nose set was wholly unpleasant; he knew that from experience. When he'd had his own broken in a bar fight several years earlier, he’d discovered that having it set was worse than having it broken in the first place. “It couldn't happen to a more deserving person,” he said out loud about Ramsey.
Cass stepped up on the sidewalk outside the sheriff’s office and yelled, "Let's get going if we’re going.”
Brett heard her and headed for the door. Swinging it open, he saw she'd left the sidewalk and was mounting her horse.
"I'm not waiting for you," she told him angrily, turning her mount and spurring him to a trot.
Brett hurriedly closed the door and picked up the saddlebags he'd dropped when he punched Ramsey. He flipped them over the back of the horse, just under the saddle cantle. Mounting quickly, he nudged his horse to follow Cass. "Damned stubborn woman," he said to himself.
Cass barely spoke to Brett during the next few days. When he tried to explain himself, she shunned him. She already knew why he'd punched Ramsey, she just didn’t like the fact that he'd taken it upon himself to defend her honor. It wasn't his place.
Uncle Darby, however, had been thrilled to hear that Brett had broken Ramsey's nose, and their friendship seemed to grow even stronger because of that. Each evening they played checkers after dinner. At first Darby offered Brett drinks of whiskey during their games, but Brett always refused. After a few days, the older man stopped offering and slowed his own drinking considerably. Cass noticed this and was at least grateful that Brett's presence seemed to be having a good effect on her uncle.
Soony, too, seemed to have adopted Brett and had begun fixing his favorite dishes, something that irritated Cass, though she was loath to understand just why.
She was standing near the window, having just finished dinner, listening to Darby and Brett set up the checkers when she decided to go for her usual evening walk, something she’d stopped doing lately because of the trouble. "I'll be back in a little while," she announced.
"Ten minutes?" said Brett, which was his way of asking if she was going to the outhouse.
"No. I'm going for a walk."
"I don't think that's a good idea. It's almost dark," Brett told her.
"I don't care," she returned. "I've got to get outside for a while." She rubbed her arms nervously.
Brett could tell she was antsy. "I'll go with you. Can we play checkers later?" he asked Darby.
"Sure, Brett. Don't worry about it at all. We can skip a night. You go take Cass for a walk," he answered.
“I don't need a bodyguard," she protested.
"How about a friend?" Brett asked.
Cass didn't answer. Instead, she opened the door and stepped outside into the early evening air.
Brett walked out behind her, careful to give her enough space as they started toward the barn. He figured she was headed for the cemetery, and decided to wait for her at the top of the hill. She needed the time alone.
Cass crested the hill and gazed down over her valley. It was smaller by far than the Lazy T, but it was more beautiful. The Losee River ran smack through the middle of it, willow, aspen, and some pine marking its path with their foliage. She could see her herd just on the other side of the river, munching on tall grass. There wasn't much to do with the herd during the summer months except watch them fatten up. She'd have to hire a few temporary hands in the fall, but until then she could handle the work. Next year, if her plans for expansion went well, she'd have to hire one or two permanent people.
She'd surprised herself a few days earlier when she realized she l
iked the idea of expanding her ranch. She'd begun the whole thing as a ruse to coax Tylo into the open, but somewhere along the way she'd become serious about it.
Letting her gaze sweep downward, she looked upon the graves of her family. Starting down the hill, she glanced over her shoulder to see if Brett followed. She was grateful to see he'd thoughtfully stopped at the top. She suddenly felt foolish for being so cross with him the last few days. "I'll only a be minute," she called to him.
Brett was surprised. It was the first time she’d spoken directly to him in what felt like a very long while, and her tone had softened. The harsh, condemning edge had disappeared from her voice. "I'll be waiting,” he replied, his thoughts jumping ahead now that she didn’t seem angry with him anymore. His pulse rate increased as he watched the swing of her hips as she continued on down the hill.
Cass knelt beside the graves and talked to her family as though they could answer her. Brett watched this from the hill, and his heart broke for her. She should never have had to go through this, he thought.
After a while, Cass started back up the hill. “Do you want to walk down to the Losee?" she asked.
"It looks pretty far. I don't want to be out too long after dark," he said.
Reaching forward, she took his hand. “Come on. I’ll race you. And I'll win," she challenged.
"You want to bet?"
"Certainly. What do you want if I lose?”
"A kiss."
She scrunched up her face. “I should have expected that,” she teased. "And what do I get if I win?”
Brett lowered his voice seductively. “Anything you want.”
Punching him playfully on the arm, she grinned up at him. "I'm serious. What do I win?"
"A kiss."
"A kiss for winning or losing? Then what’s the point?" she asked.
"All right, then. What do you want?” he questioned.
Cass thought about it for a few seconds. "A kiss. Go!" she shouted, taking off as fast as she could run.
Brett raced after her. "You cheat!" he yelled after her retreating form. He knew he could catch up with her. This race was really no contest at all. Gaining rapidly, he began to laugh. "Cass, I'm going to win," he told her when he was only a few feet away and closing.
