Lady of the Gun

by Faye Adams

  "I hate you," she said, still gasping for air.

  Brett laughed at the lack of conviction in her voice. "You wound me, madam."

  "I will wound you," she said, and instantly grabbed a bit of his chest between her teeth.

  "Cass, you wouldn't," he said, already knowing it was too late.

  Cass bit down on his flesh with just enough pressure to leave a mark.

  "Ouch! That's childish," he accused.

  "And tickling me for an hour is mature?"

  Brett rubbed the spot where she'd bitten him. "Exaggeration is also childish. I only tickled you for a minute."

  "When I'm being tickled, a minute feels like an hour."

  "I’ll remember that next time""

  "You're planning a next time?"

  "Yes, and next time I'll tickle you for two minutes."

  "No ..,"

  "Yes, I will. If I'm going to be wounded for doing it, I'm going to make sure it's worth my while."

  "Brett Ryder, I warn you, I always give back more than I get."

  "I've noticed," he said, his voice once more a sexy growl.

  "Mmmm," she purred.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Walking back toward the barn a while later, Cass could see most of the wagons had gone. Only a few stragglers were still standing around exchanging the last stories of the evening. "Looks like it's about over," Cass said, glancing up at Brett as he walked beside her.

  "Looks like. And look at your new barn. Pretty nice, if you ask me."

  Cass did look at the barn. It was bigger than the one that had burned, and its new wood glistened in the moonlight. "Now all I have to do is paint it."

  "How about pink?" he said, reminding her of her childhood prank.

  "Not a bad idea," she agreed, grinning.

  When they'd just about reached the new structure, Cass turned her head at a sound. "What was that, Brett?” She slowed her walk.

  Brett listened. "I don't hear anything."

  "Wait a second." She put her hand on his arm and stopped walking. "There, hear it?"

  Brett strained to hear. "I’m not sure. It sounds like a cat meowing. It might be Mirabelle.”

  "No. Believe me, if Mirabelle were meowing you'd know it. She makes her desires very well known. No, this is ..." She waited again. "Brett, someone's crying." She started toward the back of the barn. "This way."

  Seconds later Cass saw a figure in the dark. Someone was curled up, leaning against the barn. “'Who's there?" she said as she approached. Hearing quick sniffling sounds, she knew that the person was trying to quit crying before being discovered. "Who is it?" she asked as she hurried forward. "Rosie?" she ventured, kneeling. "Is that you?"

  "Rosie?" Brett echoed, lowering himself to sit beside her.

  "I'm fine," Rosie said, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.

  "Why are you out here crying? Did someone hurt you?" Brett demanded.

  "No, No one hurt me. I’m fine," she said.

  "Why are you crying?" asked Cass.

  Rosie didn’t answer right away. She looked nervously from one face to the other. "I fell," she finally answered.

  "You fell?" Brett said in a disbelieving tone.

  "Yes. I was walking in the dark and I tripped," she embellished.

  "You fell, or you were pushed?" Brett inquired,

  "Nobody pushed me. I told you I fell, and I did," she said.

  "Are you sure, Rosie?" Cass asked.

  Rosie nodded, wiping her eyes again. "I'm clumsy."

  “Did Ramsey hurt you, Rosie?" Brett bluntly asked.

  "No! I would never say anything bad about Ramsey," she protested, her eyes growing wide in the moonlight.

  "Even if he did something bad?" Cass urged gently.

  "He didn't. I fell," she said defiantly.

  Brett sighed and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "How can we help you if you aren't willing to help yourself?"

  Rosie looked down at her hands folded around her knees. "I fell," she whispered.

  "All right, you fell," said Cass. "Let's go to the house and see what damage your fall caused."

  Rosie let herself be helped up, groaning a little when she put her weight on her right foot.

  "Your foot?" Cass asked.

  "No, my hip," Rosie answered. "I landed on my hip."

  "I'll have a look at it in the house," said Cass. "If it looks serious we'll have Doc examine you in town."

  Cass and Brett helped Rosie into the house and to Cass's room. "Leave us alone now, Brett," Cass told him. "I'll let you know," she whispered as he left the room.

  Turning to face Rosie, she was astonished at how bad the girl looked. The right side of her face was bruised and swollen, and her eyes were sunken, her skin sallow. "Rosie, what's happened to you?" she asked, a concerned frown creasing her brow.

  "I fell," said Rosie, her eyes not meeting Cass's.

  "I mean, what's happened to bring you to this?"

  Rosie raised her eyes, and a tiny spark of defiance flared for second before it vanished. "I don't know what you mean," she answered.

  "Someone hit you, Rosie. He hit you hard enough to knock you down." She stepped closer and brushed a fingertip gently across the bruised cheek, seeing Rosie flinch from even such tender contact. "You don't deserve to be treated this way, Rosie. You deserve so much better than this."

  Rosie looked into Cass's eyes. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

  "You and I grew up in the same town. We went to the same school. You know me. We used to play together. We were friends. But even if I didn't know you, I'd feel the same way. No woman, no person, deserves to be treated the way someone is treating you."

  "But you killed all those men," Rosie said accusingly.

  Cass sighed. "The men I killed deserved what they got. They were the men who murdered my family. I've never harmed anyone who was innocent, Rosie. And I would never harm you."

  Rosie looked sideways at her. "Are you telling the truth?"

  Cass nodded. "I want to help you, Rosie."

  "I ...He.."

  Cass held her breath waiting, hoping Rosie would say who'd hit her.

  "No, I can't," she blurted. "He'd kill me for sure if I told on him."

  “But, Rosie…" Cass pleaded.

  "No!" Rosie interrupted. "I can't. You don't understand. You're not afraid of anything. He won't hurt you." She began to shake.

  "Calm down, Rosie. It's all right. I won't ask you again tonight." She put her arm around Rosie's shoulders. "It's all right," she repeated.

  Brett knocked. "Can I come in?" he called through the door.

  "Not yet. We'll be out in a minute," Cass replied. She then addressed Rosie. "You'd better lift your skirt so I can look at your hip. Then you can wipe off your face."

  Rosie nodded. Turning toward the bed, she leaned on the footboard and began to lift her skirt.

  Cass was horrified at the sight of Rosie's legs. They were covered with bruises in every stage of healing, some looking several weeks old, others brand new. But it was her hip that caused Cass to gasp. A huge purple bruise the size of a frying pan was forming over the hip joint. "Oh, my God, Rosie. You'd better get Doc look at this," she advised.

  “Do you think so?" Rosie whimpered. "I don't think anything's broken."

  "He might suggest a poultice or some medicine for the pain," Cass told her. "Anyway, I’ll have Brett hitch up the wagon so we can give you a ride back to town."

  "What about the people I came with?"

  “I noticed their wagon was gone when we came in the house."

  "They left without me?"

  "I'm sure they thought you'd gone with someone else. But I'll see to it you make it safely back to town."

  Rosie straightened, dropping her skirt. "Thank you," she murmured.

  "You're welcome," Cass replied. "Wash your face. I’ll be waiting in the living room for you when you're finished."

  Rosie nodded.

  Cass met Brett in the hallway as she left her room.
/>   "Did she tell you what happened to her?" he questioned hurriedly.

  "No. She wouldn't tell me. But someone has beaten her up pretty badly."

  "Damn it," hissed Brett.

  "I think she wanted to tell me about it, but she's too afraid. She thinks he'll kill her if she tells."

  "I tend to agree with her."

  "Brett, we've got to do something. You should see her legs. She's getting beaten regularly," she said, her voice full of pity.

  "What can we do? I can't arrest the bastard if she won't tell me who he is."

  "I know." Cass led the way back into the living room. Sitting down in her uncle's favorite chair, she rested her chin on her hands, leaning forward, her elbows on her knees. "I told her we'd give her a ride into town. Will you please hitch up the wagon?"

  "Of course," he said. "Do you think if you tried again?"

  Cass shook her head. "She began shaking when I tried to get her to talk."

  Sighing, Brett left the house to take care of the wagon. His gut feeling told him the man was Ramsey, but like Cass in her quest; he had no proof.

  Two hours later the doctor finished his examination of Rosie and walked out to question Cass and Brett. "Who did this to her?"

  "We don't know. We tried to get her to tell us, but she wouldn't," said Cass.

  The doc shook his head in disgust. "Well, whoever he is, he should be horsewhipped."

  "I agree, Doctor. If you can get her to tell you who it was, I'll be happy to oblige."

  "I'm afraid she's not going to tell anyone anything for a while. I gave her something to help her to sleep. She needs to rest."

  "We thought so too," said Cass. "Is there anything else we can do?"

  "No. Just leave her here. I'll see she gets home in the morning." He turned to go back to the examination room. “It's too bad she won't tell us who did this to her."

  Cass nodded and started to leave with Brett. "Thanks, Doc," she said.

  Brett had just stepped outside when Cass heard the doctor call her back. "Wait for me, Brett," she said. "The doctor wants something else."

  Brett nodded and took another step out onto the sidewalk. "I'll wait for you in the wagon."

  Cass closed the door behind him and turned to face the doctor. "Yes? What is it?" she asked.

  "Well, Cassidy, I question the wisdom of what I'm about to do…. but, well, you being Rosie's friend . . ."

  "Yes, Doc?" Cass asked.

  "I really wish you'd try to find out who beat her."

  "'We've tried. She won't tell."

  The doctor rubbed his chin. "You've got to try again," he finally said.

  "Why? What aren't you telling me about Rosie?"

  "Cassidy, I have to trust your discretion in this." He glanced back to the curtain that hid the door to the examination room where Rosie slept. "I think Rosie's pregnant. I'm not positive. Rosie may not even realize it yet. If she is, she's just in the beginning weeks, but you can understand how dangerous this situation is for her. Another beating and she might lose this child."

  Cass stared in wide-eyed surprise at the curtain. Rosie was pregnant? She looked back to meet the doctor's eyes. “I'll do what I can, Doc," she promised.

  "And you'll use discretion? Rosie's unmarried...," He left the implication dangling.

  "I wouldn't hurt Rosie for the world, Doc. She's my friend," Cass said, and she knew in her heart it was true.

  "Thank you, Cassidy. Now I'd better go check on my patient."

  Cass nodded and left the office.

  "What else did the doc want?" Brett questioned as she climbed up into the wagon beside him.

  Cass stared up at Brett. "I have something to tell you, but you have to promise me you'll tell no one else."

  Brett gazed down into her serious blue eyes. "You know you can trust me, Cass."

  "I know." She let her gaze drop for a moment as she thought about what the doctor had told her. "Rosie might be pregnant," she said softly. "The doctor thinks she may not even realize it herself yet."

  "And the father?" Brett said.

  "I don't know. If it's the same man who's been beating her she may not want him to know she's expecting."

  '"He'll find out sooner or later,"

  "Everyone will find out sooner or later. Poor Rosie," she whispered.

  "What if it's Ramsey?" he commented a few minutes later.

  Cass thought about it. "What makes you think it's Ramsey?"

  "The way Rosie acts around him. Think about it, Cass."

  Cass nodded. "I know. I have been thinking about it. Surely a man who's sleeping with a woman would want to spend time with her," she said, her naiveté’ showing through, "but I've never seen them together."

  "If a man is proud of the woman he's sleeping with, he'll want to spend time with her. But if he thinks of her as a whore, or as someone who's beneath him, he'll avoid being seen with her," Brett explained.

  "Rosie's not a whore."

  "Of course not, but you told me once that Rosie's not Ramsey's type. Maybe he thinks she's good for only one thing."

  "Rosie would refuse him."

  "If she had a choice."

  "You're not suggesting …"

  "People get themselves into very complicated situations, Cass."

  She opened her mouth to question him.

  Brett held up a hand to stop her. "I can’t accuse Ramsey of anything yet. I'm just trying to cover all bases. You, yourself, told me about Ramsey's cruelty to Rosie when they were children. . . ." He left his statement open-ended.

  "I understand," Cass said quietly. She couldn't help but remember the way Ramsey had acted with her in the buggy on the Fourth of July. He hadn't raped her, certainly, but he had gotten carried away, and she had felt threatened. Still, rape was a serious charge. "Maybe Rosie has a boyfriend, someone she's been seeing for years. He'd be the prime suspect."

  "I intend to ask a few questions around town tomorrow for just that reason. I want to narrow down the suspects."

  "And if it turns out to be Ramsey?"

  "I'll arrest him, and he'll stand trial."

  Cass let her gaze fall. "And the whole town would know what happened to Rosie. She'd want to die from the humiliation."

  "What would you have me do?" Brett asked.

  Cass knew what she'd do if it were her choice, but she and Brett didn't see things from the same angle. Sighing, she met his silver gaze once more. "I suppose you have to do what you think is best," she replied.

  Brett clenched his jaw. He knew exactly what Cass was thinking. He knew that her solution to Rosie's trouble would be to challenge Ramsey, or whoever the culprit turned out to be, to a gunfight. He studied her beautiful face, the sky-blue eyes, the full, pouty lips, the sun-kissed complexion. He loved her so, but would she always think this way? Would her beliefs about justice ever swing his way? "Let's get home now," Brett said, dropping the subject, futility nagging his soul.

  Cass read Brett's thoughts as though they were printed across his forehead. He just didn't understand how a woman would feel in Rosie's place. He didn't understand what it was like to be ostracized by the people you grew up with. She did. She wasn't humiliated the way Rosie would be. She was still able to hold her head high, feeling justified in her actions against the murderers, but she knew what it was like to feel like an outcast. Sometimes Brett's kind of justice was the wrong kind. Sometimes her way was the only way. "All right," she finally said, tearing her gaze from Brett's. "Let's go home,'"

  Brett turned the wagon and snapped the reins, starting the horses on their way back to the Wayne ranch.

  The sun was a blazing ball of merciless fire early the next morning. Cass glared at Brett over her coffee, but neither spoke a word about Rosie's condition.

  "I think I’ll go into town today," Cass finally said. "I need to check on some things."

  "I'll go with you," said Brett. "I have things to do also. I mentioned it last night, remember? There are a few people I need to talk to."

 
"Oh, yes," Cass remarked. "Well, I'll be outside when you're ready."

  "I'm ready now." Brett stood up from the breakfast table. "That was delicious, Soony. Thank you."

  "You're very welcome, Mr. Brett."

  “Is there anything you need in town?" Cass asked.

  “No."

  "Uncle?"

  "No, thank you," he replied, yawning, "I don't need a thing. I'm going to just sit here and drink my coffee and wake up."

  "All right. Then we'll see you when we get back." Cass turned to follow Brett from the house.

  "You're angry with me," he said as soon as they were outside.

  Cass looked sideways at him. He couldn't help the way he felt about things any more than she could and his sad little boy expression made her smile. "I guess not. I can't seem to stay mad at you for very long."

  "Good. Then may I have a good-morning kiss?" he asked leaning toward her.

  "No!" she hissed. "Uncle Darby might see us."

  "He won't. He's drinking his coffee, remember? Besides, so what if he sees us? Come on. One little kiss?"

  By now they were entering the new barn where they'd tossed their saddles the night before. "No."

  "But why? It's cool here in the barn. And kind of romantic."

  "You think a barn is romantic?" Cass giggled. "You're hopeless."

  "You thought a rocky patch of ground was romantic," he said, grinning boyishly.

  "You!" She reached out to punch him on the arm.

  Brett caught her as she lunged and pulled her to him. "I knew I'd get my kiss," he growled, lowering his lips to hers.

  Cass didn't even try to struggle in his arms. She instantly melted against him. "It was my idea all along," she whispered into his kiss.

  "You're such a liar,” he breathed, relishing this gentle, teasing moment together.

  Cass parted her lips for a deeper kiss.

  Brett felt himself responding to her kiss in a way that could cause them to forget about going into town. "Cass," he whispered, "we'd better get going."

  "What?" Cass was caught up by the wave of desire that rushed through her at Brett's touch.

  "I said we'd better get going."

  Cass sighed. "Yes, you're right." She straightened, releasing herself from his arms.

  "Don't look so sad. We can continue this tonight," he promised. "That is, if I ask you for a good-night kiss," he renewed the teasing.