Lady of the Gun

by Faye Adams

  "Brett, is that you?"

  "Yes," he answered. Lying back against the bank of the wash, he finally tried to catch his breath.

  "Can we leave yet?" Cass asked.

  "Not for a while. They know we made it out. They're looking for us."

  Cass sank back against the bank next to him, anger filling her soul.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky when Brett came back from his last check of the house. "They're finally gone, Cass," he whispered.

  Cass sat up and rubbed some of, the stiffness from her arms, straightening her legs in front of her. "We've got to get Uncle Darby into town to the doctor," she said. "He woke up for a minute while you were gone, but he passed out again almost immediately. He's lost a lot of blood, Brett." Her brow was furrowed with worry.

  "He'll be fine, Cass. I'm going to check on what's left of the house to see if there's anything we can use to transport him. You wait here in case the raiders come back."

  "I want to go with you," she said, grasping his arm with her fingers.

  Brett glanced past her to where Darby lay unconscious. Soony sat next to him, watching his breathing. "I suppose you can come. Soony will keep an eye on your uncle. Just stay low and do as I say," he said, staring down into her blue eyes, his heart beating rapidly at the trust he saw there. She hadn't mentioned what he'd told her the night before, and she hadn't confessed that she loved him too. Apparently, she didn't. But he could see emotions in her eyes that gave him hope. "Let's go."

  Cass nodded and followed him up and out of the wash, crawling along on her hands and knees through the tall grass. A while later she saw what was left of her house. "Brett, no," she moaned when she saw the burned-out rubble that had been her home. The only parts left standing were the fireplace and the back corner of what had been Darby's room.

  Brett heard the despair in her voice. "I'm sorry, Cass," he breathed next to her.

  Cass glanced up at him. Leaning forward a little, she kissed him gently on the jaw. “Thank you for caring," she said. "It's just so hard to see this again. It's just like the last time."

  "No. This time your loved ones got out," he said.

  Sighing, she said, "You're right. It's just a building, I've still got what's truly important," she smiled up at him. "Thanks to you."

  Brett lifted one corner of his mouth. He didn't feel much like a hero. He wished he could have done more. "Let's go see if there's anything salvageable."

  Cass nodded and stood up cautiously when Brett did. There was no one around; even the bodies of the men they'd shot were gone. The place was silent except for the sizzle of the fire still smoldering in the timbers of the house and barn.

  Searching through the blackened wood and ashes in what was left of Darby's room, they found several blankets. "We can make a travois out of these," Brett suggested.

  "Good idea," Cass agreed. She studied the room. Everything Darby owned had been destroyed. Walking through the rubble, she reached what was left of her room. "Gone," she sighed. "It's all gone." Turning to look up at Brett as he wandered around behind her carrying the blankets, she knew he could see the anger and hatred in her eyes. "I'm going to get him, Brett."

  "Cass…"

  “Don't try to talk me out of this, and don't try to convince me Tylo wasn't behind this. No one else would do a thing like this,'" she fumed.

  "We have to get Darby to the doctor, Cass" he said urgently.

  "We will. But I'm going to talk to Tylo about this."

  "You'll be killed, damn it! Don't you know that?" he demanded. "I can't let you do it."

  "You can't stop me, Brett. I have to do this."

  "No, you don't. There were enough men here last night that one of them will talk. I'll get a posse together."

  “Sheriff Jackson used a posse when my family was destroyed. They lost the murderers' trail. A trail I picked up months later. A trail that didn't go cold until a few months ago when I hit a dead end. You know, it didn't occur to me until I returned to Twisted Creek that there might be a good reason I could find no clues to where the fifth man had gone. There were no clues on the trail because he never left town. Don't you see, Brett? It's Tylo. I know it."

  "I won't let you go, Cass. I’m not going to stand back and watch you ride out to start trouble and maybe get yourself killed."

  "Then come with me. We'd stand a better chance together."

  Brett heaved a great sigh. "I know how badly you want this, Cass, but I won't allow it."

  Cass clenched her jaw tightly. She'd made up her mind she was going to the Lazy T, and it didn't matter what Brett said or did to stop her. She was going. She would not stand around arguing about it anymore. "Fine," she mumbled.

  "Let's get these blankets back to Uncle Darby."

  Just then a noise in some nearby brush startled them both. Brett dropped the blankets and drew his gun. Cass readied herself, hands poised over her twin Colts. If one of the bastards who'd burned her house was out there he was going to die.

  The grass parted in a flurry of yellow fur and white feathers.

  "Mirabelle!" Cass exclaimed.

  "And Pork Chop," said Brett laughing. "How did they survive?"

  Cass grinned. "I don't know, but I can't wait to tell Soony." Mirabelle screeched as Pork Chop pecked her on the head. "Oh, no, here they go," she warned. Mirabelle took off at a dead run, the chicken chasing her, landing on her back, and pecking her mischievously. “Pork Chop, you stop that!" yelled Cass. "I'll turn you into chicken soup if you don't stop!"

  Pork Chop ignored her threats and kept tormenting the cat, attacking with an even greater fervor.

  Brett started to chuckle. "Those two are something else."

  "I just wish Mirabelle would learn that she's the one who's supposed to be doing the chasing. If she ever once turned around and gave that rotten chicken a good hard whack, the trouble would stop," Cass said.

  Brett continued to chuckle. "Let them sort out their differences on their own. We've got to get back to Darby." Holstering his gun, he picked up the blankets. "We need to find some branches for the travois."

  Cass glanced at the two ridiculous pets once more, then back at Brett. "There are some strong young trees down by the Losee. We can use those."

  “All right."

  Three long, arduous hours later, Cass, Soony and Brett dragged Darby into town.

  "What happened?" Bill Conroy asked, running to meet them.

  Several others also ran up to them, taking the travois from the bedraggled trio.

  "We’ve got to get my uncle to the doc's place," said Cass. "He's been shot."

  "You look like you've been through hell and back," Bill told them.

  "We have," replied Cass.

  "Raiders hit Cass's place again last night. Burned her out and tried to kill all of us," explained Brett.

  "Holy cow," Bill breathed.

  Another man let out a long, low whistle. "Do you know who it was?" he asked.

  "I do," said Cass

  Brett scowled at her. "Cass thinks she knows, but we're not certain. We'd like to wait until we're sure before we go pointing any fingers."

  "I understand," Bill responded.

  The crowd was getting larger as they traveled toward the doctor's office. Jaybird Johnson came out of the bar. "What's going on here?" he asked,

  “Some men tried to kill Cass, Darby, Soony, and the marshal," answered a voice in the group. "See, Darby's been shot."

  "They was burned out!," another added,

  Jaybird puffed up in front of the crowd. "Do you all see why this town needs a strong sheriff?" he blustered. "If you elect me sheriff this sort of thing will stop," he promised.

  "And just what will you do to stop it?" asked Brett.

  "Why . . . I'll make stricter laws. I'll see to it criminals are caught and hanged," he said loudly to the townspeople.

  "That's interesting," said Brett. "Seems to me I read somewhere that the laws are made by the gover
nment. It's the sheriff’s job to enforce those laws."

  "Well… I…" Jaybird stammered,

  "And it isn't up to the sheriff to decide who's guilty or innocent. It's up to the circuit judge or the jury that's selected to try a case. Sounds like you're planning on giving yourself all kinds of authority you aren't entitled to, Jaybird," Brett said loud enough for the crowd to hear.

  "I never said I would do that," argued Jaybird. "I only said this town needs a strong sheriff so what happened out at Cassidy's place last night won't happen again."

  "I agree this town needs a strong sheriff, but it also needs one who knows the law and respects the citizens he works for. Now, if you'll excuse us from your speechmaking, we've got a man here who needs to see the doctor," Brett informed him.

  "Yeah, Jaybird. We don't need to hear you talk. We hear enough of you as it is," someone said from the back of the crowd.

  "Whoever said that is in for it," said Jaybird.

  Brett walked past him and led the way to the doctor's office. The townspeople carried Darby through the doc's door and into the examination room.

  "What happened" asked the surprised doctor.

  "He was shot in the leg last night, Doc. We got him here as soon as we could, but he's lost a lot of blood," said Brett.

  "Shot, you say?" The doctor began washing his hands at a basin in the corner.

  "Yes," answered Cass. "Can you help him, Doc?"

  "I'll know after I examine him, Cass. You go out into the waiting room and I'll let you know how he's doing as soon as I can."

  "But I want to stay with him," she said, her eyes pleading.

  The doctor looked questioningly past her to Brett.

  “Come on, Cass. The doctor needs peace and quiet to examine your uncle. It's best if we wait outside," he said. Placing his hands on her shoulders from behind, he turned her toward the door.

  "Let me know..." said Cass.

  "As soon as I'm through, I promise."

  Cass let Brett lead her into the waiting room. She saw that Soony had found himself a chair and was sitting patiently with his hands crossed in his lap. "I wish I could be more like him," Cass said quietly to Brett.

  “Then you wouldn't be you. And I'm kind of partial to you just the way you are," he said softly.

  Cass remembered what he'd told her the night before. Did he really mean it? She looked up into his eyes. He meant it. Letting her gaze drop again, she studied the floor. He was so handsome and so good. But the idea of letting herself love someone was frightening. "What's taking so long?" she fretted.

  Brett let his hopes drop a bit. She was avoiding talking about it. He knew this wasn't the perfect time, but some sign that she felt something for him would have been encouraging. He then remembered the way she'd made love to him, the fact that she'd given him her virginity. These had to count for something. He'd wait. "I'm sure the doctor will be out to talk to you as soon as he can, Cass," he said.

  Sighing, she nodded. "All right, let's sit down."

  "Good idea." Brett pulled two of the chairs in the waiting area together. Several of the townspeople had come into the doctor's office and were waiting too. Just then the door burst open and Mrs. Wettle entered the room in a flurry. "Where is he?" she asked. "Oh, dear, where's Darby?"

  Cass blinked at the woman's disheveled appearance. The bun that usually sat so neatly at the base of her skull was drooping, strands escaping everywhere as though she'd run every step from her house at the edge of town. She hadn't bothered to wipe her hands or remove her apron, both of which were covered with flour. And the top two buttons of her shirtwaist were gaping open. "Mrs. Wettle?"

  "Oh, dear, Cassidy, is your uncle all right? I heard he'd been shot. Oh, dear," she wailed.

  "I think he's going to be fine, Mrs. Wettle. He's in with Doc now. Here, sit down," Cass said, urging the woman to sit next to her.

  "I couldn't possibly," she said, rubbing her hands together and managing to lose a good bit of flour in doing so. “Oh, dear," she moaned when she saw the white powder on the floor, "look what I've done."

  "It's all right, Mrs., Wettle. Just have a seat," urged Brett,

  “Oh, dear, maybe I should," she said, lowering her ample frame onto the chair next to Cass. "I'm quite out of breath, but when I heard Darby had been shot . . . well, I rushed right over here. You say he'll be all right? How did he get wounded?"

  "Our ranch was raided last night. Everything was burned, and Darby was shot as we escaped from the house," Cass explained.

  Mrs. Wettle began to fan herself with her apron. "Oh, dear. You all could have been killed."

  "That was someone's plan," remarked Brett.

  Mrs. Wettle rocked back and forth as she worried and fanned herself. "Who would do such a dreadful thing? Poor Darby. How seriously is he injured?"

  Cass glanced up at Brett and knew what he was thinking. "We don't know who attacked my ranch, and Darby was shot in the leg."

  "Oh, dear," she breathed and rocked.

  The doctor emerged from behind the curtain. "Cass, your uncle will be fine. I removed the bullet without complication. He did lose quite a bit of blood, though, so he'll need a lot of bed rest while he recuperates."

  Cass breathed a sigh of relief. "I won't let him out of bed for a second," she said, then frowned, her face becoming a mask of sadness.

  "What is it, Cass?" Brett asked.

  "I don't have any place for him to recuperate. I don't even own a bed anymore, let alone a house," she said sadly.

  "Darby will recover in my home," announced Mrs. Wettle.

  “But.." Cass attempted to speak.

  "Hush. I'll hear no argument. You may also stay with me. I'm all alone in that big house since Mr. Wettle passed on some five years ago. Mr. Soony is also welcome."

  "But I really can't," Cass told her.

  "Tut-tut-tut," Mrs. Wettle clucked. "You have nowhere else to stay, and I have the room. You just have to move your things in.... Oh, dear, you have no things. Well, you just come make yourself at home. I'll see to it Darby is nursed properly."

  Brett bit the inside of his lower lip to keep from laughing. Mrs. Wettle was as persistent as the tide.

  "I'm going to rebuild as soon as possible, Mrs. Wettle,” Cass said. "And it's not that I'm not grateful for the offer, it's just that I want to stay out at the ranch."

  The woman shook her head. "Well, do what you must, but your uncle will be recovering in my home. Is that understood?"

  Cass nodded, unwilling to argue with this formidable woman. She turned to look at Soony. She wondered if he'd been paying attention to the conversation. He wore a questioning expression. "Can Pork Chop go too?" he asked.

  Mrs. Wettle smiled. "Of course your pet is welcome also," she said.

  Soony grinned at Cass. "I'll go to Mrs. Wettle's," he said. "Mr. Darby needs me."

  Cass smiled. "It looks as if you’ll have two house guests for a while..three, if you count Pork Chop;" she said. "And I'll be in and out regularly to check on my uncle."

  "Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way," Mrs. Wettle said in a this matter is settled tone.

  "How soon can Uncle Darby be moved?" Cass asked the doctor.

  "Not until tomorrow, Cass. I want to watch him tonight. That bullet went pretty deep."

  She nodded. "All right. Is he awake now?"

  "No, but he should be before too long. Why don't you go have some breakfast and get cleaned up? By the time you get back he might have opened his eyes again," he suggested.

  "That's a wonderful idea," Brett interjected. "Come with me," he said to Cass.

  "I'm going to wait right here," announced Mrs. Wettle as though she'd been asked to go.

  The doctor chuckled to himself, then turned to face the other people who'd been waiting for news about Darby.

  "You all heard what I said about your friend. Darby will be fine, so you can go on about your business."

  "You sure, Doc?" Bill Conroy asked.

  "I'm sure, Bill. Go
open the barbershop. You probably have customers waiting."

  "All right," Conroy said, nodding his head as he went. Just before he went out the door, he stopped. "Marshal Ryder?"

  "Yes, Bill?"

  "I won't be running for sheriff after all," he said.

  "You’ve changed your mind?" Brett asked.

  He nodded again. "I don't think I'm the best man for the job," he stated quietly and walked out the door.

  Brett looked at Cass and shrugged. "Imagine that?" he said, smiling.

  Several minutes later the room had just about cleared. Cass yawned widely. "I need some coffee," she said.

  "You need a bath," Brett whispered to her.

  Cass huffed at him. "How dare you, sir?"

  "Look at me, Cass. I'm a filthy mess. You're almost as bad."

  Cass looked closely at Brett then down at her own clothes. "I guess you're right."

  "Follow me," he said, leading the way to the door.

  “We'll be back in a little while," Cass said over her shoulder to the doctor. "And thank you, Mrs. Wettle. We'll see you later."

  Brett had the wonderful idea of bathing in the sheriff’s office. He pulled out the big metal tub and started the fire to heat the water.

  “I don't even care if the water's hot," said Cass.

  "You will," he said, smiling.

  She looked down at her clothes again. They were ruined. Her trousers were caked with mud and soot. Her shirt looked even worse because she'd torn the bottom off to make the bandage for Darby. "What am I going to put on?" she asked.

  "Some of the sheriff's things are still in the dresser drawers," offered Brett.

  "Funny," said Cass,

  "I'll go buy us some new clothes while you bathe. Will that suit you?"

  "Perfectly. Just put my things on my tab at the store."

  Brett frowned at her. "I can still afford to buy a few articles of clothing."

  "Fine," she said, grinning at him.

  Twenty minutes later she was sitting in a tub of warm water. "Nothing has ever felt so good in all my life," she said loud enough for Brett to hear her in the outer office.

  "Nothing?" The word was full of meaning.

  "When are you going to the store?" she groused good-naturedly.