by Faye Adams
Cass brought her left hand up to fight off his attack. "I won't let you," she said, breathing hard from her simple exertion.
Ramsey chuckled softly. "A fighter until the end. I have to give you credit for that." He slammed the pillow down over her face.
Cass tried to scream, but the pillow muffled the sound. She tried to fight with her left hand, but she was too weak. I'm going to die at Ramsey's hands, just like my family, she thought pitifully.
"What's the meaning of this?" Mrs. Wettle demanded as she burst into the room. “Doctor!" she screamed. "Doctor!"
Ramsey looked up in surprise as the shocked woman began screaming. Releasing the pillow, he ran away from the table and out of the room, shoving Mrs. Wettle into the wall. "Get out of my way!" he growled as he ran. Once outside, he raced to the back of the building and down the alley toward where he'd left his horse. "Damn that interfering bitch!" he hissed. "Now it'll be all the harder to kill that slut, Cassidy!"
Brett heard a scream and took off at a dead run toward the sound. His heart beat wildly in fear as he neared the doctor's office. Had something happened to Cass? Shoving his way through the small crowd that had gathered, he found Mrs. Wettle huffing and puffing in the exam room while the doctor hovered over Cass. "What is it, Doc? She isn't . . .”'
The doctor turned to face him. "She'll be fine. But it was close. Someone tried to kill her. Thank God Mrs. Wettle arrived when she did. Someone was trying to suffocate her."
"Someone tried to kill Cass?" He stepped past the doctor and looked down at the woman he loved. "Cass? Are you all right? Please, darling, open your eyes."
Cass heard Brett's voice and opened her eyes slightly. The struggle with Ramsey had sapped what little strength she had left. Trying to smile up at him, she tilted the corners of her mouth only a little. Wiggling the fingers of her left hand, she indicated she wanted him to take it in his and closed her eyes again when his strong fingers closed over hers.
Brett looked across the room to Mrs. Wettle. "Who was it?"
Mrs. Wettle was fanning herself and taking deep breaths. "It all happened so fast, but it looked like it might have been that Tylo boy. Ramsey, is it?"
"Ramsey!" Brett said through his teeth. "I'll kill that son of a bitch," he hissed.
"Oh, dear," puffed Mrs., Wettle.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," said Brett.
"That's quite all right, Marshal. I would call him worse myself if I weren't a lady."
Chapter Twenty
Brett wouldn't leave Cass's side for the next few days. He knew he'd catch up to Ramsey sooner or later, and Cass's safety was uppermost in his mind now. If Ramsey tried to kill her once, he might try again.
Cass slept most of the time. Her wound had begun healing, but her strength had been sapped. There were a lot of things she needed to tell Brett, but she wanted to feel stronger before she did. On the morning of the fifth day after Ramsey's attack she awoke with a new feeling of strength in her limbs. "Doc, may I sit up?" she asked.
"Feeling that much better, are we?" the doctor asked.
"I think so."
Brett had made a brief trip to the outhouse and was just walking back into the room when the doctor lifted her to a sitting position. "Doc, should she be doing that?" he asked, concerned.
"She thinks so. And the customer is usually right," he teased.
"I feel much better, Brett," she said almost shyly. He was so handsome standing there with his hands on his hips, concerned about her welfare.
Brett felt his heart do a flip at the sight of her smile. He'd waited for days to see some sign that she was getting stronger, and here it was. A beautiful shy smile. Swallowing, he walked to her side. "You look better."
"Do I? I'm sure I look horrible. I haven't brushed my hair in days."
"It looks fine to me."
Cass blushed. She had little on under the blanket, and the thought suddenly embarrassed her. “Doc, when can I get dressed?'
The doctor had been preparing to change her bandage. He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Any time you feel up to it."
"Today?"
"If, you say so. Just don't wear anything too elaborate. All those female corsets and chemises and such could make it difficult for me to check your wound."
Brett chuckled. "You don't have to worry about those things with Cass, remember?"
The doctor blinked, then remembered that Cass rarely wore feminine clothing. "Oh, yes, well, in that case . . ." He walked toward the exam table. "Any time you're ready would be fine." He reached for the top of Cass's blanket.
"Let's get this bandage changed," he said.
Cass grabbed the blanket with her left hand. "Ah . . . could we do this in a minute?" she asked.
"But why?"
Cass looked at Brett. "Would you mind waiting outside for a while?" she asked.
Brett frowned a bit. "Cass, I've been here for everything. I sponged you myself for nearly two days."
"I know, but that was different. I was unconscious. I'm not anymore, and I'd like some privacy," She blushed when she spoke.
Brett grinned at her. "All right, but I think you're being silly," he said.
"She's being female," offered the doctor. '
"Oh, hush," she said.
Cass watched Brett leave the room, then allowed the doctor to clean and re-bandage her wound. "How's it healing, Doc?" she asked.
"Seems to be doing well. You won't be able to move that arm for a while yet, and you'll have a scar, but I think you should heal up good as new in several weeks."
"Good," she said. "Can I get up and walk around?"
"Don't see why not if you feel up to it."
"Can I go to the outhouse instead of using that horrid bedpan?" she asked.
"I suppose."
Cass smiled, She was getting all the right answers. "What about riding? Would it hurt me any to ride?"
"Why on earth would you want to climb on a horse now?" he asked.
"I'm not saying I'm going to. I just want to know if I could," she answered.
The doctor finished tying her bandage and began to organize his supplies. "I wouldn't advise it, but it wouldn't kill you, if that's what you're asking."
"I'm not asking anything in particular" I was just making conversation,"
The doctor sighed. "All right, Cass. I'm finished here for now. May I call the marshal back?"
Cass pulled the blanket up to her neck again. "Yes, call him in."
Brett was smiling when he entered the room. "Doc told me you were talking a mile a minute while he bandaged you."
"He did?"
"Yep. What were you saying?"
Cass thought for a moment about what she was going to say. "I have several things to tell you, Brett," she said quietly. "But I'd really like to be dressed before I start'"
Brett sighed. He could sense that what she had to say was important. "All right. I'll get you some clean clothes. Then will you tell me what's on your mind?"
"I promise."
An hour later Rosie was helping Cass pull on her trousers. "I don't understand why you won't let me help you into a dress. These things are so . . ."
"Ugly?" Cass supplied.
"No. I wasn't going to say ugly," Rosie insisted.
"Trousers serve my purpose, Rosie. Someday I'll wear nothing but pretty dresses, but for now I need the freedom that trousers give me."
"But you don't need to do anything right! now except recover," Rosie said.
Cass didn't answer. She did have something to do. "Do you know where Brett and the doc put my guns?" she asked as nonchalantly as she could.
Rosie looked around the room. "I don't know. Maybe here?" she said, crossing to an armoire that stood against the far wall. Pulling it open, she peered inside. "I should be a detective," she said. "Here they are, hanging safely on a hook, but you don't need them now."
"No. Are my boots in there too?"
"Yes."
“Good. Just in case I need to go to the outhouse," she a
dded.
Rosie nodded. "You're all dressed. Should I go get the men?"
"No, let me walk out to see them." Cass started for the curtain. Halfway across the room she started feeling a little weak and swayed a bit.
Rosie rushed to her side. "You're overdoing it, you know. Just because you're feeling some better today doesn't mean you're ready to rush out and conquer the world."
Rosie's choice of words amused Cass. She wasn't going to conquer the world, just two men. Two very evil men.
Brett looked up at Cass and Rosie as they came through the curtain. "You're dressed," he observed.
Cass nodded.
"I liked you better in a blanket."
"Brett!" she scolded.
Buster laughed. “I know I'd like to see someone in a blanket," he remarked.
Rosie turned three shades of scarlet and couldn't speak.
Brett burst out laughing.
"You two are horrible," said Cass. "Rosie and I should just leave," she threatened.
"No, you don't," said Brett, standing and putting his arm gently around her shoulders. "You’re going to come over here and sit down next to me. You owe me some conversation, remember?"
"I remember." She looked expectantly at Rosie.
"Come on, Buster. We have to go now," she said, getting the message.
Once alone, Cass didn't know where to start. Sitting down, she gathered her thoughts. She wanted Brett to know how she felt, to pour out her heart to him, to let him know she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. But she also had to tell him about Ramsey. She wanted to explain why she had to finish what she'd started.
"Brett," she began.
Brett had taken the chair next to hers, and reached for her hand. "Yes?"
Cass relished the feeling of his strong fingers caressing hers. His touch was sending little spasms of delight skittering up her arm. It was very distracting. “I want to tell you something."
"Yes?" he growled, leaning closer to her.
She shivered as her heart skipped several beats. "Actually, I have several things to tell you."
Brett bent forward and nuzzled her neck, nipping at the tender skin there with his lips. "Go ahead," he breathed.
"You're not making this any easier," she said, her voice coming out on a husky sigh.
"I'm not?" he asked innocently.
"Brett,.. I .., I love you," she whispered.
Brett's heart nearly exploded when he heard her words. "I love you so much, Cass," he said, wrapping his arms gently around her so as not to hurt her. "I was afraid I'd never get to hear you say those words to me. When I saw you'd been shot I nearly died. Then when you developed a fever ..." He let his voice trail off at the memory.
Cass pulled back from him a little. "You didn't let me finish," she said.
Brett gazed into her beautiful eyes. "What else did you want to say?"
"I love you, but there's something I have to do before we can be together."
Brett began to feel suspicious. "And what would that be?"
"I have to go after Ramsey."
Brett hit his thighs with the heels of his hands. "I knew you were going to say something ridiculous like that," he fumed. "I know Ramsey tried to kill you, Cass. I curse myself for leaving you and making his attempt possible, but believe me, I'm the one who's going to make him pay for that act, not you. I've only been waiting for you to get well enough for me to feel comfortable leaving your side."
"I'm not going to kill Ramsey for trying to kill me, Brett.
I'm going to kill him for murdering my family."
Brett stared hard into her eyes. "Ramsey?"
"I remembered, Brett. I remembered when I saw the sun on his silver bracelet" Don't you see? My memory played a trick on me. I thought I'd seen the reflection of the sun on a silver gun, but it was Ramsey's bracelet all along. He did it, Brett. He helped murder my family. Now I'm going to kill him for it."
Brett listened to her and his heart hardened. "I won't let you do it, Cass."
"But you heard me. Ramsey and his father are the last of the murderers. I have to finish this."
"I agree it has to be finished. But not by you" I watched you lay on that table in the other room and nearly die. I won't go through that again. I'll be the one to go after Ramsey."
"It's not your fight" Brett. I started this, and I have to finish it."
Brett stood up and faced her. "No, Cass! I won't let you do it," he told her.
"You can't stop me."
"I won't let you out of my sight."
"For the rest of my life? That's what it would take."
Brett rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. "When are you planning to do this?"
"As soon as I'm strong enough."
"That won't be soon enough. I'm going to get some men together and go out to the Lazy T tomorrow. We'll bring Ramsey in. He'll be charged with the crimes, and he'll stand trial."
“What if he's not at the Lazy T”
"'We'll hunt him down. Wherever he is, I'll find him and bring him to justice."
"That's not good enough."
"Why? Because you feel that you have to be the one to do it?"
"I have to see him dead."
"You're planning his murder."
"I'll let him draw first."
"Damn it, Cass! You're splitting hairs. If you plan to kill someone, no matter how, it's murder."
"So arrest me,"
Brett fell back into the chair beside her. "I know you think you have to do this. I understand your reasons. But I'm going after Ramsey first thing in the morning. I won't give you the opportunity to kill him. I won't take that chance with your life."
Cass clenched her jaw tightly. Looking at Brett, she knew what she had to do. "All right," she said. "I suppose you can't help how you feel."
"I feel like a man in love with the most stubborn woman in the world," he answered.
Cass shrugged, then groaned when the absent-minded gesture caused her so much pain.
Brett put his hand gently on her left shoulder. "I love you, Cass," he whispered, leaning toward her.
She looked up at him. “I love you, too," she murmured. Seeing the devotion in his deep gray eyes caused her a moment of guilt, but only a moment. Then she pushed it away. If she died doing what she had to do, she'd accept her fate.
Cass listened to the sound of Brett's soft snoring not far from her. She'd managed to talk the doctor into letting her leave the office, but only by promising not to do too much. Now she lay in the sheriff's comfortable bed while Brett slept on a cot in one of the cells of the jail. It had been difficult waiting for him to fall asleep, but she'd been listening to him snore for the better part of half an hour, and she felt fairly sure he was sleeping soundly enough for her to leave. Pushing back the covers, she grimaced as she sat up.
Her shoulder was still throbbing and her right arm was useless, but she was sure she could get dressed and go outside. Saddling a horse was going to be difficult, but she didn't have a choice.
The night air was warm as she exited the building some twenty minutes later. Leaning against the clapboard siding, she rested for a minute. Moving around so much had taken away a lot of her strength, but she was determined to finish what she'd started. Tonight might be her last chance.
Brett had gotten himself a new horse, a big roan with a long, shaggy mane, and had left him in a small corral in back of the jail. Pulling his saddle off the fence, she grunted as she dragged it to where the animal stood beside the trough. "Make this easy on me and stand still, okay?" she whispered. The horse looked at her with large brown eyes and whinnied. "Shhh, we don't want to wake up Brett," she warned quietly.
By the time she'd managed to saddle the big animal and then pull herself up onto his back, she could barely stand the ache in her shoulder. She reached up to touch the bandage. “Damn it," she breathed when her fingers came away bloody. She'd broken open the wound again, but she couldn't worry about that now. Nudging the horse with her h
eels, she started out for the Lazy T.
The ride seemed longer than she remembered, and she realized she was getting light-headed when she rode onto Lazy T land by way of a ridge that separated her property from the Tylo’s'. She shook her head to clear it. Only a little while longer, she told herself. Just two more men and I'm through.
When she could see the house, she dismounted, tethered the horse, and proceeded on foot, running from one rock or shrub to the next, trying to stay out of sight. Her arrival had to be a surprise. She could see lights burning in the house and frowned at her bad luck. Apparently someone was still awake.
Creeping around the house, she peered into several windows. When she reached the study windows her heart began to beat furiously. There, seated with his father, was Ramsey. Both men were smoking cigars and holding glasses of what looked like brandy. They were laughing and enjoying themselves, completely relaxed in the knowledge that they'd gotten away with murder. "At least you think you have," she murmured.
Sneaking to the back of the house, she tried to open the door to the kitchen, but found it locked. Cursing as she went, she made her way back toward the front of the house. She'd go in through a window if she had to. She stumbled once as she neared the front porch, but was able to keep from falling by grabbing the edge of an empty window box. Standing still for a moment, she took several deep breaths, praying she would last long enough to do what she'd come to do.
Looking down at her shirt, she could see that blood had soaked through the fabric and was creating an ever-widening stain of dark red. Her knees started to buckle again, but she forced herself to keep going.
The front door was unlocked, and she said a prayer of thanks. She wasn't sure she could have pulled herself through a window. She entered the house and tiptoed silently down the hall toward the study. In just minutes it'll be over, she thought. One way or another.
Brett turned in his sleep and nearly fell off the tiny jailhouse cot he'd been bunking on. "Damn," he cursed. Sitting up, he stretched his neck and thought about the soft beds in the hotel. But in the hotel there'd be a closed door between him and Cass and he wanted to be able to hear her breathe. He listened. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as a wave of apprehension swept over him. It was too quiet. Getting up, he raced across the short distance to the sheriff’s bedroom. The bed was empty. "Cass?" he called into the silence. His heart started pounding with dread. "Cass?" he called again. Going to the back door, he stepped outside. Maybe she'd just made a trip to the outhouse. "Cass?" he yelled once more. Then he noticed the empty corral. "No!" he moaned, knowing instantly what she'd done.
