Lady of the Gun

by Faye Adams

  Hurrying back into the office, he pulled on his clothes in seconds. He was still strapping his gun belt on as he ran down the street toward the livery.

  "Wake up!" he yelled, banging on the smithy's door. "Wake up in there. I need a horse now!"

  The smithy walked with bleary eyes to the door. "Who is it?"

  "It's Marshal Ryder. I need a horse."

  "I just sold you a horse," the man said, yawning.

  "I need another one, damn it. Now open this door!"

  The smithy finally opened the door. "What are you so fired up about in the middle of the night, Marshal? Somebody get killed?"

  "I hope to God not," he said, rushing in and grabbing a saddle off the rack.

  "That's my saddle, Marshal. Hey, and that's my horse. He ain't for sale."

  "I'm borrowing him for the rest of the night."

  "Well, I don't know ." the smithy said rubbing his ample stomach.

  Brett turned to the man and glared down at him. "Go back to bed!" he ordered.

  The smithy blinked several times in surprise. "I… I… all right, Marshal," he finally said, and wandered back to his living quarters.

  Ten minutes later Brett was riding toward the Lazy T like a man whose hair was on fire. "Please be alive, Cass," he said. "Please be alive." His words became a chant in his head as he rode.

  Cass stepped into the study. "Good evening, gentlemen, and I use the term loosely."

  "Cass?" Ramsey spoke, startled.

  "Yes, Ramsey, it's me. Are you surprised to see me? You didn't think I'd come for you, did you? You thought you'd have to come to me again." She wavered on her feet slightly.

  "What are you doing here in my home uninvited, Cassidy?" demanded Hunt.

  Cass glanced his way. "My being invited isn't an issue, Mr. Tylo. Your men have never been invited to my place, but that didn't stop them, did it?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

  "Don't you? What about you, Ramsey? Will you admit you know what I'm talking about? It would save a little time if you would." She could feel the blood running down her side.

  "Sorry, Cass. I guess you'll have to spell it out," answered Ramsey. He exchanged glances with his father. They could see that she standing by willpower alone. She might be a fast draw, but she'd be shooting with her left hand, and she was weak. It wouldn't be long before she dropped. Then they'd have her.

  "Don't you remember what happened, Ramsey? I do. As if it occurred yesterday. You and your men came to my place and slaughtered my family. I didn't know it was you until the other day, the day Bobby Fleet put a bullet in me. I saw the sun on your bracelet that day, Ramsey, and I remembered the sun reflected off your bracelet the day you murdered my family, too. I thought it was a silver gun handle. I searched for five years for a man with a silver gun, and all the while it was you." She chuckled, a sarcastic sound that gurgled in her throat.

  "'We don't know what you're talking about," said Hunt.

  "You lie very well, Mr. Tylo. You've been doing it for years. But I don't believe you anymore, so why don't you tell the truth for once? It won't make any difference, of course. I'm going to kill you either way, but wouldn't you like the chance to tell the truth just once?"

  Hunt laughed. "Maybe you're right," he said.

  "Father ..." Ramsey warned.

  Hunt shrugged. "What could it hurt? She says she's going to kill us anyway." He started walking around behind the desk.

  "Stay where you are," Cass ordered.

  "Or what, you'll shoot me?" Hunt laughed again. "Look at her, boy," he said to Ramsey. "She can barely stand. In a few minutes she'll be dead. And this is the woman you were so hot to marry.”

  Cass narrowed her eyes. "Why?" she asked.

  "For the land, Cass," Ramsey admitted.

  "Just the land," she murmured. "Our land wasn't so valuable you had to kill for it."

  "Access to the water was. Your father threatened to keep my cattle from the Losee," said Hunt.

  "You have access."

  "Not good enough."

  "You killed my family for the sake of convenience."

  Hunt raised his shoulders in a blasé gesture.

  Cass's heart burned with rage. "But you missed me," she said.

  "That was Ramsey's error. He was supposed to make sure everyone was there before he started the killing,"

  "And afterward?"

  "He promised he'd finish you off, but it turned out he didn't need to. You left town to chase after the poor fools who'd been paid to do a job. With you gone and your uncle on the bottle, I ran my cattle across your land whenever I chose."

  "And then I came home," Cass said, feeling her knees begin to quake.

  “Yes. So I sent for Ramsey. He was supposed to come home and finish the job he'd started. Instead, he persuaded me to give him a chance to wed you. Either way, I'd have your land."

  "But your plan didn't work. I didn't fall in love with Ramsey."

  He rose as she spoke. “Not for lack of my trying, Cass," Ramsey said. "I think if it hadn't been for the marshal I would have won your love."

  Cass thought a minute. "I could never love you, Ramsey." Cass felt herself losing her battle for strength. She leaned against the open door. "And what about Rosie?" she asked.

  "Rosie was just a little fun on the side," Ramsey said, raising an eyebrow in his father's direction, indicating that Cass was weakening even more.

  Cass felt the darkness tugging at the corners of her mind again. The blood that dripped down her side was now soaking the top of her trousers. The pain throbbing through her shoulder and down her arm was the only thing keeping her conscious now. "You'll both burn in hell for what you did"'

  Hunt laughed again "I don't worry about hell, Cassidy. Do you? You've killed six men. Doesn't it worry you that you’ll spend eternity burning in the fiery pit with Satan?"

  "I did what I had to do," Cass said, her voice growing weak. "I'll let the Lord judge me as he sees fit. At least I'll know my killing was for a good reason. I brought justice to cold-blooded murderers." She glanced from one man to the other. "And now I'm going to do it again." Her head drooped for a second.

  Ramsey glanced at his father and whispered, "Her eyes are glazing over. I can take her."

  "Didn't you say you've never seen anyone faster with a gun?"

  Ramsey nodded.

  "Then why risk it? She's about to fall over," whispered Hunt"

  "What are you two saying?" Cass demanded.

  "We're concerned about your health, Cass. You don't look too good," Hunt said with false sweetness. Leaning over slightly, he slowly pulled open his desk drawer, revealing his revolver.

  Cass knew she had only a few minutes of lucidity left. Forcing herself to stand straight again, she focused her gaze on Ramsey. His gun was strapped to his thigh. He would be her fist victim.

  Ramsey saw the intent in her eyes. "Whenever you're ready, Cass," he said, sure he could beat her now that she was so weak.

  Hunt began to move slowly. Bending his knees only a little, he was able to get his fingers around the butt of his gun. Jerking it upward, he aimed and fired in one motion.

  Cass saw him move and drew her gun like lightning, pulling the trigger at the same time, sending a bullet to rip a hole through his heart.

  “Noooo!" screamed Ramsey as he saw Hunt fall. Turning insane eyes toward Cass, he shouted. "You can't be that good!" He pulled his gun and tried to fire, but the bullet that split his skull hit him before his finger touched the trigger. He stumbled backwards, surprise registered forever as his last emotion.

  Cass saw them die and slid to the floor. Dropping her gun, she began to cry. It was over, really over.

  Brett heard the gunshots and yelled in anguish. "Cass!" he screamed, riding up to the house and flying from the saddle, his gun drawn. Bursting through the door, he ran for the lighted study. "Cass! Where are you?" he shouted, terror filling his heart.

  Charging through the study door, he almost step
ped on Cass where she lay, "Dear God, Cass," he moaned, falling to his knees beside her. Dropping his gun, he swept her up in his arms. She was covered with her own blood, and tears streaked her face. She was sobbing as though she’d never stop. “I was afraid you’d be dead before I got here." he said.

  "I told you I had to finish it,” she reminded him.

  He looked around the room. Hunt Tylo lay dead across his desk. Ramsey had left a wash of blood on the wall behind him as he slid to the floor. “You finished it.”

  "I thought I'd be happy when it was over," she said, her body racked with sobs, "but I just feel… empty."

  Brett held her gently while she cried five years' worth of tears.

  Epilogue

  Four months later

  Cass stood in the doorway of her new home and watched Brett riding toward her. She smiled as he entered the yard, glowing from an inner happiness she had never known was possible.

  "How’s my pregnant wife?" he called as he jumped from his mount. "Getting fat yet?"

  Cass ran to him, throwing herself into his arms. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him fully on the lips, savoring the taste and smell of him. "You just saw me this morning," she murmured after the kiss. "Do I look any fatter?"

  Brett let his eyes roam over the still perfect figure of the woman he loved. "Maybe a little," he teased.

  "You, Sheriff, are a liar. I wonder if the good people of Twisted Creek know they've elected a liar to such an important position?"

  "Are you going to tell them?"

  "I just might. Unless, of course, I'm paid a price for my silence."

  "And just what price did you have in mind?" he growled seductively, squeezing her more tightly to his body.

  "I'll think about it and let you know tonight,', she whispered breathlessly.

  Brett kissed her again soundly, then released her, swatting her playfully on the backside. "You know, your bottom feels different in skirts," he observed.

  Cass giggled. "I feel different in skirts. I'd forgotten how cold the wind can be when it blows up under my petticoats.”

  Brett laughed. "I never thought about that aspect of it.” He put his arm around her shoulders and began walking toward the house.

  "Did you ask Buster and Rosie if they'll have Thanksgiving dinner with us?" she asked.

  "Yes, and Buster said they'll be here with bells on. I guess Rosie's already started baking pies."

  "But Thanksgiving's not until next week.”

  Brett shrugged. "I know, but you know Rosie."

  Cass smiled. "Yes, I know Rosie."

  "And Mrs. Wettle will be here?" Brett asked.

  "Of course. Uncle Darby wouldn't have it any other way. They're so cute together."

  "Love is a wonderful thing."

  Cass smiled lovingly up at him. "You're right.”

  They stopped before entering the house and Cass's mood changed slightly. "Did you get it?" she asked quietly.

  Brett stopped walking and looked down into her eyes. "'Yes, it's official."

  "Let me see it."

  "Are you sure you want to?"

  "I'm sure."

  Brett reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded newspaper clipping. "Here it is," he said, handing it to Cass.

  She looked at the words and began reading aloud: “Cassidy Wayne, the notorious gunslinger known as the Lady of the Gun, was killed last week in a gunfight in Texas.” She looked up at Brett. "Why Texas?"

  "Sounded good," he answered, shrugging.

  She kept reading. “The lady gunslinger was known to have killed at least eight people, several of whom were suspected of murdering her family. She will be missed by the people who knew her well.” She sighed. "It's finally really over," She breathed.

  "No one else will come looking for you."

  "The Lady of the Gun is gone forever."

  Brett watched her eyes. "Are you glad?"

  Tears filled her eyes. "More than you'll ever know."

  At just that moment, Mirabelle and Pork Chop streaked across the yard, screeching and clawing, feathers and fur flying. Cass began to laugh. "See? I told you if Mirabelle ever figured out she was the one who was supposed to be doing the chasing there'd be hell to pay."

  Brett laughed with her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist in a loving embrace. “That chicken is definitely paying for her sins."

  If you enjoyed this exciting Western Romance you may also enjoy one of these:

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  Available now, Faye Adams’ contemporary holiday romance:

  White Christmas Wishes

  “Bah humbug!” This is Maggie’s sentiment toward the impending holiday season. Three wishes have been made, and though she doesn’t believe in magic, the wishes start coming true! Will one of those wishes bring her true love? She doubts it but maybe…just maybe Maggie will have to start believing in the magic of Christmas Wishes.

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