Lady of the Gun (17 page)

Cass leaned forward and put her hands on either side of
Darby's whiskered cheeks. Tilting his face down, she kissed him on the top of his head. "I hope you’ll find us,” she said quietly. She then turned to Ramsey, smiling. “Let’s go."

The ride to town wasn’t pleasant; Ramsey tried to be entertaining, relating what he thought were amusing stories about his life at college, but a few of his college pranks had bordered on cruelty. One in particular made her skin crawl. It seemed one of his dormitory mates was unable, for whatever reason, to keep his room up to standards. The rules were such that if any room failed inspection, they all did, and the students lost privileges because of it. Ramsey’s prank, or revenge, was to find out what frightened the young man most and to use it against him. It seemed he feared death and was very superstitious, having been raised in the deep South by a nanny who practiced voodoo. One night Ramsey and a bunch of his cronies broke into the nearby funeral parlor and stole a corpse. Bringing it back to the dormitory, they placed it under the boy's bed. In a very short time the stench made the discovery imminent. A note was attached to the corpse, telling the young man to clean under his bed more often. He was so traumatized by the incident that he ended up leaving school.

Cass noticed the relish with which Ramsey told the story,
and though she smiled for him when he told it, she was repulsed by the tale. After that, she could find no way to bring up the subject of her family's murder without adding to the gruesome mood Ramsey had set.

As they neared town, Cass could hear the
music of a band. "The parade has started!" she exclaimed. "Hurry, Ramsey," she urged, hoping to lift the pall on her spirits a bit.

Ramsey pulled the horses to a stop just outside the livery
and put on the hand brake. "We'll leave the horses here and walk. You don't mind, do you?"

Cass could see the street was crowded with buggies and
wagons. It seemed everyone had come to town for the celebration. "0f course I don't mind."

"You're wonderful," Ramsey told her. Climbing down
from the buggy, he held out his hands to assist her.

Cass glanced uncertainly at his hands before she gave him
hers and stepped from the buggy. It was then he pulled her to him.

Ramsey bent his head and stole a kiss, pressing his lips
firmly to hers.

Cass was so shocked by Ramsey's unexpected behavior
that she didn't know what to do except stand there. His lips were dry and too hard, pressing roughly against hers. He pulled her to him swiftly and held her tightly, his thinness apparent in the sensation of his ribs pressing into her chest. "Don't!" she finally said, frowning, trying to step back from him, turning her head away from his mouth.

Ramsey released her reluctantly and looked at Cass.
“You find my kiss distasteful?" he asked when he saw her frown.

Cass fumbled for an answer
. She didn't want to offend him, as she hadn't yet found the moment to question him about his father, but she certainly wasn't a good enough actress to make him think she'd enjoyed his kiss. “Oh, no, Ramsey, I'm sorry. I was thinking of something else,” she blurted.

"I don't know if that's any better,
” he said sardonically.

"
No ... I mean ... I'm sorry. I can't explain it. I liked your kiss, really I did.” She tried to lie. “It’s just that you took me by surprise." She looked up into his pale eyes and smiled. Briefly, something in the cold depths of his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. Then he smiled back at her, his features softening boyishly. Had she imagined seeing that short moment of dark emotion?

"That's all right, my dear. I
’ll try to do better later,” he promised, giving her a lecherous grin and holding out his arm to her.

Cass took his arm and let hi
m lead her toward the music.

Brett scowled blackly fro
m just inside the livery. He’d been looking for the smithy to tell him he'd found a will among Sheriff Jackson's things and that, according to the will, Jackson had left his horse and saddle to his sister. Since the horse had been taking up space in the livery, Brett wanted to let the smithy know about the will.

He hadn't found the smithy. Instead, he
’d witnessed a scene that had made his blood boil. How dare Ramsey Tylo kiss Cass? And why the hell didn’t she slap his face when he did it? Clenching both fists at his sides, he fought the impulse to rush out and beat the man to a pulp. Just as he was losing the battle, he saw them turn and walk away. "You don't want me to follow you, Cass? Too bad. I'm going to stick to you like a tick on a hound dog,” he grumbled between clenched teeth.

Cas
s accepted the glass of lemonade Ramsey held out to her. Putting it to her lips, she sipped the cool liquid. "Mmmm, delicious," she murmured after she’d swallowed. It was hot standing in the sun watching the parade, and Ramsey had purchased the libation from a street stand.

"Almost as delicious as you are,
” he whispered, leaning closer. His first attempt to sway Cass in his favor hadn’t turned out the way he'd hoped. She hadn't responded to his kiss as he'd wished. In fact, she'd acted slightly repulsed by it.

Cass blushed slightly at his suggestive statement. She was
uncomfortable with Ramsey's sexual attentions, but she refused to admit that maybe she'd taken on more than she could handle. He was her best link to Hunt. Sipping her lemonade once more, she decided that not commenting on Ramsey's innuendo was the wisest move, so she turned her attention back to the parade.

A small circus had found its way to town that very morning,
and some of its performers and their animals had joined the parade. A baby elephant was marching past, a tiny man riding on its back, and Cass laughed as the man lifted his hat to her. It was then she noticed Brett on the opposite side of the street, watching her through the crowd. When their eyes met, he winked and tipped his hat to her also. Feeling her pulse rate increase to a fevered tempo, she looked away. Why did he have such an effect on her? She wondered.

"Th
ere's the marshal, my dear," announced Ramsey. "Oh, damn, sorry, but he's coming our way."

Cass looked back across the street to the spot Brett had
occupied. It was empty. As she turned to search the crowd, he appeared in front of her. "Hello, Cass," he said, ignoring Ramsey. "You’re as pretty as a moonlit night," he said softly.

"How very poetic, Marshal. I didn't know you had it in
you," drawled Ramsey.

Cass stared up into Brett's silver-gray eyes. She knew
what he meant. He was reminding her of that night. Her heart beat wildly, and she was suddenly much hotter than she'd been moments before. She remembered the way he'd looked and felt. She remembered the way he'd tasted and the things they'd done together. "I, ah . . .My, it's warm out here," she finally stammered.

"Yes, it is," agreed Ramsey. "Quite unpleasant," he
stated, staring hard at Brett. "Let's go into the hotel and rest for a while."

“That sounds like a good idea, Ramsey,”
Brett parried.

“I didn’t m
ean for you to join us, Marshal,” Ramsey said rudely, a cold edge to his voice"

"I d
idn't say I was joining you. I just agreed it might be a good idea to go inside to cool off."

Ramsey lowered his eyelids perceptibly.
“Very well. Come, Cass." He touched her arm.

Cass saw the tense set to Ramsey
’s jaw, the way his eyes narrowed. It made her nervous to see such anger being held in check. She suddenly wished she’d worn her guns to town, then picturing herself in her beautiful dress with her guns strapped to her hips brought a cloud over her mood as swiftly as if someone had just blotted out the sun.

Brett noticed the change in her.
“What’s wrong, Cass?"

Lowerin
g her eyes, she shook her head. “Nothing. I’m fine," she said, thinking about what she was becoming. It couldn't be helped, she reasoned. She had to finish what she'd started. She'd promised herself, and she’d promised her family. Raising her eyes again, she gazed at Brett. Yes, he understood her. "Would you like to join us in the hotel?” she asked.

Ramsey's hold on her arm tightened at her words, but she
didn't care. "It would be rude not to invite the marshal to join us, Ramsey. He is, after all, a newcomer to Twisted Creek. We should make him feel welcome.”

Ra
msey gritted his teeth to hold in the words he wanted to say. After a moment he was able to speak civilly. ‘Of course, you're right, my dear.” He couldn't bring himself to echo her invitation, though. He simply began walking toward the hotel, leading Cass by the arm.

Brett had to clench his fists o
nce again at the sight of Ramsey touching Cass in such a possessive way.

Mo
ments later, comfortably settled in the lobby of the hotel, Cass tried to recapture her earlier good mood. “So, gentlemen," she said, addressing them both, “what should we do with the rest of the afternoon?”

"We could go to the circus,', suggested Brett.

"We?" asked Ramsey.

"I wouldn't want to impose . . ." Brett left the co
mment open.

"You wouldn't be i
mposing, Brett," Cass offered. She remembered his warning about following her all day and stifled a smile. If he was going to be standing on every street corner, and lurking in every shadow, she might as well have him sitting next to her. She certainly wasn't going to get rid of him by being rude.

“
Thank you. Then I vote for the circus," Brett announced.

Ramsey couldn't believe this
day was turning out so badly. The last thing he wanted was to have the marshal tagging along with them everywhere they went. He was determined to kiss Cass again, maybe more than once, if he could manage it, but the marshal’s presence would ruin any chance for a sexual encounter. He looked at Cass, sitting so coolly in her beautiful dress. He had to get closer to her. I suppose, he thought, if the way to her heart is through ridiculous gestures, I can put up with it for a while. He glared at Brett and wished her need to be generous didn't include this particular man. "If the circus sounds good to Cass, it sounds good to me," he said as convincingly as he was able.

Cass nodded. "Wonderful," she agreed. It was then she
saw Rosie coming from the hotel restaurant with a tray of glasses. She smiled at the young woman, only to be snubbed once again.

"Rosie, is that you?" Ramsey called when his gaze f
ollowed where Cass's had led.

Rosie stopped dead in her tracks and turned slowly
around. Her normally white complexion grew even whiter, and she dropped the tray of glasses. Shattered glass flew everywhere as the tumblers hit the hardwood floor of the hotel lobby.

Cass studied Rosie curiously. She seemed to be unaware
of the broken glass at her feet or of the many people coming to her aid. She could only stand and stare at Ramsey. Cass frowned at her odd behavior. She knew Ramsey had teased Rosie unmercifully when they were children, but that had been years ago. They were adults now. It was hardly likely Ramsey would begin to taunt her today.

Ramsey
rose from his chair and crossed to where the waitress still stood like a statue. "Rosie, are you all right?” he asked.

Rosie backed up without sayin
g a word and headed toward the kitchen, leaving the mess behind.

"Odd," Ra
msey said, turning back toward Cass and Brett.

Bre
tt thought the same thing. Rosie was terrified of Ramsey, and he wanted to know why.

Chapter Nine

“Excuse me for a moment, won't you?" Brett said as he rose from his chair.

"Of course," answered Ramsey, rejoining the
m. "Take your time."

Cass saw that Brett was staring intently at the door between
the hotel lobby and the restaurant. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I'll only be a minute," he said, not answering her questio
n. Leaving Cass and Ramsey sitting together in the lobby, he pushed open the swinging doors to the restaurant. The dining room was closed for the day, but the staff was serving cool drinks, cakes, pies, and sherbet to people in the lobby and on the long front porch of the building.

Brett stepped inside and scanned the room. He'd eaten
most of his meals here in the last few days, and Rosie had waited on him many times. She was usually a jovial sort, ready with a friendly smile as she poured the coffee.

Spotting her behind the lunch counter, he noticed she was
having a hard time composing herself. She was wringing her hands, visibly shaken. Her complexion was even whiter now than it had been before, and she was chewing on her lower lip.

"Rosie," he called, his voice echoing across the large dining
room.

Rosie jumped at the sound and took several backward
steps, as though she felt afraid.