Lady of the Gun (39 page)

"You betcha."

Brett grinned. "I knew I could count on you, Buster. I'll see you later.” He turned and headed for the office once more.

Riding onto Lazy T land a while later, Brett was surprised not to be met by armed riders. He rode right up to the house and dismounted. Knocking on the door, he waited only seconds before Hunt Tylo himself swung the door wide "I've come for Ramsey, Mr. Tylo," he announced, entering the house.

"What for?" Hunt asked belligerently.

“Rape and assault," Brett said as he walked deeper into the house.

"Hah! My boy never had to rape any woman. Who's telling
such lies? That dirty little waitress, Rosie, right?"

"It doesn't matter who's doing t
he accusing, Mr. Tylo. The crime's the same no matter who the victim is."

"There is no victim. And you can't just barge into a man's
home and start snooping around," his voice boomed as he followed Brett through the house.

"Yes, I can. Ramsey made it very easy for me. I was
about to draw up a warrant and get it to the circuit judge to sign, but now I don't have to. Ramsey beat up Rosie again today. I'm in pursuit of a criminal, Mr. Tylo. I'm going to arrest your son and put him behind bars." He continued to search through the many rooms of the house.

"Like hell you are."

"I hope it’s like hell for him, Tylo. Now, where is he?"

"He's not here. And you can look all you want for him.
You won't find him."

"You've hidden him."

"He's my son."

"Are you willing to let him get away with rape and assault
just because he's your son?" he asked, searching through bedrooms.

"I still say he didn't do a
nything wrong. That little slut's been after him for years," Hunt said, following the marshal as he searched through the house.

Brett wanted to smash Tylo's face in with the butt of hi
s rifle, but he controlled the impulse. He stopped searching and turned to stare at Hunt. "Her name is Rosie," he said through clenched teeth. "If I ever hear you call her anything that filthy again I'll knock you on your ass, Tylo. Do you understand?"

Hunt glared at Brett. "I'm entitled to my opinion," he
stated defiantly.

"Not a
round me, you're not," said Brett.

"You're asking for more
trouble here than you can handle, Marshal," Tylo said.

"I don't take kindl
y to threats."

"I don't threaten. I
promise."

"And I get justice. Remember that, Tylo." He turned and
headed back toward the front door. He hadn't found Ramsey in the house, and the Lazy T was a big place. He could be hiding anywhere. "You tell your son I'm looking for him, Tylo. You tell him the next time I see him I’ll arrest him'"

He
stormed down the porch steps and swung up into the saddle.

Hunt wa
lked out onto the porch. "And you hear me, Marshal. If you ever trespass on the Lazy T again without a warrant I'll shoot you on sight."

"I guess we know where we stand, don't we, Tylo?" Brett
ground out.

"I guess we do."

Brett tugged the reins, directing his mount away from the house. He spurred the animal to a gallop, frustrated he'd been unable to find Ramsey. "I'll get you next time, Ramsey," he hissed into the wind. "But right now Cass needs me."

After Brett was out of sight, Ramsey sauntered out of the
house and stood by his father. "I guess I'll have to kill him," he said, staring in the direction Brett had ridden.

"Seems so," answered Hunt. "Do you think you can handle
murdering the marshal better than you handled Cassidy?" he questioned.

"Cassidy is a different kind of problem," Ramsey answered.
“Besides, Cass may die from that gunslinger's bullet yet."

“I
hope you're right. If not… you've had your last chance with her, boy. I want Cassidy dead."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of everything
."

Chapter Nineteen

Brett rode like the wind to get back to town. He cursed the whole way that he'd come up empty-handed in his search for Ramsey. "At least he knows his days are numbered," he breathed.

Before goi
ng to the doctor's office, he stopped at Rosie's house to make sure she was all right. He jumped from his horse and took the porch steps two at a time. Buster!"' he yelled, knocking on the door.

Buster opened the door and met the
marshal with a grin. “Yes, sir?"

Brett co
uldn't help but return Buster's smile. It was infectious. "I wanted to let you know I’m back. I need to be with Cass, but I don't think Rosie should be left alone. Can you stay on here for a while?"

"Sure t
hing, Marshal. Rosie's real nice."

B
rett smiled again. "Thanks. I'll stop by once in a while to see how you're doing. And I'll send Soony to run errands for you, to get you food and things."

"Will I be
here long, sir?" Buster asked.

Brett thought f
or a moment. "Maybe a few days."

"All right. I guess I'll see you later, then, Marshal."
Buster backed away from the door and began closing it.

"
Remember what I said about Ramsey," Brett reminded him.

"Dead, sir," Buster said.

Brett smiled and walked away, knowing Rosie was in good hands.

Cass was sleeping peacefully when he entered the doctor's
exam room minutes later. "How's she doing, Doc," he asked as he went to her side, taking her left hand in his.

"The sa
me. I told you it might take some time to see a change in her. And then it might not be for the better."

"She's going to be fine," Brett said. "She's got to give me
twenty children."

The doctor's eyebrows went up. "Whatever you say, Marshal.
But do you mind if she recovers first?"

Brett looked up at the doctor and smiled.  “Not at all.”

“I’ll be back in my apartment.  Call me if she wakes up before I return,” the doctor said.

Brett nodded and watched him go. He then turned his
attention to Cass. She was so beautiful, even pale and weak, her dark chestnut hair framing her face with soft curls. Looking at her features, he saw her lashes sending long shadows over her cheekbones. He let his gaze follow their path, slipping downward to her mouth, her lips pallid with just a touch of blue at the corners. How he longed to see those lips pink and curled up into a teasing smile again. "You've got to pull through this, Cass. I love you," he whispered.

Cass hovered somewhere in the dark. She hurt so badly
that she didn't want to leave this place of unreality. She didn't want to see the gunman again. She didn't want to see Ramsey's face. He'd killed her family. All these years she'd thought about the silver gun. She'd asked questions trying to find the mystery man, and all along it had been Ramsey.  The scene began to play again in her mind. The fire in the house, the gunshots, the screams. She tried to cry out, but could only lie and watch. No, she thought. I don't want to see this again. She let herself fall farther into the darkness.

Brett thought he saw her eyelashes flutter just a bit.
"Doc," he called.

"
What is it?" the doctor asked entering the room.

"Her eyelids moved."

"She's dreaming. Or trying to wake up," he said. He checked her pulse and left the room again.

Brett once more watched her sleep. "Cass, come back to
me," he whispered.

For hours he stood and watched her. Then, getting a chair
from the waiting room, he sat for several more hours. It was growing dark when he heard someone at the door. Standing up, he went to see who it was. Peering out through the window, he saw Soony.

"Mr. Brett, Mrs. Wettle sent dinner," he said, holding up
a tray and a glass of milk.

Brett realized he hadn't eaten all day and hurriedly
opened the door. "Thank you, Soony. And thank Mrs. Wettle for me when you go back." He sniffed the cloth-covered tray.

"Stew," Soony informed him. "She says it'll stick to your
ribs. I say it'll stick to everything."

Brett chuckled. "You don't t
hink too highly of Mrs. Wettle's cooking?"

Soony looked down. "She puts f
lour in everything, even eggs."

"Eggs?"

"She fixed Mr. Darby some eggs with flour in them. She says flour gives them body. I don't understand," he said, shaking his head.

Brett grinned. "I'
m sure she's not as good a cook as you are, Soony, but I'll do my best to eat this. I wouldn't want to hurt her feelings."

Soony nodded. "Yes. We must be nice,"
he said. "She means well."

Brett took the tray and milk from Soony and carried them
back with him into the exam room.

"
How is Missy Cass?" Soony asked, following him inside.  "Mr. Darby is very worried."

"The same. She's sleeping. Once in a while her eyelids
move, but she hasn't awakened yet."

"She
is dreaming," said Soony.

"That's what the doc says."

"He's right," confirmed Soony as though he were an expert.

Brett devoured Mrs. Wettle's stew with fervor. He was so
hungry he didn't stop to analyze it. It was food. And it did feel as if it would stick to his ribs. He washed it down with the milk. "How is Darby doing?" he asked when his stomach was full.

"Mr. Darby says he's fine. Mrs. Wettle sa
ys he's stubborn. She says he must stay in her bed for a week," Soony informed him.

Brett started to chuckle when Soony mentioned the sleeping
arrangements at Mrs. Wettle's home.

"Did
I say something wrong, Mr. Brett?" Soony asked.

“
No, don't change a thing," Brett told him. Though Soony had a remarkable grasp of the English language, his occasional misunderstandings of certain things were quite entertaining.

Soony nodded. "I'll go now. I told Mrs. Wettle I'd do
the dishes."

B
rett smiled at Soony. "All right. Tell Darby I'll stop by in the morning to see how he's doing."

"Yes,
Mr. Brett."

"And would you do me a favor? Would you go to Rosie's
house tomorrow to see if she and Buster need anything from the store?"

"Buster?"

"Mrs. Thompson's nephew. You probably met him at the barn raising. He's keeping an eye on Rosie for me." He noticed the bewildered expression on Soony's face. The man didn't know all that was going on. "Rosie has been threatened," he explained.

Soony nodded. "I'll be glad to go to Rosie's tomorrow."

"Thank you," Brett said, handing him the empty tray and glass.

After Soony had left, Brett returned to his vigil, watching
over Cass. Several hours later he dozed off with his head resting on the edge of the table where she lay.

Cass was running. Running from the men who had ki
lled her family. Running toward something. She couldn't catch her breath, and she felt as though her chest was about to explode. She tried calling out for help, but she couldn't remember who was left alive to help her. She saw her mother and father, but they were both dead. She saw her brothers and sister. They were dead too. Then she saw Brett. She opened her mouth to scream for him to help her, but she could make no sound. She was drowning in thick water. It sucked her downward, choking her, pressing on her chest so she couldn't breathe at all. Then the flames began to lick at her flesh. She was on fire. The heat seared her painfully. She tried to call for Brett again, but again she could make no sound. Ramsey's face floated before her, smiling. He dangled a silver chain in front of her. "It was me, Cass," he taunted. "It was me." He began to laugh at her. She struggled against the sound, but it wouldn't stop. No matter what she did, her torment wouldn't end.

Brett felt Cass
move and was suddenly awake. "Cass?" he said, his voice raspy with sleep. "Cass, are you awake?"

He looked at her face. She was still unconscious, dreaming
dreams that caused her to writhe. Touching her forehead, he was filled with dread. She was burning up. "Doc!" he called. "Doc, get in here!"

Seconds later the doctor ran into the room in his nightshirt.
Feeling Cass's forehead and arms, he shook his head. “I warned you fever might set in."

"What can we do?"

"Keep her as cool as possible and let her ride it out. Let's hope she's strong enough to live through it."