Authors: Faye Adams
Lady of the Gun (43 page)
H
e 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 cor
ners 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 stepped 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."
Br
ett held her gently while she cried five years' worth of tears.
Epilogue
Four months later
C
ass 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 wo
nder 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 po
cket 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 m
oment, 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 wit
h her, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist in a loving embrace. “That chicken is definitely paying for her sins."
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“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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