Lady of the Gun (16 page)

Brett scowled. "No, it doesn't. Does he have any hangouts
other than the saloon?"

The man glanced past Brett to an o
ld rocking chair in a corner beside a window. "Right there. If he ain't in his room or at the bar, that's where you'll find him."

"May I check his roo
m?"

"It's a little out of the ordinary
." the man paused a second, "but Sharky's a good old bird. I reckon it'd be alright."

Brett took the key and was told which room was
Sharky's. It seemed he'd been staying in the same room off and on for as long as he'd been coming through Twisted Creek.

Standing outside th
e door, Brett got a terrible feeling of dread. What if the old man was lying dead inside the room? Turning the key in the lock, he twisted the doorknob and pushed inward. The room was empty. It didn't even look as though anyone had been using it. Had Sharky left town?

Brett
walked farther into the room. It was then he noticed the corner of a battered carpetbag sticking out from under the bed. Reaching down, he picked it up and opened it. It was empty. He tossed it on the bed and crossed to the armoire. opening it, he found Sharky's few clothes hanging neatly on wire hangers. An extra pair of shoes had been placed side by side on the bottom shelf, his toiletries in a small leather case on the top shelf. Sharky was a neat man, and he definitely hadn't checked out. "Where are you?" Brett breathed, his chest filling with concern.

Back downstairs a little while later, he tossed the key on
the counter.

"'Well?" the desk clerk asked.

"His things are still up there," Brett answered.

"I didn't
think Sharky would run out on us," The clerk sighed, obviously relieved. "Like I said, he probably just got drunk somewhere and is right now sleepin' it off'"

"I hope you're right," Brett murmured as he left the
hotel.

While eating dinner the previous night, Cass had felt herself getting anxious about going to the Fourth of July celebration with Ramsey.

"I'm glad to see you're starting to act like a normal
'woman, Cass," her uncle said as he passed the potatoes.

Cass laughed at his lack of tact, but couldn't help the pang
of guilt she felt at deceiving her uncle about her motive for spending time with Ramsey.

“I have
to say I'm disappointed you're going with Ramsey, though. I never did like that boy."

"He's grown up,
Uncle," she offered in explanation.

"Maybe ..." Darby let the word dangle between them.

Cass grimaced. "Well, I've already given him my word," she said. "It's too late to cancel now." She wouldn't if she could.

"I'd have thought you'd be going with that handsome
young marshal."

"I don't want anything to do with the marshal," Cass replied,
her eyes open wide with surprise at her uncle's comment.

"Really?
I thought you two looked real good together. I think he thought so, too."

"You can both think what you like. It's what I think that
counts, and I think he's an interfering busybody, and you should mind your own business, too." She smiled when she said this last.

"All right, all right. But if that marshal rides out of your
life before you come to your senses, don't blame me," he said.

"Humph," she snorted.

"Most ladylike," Darby commented. "I'm sure Ramsey will love that particular noise."

Cass began to
giggle. Darby joined in, and even Soony began to chuckle. "I love you, Uncle," Cass said through her laughter.

Darby suddenly got serious. "I love you too, Cassidy. I'm
so glad you're back home where you belong."

Cass's mirth quickly dissipated. Brett's words about what
Darby would do if she was killed came back in a flash. Angry that he could manage to ruin a wonderful moment when he wasn't even there, Cass frowned down at her plate.

"Something wrong with the food, Missy Cass?" Soony
asked, noticing her expression.

Cass looked up quickly. "No, everything is wonderful. I
was just thinking about something ... someone," she amended.

"Someone?" inquired Darby.

"Someone who makes me very angry, Uncle Darby," she explained.

"So
meone who makes you frown at your food? Someone who wears a marshal's badge, maybe?"

"Oh, shut up and eat your
dinner," she groused good-naturedly.

The following morning Cass rose early, nervous about the prospect of spending the day with Ramsey. Crossing to wash up at the basin, she stared hard at her reflection in the mirror. It suddenly occurred to her that she'd never been on an outing with a man before. She'd been so young when her family was killed that she hadn't started spending time with gentleman callers yet, and after that . . well, she'd never been interested. Now here she was, getting ready to spend the day with Ramsey and it was no more than a ruse to gain information about his father.

Crossing to her bureau, she pulled out a chemise, pantaloons,
and stockings. She so rarely wore dresses that her undergarments had actually gotten dusty sitting in a drawer. She shook them off and sniffed them to make sure they smelled fresh. The fragrant sachet she kept in the drawer had done its job, and the fabric smelled sweet. “Thank God," she murmured. She didn't have time to do laundry now.

Cass only owned two dresses
, one that she wore to church, when she went, which wasn't often, and one that was a bit fancier. She'd seen it in a store window in Denver right after she'd been released from jail for killing one of the murderers. She'd needed something to make her feel alive again. The creamy creation hanging in the store window had done the trick. She'd purchased it, and the shoes and reticule to go with it, and brought it, still wrapped in the store paper, all the way home and hung it in her armoire. She'd never worn it. Today she pulled it out and laid it across the bed.

"It's so beautiful," she croo
ned, carefully fingering the soft crepe fabric. The neckline was high, but the lace bodice was lined only from the breasts down; the rest would let her skin show through behind it. The leg-o'-mutton sleeves were solid crepe on top and lace from the elbows down. The waistline was tight and fitted in front to just below her hips. A small bustle accentuated the back, and ribbons hung to the floor from gathered material. Sighing, she straightened up and began to dress.

After donning her undergarments, she lifted the dress
over her head and let it slide down around her body. The soft feel of the fabric against her skin reminded her of the way Brett had touched her, sending a heated flush to light her body. She couldn't help but wonder what he would say if he saw her in such feminine attire. Then, shaking her head, she thought, "I don't give a damn what you'd think, Brett Ryder."

"Cass,
my goodness, you're beautiful!" explained Darby an hour later when she emerged from her room.

"
Thank you," she replied, blushing at his compliment. She did feel pretty. She'd spent a long time on her hair, sweeping part of it up and catching it with a cream-colored ribbon that matched the dress. The rest flowed in chestnut curls down her back.

Soony came out of the kitchen at that precise moment
and began to clap his hands. "Very pretty, Missy Cass. Very pretty."

She smiled shyly. So far, so good, she thought. Now if
only Brett…no, Ramsey, she reminded herself, correcting her wayward thoughts…if he thinks I looked pretty, I should be able to ask him questions without his being any the wiser, she told herself.

Cass was sitting on a kitchen chair, afraid to move lest
she get dirty, when Ramsey drove his buggy into her yard at exactly twelve o'clock. Walking out to meet him, she knew she'd done well by the look in his eyes.

Jumping down f
rom the buggy, he took her hands and openly studied her figure. "Father told me after you left the other day that if he were twenty years younger he'd court you himself. After seeing you today, I daresay I'd fight him for you. You're divine."

Sin
king into a tiny curtsy, she smiled up at him and suffered the squeezing contact of his hands holding hers. "Thank you, sir. You look divine yourself," she said, attempting to flirt, letting her gaze take in his tall, thin physique. He’d worn a soft camel-hair coat and light, wool trousers. His vest was gold brocade, his shirt, the finest starched linen, but none of his finery could compensate for what he lacked in stature. His body had none of the strong width of Brett's, and try as she might, Cass couldn't help comparing the two men.

H
e released her hands and bowed before her. "Thank you, Miss Wayne," he said formally, but with a teasing twinkle in his eye. "Shall we?" he said, pointing to the buggy.

"Certainly, sir. Just let me get my reticule from the
house."

Ramsey followed Cass into the tiny house and looked
around. She’d had the house built shortly after the murder of her family, and her uncle had lived there and tended the place while she was gone. All this he'd learned from his father’s letters. "You have a lovely home, Cass," he ventured.

"Thank you, Ramsey. It's nowhere near as i
mpressive as your home, but it's comfortable," she answered' "Ready?"

"Hello,
Ramsey," said Darby as he entered from his bedroom.

"Hello, sir. You must be Cass's uncle Darby." Ramsey
held out his hand.

"Yes, that's right. You don't remember me?" Darby
shook his hand.

"Sorry. It's been a long time since
I was home last. Before that, I have to admit, I was a little wild. I didn't set too much store on meeting or knowing anyone much older than I was. Childish pride, I suppose," Ramsey offered in explanation.

“
I suppose," replied Darby. "Would you care for a drink before you two leave?"

"
Uncle Darby, Ramsey does not want a drink now. It's barely past noon." She turned to Ramsey. "I'm sorry. My uncle has a habit of drinking much too early in the day."

She t
hen faced Darby. "And I certainly wish he'd stop it," she said meaningfully.

"Don't badger me, girl," said Darby. "'When a
man gets as old as I am, he has a right to drink whenever he chooses. Isn't that right, Ramsey?"

"Yes, s
ir. Whatever you say, sir," Ramsey said with a grin.

"But, Ramsey, don't you think
…"

"I'm not getting in the middle of this," he inte
rrupted, holding up his hands in surrender.

When he raised his ar
ms, Cass noticed he was wearing a heavy chain around his wrist. "'What's that?" she asked, pointing to the bracelet.

Ramsey looked down. "It's something my father gave
me. See, here are my initials on the side"" He turned his wrist so she could see the monogram RST.

"Very nice," she complimented him.

"I've always worn it," he responded quietly, smiling.

"Well, I guess we'd better get started to to
wn, I don't want to miss anything."

Ramsey bowed again. "Your wish is my command, fair
lady."

"Good-bye, you two," said Darby. "Have fun, and Ramsey,
take good care of my girl, won't you?" He felt a little melancholy about Cass going off with a young man. He knew she would probably have been married and settled down with children of her own by now if she hadn't used up the last five years hunting down criminals, but seeing her like this, all dressed up and going out, made him realize it might not be long before she married and went to live in another man's house. He glanced at them and hoped it wouldn't be Ramsey she lost her heart to.

Cass gla
nced at her uncle and thought she read a little sadness in his eyes.

"I'll take excellent care of her, sir," Ramsey promised.

Cass still studied her uncle. “Would you like to join us, Uncle?" she asked.

“N
ot on your life. I'd only be in the way. Besides, Soony and I might come to town later ourselves. Soony doesn’t like anyone else's cooking, but I know he’ll like the fireworks," Darby told her, the momentary sadness gone.

"Good, then I hope we see you there. Maybe we can
all sit together during the fireworks display.” She turned to Ramsey. "Would that be all right?”

Ramsey hesitated only a second before answering. He had
plans of his own for Miss Cassidy Wayne, and they didn't include chatting with her uncle, but if that was what it took to get what he wanted from her, so be it. “We’d love to have you join us, sir."

Darby felt the second of
Ramsey’s hesitation tick by slowly. He knew he couldn't blame the young man for not wanting him to butt in on his time with a pretty girl, but it made him just the tiniest bit angry, anyway. “We’ll see,” he answered. "Maybe Soony and I will find you in the crowd and maybe we won't."