Lady of the Gun (29 page)

Another wagon pulled up and stopped.
Cass looked to see who else had arrived to help and was a little surprised to see Rosie among the people climbing down as she walked away from the wagon, Cass noticed she still limped a little. "Rosie?" she called, walking to meet her.

Rosie looked up nervously at the sound of Cass's voice.
"Yes?"

"Thank you for co
ming today," Cass said, looking closely at the waitress as she neared.

"You're welcome." Rosie lowered her eyes. "I better go
help Mrs. Wettle," she said quickly, walking away.

"She's certainly ner
vous about something," observed Brett as he joined Cass where Rosie had left her.

Cass studied Rosie from behind. "She looks as if she's
lost weight, too."

Brett nodded.

"You know, Rosie was always happy when we were growing up," Cass commented. "Except when Ramsey was around, of course."

"Except when Ramsey was around," he repeated.

Cass looked up at him, then back at Rosie. Was Brett right in assuming Ramsey had something to do with Rosie's current state? "I wish she'd talk to me."

"Try."

"She shuns me at every turn."

"Keep trying, Cass. I think Rosie needs a
friend right now," he said.

"She's got friends in town. Lots of them," she said.

"Sometimes it takes a special kind of friend to get to the truth."

She snorted softly. "Special friend?"

"Yes. Someone who won't judge her or make her feel like less of a person if she's done something she's not proud of."

"And you think I'd be that kind of friend?" she asked

"Who better than you, Cass?"

Cass lowered her eyes remembering the lives she'd taken.
"I guess you're right. Who am I to judge anyone, right?"

"That's not what I meant."

Cass looked back up at him, one eyebrow raised in question.

"You understand that sometimes people have to do things
they don't want to do. If Rosie's in a situation where she feels helpless, you'd understand that."

Cass shrugged agai
n. "I suppose so." She searched for Rosie in the growing crowd. "I'll try to talk to her again when I get the chance."

"Good. I don't think you'll regret it."

Just then another wagon pulled up to distract them. A young man with brilliant red hair jumped from it as soon as the team came to a stop. He turned and helped Mrs. Thompson to the ground. She proceeded to pinch his cheek affectionately as though he were a child. The young man allowed this, but rolled his eyes at her gesture. They both then turned toward Cass, Mrs. Thompson pulling the man by the arm.

"Cass," she called. "I want you to meet my nephew
, Buster," she said before they'd even stopped walking.

Cass smiled and held out her hand. "It's nice to meet you,
Buster. This is Marshal Brett Ryder," she offered, turning toward Brett.

Buster took Cass's hand, the
n the marshal's. "It's good to meet you both. My aunt here's been tellin' me all about you. Sure sorry to hear about your troubles. I'd like to help with the barn, if I could. And if there's anything else needs doing, I'd be happy to pitch in."

Brett and Cass both grinned at Buster's friendly attitude.
His smile was infectious, his manner charming.

"Thank you, Buster. We'd appreciate any help with the
barn, but we don't expect you do more," said Cass.

Buster grinned widely, his sparkling blue eyes squinting
merrily. "Oh, I don't mind helpin' out."

“
That's the truth," interjected Mrs. Thompson. "Buster just arrived yesterday for a visit, and already my windows are all washed, my garden's been weeded, and he started painting the outside of the house. The boy just can't sit still long enough to suit me."

Cas
s laughed. "Are you here for a long visit, Buster?" she asked.

"Well, you know, I've been thinking about stayin' awhile.
But I might drive Aunt Selma, here, crazy if I do." He squeezed his aunt affectionately.

The older
woman beamed up at him with pride.

Buster noticed another wagon coming to a stop in the
yard" "Looks like those folks need some help unloadin'. Guess I'll go make myself useful. It was a real pleasure to meet you, Cass, Marshal.” He tipped his hat and turned toward the new arrivals.

"Whew, that young man's got more energy than I've seen
in a while," commented Brett, smiling at Buster's retreating back.

Mrs. Thompson nodded. "He surely has. He's my sister's
son, and she's the same way. I don't know where they get their energy. It makes me tired just watching them." She looked after Buster and smiled softly. "It would be nice to have him settle here, though. Mr. Thompson and I were never blessed with children of our own," she added wistfully.

Brett nodded in agreement, then glanced at Cass to see
if she'd noticed Mrs. Thompson's sadness at never having had children.

Cass knew what Brett's look meant and glanced away,
ignoring him. "I think I'll go see if Soony needs any help. See you later," she said noncommittally to both Mrs. Thompson and Brett. Raising her hand in a light farewell, she headed for the house.

The day passed quickly after that. Cass helped the men with the construction as much as they would let her, and the women as much as she could, her lack of cooking skills keeping her on the sidelines. She ended up being more of a waitress than anything else, serving cool drinks to the men while they worked.

As the sun began to set, the roof was raised and a cheer
went up from the crowd. It was time to party. Two guitars, a fiddle, and a squeeze-box magically appeared from under wagon seats, and everyone made ready for some foot-stomping music.

"May I have the first dance?" asked Brett.

Cass looked up, surprised. She'd been helping clear away the enormous dinner mess and was up to her elbows in grease. “I, ah . . "" she stammered. "I haven't danced since I was a child."

"Then you'd better
make up for lost time," he told her, staring playfully down into her eyes.

"Go on, Cassidy," said Mrs. Thompson from the other
side of the table. "Let us old married ladies take care of this mess. You go on and have some fun now before some other girl comes along and tries to snatch up this handsome young man."

Cass looked wide-eyed with surprise at the older woman.
"Yes, ma'am," she said. After she'd wiped the grease from her arms and hands with a wet towel, she let Brett lead her toward the new barn, where the dancing had begun.

Brett took Cass into his arms and began to move with the
music. He gazed down into the blue of her eyes and felt his heart pounding fiercely within his chest. "Cass, you're the most beautiful woman here," he whispered.

Cass flushed at his words. "I doubt that," she demurred.

“You are," he assured her. "And I'm the lucky man you're dancing with."

"I don't see too many others standing in line, Brett,"
she said.

"That's because they know they don't stand a chance with
you as long as I'm around," he teased warmly.

"Is that so?"

"That's so." He whirled her around in a dizzying circle and felt her begin to laugh. His own laughter mingled with hers as the music ended.

“I need a drin
k," Cass said breathlessly.

"I'll get you something," Brett offered. "Wait here for
me and we'll dance the next one."

"All right," she answered, s
miling. As she watched him head toward the tables near the house, she remembered what it felt like to make love to him, and her pulse took a sudden wild leap.

"Cass? May I have the ne
xt dance?"

Cass jumped at the voice behind her. "Ramsey? What are
you doing here?" she blurted.

Ramsey frowned
. "Cass, I was hoping you'd be happy to see me," he pouted.

"I'm sorry," she said
. "It's just that . . . Well, you weren't here all day. I didn't expect you to show up now."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I should have come and helped
with the barn, but I still find myself a little incapacitated."

Cass looked at his nose
. "The swelling around your eyes is about gone, and you're not quite so black-and-blue," she commented. The thinness of his face seemed to exaggerate the bruises left behind by Brett's punch, but she didn't have the heart to be cruel to him. She still felt a little guilty for having let him think she was interested in him.

Ramsey nodded. "
I still can't breathe through my nose, though. The doc says it'll be at least another week for that."

He looked so pitiful that she couldn't help but feel sorry
for him.

"Cass, please dance with me?"

Cass looked quickly around. Brett hadn't started back with the drinks yet, and the next song had begun. "I guess it wouldn't hurt," she murmured.

"What's that?"

"Nothing," she said. "All right, I'll dance this dance with you."

Ramsey beamed a huge smile, then flinched
. "It still hurts to move my face too much," he quickly explained when he saw her curiosity. Taking her in his arms, he began to lead her gracefully around the wooden floor of the barn. She followed him easily, the music flowing through her as she moved, and his heart filled with excitement at her nearness. Pulling her closer to him, he relished the feel of her breasts against him.

"Ram
sey, please," she urged, stepping back from him slightly. The feel of him so near reminded her of his advances in the buggy and caused a shiver of revulsion to course through her.

"I'm sorry," he said sheepishly. "But you
can’t blame me. You're so beautiful."

"Thank you," she acknowledged his comp
liment stiffly. Just then she saw Brett at the edge of the dance floor staring blackly at her. She averted her gaze quickly, not wanting to duel with him now. As she glanced elsewhere, she noticed Rosie sitting on a bench in a shadowed corner. She was staring directly at Ramsey.

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" she asked
.

"Of course. Do you think I'd pay you false compliments?"
he asked, feigning hurt.

"I don't know. You didn't know I was alive when we
were children."

"You've grown up since then."

She glanced back at Rosie. "We've all grown up, haven't we?"

"Yes, and you've become a very exciting woman,"

“Thank you again. What do you think of Rosie?" she asked innocently. "You told me you and she have spent time together. What do you think of her?"

Ramsey studied her for a moment, his jaw tightening.
"Why? Has Rosie been talking about me?"

"Not at all. She'll barely speak to me about anything.
We're certainly not close enough to discuss men."

"Then why would you ask me about her?"

"I was just remembering how you used to tease her. She was truly afraid of you. I would have never guessed you'd end up friends."

"Yes . . . well . .. she's a nice enough person," he finally
said. "But enough about her. Right now I'd like to get a drink. Care to join me?"

"That
won't be necessary, Tylo," Brett's voice broke in. "I have Cass's drink right here." He handed her a glass of punch, then placed his hand possessively at her waist.

Ramsey glared at Brett. He was going to destroy this man.
"Very well," he murmured. "I'll get myself a drink." He stared down at Cass. "I'll be back to dance with you again," he informed her.

"She'll be busy," answered Brett.

"I'll let the lady decide," challenged Ramsey.

"Brett, Ramsey, that will be enough," Cass cut in. This
verbal parrying over her was tiring, especially when it was so unnecessary. Brett knew the only reason she'd paid attention to Ramsey was to get information about his father. "If you'll both excuse me, I have something to take care of," she announced abruptly. Turning her back on the two men, she left the barn and headed toward the house. Once inside, she went to the kitchen where Soony was preparing a fresh pot of coffee. She set her glass of punch on the counter, and thought about Brett and Ramsey, probably still butting heads. There was no satisfaction in having two men fighting over her so ridiculously.

"You look tired, Missy," Soony observed.

"I am tired, Soony," she sighed. "But I don't think I could sleep. I'm going to take a walk. If anyone comes looking for me, tell them I'm lying down."

"Very good," he told her.

Cass left the house and stayed in the shadows, skirting the party and heading toward the Losee. On her way she noticed her uncle and Mrs. Wettle laughing together at a small table set outside. She smiled at the sight.