Lady of the Gun (32 page)

Cass stared up at Brett
. "I have something to tell you, but you have to promise me you'll tell no one else."

Brett gazed down into her serious blue eyes
. "You know you can trust me, Cass."

"I k
now." She let her gaze drop for a moment as she thought about what the doctor had told her. "Rosie might be pregnant," she said softly. "The doctor thinks she may not even realize it herself yet."

"And the father?" Brett said.

"I don't know. If it's the same man who's been beating her she may not want him to know she's expecting."

'"He'll find out sooner or later,"

"Everyone will find out sooner or later. Poor Rosie," she whispered.

"What if it's Ramsey?" he commented a few minutes
later.

Cass thought about it. "What makes you think it's
Ramsey?"

"The way Rosie acts around him. Think about it, Cass."

Cass nodded. "I know. I have been thinking about it. Surely a man who's sleeping with a woman would want to spend time with her," she said, her naiveté’ showing through, "but I've never seen them together."

"If a man is proud of the woman he's sleeping with, he'll
want to spend time with her. But if he thinks of her as a whore, or as someone who's beneath him, he'll avoid being seen with her," Brett explained.

"Rosie's not a whore."

"Of course not, but you told me once that Rosie's not Ramsey's type. Maybe he thinks she's good for only one thing."

"Rosie would refuse him."

"If she had a choice."

"You're not suggesting
…"

"People get the
mselves into very complicated situations, Cass."

She opened her mouth to question him.

Brett held up a hand to stop her. "I can’t accuse Ramsey of anything yet. I'm just trying to cover all bases. You, yourself, told me about Ramsey's cruelty to Rosie when they were children. . . ." He left his statement open-ended.

"I understand," Cass said quietly. She couldn't help but
remember the way Ramsey had acted with her in the buggy on the Fourth of July. He hadn't raped her, certainly, but he had gotten carried away, and she had felt threatened. Still, rape was a serious charge. "Maybe Rosie has a boyfriend, someone she's been seeing for years. He'd be the prime suspect."

"I intend to ask a few questions arou
nd town tomorrow for just that reason. I want to narrow down the suspects."

"And if it turns out to be Ramsey?"

"I'll arrest him, and he'll stand trial."

Cass let her gaze fall. "And the whole town would know
what happened to Rosie. She'd want to die from the humiliation."

"What would you have me do?" Brett asked.

Cass knew what she'd do if it were her choice, but she and Brett didn't see things from the same angle. Sighing, she met his silver gaze once more. "I suppose you have to do what you think is best," she replied.

Brett clenched his jaw. He knew exactly what Cass was
thinking. He knew that her solution to Rosie's trouble would be to challenge Ramsey, or whoever the culprit turned out to be, to a gunfight. He studied her beautiful face, the sky-blue eyes, the full, pouty lips, the sun-kissed complexion. He loved her so, but would she always think this way? Would her beliefs about justice ever swing his way? "Let's get home now," Brett said, dropping the subject, futility nagging his soul.

Cass read Brett's thoughts as though they were printed
across his forehead. He just didn't understand how a woman would feel in Rosie's place. He didn't understand what it was like to be ostracized by the people you grew up with. She did. She wasn't humiliated the way Rosie would be. She was still able to hold her head high, feeling justified in her actions against the murderers, but she knew what it was like to feel like an outcast. Sometimes Brett's kind of justice was the wrong kind. Sometimes her way was the only way. "All right," she finally said, tearing her gaze from Brett's. "Let's go home,'"

Brett tu
rned the wagon and snapped the reins, starting the horses on their way back to the Wayne ranch.

The sun was a blazing ball of merciless fire early the next morning. Cass glared at Brett over her coffee, but neither spoke a word about Rosie's condition.

"I think
I’ll go into town today," Cass finally said. "I need to check on some things."

"I'll go with you," said Brett. "I have things to do also.
I mentioned it last night, remember? There are a few people I need to talk to."

"Oh, yes," Cass remarked. "Well, I'll be outside when
you're ready."

"I'm ready now." Brett stood up from the breakfast table
. "That was delicious, Soony. Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Mr. Brett."

“Is there anything you need in town?" Cass asked.

“
No."

"
Uncle?"

"No, thank you," he replied, yawning, "I don't need a
thing. I'm going to just sit here and drink my coffee and wake up."

"All right. Then we'll see you when we get back." Cass
turned to follow Brett from the house.

"You're angry with me," he said as soon as they were
outside.

Cass looked sideways
at him. He couldn't help the way he felt about things any more than she could and his sad little boy expression made her smile. "I guess not. I can't seem to stay mad at you for very long."

"Good. Then may I have a good-morning kiss?" he asked
leaning toward her.

"No!" she hissed. "
Uncle Darby might see us."

"He won't. He'
s drinking his coffee, remember? Besides, so what if he sees us? Come on. One little kiss?"

By now they were entering the new barn where they'd
tossed their saddles the night before. "No."

"But why? It's cool here in the barn. And kind of
romantic."

"You
think a barn is romantic?" Cass giggled. "You're hopeless."

"You thought a rocky patch of ground
was romantic," he said, grinning boyishly.

"You
!" She reached out to punch him on the arm.

Brett cau
ght her as she lunged and pulled her to him. "I knew I'd get my kiss," he growled, lowering his lips to hers.

Cass didn't even try to struggle in his arms. She
instantly melted against him. "It was my idea all along," she whispered into his kiss.

"You're such a liar,
” he breathed, relishing this gentle, teasing moment together.

Cass parted her
lips for a deeper kiss.

Brett felt himself responding to her kiss in a way t
hat could cause them to forget about going into town. "Cass," he whispered, "we'd better get going."

"What?" Cass was caught up by the wave of desire that
rushed through her at Brett's touch.

"I said we'd better get going."

Cass sighed. "Yes, you're right." She straightened, releasing herself from his arms.

"Don't look so sad. We can continue this tonight," he
promised. "That is, if I ask you for a good-night kiss," he renewed the teasing.

"
If I deign to give you one," Cass responded haughtily. She picked up her saddle and walked outside to her horse.

Brett followed suit. "Does Rosie have any family in
town?" he asked on a more serious note.

"She lived with her grandmother when she was growing
up. I think her parents died in an epidemic back east somewhere."

"Is her grandmother still alive?"

"I don't know. But if she's not, you can talk to the other waitresses at the hotel. I'm sure one of them would know if Rosie was seeing anyone."

"
Planned to," Brett said.

Mounted and riding toward town a short while later, they
were surprised to see a rider corning toward them fast.

"Do you k
now who it is?" asked Brett.

"I can't tell fro
m here,"

Brett rested his hand on the butt of his gun as the rider
approached.

"It's Buster," Cass said, surprised, as Mrs. Thompson's
nephew brought his horse to a skidding stop in front of them. His hat hung loose behind him, his clothes were dusty, and sweat dripped from his skin.

"Buster, what's wrong?" B
rett questioned, his nerves instantly on edge.

Buster was gasping for air, out of breath from his wild
ride. "'I decided to stay on in Twisted Creek," he breathed. "So I need to get a job. A man in town told me to go out to the Lazy T. Said it'd most likely be the best place to start askin' for work." He stopped once more to breathe.

"Yes, Buster?" Brett asked, alarms going off in his head
at the mention of the Lazy T..

Buster breat
hed deeply. "'Well, sir, I got lost straight away. It sure is easy to get turned around out here. It took me a while to get my bearings. Then I figured out where I was, or at least I thought I did, and I headed back to town to start over. That's when I found it."

“Found
what?" Brett asked.

"The body.
I found a dead body out there. I rode back to town quick as I could. I forgot you were stayin' out at Miss Wayne's place. When I remembered, I headed straight out to find you."

"Where's the body?" Brett asked with narrowed eyes.

Buster turned in his saddle and pointed. "It's out that-away."

"The Lazy T," breathed Cass.

Brett glanced at her. "Maybe."

Cass responded,
“Probably."

"Take me to it," he directed Buster.

"Yes, sir, Marshal""

"Cass, you go on into town. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Like hell," she fumed. "I'm going with you, and you should know by now you can't stop me."

Brett sighed and shook his head in frustration. Nudging
his horse in the direction Buster had pointed, he looked at the young man and said, "Don't ever get mixed up with a stubborn woman."

Cass rolled her eyes and smiled at Buster, causing him
to blush.

"The body ain't pretty, miss," he stammered.

"I've seen dead men before," Cass assured him.

"I think this one's been out there awhile."

"I'll manage."

"Don't try to discourage her, Buster," Brett called over
his shoulder. "She'll take it as a challenge""

Brett rode on ahead until Buster needed to guide the way.
The body was in a deep wash. Brett looked down on it from up above. "Whoever did this wasn't concerned about concealing the body. I guess they figured no one would find it way out here," he speculated.

"We're o
n Lazy T land," Cass informed him.

"I guess I wasn't so lost as I thought," said Buster.

Brett led the way down the side of the wash and rode to the body. Pulling his kerchief over his mouth and nose to filter the stench of death, he motioned for Cass and Buster to do the same. Then, dismounting, he walked closer. The man had been shot in the head, leaving not much of his face to identify him, but his clothes looked familiar. Prodding the body with the toe of his boot, Brett lifted the edge of the man's coat. A deck of cards fell out of the inside pocket and scattered beside the body. "Sharky?" Brett breathed in horror. "Sharky Draper?"

"You know him?" asked Cass.

"I know him," he replied, clenching his fists in anger.

"'I didn't have nothin' to do with it, Marshal. Honest. I
just found him," Buster sputtered.

"I know you didn't kill hi
m, Buster," Brett assured him through clenched teeth. He suspected he knew who did this. There was just no way to prove it. "We'll have to send a wagon out here for him. Would you guide the undertaker out here later today?" he asked Buster.

"Sure thing, si
r," Buster agreed.

"Good." Swinging back up into his saddle, Brett sat very
still on his horse and stared at the body. He had a gut feeling he even knew exactly when Sharky'd been murdered…that night he'd heard the shot on the Lazy T. It had sounded closer, but on a clear night sound could travel for miles. "I'm going to talk to Tylo," he announced.

"I'm go--"'

"I know," Brett interrupted. "You're going with me. See, Buster? What did I tell you?"

Buster grinned nervously
. "Should I go get the undertaker now, sir?"

B
rett nodded and examined Buster from head to toe with one sweeping glance. "I'll see you later in town, all right?"