Lady of the Gun (42 page)

"I'm not going to kill Ramsey for trying to kill me, Brett.

I'm going to kill him for murdering my family."

Brett stared hard into her eyes. "Ramsey?"

"I remembered, Brett. I remembered when I saw the sun on his silver bracelet" Don't you see? My memory played a trick on me. I thought I'd seen the reflection of the sun on a silver gun, but it was Ramsey's bracelet all along. He did it, Brett. He helped murder my family. Now I'm going to kill him for it."

Brett listened to her and his heart hardened. "I won't let
you do it, Cass."

"But you heard me. Ra
msey and his father are the last of the murderers. I have to finish this."

"I agree it has to be finished. But not by you" I
watched you lay on that table in the other room and nearly die. I won't go through that again. I'll be the one to go after Ramsey."

"It's not your fight" Brett. I started this, and I have to
finish it."

Brett stood up and fa
ced her. "No, Cass! I won't let you do it," he told her.

"You can't sto
p me."

"I won't let you out of
my sight."

"For the rest of
my life? That's what it would take."

Brett rubbed his hands over his face in frustration
. "When are you planning to do this?"

"As soon as I'm strong enough."

"That won't be soon enough. I'm going to get some men together and go out to the Lazy T tomorrow. We'll bring Ramsey in. He'll be charged with the crimes, and he'll stand trial."

“
What if he's not at the Lazy T”

"'We'
ll hunt him down. Wherever he is, I'll find him and bring him to justice."

"That's not good enough."

"Why? Because you feel that you have to be the one to do it?"

"I have to see him dead
."

"You're planning his murder."

"I'll let him draw first."

"Damn it, Cass! You're splitting hairs. If you plan to kill
someone, no matter how, it's murder."

"So arrest me,"

Brett fell back into the chair beside her. "I know you think you have to do this. I understand your reasons. But I'm going after Ramsey first thing in the morning. I won't give you the opportunity to kill him. I won't take that chance with your life."

Ca
ss clenched her jaw tightly. Looking at Brett, she knew what she had to do. "All right," she said. "I suppose you can't help how you feel."

"I fee
l like a man in love with the most stubborn woman in the world," he answered.

Cass shrugged, then groaned when the absent
-minded gesture caused her so much pain.

Brett put his hand gently on her left shoulder
. "I love you, Cass," he whispered, leaning toward her.

She looked up at
him. “I love you, too," she murmured. Seeing the devotion in his deep gray eyes caused her a moment of guilt, but only a moment. Then she pushed it away. If she died doing what she had to do, she'd accept her fate.

Cass listened to the sound of Brett's soft snoring not far from her. She'd managed to talk the doctor into letting her leave the office, but only by promising not to do too much. Now she lay in the sheriff's comfortable bed while Brett slept on a cot in one of the cells of the jail. It had been difficult waiting for him to fall asleep, but she'd been listening to him snore for the better part of half an hour, and she felt fairly sure he was sleeping soundly enough for her to leave. Pushing back the covers, she grimaced as she sat up.

Her shoulder was still throbbing and her right arm was
useless, but she was sure she could get dressed and go outside. Saddling a horse was going to be difficult, but she didn't have a choice.

The night air was wa
rm as she exited the building some twenty minutes later. Leaning against the clapboard siding, she rested for a minute. Moving around so much had taken away a lot of her strength, but she was determined to finish what she'd started. Tonight might be her last chance.

Brett had gotten himself a new horse, a big roan with a
long, shaggy mane, and had left him in a small corral in back of the jail. Pulling his saddle off the fence, she grunted as she dragged it to where the animal stood beside the trough. "Make this easy on me and stand still, okay?" she whispered. The horse looked at her with large brown eyes and whinnied. "Shhh, we don't want to wake up Brett," she warned quietly.

By the time she'd managed to saddle the big animal and
then pull herself up onto his back, she could barely stand the ache in her shoulder. She reached up to touch the bandage. “Damn it," she breathed when her fingers came away bloody. She'd broken open the wound again, but she couldn't worry about that now. Nudging the horse with her heels, she started out for the Lazy T.

The ride seemed longer than she remembered, and she
realized she was getting light-headed when she rode onto Lazy T land by way of a ridge that separated her property from the Tylo’s'. She shook her head to clear it. Only a little while longer, she told herself. Just two more men and I'm through.

When she could see the house, she dismounted, tethered
the horse, and proceeded on foot, running from one rock or shrub to the next, trying to stay out of sight. Her arrival had to be a surprise. She could see lights burning in the house and frowned at her bad luck. Apparently someone was still awake.

Creeping around the house, she peered into several wi
ndows. When she reached the study windows her heart began to beat furiously. There, seated with his father, was Ramsey. Both men were smoking cigars and holding glasses of what looked like brandy. They were laughing and enjoying themselves, completely relaxed in the knowledge that they'd gotten away with murder. "At least you think you have," she murmured.

Sneaking to the back of the house, she tried to open the
door to the kitchen, but found it locked. Cursing as she went, she made her way back toward the front of the house. She'd go in through a window if she had to. She stumbled once as she neared the front porch, but was able to keep from falling by grabbing the edge of an empty window box. Standing still for a moment, she took several deep breaths, praying she would last long enough to do what she'd come to do.

Looking down at her shirt, she could see that blood had
soaked through the fabric and was creating an ever-widening stain of dark red. Her knees started to buckle again, but she forced herself to keep going.

The front door was unlocked, and she said a prayer of
thanks. She wasn't sure she could have pulled herself through a window. She entered the house and tiptoed silently down the hall toward the study. In just minutes it'll be over, she thought. One way or another.

Brett turned in his sleep and nearly fell off the tiny jailhouse
cot he'd been bunking on. "Damn," he cursed. Sitting up, he stretched his neck and thought about the soft beds in the hotel. But in the hotel there'd be a closed door between him and Cass and he wanted to be able to hear her breathe. He listened. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as a wave of apprehension swept over him. It was too quiet. Getting up, he raced across the short distance to the sheriff’s bedroom. The bed was empty. "Cass?" he called into the silence. His heart started pounding with dread. "Cass?" he called again. Going to the back door, he stepped outside. Maybe she'd just made a trip to the outhouse. "Cass?" he yelled once more. Then he noticed the empty corral. "No!" he moaned, knowing instantly what she'd done.

Hurrying back into t
he office, he pulled on his clothes in seconds. He was still strapping his gun belt on as he ran down the street toward the livery.

"Wake up!" he yelled, banging on the s
mithy's door. "Wake up in there. I need a horse now!"

The smithy walked with bleary eyes to the door. "Who
is it?"

"It's Marshal Ryder. I need a horse."

"I just sold you a horse," the man said, yawning.

"I need another one, damn it. Now open this door!"

The smithy finally opened the door. "What are you so fired up about in the middle of the night, Marshal? Somebody get killed?"

"I hope to God not," he said, rushing in and grabbing a
saddle off the rack.

"That's my saddle, Marshal. Hey, and that's my horse. He
ain't for sale."

"I'm borrowing him for the rest of the night."

"Well, I don't know ." the smithy said rubbing his ample stomach.

Bre
tt turned to the man and glared down at him. "Go back to bed!" he ordered.

The smithy blinked several times in surprise. "
I… I… all right, Marshal," he finally said, and wandered back to his living quarters.

Ten minutes later Brett was riding toward the Lazy T like
a man whose hair was on fire. "Please be alive, Cass," he said. "Please be alive." His words became a chant in his head as he rode.

Cass stepped into the study. "Good
evening, gentlemen, and I use the term loosely."

"Cass?" Ramsey spoke, startled.

"Yes, Ramsey, it's me. Are you surprised to see me? You didn't think I'd come for you, did you? You thought you'd have to come to me again." She wavered on her feet slightly.

"What are you doing here in my home uninvited, Cassidy?"
demanded Hunt.

Cass glanced his way. "My being invited isn't an issue,
Mr. Tylo. Your men have never been invited to my place, but that didn't stop them, did it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.

"Don't you? What about you, Ramsey? Will you admit you know what I'm talking about? It would save a little time if you would." She could feel the blood running down her side.

"Sorry, Cass. I guess you'll have to spell it out," answered
Ramsey. He exchanged glances with his father. They could see that she standing by willpower alone. She might be a fast draw, but she'd be shooting with her left hand, and she was weak. It wouldn't be long before she dropped. Then they'd have her.

"Don't you remember what happened, Ramsey? I do. As
if it occurred yesterday. You and your men came to my place and slaughtered my family. I didn't know it was you until the other day, the day Bobby Fleet put a bullet in me.  I saw the sun on your bracelet that day, Ramsey, and I remembered the sun reflected off your bracelet the day you murdered my family, too. I thought it was a silver gun handle. I searched for five years for a man with a silver gun, and all the while it was you." She chuckled, a sarcastic sound that gurgled in her throat.

"'We don't know what you're talking about," said Hunt
.

"You lie very well, Mr. Tylo. You've been doing it for
years. But I don't believe you anymore, so why don't you tell the truth for once? It won't make any difference, of course. I'm going to kill you either way, but wouldn't you like the chance to tell the truth just once?"

Hunt laughed. "Maybe you're right," he said.

"Father ..." Ramsey warned.

Hunt shrugged. "What could it hurt? She says she's going
to kill us anyway." He started walking around behind the desk.

"Stay where you are," Cass ordered.

"Or what, you'll shoot me?" Hunt laughed again. "Look at her, boy," he said to Ramsey. "She can barely stand. In a few minutes she'll be dead. And this is the woman you were so hot to marry.”

Cass narrowed her eyes. "Why?" she asked.

"For the land, Cass," Ramsey admitted.

"Just the land," she murmured. "Our land wasn't so valuable
you had to kill for it."

"Access to the water was. Your father threatened to keep
my cattle from the Losee," said Hunt.

"You
have access."

"Not good enough."

"You killed my family for the sake of convenience."

Hunt raised his shoulders
in a blasé gesture.

Cass's heart burned with rage. "But you missed me,"
she said.

"That was Ramsey's error. He was supposed to make sure
everyone was there before he started the killing,"

"And afterward?"

"He promised he'd finish you off, but it turned out he didn't need to. You left town to chase after the poor fools who'd been paid to do a job. With you gone and your uncle on the bottle, I ran my cattle across your land whenever I chose."

"And then I came home," Cass said, feeling her knees
begin to quake.

“
Yes. So I sent for Ramsey. He was supposed to come home and finish the job he'd started. Instead, he persuaded me to give him a chance to wed you. Either way, I'd have your land."

"But your plan didn't work. I didn't
fall in love with Ramsey."