Lady of the Gun

Lady of the Gun

By

Faye Adams

Copyright © 1996
, 2013 Faye A. Simak (Swoboda)

This is a work of fiction.  Any similarity to any person, living or dead is purely coincidental.  All rights reserved.  No portion of this work may be used without express, written consent of the author.

Other books by this Author:

Click title to preview;

Western Historical Romances

‘Women of the Triple X Trilogy’

Book 1  - 
Rosebud

Book 2  - 
The Goodnight Loving Trail

Book 3  - 
Under A Texas Moon

Time-travel Romance

Mermaid's Dream
         

Available now, Faye Adams’ contemporary holiday romance:

White Christmas Wishes

“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.

Lady of the Gun

Chapter One

“
Uncle Darby, wake up," Cassidy whispered as she shook the old man's shoulder.

"'W
hat? Cass? It’s still dark out. What are you doing up already?" Darby peered up through bleary eyes at his niece.

"I'm
going into town and I didn’t want you to worry if I wasn't back before you got up."

Darby sat up quickly and looked
suspiciously at Cass. "What are you going into town so early for?"

"I've g
ot business."

"What kind of
business?"

Cass sc
owled in the semi-darkness of her uncle's room. She'd been sure he'd be too sleepy to question her. He was dead set against her continued quest for revenge, and she didn't want to hear another lecture. "I just have things to do."

Darby swu
ng his spindly, long-john-clad legs over the edge of the bed. "What things?" he asked somberly.

Cass clenched her jaw and breathed a heavy sigh through her nose
. "I'm going to talk to Sheriff Jackson," she finally said.

"Da
mn it, Cass. Can't you let it be? Your ma and pa would want it to end" They wouldn't have wanted you to do what you've done so far."

Cass turned and started to leave the room, tired of the
same conversation they'd been having since she returned to her home in Twisted Creek.

"Cass, don't walk away
from me, girl" You know I'm right. Just let it be," Darby insisted, wrapping a blanket around his waist as he followed her from the bedroom.

Cass stopped in the main room of their
small home and turned to face him. No!" she hissed. "I won't let it be. I saw those bastards murder my entire family. I can't just let it be!" She crossed to the pegs beside the door and pulled her guns from their place. Wrapping the twin gun belts low on her hips, she strapped them tightly to her thighs. Turning to once more face her uncle, she saw the sadness in his eyes as he watched her. "I can't let it be," she whispered.

"But you already killed four of them fellas. Ain't that
enough?" Darby tried again.

"It won't be enough until I get the
man who was behind the killings," she answered.

"So why the trip to see the sheriff? He's already done all
he can."

"Jackson never did half enough. I had to go
find those killers myself. I'm only hoping he can do one thing for me."

"What?"

"I want him to talk to Mr. Tylo."

"Tylo? Are you crazy, girl?"

"Why the hell is everyone so afraid to talk to Hunt Tylo? He isn't God," Cass said disgustedly.

“
No, he ain't God. But he might as well be in these parts. He's got the biggest spread around. Hell, his ranch keeps Twisted Creek on the map."

"And he's the one man who had something to gain fro
m my family's destruction," Cass argued.

"What? Tell me what did he gain from their deaths?"

Cass narrowed her eyes. "His cattle have been running across our land with free access to the Losee River ever since Pa and Ma and the kids were murdered."

Darby rubbed his hand over his eyes. "I need a drink,"
he sighed. Cass had been on a one-horse track since her family had been slaughtered. Actually, she'd been exacting her own kind of justice ever since she'd taught herself how to shoot. Darby crossed to the fireplace and took a bottle of whiskey from the mantel. Tugging out the cork, he raised the bottle to his lips and let the fiery liquid slide down his throat. "You really think Hunt Tylo had something to do with your pa's murder? You think he had yow ma and the kids killed? He was your pa's friend, Cass. He even courted your ma for a while when they were kids. Hell, with the kind of money and power he has, do you really believe he'd wipe out a whole family just so's his cows could get to water a little quicker and easier?"

Cass had wondered for the past five years why her family
had been massacred. She'd lain awake at night reliving the horror of returning home to see the murderers finishing their handiwork. When she did sleep, she would wake in a cold sweat remembering details of the scene. "I know it wasn't a random act by passing outlaws, as Sheriff Jackson was so quick to assume. Someone wanted my family dead. I'm just trying to figure out who."

Darby lowered hi
mself onto one of the rickety chairs next to the table. "Well, it wasn't Hunt Tylo, Cass." He took another swig from the bottle. "You're getting desperate and grasping at straws."

Cass clenched her fists" "Maybe. But I can't let it go. And
Tylo is the only person I can think of who gained anything after my family was killed. I just want Jackson to question him a little."

"So you're going to go bother the sheriff at this god-awful
hour to nag him about this again," Darby grumbled.

"I should think you'd be grateful that I want this settled,"
she said. "Pa was your younger brother, remember?" She tried to keep the accusation from her voice, but couldn't entirely.

Darby lowered his eyes. He'd felt the hurt of losing his
baby brother and his family. What happened was horrible and senseless, and he'd cried and drunk himself into oblivion for several days, but a body had to go on. He looked up at his beautiful niece. If only Cass could let it go. She was hanging on to her anger with a vengeance, and he was terrified it was going to get her killed. Killed, or so eaten up by emotion that she'd rather be dead. "Cass honey, it ain't gonna bring 'em back. Even if you find and kill every last one of those bastards, it ain't gonna bring 'em back," he said quietly.

Tears stung Cass's eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
"I know that, but I have to finish this," she said with resolve. She crossed the room and put her arm around her uncle's shoulders. Bending over, she kissed the top of his hairless head. "I'm going to talk to the sheriff and check on the saddle I left to be repaired at the livery. Is there anything you need from town?"

Darby eyeballed the whiskey bottle. "'Nother one of
these wouldn't hurt," he said.

"You shouldn't drink so early in the
morning," she admonished gently.

"And you shouldn't wear your guns to town so much.
Folks are already afraid of you."

Straightening her back, she walked toward the door. "I
don't care if folks are afraid of me," she said over her shoulder. "I'll be back in a few hours, and I'll bring you your whiskey." Just before going through the door she turned back around. "Tell Soony when he gets up that his damned chicken pecked the crap out of Mirabelle again."

"You'd think that cat'd have enough sense to stay out of
that chicken's way," remarked Darby.

"Well, she doesn't,"

"You want Soony to fix anything special for dinner tonight?"

Cass thought for a
moment. It was Sunday. There'd been a time in her life when that meant something. "No, anything he feels like cooking is fine with me." Sighing she pulled open the door and went outside into the stillness of the early morning.

Riding to town, Cass thought about what Darby had said
about the townspeople being afraid of her. She did care, but it couldn't be helped. She couldn't take the chance of going anywhere without her guns. Not yet, anyway. Someday she would hang up her guns for good. When she'd finally rid the world of the scum that had destroyed her family.

Adjusting her seat, she couldn't keep her mind from wandering
back to the day she'd come home to find her family being murdered. She'd been visiting Darby that morning at his mine, Darby's Dream, had brought him biscuits her mother'd baked special. That early morning visit had kept her from being murdered too.

She couldn't stop the shudder that coursed through her
at the memories. Her father and mother, both shot through the head. Her brothers also shot, but several times. And her little sister burned to death in the fire that engulfed their home. No. She couldn't let it go, no matter what Darby said.