remember me. I've been in and out of this town off and on for the last twenty years or so. That boy didn't gamble much before he left town, mostly just drank himself into oblivion and spent his daddy's money on whores." He shook his head in memory. "Never did see a boy set so much store on spending time with whores. Randy as a young bull, he was." He glanced back briefly toward the door. "He's been gone a long time. Didn’t remember me at all, and he didn't spend any money on the whores."
Brett looked at the women, who were standing against the bar, waiting for their next customers. "I guess he's changed," he offered.
"Guess so. ”
"Which is why I think you should be a little careful for a while."
"Aw hell. I didn't get t his old by bein' careless."
Brett grinned agai n "All right, Sharky. I won't pester you about it anymore."
Sharky smiled his wrinkled smile at the yo unger man. "You don't feel like a game, do you?"
"I don't thi nk so," Brett declined. "I don't make enough money at this job that I can afford to give some of it to you."
Sharky chuckled and began picking up the cards still ly ing across the table. "Too bad, I reckon you'd be a real challenge. I doubt I could beat you."
"Do n't try to hustle me," Brett warned in a friendly tone. "By the way, how'd you know I was a marshal when I walked over? You didn't look up."
"I make it my business to know the law before the law knows me."
Brett raised his eyebrows.
"I was in here earlier, when t hat gunfighter, Henry Fleet, was looking for Cass. Went outside in time to see the whole thing," Sharky explained. "I ain't never seen anyone as fast as that girl. 'Course, I can't blame her. Not after what happened to her family."
"You kno w about that?"
Sharky gave the marshal an incredulous stare. "Everybody around here knows about it."
"Were you here when the family was murdered?" Brett questioned.
Sharky remembered for a moment and nodded. "Yeah, I was here. I was even part of the posse that went out looking for the murderin' bastards that did it," he said, his eyes vacant with the memory. “It was real strange,” he mumbled.
"What was?" Brett asked, grasping at the old man's words.
"The way we lost 'em." He raised his eyes to meet the marshal's. "They all scattered, every one of 'em. You'd think some of 'em would have stuck together. Criminals usually do have partners. But these fellas just went their separate ways. It was almost as if they'd come together just to commit the one crime, then went off about their business." He shook his head again. "And poor Cass was left behind. Terrible thing. Never saw her cry, though."
Brett remembered that Sheriff Jackson had said the same thing. It was odd she'd never cried. Instead, she had strapped on the twin Colts and become one of the deadliest shots in the West. She'd managed to track down four of the killers and was now back in Twisted Creek, hoping to find the last one. And she thought it might be Hunt Tylo, the father of the man Sharky had just beaten badly in a poker game. The man who'd just come home after a five-year absence. Was his return a coincidence? Suddenly Brett wanted very badly to see Cass, to see if she was all right. Pushing himself up from the chair, he looked down at Sharky. "I've got a few things I need to take care of. Are you planning on being in town for long?"
"You asking me to leave, Marshal?"
Brett smiled down at him. "Just the opposite. I was hoping you'd stay around for a while, in case I start feeling like I need to play a hand or two""
"Sure thing, Marshal. I'll be here when you want me. I've got a room at the hotel."
Brett nodded good-bye quickly and headed out of the saloon. As he walked toward the sheriff's office, his thoughts continued to focus on Cass. Was she on the right track with Tylo? Did Ramsey's coming home now have anything to do with her? His gut tightened with dread. "Damn it," he fumed, realizing he had no idea where the Wayne ranch was.
Cass followed the
Brett looked at the women, who were standing against the bar, waiting for their next customers. "I guess he's changed," he offered.
"Guess so. ”
"Which is why I think you should be a little careful for a while."
"Aw hell. I didn't get t his old by bein' careless."
Brett grinned agai n "All right, Sharky. I won't pester you about it anymore."
Sharky smiled his wrinkled smile at the yo unger man. "You don't feel like a game, do you?"
"I don't thi nk so," Brett declined. "I don't make enough money at this job that I can afford to give some of it to you."
Sharky chuckled and began picking up the cards still ly ing across the table. "Too bad, I reckon you'd be a real challenge. I doubt I could beat you."
"Do n't try to hustle me," Brett warned in a friendly tone. "By the way, how'd you know I was a marshal when I walked over? You didn't look up."
"I make it my business to know the law before the law knows me."
Brett raised his eyebrows.
"I was in here earlier, when t hat gunfighter, Henry Fleet, was looking for Cass. Went outside in time to see the whole thing," Sharky explained. "I ain't never seen anyone as fast as that girl. 'Course, I can't blame her. Not after what happened to her family."
"You kno w about that?"
Sharky gave the marshal an incredulous stare. "Everybody around here knows about it."
"Were you here when the family was murdered?" Brett questioned.
Sharky remembered for a moment and nodded. "Yeah, I was here. I was even part of the posse that went out looking for the murderin' bastards that did it," he said, his eyes vacant with the memory. “It was real strange,” he mumbled.
"What was?" Brett asked, grasping at the old man's words.
"The way we lost 'em." He raised his eyes to meet the marshal's. "They all scattered, every one of 'em. You'd think some of 'em would have stuck together. Criminals usually do have partners. But these fellas just went their separate ways. It was almost as if they'd come together just to commit the one crime, then went off about their business." He shook his head again. "And poor Cass was left behind. Terrible thing. Never saw her cry, though."
Brett remembered that Sheriff Jackson had said the same thing. It was odd she'd never cried. Instead, she had strapped on the twin Colts and become one of the deadliest shots in the West. She'd managed to track down four of the killers and was now back in Twisted Creek, hoping to find the last one. And she thought it might be Hunt Tylo, the father of the man Sharky had just beaten badly in a poker game. The man who'd just come home after a five-year absence. Was his return a coincidence? Suddenly Brett wanted very badly to see Cass, to see if she was all right. Pushing himself up from the chair, he looked down at Sharky. "I've got a few things I need to take care of. Are you planning on being in town for long?"
"You asking me to leave, Marshal?"
Brett smiled down at him. "Just the opposite. I was hoping you'd stay around for a while, in case I start feeling like I need to play a hand or two""
"Sure thing, Marshal. I'll be here when you want me. I've got a room at the hotel."
Brett nodded good-bye quickly and headed out of the saloon. As he walked toward the sheriff's office, his thoughts continued to focus on Cass. Was she on the right track with Tylo? Did Ramsey's coming home now have anything to do with her? His gut tightened with dread. "Damn it," he fumed, realizing he had no idea where the Wayne ranch was.
Cass followed the
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