emotions in the eyes of the woman before him on horseback. He saw only the death there. The cold, harsh reality of human mortality and the frustration and anger that went along with it. "Bring him to the office, Cass," he told her. "We'll take care of things there."
Cass glanced back down at the marshal. Was it possible she'd been kissed by this man earlier that same day? Had Ramsey Tylo really surprised her with his attentions? She'd been confused by the feelings Brett had caused in her. She'd been startled and a bit unnerved by Ramsey's unexpected behavior, but she had at least felt something. Now she felt nothing. Only a cold, stony emptiness and the need to finish the job she'd started. "All right," she answered, nudging her horse in the right direction.
"Aren't you going to do something about this Marshal?" Jaybird Johnson asked from the crowd.
Brett found the bartender among t he onlookers. “Yes," he answered. "I'm going to find out what happened." He looked around at the people of Twisted Creek. For the second time in one day he was going to have to send one of them after the undertaker. Cass had been the direct cause of the first killing, and by her own admission, she was somehow involved in the second. No wonder some of these people didn't seem particularly fond of her.
Finding a familiar face in the midst of the crowd, Brett singled him out. "Would you mind getting the undertaker?" he asked quietly.
Bill Conroy nodded and turned away.
Brett then scanned the crowd once more. "Go on about your business, please. I promise I'll get to the bottom of this."
"Yeah, unless you're too busy getting to the bottom of Cass," another anonymous voice called from the back of the group.
Brett suppressed the urge to rebut the statement. Obviously , his behavior with Cass earlier had been quickly reported from neighbor to neighbor. Ignoring the whispers that floated through the crowd, he turned and headed toward the sheriff’s office. "I deserved that," he told himself when he was out of earshot of the crowd.
He was still mentally kicking himself when he reached the office. Cass had left the sheriff’s body tied to his horse and gone inside. He took a look at the body before heading following her." When he opened the door he saw her standing in front of the woodstove staring down at the coffee pot.
“ I made him his coffee this morning," she said softly when she heard the door open and close behind her.
Brett crossed the room to stand next to her. "What happened?"
Cass turned slowly to face the marshal. "It's my fault he's dead," she said in a monotone.
"You didn't kill him," Brett told her.
"No, but I might as well have. I sent him out to the Lazy T to question Hunt Tylo." She turned abruptly and slammed a clenched fist against her gun belt. "Damn it, I should have gone out there myself. This is all my fault."
Brett took a step closer to her. "'Would you stop being so quick to accept the blame for this? We don't know what happened, but from what I could see, he died of a severe head wound, not a bullet."
"So?"
"So his horse could have been spooked by something. He could have fallen and hit his head on a rock."
"There were no bloody rocks where he fell."
"His horse might have kicked him. I've seen it happen before."
Cass snorted in disbelief. "After questioning T ylo about the massacre of my family, Jackson just happens to fall off his horse on his way back to town?"
“ Maybe" And how do you know he ever made it to the Lazy T?"
"I know."
“Cass, listen to me. Even if you're right there's no proof."
"So you're going to do nothing?" she asked snidely.
Brett straightened at her tone. "I'm going out to the Lazy T first thing in the morning to question Hunt Tylo myself. And I’ll have you show me where you found Jackson's body. After that, I'll decide what else needs to be done."
Cass snorted again. "You can wait until morning to talk to Tylo if you want to. I'm going to go talk to him now."
"Like hell
Cass glanced back down at the marshal. Was it possible she'd been kissed by this man earlier that same day? Had Ramsey Tylo really surprised her with his attentions? She'd been confused by the feelings Brett had caused in her. She'd been startled and a bit unnerved by Ramsey's unexpected behavior, but she had at least felt something. Now she felt nothing. Only a cold, stony emptiness and the need to finish the job she'd started. "All right," she answered, nudging her horse in the right direction.
"Aren't you going to do something about this Marshal?" Jaybird Johnson asked from the crowd.
Brett found the bartender among t he onlookers. “Yes," he answered. "I'm going to find out what happened." He looked around at the people of Twisted Creek. For the second time in one day he was going to have to send one of them after the undertaker. Cass had been the direct cause of the first killing, and by her own admission, she was somehow involved in the second. No wonder some of these people didn't seem particularly fond of her.
Finding a familiar face in the midst of the crowd, Brett singled him out. "Would you mind getting the undertaker?" he asked quietly.
Bill Conroy nodded and turned away.
Brett then scanned the crowd once more. "Go on about your business, please. I promise I'll get to the bottom of this."
"Yeah, unless you're too busy getting to the bottom of Cass," another anonymous voice called from the back of the group.
Brett suppressed the urge to rebut the statement. Obviously , his behavior with Cass earlier had been quickly reported from neighbor to neighbor. Ignoring the whispers that floated through the crowd, he turned and headed toward the sheriff’s office. "I deserved that," he told himself when he was out of earshot of the crowd.
He was still mentally kicking himself when he reached the office. Cass had left the sheriff’s body tied to his horse and gone inside. He took a look at the body before heading following her." When he opened the door he saw her standing in front of the woodstove staring down at the coffee pot.
“ I made him his coffee this morning," she said softly when she heard the door open and close behind her.
Brett crossed the room to stand next to her. "What happened?"
Cass turned slowly to face the marshal. "It's my fault he's dead," she said in a monotone.
"You didn't kill him," Brett told her.
"No, but I might as well have. I sent him out to the Lazy T to question Hunt Tylo." She turned abruptly and slammed a clenched fist against her gun belt. "Damn it, I should have gone out there myself. This is all my fault."
Brett took a step closer to her. "'Would you stop being so quick to accept the blame for this? We don't know what happened, but from what I could see, he died of a severe head wound, not a bullet."
"So?"
"So his horse could have been spooked by something. He could have fallen and hit his head on a rock."
"There were no bloody rocks where he fell."
"His horse might have kicked him. I've seen it happen before."
Cass snorted in disbelief. "After questioning T ylo about the massacre of my family, Jackson just happens to fall off his horse on his way back to town?"
“ Maybe" And how do you know he ever made it to the Lazy T?"
"I know."
“Cass, listen to me. Even if you're right there's no proof."
"So you're going to do nothing?" she asked snidely.
Brett straightened at her tone. "I'm going out to the Lazy T first thing in the morning to question Hunt Tylo myself. And I’ll have you show me where you found Jackson's body. After that, I'll decide what else needs to be done."
Cass snorted again. "You can wait until morning to talk to Tylo if you want to. I'm going to go talk to him now."
"Like hell
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