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CHAPTER THREE

  Nothing to Lose

  Wayland paced the now-familiar jail cell like a caged cat. Out in the front office, Cassie and Shorty were having a loud discussion concerning Wayland's future.

  "You can't just keep him in jail!" Cassie demanded, "You've got no reason!"

  "I got a dead man, Cassie! That's reason enough for me!" came the reply.

  "The other man drew first! Dave saw it!"

  "Dang it, woman, there's more to it than that!"

  Wayland couldn't help but see the humor in it. These two people, who only a few days ago were total strangers to him, now discussed his fate as though he were the object of a land dispute. Naturally, he was pulling for Cassie. He'd never attempted a jail-break before, and wasn't relishing the thought. Soon, Shorty appeared at Wayland's cell door.

  "I liked you better when you was shot," he grumbled.

  "You gonna let me go?" Wayland asked.

  "I'm debatin' it," Shorty answered. "See, the thing is, I figure keepin' you in jail might be doin' you a favor."

  Wayland smiled wryly. "You'll understand if I disagree."

  Shorty looked sorely put-out, and frustrated by Wayland's attitude. "You know, there's plenty of towns in Texas you can get yourself killed in. Why'd you have to pick mine?" Shorty snapped.

  Wayland gave him a serious look. "Shorty, if I was the one dead, would Will Burdett be locked up?"

  Shorty's eyes narrowed. His instinct was toward anger, but he knew Wayland was right. It was John Loomis' town, and he likely wouldn't have arrested Will Burdett, knowing he worked for Loomis. Without a word of reply, Shorty took out his keys and unlocked Wayland's cell. Wayland heaved a breath of relief and satisfaction, and walked out. Shorty gave him a stern look.

  "I ain't comin' to your funeral."

  "Don't plan to be there, myself," Wayland replied, as he walked past Shorty. When Wayland entered the front office, Cassie looked instantly relieved. Harley looked disappointed. Shorty still seemed reluctant about the whole thing as he strode in behind Wayland.

  Wayland looked at Harley. "My gun," he said. Harley gave him a cold look. As before, he made no sudden move to comply.

  "Dammit, Harley, give him his gun!" Shorty snapped.

  Harley retrieved the Colt, and handed it over. His eyes bored into Wayland, and even Harley's sphinx-like face couldn't hide his dislike of Wayland. "Next time, maybe it'll be me on the other side," he said.

  "Well, deputy, we can always hope," Wayland replied. Wayland opened the door for Cassie, then followed her out.

  Out in the street, Wayland surprised Cassie when he gently turned her to him, gripped her shoulders and kissed her. Her eyes went wide in startlement.

  "That's for standing up for me," he announced.

  "Kissing on main street, in broad daylight. Imagine what people will think of us!" she laughed.

  "I guess they'll think we like each other," he said, suddenly feeling sheepish.

  "I guess they'll be right," she said softly. She took his arm, and they walked. "Wayland...what's going on?" she asked, her face studying him intently.

  Wayland feigned innocence. "What do you mean?"

  "That business with Shorty. What's it about?"

  He stopped walking, and took a long pause before he spoke. "It doesn't concern you, Cassie. Maybe it's best you don't know."

  She quickly angered at his remark. "Doesn't concern me? Aren't you forgetting who nursed you back to life? I spoon fed you, like a baby...sat at your side...and now, you say it doesn't concern me?"

  Wayland shuffled uncomfortably. He was beginning to recall stories of redheads with hot tempers, and felt that there might be some truth to them. "Cassie, it isn't that I'm not grateful. I just don't wantyou hurt. Now please, just let it go."

  She stared at him for a moment longer, struggling within herself. Finally, she shrugged in resignation. "Fine," she said, but without much conviction.

  "Fine," Wayland said firmly, with all the conviction he could muster. He started walking again, assuming the subject was closed. He was wrong.

  "Will Burdett worked for John Loomis," she said suddenly, "Does it have something to do with him?"

  Wayland's reaction was too strong and too quick for him to hide. It confirmed her suspicions, and he knew it. "Come on," he said, "I'll buy you dinner."

  He latched onto her arm and guided her firmly down the street. At the cafe, they ordered and were well into their meal before the subject arose again. This time, it was Wayland who initiated it.

  "You were right," he admitted, "My business is with Loomis."

  "What kind of business?" she demanded.

  He took a long pause, wondering how to explain, or even if he should. Finally, he just gave in, and blurted it out. "I came to kill him," he answered bluntly.

  Cassie gave a shocked reaction. She froze, her eyes wide, and said nothing for a time. Finally, she recovered.

  "Kill John Loomis? But...why?" she asked in astonishment.

  "It's an old score that needs settling, and that's all I'll say about it."

  Cassie shook her head in disbelief, her meal now forgotten. "Wayland, you don't understand the way things are, here. You'll be dead before you get within a mile of John Loomis."

  "Well, he's already tried," he responded.

  She nodded firmly. "And he'll try again..and again, until he's done the job. I know him, Wayland. I know what he's capable of!"

  This time, it was Wayland who looked back in surprise. "What do you mean, you know him?"

  Cassie suddenly seemed uncomfortable and averted her eyes. "I mean...everybody knows what he's like."

  Wayland shook his head. "No, it's more than that, isn't it?"

  Finally, she nodded. "Four years ago, John Loomis brought me out here from San Francisco...to marry him."

  Wayland reacted in shock, and stared at her in astonishment.

  "I was working as a dance-hall hostess," she continued. "He was in San Francisco on business. I don't know...he was charming and funny. It was so impulsive. The next thing I knew, we were engaged and I was in Texas. Then..." she hesitated, reluctant to go on.

  "What?" Wayland urged.

  "I was on my way back to the hotel one night. There were these men...from a cattle drive. They were drunk, and...they..." her voice began to tremble. She took a long breath, and gathered herself. "When they were caught, they didn't even remember raping me."

  Wayland sat in stunned silence for several moments. She had caught him completely off guard, and he suddenly felt unsure of himself. "The law caught them?" he asked.

  She shook her head. "No, John Loomis caught them. Or, at least his hired killers did. John had them hanged, to preserve his precious honor. Of course, my honor was beyond repair."

  There was more than a little bitterness in her voice, and her own composure was dangerously close to the breaking point. "He couldn't marry me. Not after that."

  "Then, you must hate him, too." Wayland said.

  "Yes. Enough to wish him dead, sometimes. But not enough to kill him, Wayland. There's a difference."

  "Maybe it isn't the same kind of hate, Cassie," he replied. "All I know is, it's eating me up, and there's only one way I can stop it."

  She reached across the table and gripped his hand firmly between hers. Her face showed urgency, and concern. "Don't you see, he's too strong. He doesn't like to fight his own battles. He won't come out for you, Wayland."

  "Then I'll go to him," Wayland insisted.

  "And play right into his hands? You'll never get out alive," she argued.

  "I'm not worried about getting out. Just getting in."

  Cassie released his hand, and leaned back in her chair. She regarded him with a grim, steady look. Wayland could again see the anger in her eyes.

  "I guess I was wrong about you. You seemed different. I had hoped, maybe you and I..." her voice trailed off into silence.

  Wayland wasn't prepared for this tact. He had worked hard within himself to quell the grow
ing feelings he had for her. The last thing he needed was to complicate matters with a female relationship. His plan to even the score with Loomis demanded that he have nothing to lose. He couldn't sacrifice that, not even for Cassie. Wayland wasn't good at expressing his deepest feelings, but he knew that now was the time to try.

  "Cassie, I sure want to care for you. I just can't. Not now. Maybe, when this is over..."

  She interrupted with a bitter laugh. "When this is over, you'll be dead, Wayland Brice. That's the only thing that will change."

  With that, she rose stiffly and marched out of the restaurant. Wayland felt a twinge of frustration, and disappointment, but convinced himself that this was the best thing. This was the way it had to be. He had a sudden compulsion to get it over with and put Loomis, Texas behind him...or have six feet of Loomis, Texas laid on top of him. Tonight, he would ride out to the Loomis ranch, and look for his opening. Once again, he had nothing to lose, except his life.

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