Authors: Ann Cory
Chapter Thirteen
Garvey whipped through the side streets home, white-knuckled
and riding high on adrenaline. Images of Montana with her head thrust back
through the fogged-up windows replayed in his mind. He’d wanted to open the
door and shoot the bastard, but feared harming Montana. After they’d finished
and Lawson went with Sanderson, he’d looked through the truck and found a birth
certificate. His dad would be proud of him this time.
He peeled into the driveway and nearly took apart the door
in his haste to get out. His legs burned as he raced through the house.
“Pop. Where are you?”
“Around back. Having a smoke.”
Winded, Garvey took a moment to catch his breath.
Toward the back of the house, he repeated, “Pop.”
“What is it, boy?”
“He ain’t no stranger,” he said through a grin.
“How do you mean?”
He thrust a piece of paper in his father’s face. “Poked
around the inside of the stranger’s truck and found this.”
His father straightened and held the paper close to his
face.
“Cage? He’s a goddamn Cage?”
“That’s not all. I saw him go inside Jake Sanderson’s place.
He had to have been in there for fifteen, twenty minutes.”
Admiration streaked his father’s face.
“Now you’re acting like a Mitchum. I’m proud of you, boy.”
His pride soared. “What do we do?”
“Well, first I’m going to pay Jake a visit,” he said. “And
then I’ll figure things out from there.”
“Yes, sir.” Garvey masked his disappointment.
His father took a long drag of his cigarette and snuffed it
out on the bottom of his boot. “I knew we should’ve done away with every last
Cage,” he grumbled. “But my father had too much stock in that woman, Ruth. Let
her go thinking she’d run back into his arms once Cole was gone. Course she
never did. She shouldn’t have been allowed to take that brat with her and
leave.”
Garvey followed his father into the kitchen and watched him
check his gun. He selected a box of bullets from the side drawer. “That was the
only time my old man showed weakness. Around that woman. Not a single one of
’em is worth it, you understand?”
“Yeah, Pop.”
Clint pressed the bullet into the chamber and shoved it into
his holster. “I know you think that whore’s daughter is worth it, but I’m
telling you, they’re selfish creatures. That’s why I keep telling you to get a
handle on her.”
“I know. I’m working on it.”
“You’re going to have to work harder.”
“Yes, sir.”
His father smiled at him again. A genuine smile that made
all the years of eyeing him with disappointment fade. “I’m off to see Jake.
We’ll catch up later.”
“Sure, Pop.”
He’d show his father he wasn’t a coward. He’d shoot Lawson
Cage himself.
* * * * *
Clint knocked several times before the door opened and Jake
Sanderson peered out, his face lined with age.
“Afternoon, Sheriff.”
“Afternoon,” he said, offering his hand with a big Texas
smile. “And it’s Clint. I’m not here on business, so how about we talk like the
old friends we once were.”
Jake ignored his hand and directed his gaze to the ground.
“We were never friends.”
“Sure we were.” He rocked back on his heels and gestured
inside. “You plan to invite me in?”
“Hadn’t thought to.”
Clint held his smile. “Suit yourself. Figured we hadn’t
talked much, wanted to see what you’ve been up to.”
The old man’s shoulders rolled like wheels in sand. “Nothing
much.”
“Been talking to anyone I should know about?”
Jake’s head lifted. “Nope.”
Pissed that he’d lied, Clint didn’t bother with niceties.
“How about any interesting visitors?”
“Nope. Not that I recall.”
“Sure about that?”
“Yep.”
Clint pulled out a cigarette and lit a match on the side
post. He took a few puffs, shook out the flame and looked out into the street.
“Seems we have ourselves an outsider with an agenda. You sure you don’t know
anything about that?”
He turned in time see the old man flinch.
This time his lips curled naturally. “I need you to be
honest, Jake.” He slid his vest open and exposed his gun. “Otherwise innocent
people get hurt. Did you talk to him?”
“Might’ve.”
Clint let the vest slip back. “Well now. What did you two
talk about?”
“The past. How Cole and I were old friends. Such a shame
what happened.” Jake paused to wipe his mouth. “Then again, I guess you aren’t
too heartbroken over it. Seeing as how your family destroyed his.”
Flicking ash to the porch, Clint sneaked a glance behind him
again. “What else was said?”
“Nothing.” The old man’s calmness made him angrier. “I just
thought he should know this town has been nothing without the Cage family.”
Clint dropped the remainder of his cigarette and twisted his
boot overtop. “Is that right.”
“Yep.”
“I’d hate to think you are the sort of man who sides with
the enemy.”
Jake put his hand on the doorway and shifted his foot
forward. In a clear, even voice, he said, “I’ve never sided with a Mitchum in
my life.”
Clint closed his fist around the gun and loosened it from
his holster.
“Still not going to invite me in?”
“Nope.”
Mitchum checked the street once more and then rammed into
Jake, knocking him back and onto the floor. With the gun pressed to the old
man’s forehead, he got to his feet and kicked the door closed. He rested his
boot on Sanderson’s belly and redistributed all his weight.
Jake groaned against the pressure, his face turning
cherry-red.
With a chuckle, Clint dug his boot heel in further. “Sorry
to have to kill you. But then, we weren’t friends anyway.”
He pulled the trigger and watched Jake die.
Chapter Fourteen
Lawson struggled with the way his plans were unraveling.
While he still carried around the rage of what Mitchum did to his family,
something had tempered him since he’d stepped back into his past. He needed to
get himself fired up. Maybe he didn’t want to blow up the town anymore, but he
intended to find the money and kill Mitchum.
The air made him sticky and his throat burned. He needed to
find his edge. A beer sounded ideal.
On entering, the entire room went quiet. Montana motioned
him over, eyes frantic.
“What are you doing? You shouldn’t be here.”
Lawson smirked. “Why? Because I roughed up the deputy?”
“No.” She lowered her voice. “Because of Jake Sanderson.”
“What about Jake?”
“He’s dead.”
The room swayed. “The hell?”
“He was shot and two people witnessed you go inside his
house.”
“Who?”
“Amos and Bigsby.”
Lawson massaged his right temple. “But I didn’t kill Jake.
He invited me into his house. Knew I was a Cage. We talked about my
grandfather. Son of a bitch. He got killed because he talked to me.”
Montana reached out and squeezed his arm. “You didn’t know.”
Heat lashed his face. “I should’ve known. Someone saw me,
not sure who, but Bigsby and Amos weren’t anywhere around. Dammit.”
“What are you going to do?”
The edge he’d been missing ignited. He streaked through the
bar, flinging anything and anyone out of his way.
“Lawson, wait!”
Ignoring Montana, he charged outside. He thought of Jake. A
kind man who’d just lost his wife. A man who insisted he talk with him. Whether
he knew the result of talking with him or not didn’t matter now. But he
couldn’t let it go. Jake had mentioned the money. All but told him that his
grandfather would want him to find it. He needed answers and only one place
came to mind.
He entered the bank and shut the door hard.
A dark-haired man with a moustache stood behind the counter.
“Sir, may I help you?”
“It’s in your best interest to.”
“And you would be?”
“A concerned citizen.”
He watched the man’s Adam’s apple bob a few times. “I’ve not
seen you here before.”
“Nope, and you won’t see me for long.”
Lawson locked the door and pulled the shades down. “You’re closing
early today.”
“Hold on there, mister.” The man scurried out from behind
the partitioned area. “Excuse me, sir. You can’t…”
Lawson drew his gun. “Answer my questions, and you can get
back to your business of robbing people. Who are you?”
“Stan Flogelman.”
“And what do you do?”
“Run the bank. Odd jobs. Whatever’s needed.”
“So you know the layout of this place.”
“Yes, I do. With my eyes closed.”
“I’m going to need you to point out where the vault is
located.”
“It’s in the back,” he said and stretched his arm behind
him. “You need a key to get in. The vault’s protected by bars.”
“Don’t matter. I need to get in there.”
“I can’t permit you to do that, sir.”
Lawson plastered a grin on his face. “I’m giving you that
permission.”
Flogelman nodded and led him behind the partition. With a
shaky hand he unlocked the vault. “There you go. Not much in it, I’m afraid.”
Confusion etched Lawson’s brow. “I see that.”
“Will you be taking all of it?”
“What?” He spun around. “I’m not here to rob the place.” He
had to think. Where else would Mitchum hide large sums of money?
“Is there another facility where the town’s money is held?”
“No, sir. This is it.”
“Hm.” He thought for a moment and Montana came to his mind.
“Who takes care of Montana’s financial affairs?”
“Clint Mitchum.”
He chewed his lip. “Why would he do that?”
“After her mother, Miranda, died, he wanted to make sure she
was taken care of.”
“Is that normal for the sheriff to do something of that
nature?”
The banker looked at him as if he spoke Chinese. “I don’t
understand.”
“Does he do that for anyone else?”
“Not that I reckon, no.”
“What do you know about Montana’s debt?”
“I didn’t know she had any.”
“Her mother’s debt,” he said, beyond impatient. “The money
Montana owes the town because of her mother’s previous financial discord. I
don’t think you’re a dumb man. Don’t you keep records or receipts?”
“Course.”
“Show me.”
Flogelman ushered him toward the next room. “In here.”
Lawson followed him into an enclosed room. File cabinets
lined the walls.
“Well?”
Stan opened a drawer and thumbed through folders. After
several minutes he pulled one out.
“Here’s her file. Appears Mitchum’s been writing checks in
her name.”
“For what?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because like Jake Sanderson, if I talk I’ll be shot.”
Lawson raised a hand. “I didn’t kill him.”
“I believe you. I’ve known Sanderson my entire life. He knew
the risk in speaking with you.”
A pang of guilt shot through him. “Look, I don’t know how to
ask nice. If this gun helps loosen your tongue, then I’m prepared to use it.”
“You kill me or Mitchum kills me. Either way I’m a dead
man.”
“Then die with some goddamn pride.”
He watched the man’s eyes, the way they contemplated his
words. “Montana’s money pays off Clint’s debts.”
“What sort of debts?”
“He’s got his hands in any illegal activity you can think
of.”
“Corrupt son of a bitch,” he grumbled. “What did he do with
the town’s money?”
“Beats me.”
“Jake said he stashed it somewhere.”
“Then he must’ve. Jake wouldn’t make shit up.”
Lawson nodded. “Can’t figure out why he’d swindle Montana
out of her money.”
“Mitchum is Montana’s father.”
The words exploded like shrapnel inside his chest. “Son of a
bitch.” All this time she hadn’t said a damn word about it. Unless. “Does she
know?”
“Nope. No one knows, except me. Fortunately she’s blessed
with her momma’s good looks.”
“She mentioned her mother died of an illness.”
“That’s what she was told.”
“Then what’s the truth?”
“Miranda killed herself. She couldn’t take being under
Clint’s control.”
He closed his eyes and took a moment to gather his thoughts.
“And you don’t think Montana deserves the truth?”
“Everyone felt she’d suffered enough.”
“But she doesn’t know the truth about her life. When she
leaves this place…”
Flogelman released a dry laugh. “Mitchum won’t ever let her
leave. He makes sure his secrets stay in one place.”
Lawson tensed. “So in his opinion, Montana’s forever
indebted to him.”
“Yep. Hell, he wants Garvey to marry her so he can keep tabs
on her.”
“Sick bastard.”
“Always has been.”
“Hang on a sec. If Garvey’s his son…”
Stan shook his head.
“He’s not his son?”
“Nope.”
Christ. He’d come looking for heaps of cash and stumbled on
a mountain of secrets. “Let me guess. Only you know?”
“That’s right.”
“How is it you’ve been entrusted with all this secret information?”
“I used to administer DNA tests in another town. Made good
money that way. He sought me out. To keep my mouth shut, Mitchum brought me to
Rattler City, and I’ve been here since.”
“Another secret.”
“Yep.”
Lawson shifted his weight. “Shit. This just keeps getting
more twisted.”
“Most things that have to do with Mitchum are.” Stan
replaced the file and closed the cabinet.
“Why doesn’t anyone stop him?”
He chuckled. “You treat a man well when he’s got you by the
balls. Mitchum’s got something on each one of us.”
“No one should have that kind of power.” Least of all a
bully.
Stan crooked a brow. “Tell me. What’s your business here?”
“To take away that power.”
“Good luck there.”
“If Jake says the money is stashed, I have to find it.”
“I don’t know about a hidden stash,” said Stan. “He’s never
mentioned it to me. Then again I don’t know a lot about Mitchum’s doings and I
prefer it that way. Tell you what. You’re welcome to search the bank.” Stan
glanced at his watch. “Come back at five. I’ll keep the back door unlocked.
You’ll have at best an hour before I stop by and lock everything up.”
A trap came to Lawson’s mind. But he needed the money.
“You’d do that?”
“If you can get your ass out of there within the hour.”
“I can.”
“Then I will.”
“Why help me?”
Stan released a long exhale. “I may go along with Mitchum to
his face, but I don’t advocate any of it. I’m tired of seeing this town
deteriorate.”
“Got it.”
Lawson left the bank, his stomach full of rocks. He’d slept
with the daughter of the man he came to kill. Of all the ways to put a dent in
his plans, it had to include a woman. But this was Montana. Not an ordinary
woman at all. She deserved to know the truth about her money. He’d tell her and
be done. She’d fast become a liability that he couldn’t afford.
Lawson dawdled to the bar, keeping one eye over his
shoulder. He half expected to get shot in the back. Outside of the bar he gave
himself a pep talk. Giving bad news to people never did sit well with him.
Montana’s eyes sparkled when he walked through the door. The
rocks in his stomach tumbled.
“You’re back,” she said, her voice full of sunshine and
sweetness. Too bad he was about to start a shit storm.
“Um, yeah.”
“I wasn’t expecting to see you again.”
“Well. We need to talk.”
“I suppose I’m free,” she said, searching the crowd. “Until
someone runs out of beer.”
“This is important.” His nerves knotted. He wanted to bolt.
Her smile dwindled. “Okay.”
“It’s about your debt.”
She held up a finger. “Wait. I think we both need a
whiskey.”
Over drinks, he filled Montana in on the truth about her
money. He’d let her cry and let her vent.
A few beats later, she spoke. “How did you find out?”
“I can be persuasive.”
Head in her hands, she groaned. “You must think I’m an
idiot.”
“The only idiots are the ones running this tar pit.”
She glanced up, her eyes puffy and red. “What should I do?”
“I can’t help you there. I just figured you should know.”
Lawson watched her stare out at the bar. His body sagged. He
felt like an ass not telling her about Mitchum or her mother.
Checking the clock, he wanted the world to crumble overtop
him. “I hate to do this, but I have to go. I’m expected somewhere. I can’t be
late.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“I’d stay if I could.”
“Uh huh. Will I see you later?”
Her fallen expression made it difficult to lie. “I don’t
think so. Maybe?”
She nodded, her lashes damp and thick.
Lawson pulled his weighted body to his feet and lumbered
away. Her pain didn’t concern him, or so he told himself.