RattlingtheCage (9 page)

Chapter Eighteen

Montana stood silent, lips frozen in an O shape, heart
pounding. This wasn’t happening. Had she ever been told anything in her life
other than lies?

“She killed herself?” The words were razor-blade sharp on
her tongue.

He nodded. “Seems she wanted out from under Mitchum’s thumb.
Probably wanted better for you and didn’t feel she could deliver.”

A draft stole over her skin. She held her arms. “I’m going
to end up like her, aren’t I? Trapped.”

“No. You won’t. You’re stronger.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. I see you.”

She looked down at her hands. “But you don’t know for sure.
I’m nothing but a ruthless, heartless, crazy two-bit tramp. It’s in my genes.”

Her knees buckled.

Lawson reached out and caught her.

“Easy now. None of that is true.”

“Yes it is.”

She melted into him and sobbed. Her mother had wanted out so
bad she’d killed herself. She’d been stuck in a rotten life with no other way
out. She didn’t have a handsome hero to save her and spirit her away.

Lawson stroked her back, soothing her with whispered words
of comfort. But the horror of being Mitchum’s daughter hit her hard. Her mouth
went dry.

She untangled herself from Lawson’s safety net and moved
away. “You must hate me. I must make you sick. You were with me, a Mitchum…”

“Stop it.” His voice deepened. “You’re nothing like him. You
weren’t raised by him. You share blood. Nothing more. And you aren’t your
mother. You decide your fate. Not them.”

Her body shuddered. She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I
feel guilty about what happened to Garvey.”

“Don’t. Like you, he wasn’t a Mitchum. Even being raised by
one still didn’t corrupt him.”

“I’m sick of all the secrets, all the lies, all the
bullshit. Always feeling like I’m being watched.” Montana hated that she whined,
but it all overwhelmed her. She’d hated her life before learning all of this.

“You probably were. Stan said that Mitchum keeps a handle on
his secrets. Wait.” He rubbed his chin. “You said you wake up in the morning
with the feeling that someone had watched you sleep, right?”

She sniffled. “Yeah. All the time.”

“Well shit.”

“What?”

Montana heard voices behind them. She peered over her
shoulder through the bars surrounding the vault room. Thatcher and his wife
Ethel ambled in, faces solemn, each carrying buckets of soapy water and
sponges. They hovered around the body and then rolled it onto a tarp. Together
they knelt and scrubbed away the blood.

She returned her attention to Lawson and asked, “What were
you going to say before?”

“I know where the money is.”

“What money?”

“The town’s money. The money JR Mitchum accused my
grandfather of stealing. The money the Mitchums have been making off innocent
people for decades. It makes sense. Clint has been keeping a very close eye on
you, and when he couldn’t, he sent Garvey. They did watch over you.”

“Well, where do you think it is?”

“Inside your place.”

She shivered at the thought of something hidden in her
trailer without her knowing. “Where do you think he stashed it?”

“I don’t know. But it has to be in there.”

Another voice called out. One she recognized.

“I warned you about being in the bank longer than an hour,”
Stan said as he neared the vault.

Lawson exhaled. “Got held up.”

“I see that.”

Stan pulled a ring of keys from his belt and unlocked the
vault. “Since I’m going to die for helping you,” he said, “might as well be
after I release you.”

“Much obliged.”

Montana pushed the door open. She took one look at Garvey’s
body and ran outside. She’d wished him dead enough times, more so in the past
couple of days, but not now.

“It’s going to be okay,” Lawson said, stealing up behind
her.

She worried her lip. “I want to help in some way.”

“I know.”

Montana spun to face him. “I mean it.” She narrowed her
eyes. “You owe me for keeping secrets from me.”

“Hey, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you.”

Arms crossed, she tapped her toe.

After a considerable pause, he gave her a firm nod. “There’s
one thing you can do for me, but you won’t like it.”

“I’ll do anything.”

He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

* * * * *

He waited until she’d become a speck in the distance. With
her help, he’d have the time needed to grab the money and follow through with
the rest of his plan.

Thatcher appeared in the doorway and dragged the tarp with
Garvey’s body splayed on top. His wife stumbled after him, her face ashen.
Bloody water sloshed from the buckets. Lawson nodded but neither of them
acknowledged him. He didn’t take it personally.

Stan Flogelman approached him with a good-natured grin on
his face. “Do you always stir up trouble when passing through?”

Lawson shrugged. “Nah, happens pretty much anywhere I go.”

“I didn’t rat you out, just so you know. And I didn’t know
Mitchum had sent for his henchmen.”

“Figured. I didn’t kill Garvey. I’m responsible, though. I
gave Mitchum the ammo to do it.”

“You spilled the beans, did you?”

“Guilty.”

“Had to come out someday. That boy never did anything right
in his eyes. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

“Can’t say I thought much of him, but he didn’t deserve to
go out like that.”

“Nope. Was nothing but a dumb kid.” Stan ran his thumb along
his forehead. “You know this ain’t just your fight anymore.”

“How’s that?”

“When I say you stirred things up, I meant it in a good way.
You stirred up people around here. The deaths of Jake and Garvey aren’t being
taken lightly.”

“I didn’t come here to get people riled up,” he said. “I
have my own agenda.”

“Yeah, but they needed to be riled up. They don’t want to
keep living this way. Afraid to say anything, do anything. Living in fear of
Mitchum.”

“So you’re saying the town wants to fight?”

“With your help, yes.”

“Can’t say I’m sorry to hear it.”

Stan stroked his mustache and asked, “Did you find the
money?”

“Nope. Not in the bank. But I have a hunch where I can find
it.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I trust you?”

“Oh hell yeah.”

“Good, ’cause I’ll need help. Once I have the money, I want
you to distribute it out.”

“You lost me.”

“The town’s going to need a new sheriff. I’d say you’re the
ideal choice.”

Stan put his fists on his hips. “I don’t know about that.”

“Someone needs to lead these people,” Lawson explained.
“Jake would want you to be the guy. I know it. I’m not wrong here.”

“Jake, huh? Let me think on it a spell. What is it you
need?”

“For the money to go back into the town. Help get people
living again. A way for them to make a living, be healthy. I’m going to start
by taking out the offending buildings.”

Stans brows rose. “Those would be?”

“The bank, the jail and Mitchum’s home.”

“How the hell are you going to do that?”

Lawson grinned. “Dynamite.”

“Whoo wee. I like the way you think.”

Lawson nodded. “Those men that were with Mitchum. Think you
can entice them to help if money is part of the equation?”

“They’ll do anything for money. Especially once they find
out Mitchum doesn’t have any.”

“Counting on that.”

He explained his new plan. With help, he thought it might
work. A plan where the right people profited and the weasel got strung up by
his neck.

“It’s going to be a long night,” said Lawson, rubbing his
face. “Hope you’re up to it.”

Stan chuckled. “Hell. It would be worth losing a month’s
worth of sleep. I’ll catch you tomorrow then.”

“Yep, see ya.”

Lawson had one more stop to make before the sun set. He
followed the creek to the abandoned railroad tracks where as a boy he used to
scavenge for frogs. Old memories flooded his mind. Even after all these years,
he still knew his way around.

Chapter Nineteen

Half an hour later, he reached the old mine shaft. Birch and
willow trees swayed in the warm breeze above it. There he worked the wooden
slats off the entrance. The nails had rusted over time but were easy enough to
pry out.

A cloud of dust swarmed his head and he waved it away but
not before ingesting some. He coughed a few times to clear his throat and then
stuck his head inside. To his relief the shaft hadn’t caved in. Enough light
poured in to allow him to see. Had he thought ahead, he’d have snagged his
flashlight from the truck. Lawson took his time getting in, more because of his
size than anything else. It had been much easier to fit as a boy.

Glancing around, he nodded. It had made a good hiding spot
once before. It would make a good hiding spot again. Perfect to keep the money
in.

Lawson worked fast to stack some loose rocks against the far
side, not wanting to lose daylight. He found that he didn’t have the same
affection for small spaces as before.

When he’d moved the last rock, he heard something shifting
above his head. Dirt showered down on him, followed by stones and debris.
Lawson crouched and covered his head. He hurried toward the entrance but a group
of large rocks tumbled and blocked his way out.

In the dark he fought to calm his breath. His head throbbed.
A rise of panic from his gut made it difficult for him to think straight. He
needed to breathe.

In slow.

Out slow.

His body shook.

The mine enclosed around him. He pawed at the rocks,
ignoring the increase of dirt sprinkling down, hitting his hat and spilling to
the ground.

The ground tilted beneath him, or so he thought. His legs
buckled and he went down with a thump on his butt.

Lawson didn’t know how much time had passed. Movement
overhead alerted him out of his daze, as if something walked above him. Perhaps
a bear or wolverine. He held his breath. The movement came closer.

Dim light shone through tiny cracks between the rocks.

“Lawson, you in there?”

“Yeah,” he hollered, not recognizing the voice.

His pulse thudded twice before the voice replied, “Hang on.
I’ll get you out.”

Not knowing who stood on the other side, he hated that he
didn’t have his knife.

Considerable time passed and the rocks were removed from the
entrance.

“You should be able to squeeze out of there.”

Lawson readied himself for whatever awaited him.

He took a welcome breath of air in and blinked against the
twilight. He’d expected a group of men. He only saw one. A man he recognized.
One of Mitchum’s. The large one with a boulder for a body and who, he hated to
admit, intimidated the snot out of him. His bones ached thinking about how bad
they’d take a beating.

“Uh, thanks.”

“Sure. Name’s Luke.”

“Guess you know I got out of the vault.”

“I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t.”

He studied the man. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Not here.”

“Aren’t you going to haul me off somewhere?”

“Nah. I overheard you and Stan talking earlier.”

Lawson’s lip twitched. “That so?”

“Yeah. I followed you here. But then you disappeared. Heard
the cave-in and then I heard you hollering.”

Lawson cleared his throat. “I hollered?”

“Oh yeah.”

He didn’t remember. “Why were you following me?”

“Wanted to talk.”

“Okay.”

“I’m a man greatly persuaded by money.”

“I’d guess that.”

Luke’s face hardened. “Let me set you straight on something.
It ain’t about loyalty with me. What I’ve done for Mitchum is what keeps my
family fed and my land paid for. I don’t get some perverse sense of pleasure
from hurting others.”

“Okay. So you have a few scruples. Doesn’t make me trust
you.”

“I understand.”

He didn’t trust anyone, least of all someone who had the
ability to kick his ass. “For all I know you’re setting me up.”

“It’s your call,” Luke said. “I don’t agree with Mitchum’s
killing of that young deputy, and I sure as hell don’t agree with what happened
to Jake Sanderson. Like your grandfather, he was a well-respected man. One of
the few who stood up for Cole Cage. Got the shit beat out of him for it, not by
me, but he made sure folks remembered him.”

Lawson wished he’d had the time to get to know Jake better.
Guilt continued to eat away at him. He blew air through his lips and asked,
“Where are you going with all this?”

“Mitchum’s lost his damn mind. I’m done taking his orders.
Cut me in on some of that money you’re sitting on, and you’re free to go about
your business. I’ll see to it no one’s in your way.”

“What about the others? Won’t one of them snitch?”

“They’re more scared of me than Mitchum. And besides, I’m
the one who pays them their share.”

Lawson nodded. “Look, I’ll give you a fair amount, but my
interest is the money going back into the town. Where it belongs. I’ll need you
to do something in return.”

“Good by me.”

“Without knowing first?”

“I told you. I’m persuaded by money.” Luke reached into his
pocket and removed a knife.

“Here. I thought you might want this.”

Lawson took hold of the knife and smoothed his hand along
the sleek handle, his initials etched along the side. “Appreciate it. Belonged
to my father.”

“Had a feeling it had personal value. Reason I made sure I
had possession of it.”

“Gotta say I’m glad you aren’t here to finish me off. I’d
tangle with most anyone, but wouldn’t want to mess with you.”

“I’m thick-skinned,” Luke said with a chuckle. “Makes me
look stronger than I am.”

“By now I’m sure Mitchum knows I got out of the vault room.”

“Yeah. He came back to release Montana. I expect he thinks
you ain’t going anywhere with her. I figure come morning he’ll hunt you.”

“Yeah, about that. I’ve an idea.” Lawson looked around,
surprised to find the sky had darkened. “I’ll explain while we walk. We can
discuss money and details as well.”

“Lead the way.”

* * * * *

Clint dug out his keys for the trailer and turned the lock.
He’d waited outside and watched Montana crawl into bed. Some nights he swore he
was looking at her mother. He wished to hell she wasn’t his daughter.

Careful to bypass the creaky spots, he stalked into her room
and hovered over her like he did most nights. He’d watch her sleep. Listen to
her slow, even breath. Watch the way she stirred. With the heat she didn’t need
a blanket. Her body all curled up, hands gently fisted. A true sleeping beauty.

He loved and hated her. A constant reminder of where he’d
failed. Of when he’d been weak. It had given him great pleasure to hit her.
More than he’d realized. Hell, his father had beaten him with far worse than
his hands.

Satisfied the girl and the money were where they should be,
he left the trailer and sat on the edge of the porch. He lit a cigarette. In
the morning he’d deal with Lawson Cage. Then he’d be done with the entire
family. They’d haunted him for years. Kept him paranoid and looking over his
shoulder.

Some nights he’d feel a cold trickle down his back, as if
something stood there, judging him. That’s when he’d turned to booze. Anything
to keep his ass awake during the night.

He stood and walked to his truck, starting it without the
lights on.

Not wanting to go home, he drove around awhile, taking some
of the old dirt roads. He’d have to get rid of Stan. No one else knew about
Garvey. And no one else had the key to the vault room. Here he’d entrusted him
all these years, and a Cage got him to switch his allegiance. No one crossed
him and lived to tell.

An hour went by and he pulled next to his house. Resting his
chin on the steering wheel, he watched the sunrise. God he was tired. He’d been
tired for ages.

* * * * *

Montana swung her feet from the bed and stood. The putrid
scent of cigarettes, stale beer and too much aftershave filled her room. She’d
heard the front door open and knew Clint had let himself in. Her goddamn father
had stood right beside her bed. Watched her without saying a word.

She trembled. No way did she plan to sleep now.

Her head ached. Thinking about what Lawson wanted her to do
made her skin crawl. But she didn’t want to let him down. She wasn’t stupid. He
planned to leave tomorrow. Everything would go down tomorrow. And nothing about
his words or his plans included whisking her out of Rattler City.

She thought about the money hidden in her house. She looked
around, not sure where one would hide money in a nothing of a trailer. She’d
leave it to Lawson to find. She trusted him. He mattered. He was the real in
her life. Her dreams, her future plans, her aspirations to dance—those were fairy
tales. No wonder her mother had killed herself. How else would she have ever
left?