by Ann Cory
The large man grunted and carried her into Mitchum’s house.
He kicked out a chair from the kitchen table and dropped her into it.
Montana shook her head. “Please, I beg you. Don’t.”
He tied the rope tight around her body, giving her little room to move. The rope bit into her skin but she didn’t complain. Taking a white cloth from his inside pocket, he wrapped it around her mouth.
“I’m not big on roughing up a woman,” he said.
She softened her eyes, hoping he’d take that as her way of being grateful.
Clint stepped into view and her body jerked.
“Then how about you go wait outside while I take care of her myself.”
He brought his face close, his crude breath an assault on her senses. “I’m not going to do much. Just enough to shake up Mr. Cage. I won’t do anything permanent to that pretty face.”
He rolled his shirtsleeves to his elbows.
Montana shut her eyes and waited for the first blow.
Chapter Seventeen
Lawson made a quick detour to his truck and then hauled ass to the bank. Before he slipped inside the back door, Russ and Corbet called out to him.
“Hey, stranger. Heard you’s was still around.”
“Fellas,” he said and tipped his hat. “I’m stubborn that way.” He glanced around and then leaned into them. “You two don’t want to be standing around in the open talking to me.”
Russ twisted around and then nodded, his eyes the size of wagon wheels. “We’ll be quick. We just thought you should know some men showed up in town this morn’.”
“The kind of men that means trouble,” added Corbet.
Curious, Lawson asked, “Do you know who they are?”
“Friends of Mitchum’s.”
“Well, I appreciate the heads up.”
Russ nodded. “Be careful.”
“Yeah,” Corbet said. “You seem like good people.”
“Nowhere near as good as you two. Now go on, get out of here.”
He didn’t need to have their deaths on his conscience too. It was getting pretty crowded up there. He also didn’t have time to wonder about these supposed friends of Mitchum’s. No doubt he’d run into them soon enough. Until then he had a bank to search. He’d already lost valuable time.
Grateful to Flogelman for leaving the door unlocked, he went inside and poked around loose floor boards, behind the walls, and up around the ceiling. Inside the small office room he rummaged through the file cabinet, but other than files of all the illegal activity Mitchum took part in, nothing revealed the location of the money.
To his surprise, Flogelman had left the vault open. He rechecked inside and underneath it, but came up empty.
Out of time, he headed for the door.
He stopped short.
Clint, Garvey and three men he’d never seen before blocked the exit with guns aimed in his direction.
“Mr. Cage. I figured it was only a matter of time before you sniffed around where you didn’t belong.”
He glowered. Mitchum looked just like he’d always pictured. A weasel in bad need of a shave with beady eyes and claws for hands. “You should’ve thrown a welcome back party for me.”
Clint grunted. “That’s just it. You ain’t welcome here.”
“Huh. I’ve felt nothing but welcome.”
“If you mean Montana,” the weasel scoffed, “she’ll welcome any male on two legs.”
Lawson nodded toward the deputy. “Except you, from what I hear.”
The gun shook in Garvey’s hand.
Lawson reached for his knife.
Two of the men, one with hair that looked like straw and the other with short graying hair, lunged. Lawson backed away but Straw Man did some fancy move that upended his legs and flipped him to the ground.
A hideous crack resounded. His shoulder flared. He knew it had dislocated.
“Get off me,” he shouted, momentarily paralyzed.
“It’s okay, Roy,” he heard Mitchum say, and Straw Man climbed off wearing a foul excuse for a smile and holding his knife. Lawson vowed to get that knife back.
He moved to get up but Mitchum brought his boot heel down hard on his shoulder. Lawson rolled to his side. Did everyone know about his bad shoulder? “Going to have to do more than that to keep me down.”
Garvey swept forward and kicked him in the gut. So much for it being made of iron.
He clutched his stomach and turned over to his back. “Anybody else care to take a shot?” Not really meaning the challenge, Lawson threw his gaze to the man in the corner who stood with his arms crossed. A big lumberjack of a man with zero emotion on his face. If that guy messed with him, he’d be dead.
The man said nothing, and fortunately didn’t come at him.
Mitchum chuckled, swinging his gun on his finger. A possessed grin took up residence on his face. “You made a fool decision coming back here. Can’t figure it out.”
“I came back to kill you,” he spluttered.
“What did I ever do that wasn’t deserved?”
Lawson gritted his teeth and managed to sit up. The room spun. “Plenty.”
“As you can see, the town has gotten along fine without a Cage. I aim to keep it that way.”
“The Cages—”
“Were nothing but thieves and liars,” Mitchum finished. “Thought you’d have learned from your father and grandfather to mind your own business, but I guess smarts don’t run in your blood.”
A sharp spasm racked Lawson’s body. “My grandfather was an honorable man. He earned every penny he made. He didn’t steal a damn thing, and you know it.”
“Hardly matters now.” Mitchum crouched down. “Look, I want to be a nice guy.”
“Fuck you.”
Clint laughed and cocked his head. “You know, I could let you drive away with your legs attached, or I could repeat the Cage family history. We got us some wood that needs burning. What do you think?”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do to me. I’ll come for you even if I have to claw my way through dirt. You’re going down. And Cage Crossing will be restored.”
The gray-haired man inched toward him. Clint put his hand out. “Not yet, Tom.” He smiled in a way that turned Lawson’s veins to ice. “I have something that may persuade you to rethink coming after me.”
“There’s nothing you can possibly have that will…”
Lawson’s words faded.
Two men wearing tan hats brought in Montana, her wrists bound behind her, a gag around her mouth. Her cheeks were swollen and tears streaked her beautiful face.
“The hell?”
Mitchum straightened, his weasel eyes even beadier than before. “What do you think? Are you motivated to get out of Rattler City for good?”
“What did you do to her?”
“She makes a pretty little bargaining chip. Don’t she?”
All his muscles bunched. “Who the hell messed her up?”
“Ah now, let’s see, I don’t recall. I’m sure they didn’t take any pleasure in it.”
“She has nothing to do with my coming here. Let her go.”
“I get your word that you’re outta here within the hour, and I’ll do just that.”
“You’re messed up, man. Using your own daughter to bait me.”
Lawson’s breath seized.
Montana’s face paled to a shade whiter than the cloth around her mouth.
“Who the hell told you?” Mitchum snarled.
His insides knotted. He hadn’t meant for that to slip. Especially not without having told Montana first. “I forget.”
Garvey lowered his gun and looked to his father. Mitchum’s men glanced to one another, their faces registering question marks.
Red-faced, Mitchum cocked his gun. “Ah hell. Guess my little secret’s out.”
“Pop?”
“Shut up, Garvey.”
“But Pop.”
“Shut it!”
�
�Dammit, Pop. I need to say something.”
Mitchum drew his gun up and aimed it at Garvey’s head. “I said shut the hell up. Yes, the bitch is my daughter.”
“Then she’s my sister?”
Clint’s face screwed up into something inhuman. “Been meaning to tell ya, boy. You ain’t my flesh and blood.”
Lawson winced. Much as he hated Garvey and thought him an ass for messing with Montana, the guy didn’t have the Mitchum blood in him. He wasn’t a monster. He just didn’t know any better.
Shock spread across Garvey’s face like a sunrise. “Why didn’t you say something before?”
“Doesn’t matter now,” Mitchum grumbled and lowered the gun.
“But Pop.”
“Just shut the hell up. I’ve more important things to deal with.”
Garvey lumbered toward him, hands outstretched, palms up. “I need—”
“Enough!” Clint raised his gun and pulled the trigger.
A strangled scream from Montana sliced the air.
Garvey stared wide-eyed. Blood bubbled from a hole in his head. A small red stream ran down his face. He reeled and then fell like a stiff board to the floor.
Numb, Lawson got to his feet.
“Ah hell,” spat Mitchum and eyed everyone like a child caught kicking the dog. “He provoked me.”
An ink spot of blood grew beneath Garvey’s body.
Stan Flogelman walked in, took one look and staggered backward. “What the hell happened here?”
Mitchum holstered his gun. “This man here is Lawson Cage. He tried to rob the bank and then shot Garvey.”
Stan looked to Montana and then over to him.
Lawson shook his head.
“I-I should get the doc.”
“Don’t bother,” snapped Mitchum. “He’s dead. Get Thatcher in here to haul away the body. And have his wife, Ethel, clean up the mess. Tell them I’ll triple their credit for a month.”
Several moments passed before Stan nodded and left.
Lawson stared at the red ink spot. He didn’t feel his shoulder. He didn’t feel anything. All his life he’d considered himself strong. Capable to handle anything. He’d had practice for years. But his mind unraveled. Slowly. Enough to notice.
He felt like a kid again. That moment of lost when the strawberries disappeared behind great billowing clouds of gray smoke. That moment when the birds went forever quiet. That moment when the place he’d called home for seven years became nothing but a barbecue pit of stolen memories.
Lawson shook his head. So far two people had died by Mitchum’s hand, and he’d done nothing but help it along. If anything happened to Montana, he’d go ballistic. He stared at Mitchum. A man he’d considered a monster. A destroyer. The devil. But he didn’t see any of that now. Before him stood an old man. Wrinkled like dried fruit. A wasted human being.
“Guess you won’t be up for father of the year,” he said.
Mitchum slammed him to the ground and kicked him hard enough to empty his lungs.
Gripping his chest, Lawson wheezed.
He looked to Montana, her eyes swollen and red-rimmed. Looking defeated in a way that made his heart thud.
Mitchum motioned to his men. “Go find some scraps of wood and stack ’em where Cage Crossing used to be. Tomorrow we’re gonna have us a family reunion.”
Lawson staggered to his feet. For a full minute everything shifted. His temples throbbed. He leaned forward, hands on his knees, and took a deep breath.
When the world quit swimming, he asked, “Why don’t you just kill me now?”
The weasel’s eyes bore into him. “Not on the agenda. Besides, I want to give the folks a chance to come out and see you burn like the rest of your family did. Well, with the exception of your father.”
His eye twitched. “I know you killed him.”
“Hang on now. I tried to help him. I offered him and some other men a chance to make money by burying bodies in the desert. Last I heard he passed out in one of them graves. Got buried alive. Maybe I could get one of the boys here to dig him up to join you tomorrow.”
“Fuck you.”
Mitchum pointed to the big barrel of a man. “Luke, go lock ’em in the vault. We’ll deal with them tomorrow.”
The big barrel moved toward him. “You want ’em locked together?”
“Yep. Let’s give the lovers here a chance to say goodbye.”
Lawson pushed back on the ground and his silver dollar fell to the ground. Lawson went to pick it up when Mitchum’s boot trapped his wrist.
“Every cent in this town belongs to me,” he said and tucked it into his holster.
Luke grabbed Lawson by the shoulders and dragged him into the vault. To his relief he showed more care in moving Montana.
Snickering, Mitchum slammed the vault door. “Don’t get too cozy in there.”
After they’d left, Lawson clambered to his feet. Unable to stand the pain anymore, he rammed his shoulder hard against the corner wall and listened to the delicious crunch of bones. His mind whirled for a moment. Sweet mother of pain.
He helped Montana to her feet and untied her hands.
“You okay?”
She pulled down the gag. “Yeah. What did you just do?”
“Set my shoulder back in place.”
“Sounds like it hurt.”
“Trust me, it hurt worse before.” He thumbed away the stubborn tears on her cheek. “Who hurt you?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Was it Garvey?”
She shook her head and gestured to where Garvey lay. “Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Her lips trembled.
“I’m sorry you got involved. They only hurt you to get a rise out of me.”
“I’m not sorry.”
“I don’t like to see you hurt. No man should ever raise his hand to you.” His blood thundered through his veins. He’d been careless. He’d risked her life the moment he showed interest in her. A stupid dumbass mistake that could’ve cost her. Mitchum might’ve spared her now, but he didn’t trust him to spare her a second time.
Lawson started to pace. “Christ. Nothing’s gone right. For years I saw this day. Clearer than any other day of my life. And now, it’s blank. Son of a bitch.” He wiped at the blood on his lip with his shirt. “I’ve been making one mistake after another since I got here. I can’t understand what changed.”
Montana reached for him but he kept pacing.
“It sounded easy. Take the money. Kill Mitchum. Burn the town. Destroy everything. Make it all go away like the Mitchums did to me, my family. Make everyone pay for not standing up for my gramps. But I’m here now. I’m not sure what to do.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“Things are different. I don’t want to destroy the town. I haven’t a clue where the money’s at. I can’t kill Mitchum because he’s your—”
Montana’s hand shot up. “Show me how to use that gun of yours and I’ll shoot him dead myself.”
“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about Mitchum. I should’ve told you. I didn’t plan to say that out loud.”
“Not sure I would’ve believed you then. I don’t want to believe it now.”
“I know.”
“Is there anything else I should know? Anything else you’re keeping secret?”
She had a right to know about her past. Sometimes knowing the past is what gets you through life. He knew all about that.
Lawson took a deep breath and told her the truth about her mother’s death.
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?”
