by Ann Cory
“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?
Chapter Twenty
Just after noon, Montana phoned Mitchum. She fought the shakiness in her voice.
“I need your assistance at the bar.”
“What for?”
“I’m having a problem with one of the regulars.”
“Someone’s drunk already? You ain’t even been open an hour.”
“It’s Amos. He’s trashing the place.” She glanced at the nail marks along the pool table and couldn’t help but smile. “He tore the felt on the pool table. We can’t afford a new one. I’ve asked him to leave, but he won’t listen.”
Amos sat at the bar with his head down, body slumped, groaning. She’d purposely filled him with one too many drinks.
“Can you just come take care of him? Please?”
She waited, her heart thumping. Part of her wanted him to say no.
“Yeah. I’ll be right over.”
“Sorry, Amos,” she said and patted the drunken man’s head.
Not even five minutes passed and Clint burst through the door. He grabbed Amos by his shirt collar an
d yanked him off the stool. “I’m putting a hold on your credit for a week,” he spat.
Too wasted to respond, Amos grinned like a child being promised ice cream.
Clint pulled him through the bar and Montana heard him shout, “Now get your ass home.”
Brushing his hands together, he came back inside and stopped at the pool table. She couldn’t believe that he showed no remorse for Garvey’s death. Acting as if it was another day. Nothing special. Nothing different.
“Damn shame about the table,” he said and raised his eyes to meet hers. “He won’t give you any trouble.”
“Thanks.”
He turned to leave and she faltered.
“Wait.” She hurried over to the jukebox on toothpicks for legs and punched a button. “That was great of you to help me like that.”
Clint shrugged. “Doing my job.”
Her stomach tightened. She had to make the monster stay.
Montana gestured to the jukebox. “What do you say?”
“’Bout what?”
“A dance with me.”
His brows slashed. “Why would I do something like that?”
“Can’t a girl dance with her daddy?”
His face mashed into an expression that looked as if it involved every muscle in his face. “I suppose I could do that.”
“Good.” She placed her hands on either side of his waist and let him do the same. His aftershave burned her throat.
His crazed smile unnerved her. “Never thought I’d see the day when you knew you were mine and didn’t run away screaming. Especially after what I did to you yesterday. It wasn’t personal, mind you.” He touched her cheek with a crooked finger. “I needed to make a point. You understand. Don’t you?”
Inside she crumbled, but she held it together. For Lawson. For Lawson. She repeated it like a mantra, desperate to believe it and breathe it and live it. “Of course. I’m glad to know that I have someone here. I’ve always felt so alone.”
“We’ll get to know each other real well. Don’t you worry.”
The way he dragged his eyes over her body made her queasy. Again she thought of Lawson and cracked a smile.
“You look like her, your mother. Great body. Long hair. Brilliant smile that makes men cave.”
