by Ann Cory
“Stop,” she said lightly. “You’re embarrassing me.”
He raised his hand to her horseshoe necklace and clasped it between his fingers.
Breath tight, she willed her feet to keep moving. Her lungs to keep working.
“I gave you this for your seventh birthday. Right before your momma died.”
Her throat constricted. “You gave it to me?”
“Sure did.”
“But. I mean.” Her head went fuzzy—nothing in her life held a thread of truth. “I thought she gave it to me.”
“Nah. She couldn’t afford to buy you anything. See, I was trying to get her to take me back, but she refused. Looks like she wanted you to have it anyhow.”
The necklace grew heavy around her neck. Its previous sentiment faded. She felt owned by him. Like a slave.
In the next moment, Clint’s face got stony. “What the hell are you up to, girl?”
Montana blinked fast. “What do you mean?”
“What’s going on here?”
He pushed her away and darted his head around. “You little tramp.”
“What? I don’t understand. What’s the matter?”
“What are you doing? Why do I feel I’ve been set up?”
She wrung her hands and did her best to look offended. “I’m trying to get to know you. I just want to know my fath-father.”
He slapped her cheek. Pain bloomed fast. “There’s another thing that’s like your momma. Her face went all rose colored when she lied. Just like yours.”
“I’m not…”
His hand rose to strike again, but he pivoted and booked out of the bar.
She didn’t bother to stop him. Lawson would be out of her house by now.
Soon Lawson would be out of her life.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lawson had spent hours inside Montana’s trailer searching for the money. Inside drawers, beneath floorboards, behind furniture and appliances, anywhere he figured a man might stash his life’s savings. The harder he searched the more sure he was the money would turn up. Why the hell else would Mitchum keep close tabs on Montana? He’d already spent a considerable amount of time looking for holes outside and around the trailer, but came up empty. It had to be inside.
He took his time searching her bedroom. His hands fell across the skirt she’d worn the night at the bar. The one he’d hiked up to her waist. Everything smelled like her. All feminine and sweet. It drove him crazy.
Lawson went back into the main room of the trailer. Hands on hips, he grumbled under his breath. He’d checked underneath the sofa once and decided to check again. He scooted the sofa away from the wall again and kicked at the floorboards. Frustration raged through his body. Time ticked away. Time he didn’t have.
He launched himself over the sofa and heard a thump. Glancing back, he noticed two boards had come loose. He pulled the boards away and several of the ones surrounding them. Cash boxes and bags filled the spacious area. On his knees, he bent down and looked at the large hole. It appeared Mitchum had created a hole in the bottom of the trailer that extended underground with a chute to keep out the weather and elements.
Lawson opened one of the bags. Stacks of green bills poured out.
He heard a rustling on the porch. His body stilled. Footsteps moved to the right and to the left, and he saw a figure in the window.
His forehead broke out in a cold sweat. He’d taken too much time.
* * * * *
“Mr. Mitchum.”
Clint spun around at the familiar voice.
“What’re you—”
His words died. Five men in masks had him surrounded.
“What the hell? What are you idiots up to?”
Luke spoke in a husky voice. “You’ll need to come with us.”
“What the hell for?”
“Just do it.”
He didn’t have time for more distractions. Had the men lost their minds sometime during the night? “Those masks don’t fool me. You think I’m that stupid? I’d recognize you all with a box on your heads. Especially you, Luke. I don’t know there’s a bigger man than you anywhere in these parts. What game you playing here?”
Luke pulled his mask off. “No game,” he said. Roy, Tom and the others followed his lead.
“Look, I have the money. I planned to pay you tomorrow.”
“We got paid. Triple what you offered.”
“How? Who?”
“By Lawson Cage.”
He snarled. “See here, I don’t have time for this bullshit. You know I’m good for my money.”
Luke aimed a pistol to his gut. “Seems the money ain’t yours anymore. You’ll be coming with us. The townsfolk are throwing you a going away party.”
Clint went for his gun. “I ain’t going away.”
“No, but everything you own and think you own is.” Luke lowered his pistol and pulled the trigger.
A bullet hit Clint in the toe.
Mitchum hollered and sank to the ground. Roy and Dan wrestled the gun from his hand and kicked it to Luke.
“Get my horse. I ain’t carrying his broke ass.”
It took the three of them to hoist up on the horse. Blood dripped from his boot like a leaky faucet. He went in and out of consciousness several times, struggling to keep alert.
Ice-cold water on his head managed to revive him long enough to learn he’d been tied to a chair in the same place Cage Crossing burned.
“This is a big mistake.”
“Seems you owe a lot of people money,” Luke said. “They’ve come to collect.”
Clint watched the townspeople gather along the streets.
Luke stood in front of him, his big lumbering body blocking the sun. He punched him in the face until his vision blurred.
“See, I don’t hit women. I hit scumbags who don’t pay up.”
“What are you going to do?”
“You’re going to sit here and watch everything precious to you disappear.”
Clint swallowed blood. His front upper tooth hung loose. Stan Flogelman came up and ripped his sheriff badge from his shirt.
“I’m afraid you’re no longer in the position to do anything about…well…anything.”
The sun made his face hurt more. At this point he wished it would melt his ass. The Mitchum name would die with him. If his father could see him, he’d tell him to take his own sorry life. He probably would.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lawson tentatively approached the door.
“Who is it?”
“Russ and Corbet.”
Relieved, he took several deep breaths and let them in.
“Hey. Did ya find the money?”
“Yep.” He pointed behind him.
“Damn,” gushed Russ. “We’s got the wheelbarrows you asked fer. And plenty of folks to push ’em.”
“Great. I’ll need it. There’s more than I expected.”
Stan Flogelman pulled up with Lawson’s truck and hopped out. They joined him outside on the porch.
“Everything’s set,” he said.
“Good. They got Mitchum?”
“Yep. Roped to a chair. Has front-row seat to watch the bank and jail blow. I told him about his house. Didn’t look pleased.”
“I’m heartbroken. Did you think on what we discussed earlier? About the sheriff’s position?”
“Hard to think on anything else.” He stretched and pushed at a floorboard with his boot. “Ah hell. I suppose I can do it.”
Lawson patted his shoulder. “You’ll be fair. That’s more than what this town has ever had.”
“There’s one other thing,” Stan said and pulled a rolled-up paper from his back pocket. “I’ve taken the liberty to design the new bank and jail. I’d like to name the bank Cage Crossing Community Bank. What do you think?”
Lawson stared at the design. “When did you find time to draw this?”
“Been working on it for years. Finished it late last night. Or maybe early this morning.”
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“I’m impressed. You see to it that this happens, okay?”
“Will do.”
“Cole Cage would be proud.”
“I plan to make sure Jake is given a proper burial beside his wife.”
Lawson nodded. “I’d say you’ve got your new duties down just fine.”
“It’s going to take some time to get the bank built. Where you keeping the money in the meantime?”
“There’s an underground railway that caved a long time ago. I used to play there when I was small. Until my mom found out and tanned my butt raw. I have some people over there fixing it up. The money will be safe there to store.”
“You’re not worried about it being stolen?”
“Nope. The only crook in this town isn’t going anywhere near it. Now I gotta get the show started.”
“Libby said to stop by if you’d like some greasy food to take with you on the road.”
His stomach rumbled. “Sounds perfect.”
* * * * *
“You drive safe, sugar,” Libby called after him. “You’ll be missed ’round here.”
Lawson held up the boxes of food. “Thanks again. I’m going to miss you and your fine cooking.”
He revved the engine and turned down the main street of town.
People lined up on either side of the street like a group of parade watchers. He’d never seen so many people out on the street at one time.
He drove by and saw Mitchum strapped to a chair, looking roughed up and displeased. A bully beaten at his own game. Luke stood beside him, a slow grin forming on his face. While it wasn’t the showdown he’d first concocted, he didn’t mind the change.
Lawson parked the truck and slipped his gun inside the waistband of his jeans. Insurance should his plans go awry. He got out and stood in front of Mitchum. “Looks like you’ve got a great view here from beneath the new Cage Crossing sign.”
“You can’t win,” grumbled Mitchum. “Blowing up a few buildings won’t stop me.”
“Not about winning,” he said. “I came here to make right some of the wrongs done to my family. I’ve nothing left to prove.”
Mitchum’s lips curled as if he’d tasted something rotten. “Thought you said you were going to kill me.”
“I was. I’ve thought about it long and hard for twenty-five years. Every damn day.”
“And instead you’re going to run. You’re a goddamn momma’s boy. Like Garvey was.”
“You’ve no idea the things I’ve done in my life,” he said, forcing himself to remain calm, in control. “But no matter.” He reached into Clint’s holster and pulled out the silver dollar. “I’ve got what I want. I’m leaving you with nothing. The Mitchum name means nothing. Your reign is over.”
“Like hell it is.”
He shrugged and slid the coin into his pocket. “You can’t infect this town anymore. The people run it now. They’ll keep you on a short leash. It’s what you deserve.”
“Admit it. You’re a coward. Like all Cages. Run like your grandmother ran. Run because the Cage name brings nothing but shame.”
Lawson pulled his magnum and cocked it. He pushed the tip up into Mitchum’s quivering jowls. “Listen, you fuck. I’m not running. I’m moving on. You’re nothing, and I’m done wasting time on nothing.”
His arm shook. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. In his head he heard the words shoot him shoot him shoot him. If he shot him now the bastard would be out of everyone’s lives. For good. Forever. He wanted it bad. To pull the trigger. To end a life that had taken so many lives. Innocent lives. To see his eyes roll up into his fucking head. Why let him live?
“Lawson.”
“Go away, Luke,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’ve got this.”
“Oh, I know you do. No question. But uh, you know, people are out here waiting for the fireworks. And uh, there are women and children out here.”
The words hit a nerve. Lawson’s arm went limp at his side. “Point made,” he said and rotated toward Luke. “Promise me you don’t ever let him have control again.”
“I swear it. He’s done. Now you best finish up what you started. The town’s waiting for you. They’ve waited for you a long time.”
He inhaled sharply and let the rage ebb. “Right.”
“You’ll never be rid of me,” Mitchum said, his eyes too big for his face. “I’m going to stick with you. I’ll be that niggle you can’t shake.”
Lawson balled his fingers into a fist but didn’t react. “You hope that’s what will happen, but I can guarantee that once I leave here, I’ll never think of you again.”
He tipped his chin to Luke and turned away.
Back in his truck he drove down the street. Kids waved and cheered. For a moment he felt outside of himself. No, he felt calm. Not motivated by revenge. Motivated by doing the right thing. He imagined his grandfather smiling at him, proud of the man he’d become. He wouldn’t have liked the man from before. But he couldn’t leave without leaving something to remember him by. The townspeople wanted a show, so he’d give them one.
Lawson drove all the way down and then turned the truck around. He pushed the accelerator and steered straight. In his mind he envisioned what the town might look like someday. People passing one another, smiling, enjoying their lives.
At the corner of the old mercantile, he glimpsed Montana, her eyes wide and expectant. His chest tightened. He continued driving. Lawson wanted to pretend that she didn’t mean a damn thing to him.
“Drive on,” he mumbled under his breath, “drive on and don’t look back.”
He thought of his grandmother’s words about how gramps was everywhere before they got together, and she couldn’t shake him. But then she realized that she didn’t want to shake him. She wanted him. He hadn’t been able to shake Montana from the moment he caught sight of her. And he didn’t want to know what it would be like without her.
With a groan of defeat, he pumped the brakes, reached over and threw open the passenger door. She ran up to the door, her dark hair swirling behind her.
“Get in.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Montana scrambled into the truck. She barely had time to shut the door when Lawson accelerated. Her body thrust around as if she’d climbed onto a mechanical bull. Dirt and gravel showered the windows of the mercantile.
“Jesus, Lawson, give me a chance to sit down, will ya?”
Montana strapped the seatbelt on and smeared hair from her face. She got comfortable and pulled her feet in when she banged her heels against something. A metal box. She reached down and pulled it out. “What’s this?”
“Take a look.”
She opened the lid and gasped. “Oh my god. You found the money.”
“That’s only a small part of it.”
“There must be thousands in here.”
“At least.”
She put her hand to her mouth and stared at all the bills. “I didn’t even know Rattler City had this much.”
“A good chunk of it is yours. You worked for it, and you deserve it.”
“So do you.”
“I’m not a big fan of money. Never did understand its value.”
Montana closed the lid and pushed the box back behind her feet.
“Now hang on tight, I’m going to turn this sucker around.”
He circled the truck, his hands overlapping the steering wheel. She gripped the side, convinced they were going to tip.
The truck came to a screeching halt. Lawson kicked open the door and grabbed a gasoline can from behind the seat.
She tore out of the truck and rushed to his side.
“Wait. What are you doing?”
“I told you what I planned to do.”
“But that was before,” she said, her voice squeaky. “Things are different now.”
“Get back in the truck.”
Montana grabbed his arm. She wanted to shake him. “Hang on. Is this necessary?”
“I know what I’m doing,�
� he shouted.
“Will this bring your grandfather back? Your family? What will you get from this?”
“Closure. Now get back in the truck. Please.”
“Closure? By blowing shit up?” She knew he was dangerous, but did she miss he was crazy too?
“My grandfather would’ve done it for me.”
“But you said he didn’t believe in violence.”
“In his own way he would’ve sought justice.”
Hands to her hips, she realized nothing she said had any impact. “Just tell me what you’re going to do.”
“Explosives are in the jail, the bank and Mitchum’s house. Russ and Corbet already made a trail of gasoline from the house and jail. I light the fuse and that’s it. All three disappear.”
“Where’d you get explosives?”
“Brought them with me. Kept them below my seat.”
“But…we had sex on that seat.”
“It was a blast,” he said with a wink.
She groaned at his attempt at humor. “You sure nothing else will blow?”
“It’s all safe. With Mitchum out of the way, the town can thrive. Stan’s in charge of the town, and he’ll see to it that people are treated well. I’ll explain it all to you on the road. Now get back inside the truck. Once I light this baby we’ll need to haul ass.”
Montana glimpsed the townspeople all huddled far enough away to be safe, but still able to watch. To appease him, she got back into the truck.
Lawson opened the gas can and poured the flammable liquid all along the ground.
He opened the door and flipped open the lighter.
“Shit! The flame won’t start.”
Frantic, Lawson fumbled under the seats and along the back. “Do you have matches, a lighter, anything?”
Montana shook her head.
“Never mind.”
He drove forward. A young boy with big brown eyes sat hunkered down by a bench in front of the old dress shop.
Lawson waved him over.
“Son, do you know where I can get some matches or a lighter?”
“Have a lighter in my pocket, mister.” The pug-nosed boy held it up, its silvery case shiny against the sunlight. “I hide it from my papa ’cause I don’t like it when he smokes.”