RattlingtheCage (5 page)

The scent of rain marked the air. Thunder rumbled low in the
sky. Her situation became clear. Like her mother, she’d die in this town.

Chapter Nine

Lawson stood at the door, one hand on the wall, shaking his
head. He deserved the slap. He’d take on anyone who bad-mouthed his family. Why
should she do any different? He also deserved to be standing there like an ass
at four in the morning. There’d been a reason why women weren’t written into
his plans. Women meant trouble. By veering from the plan, he’d asked for
trouble.

Grumbling, he paced. He wanted to go shoot some rounds into
the night. Or drive like a maniac along the dirt roads. He was stuck in a
nothing town with nothing to do except think about a woman. The room smelled
like her—hell, he smelled like her. All bubble gum, bar and sex.

Tired of pacing, he settled into the stiff armchair, head
back, and stared at the ceiling. So he’d said the wrong thing. He didn’t owe
her anything. Why should he be sorry?

Lawson propped a foot on his knee, his lips pressed firm. He
should be happy she left. And pissed off too. Then she’d leave him alone for
good. The way he wanted.

Bobbing his leg, he tried to picture the moment when he’d
confront Mitchum. To his irritation, the scenario came up blank. Instead he pictured
Montana. The way her eyes darkened to a deep emerald-green when he got her
riled up. And he’d done that a little too well.

Guilt seeped into his conscience.

“Damn you, Montana.”

He clambered to his feet and headed outside. It occurred to
him that he didn’t have a clue where she lived. Seeing a light on in the diner,
he sprinted over and knocked on the window. Libby gestured to the door and met
him there dressed in a red housecoat, her dangly earrings swaying.

“You’re a tad early, love. You must really like my cookin’.”

“Sure do, but I’m here for another reason.”

“I can see that.”

“Pardon?”

She nodded her chin at him. “Yer zipper, honey. To me that
says yer distracted. And other than you, there ain’t nuthin’ else to be
distracted by in this place than the lovely Miss Lee. Am I right?”

Face heated, he turned away to fix the situation.

“Uh, thanks. And yeah, I’m looking for Montana.”

“She know yer comin’?”

“She’ll probably tell me to get lost.”

“Uh huh. Sweet girl. Grew up too fast. Tell you what. Since
I like you, I’ll tell you how to get to her house. But you best be a gentleman
with her, she ain’t had it easy.”

“Yes ma’am.”

* * * * *

Montana’s anger reignited at the sight of Garvey’s car in
front of her trailer. Tired and sore from the long walk home, she blanched at
the thought of another interrogation.

She tiptoed to the passenger side and peeked in, surprised
to find the car empty.

Probably taking a leak.

Before he noticed her home, she rushed inside and closed the
door. Eye to the peephole, she strained to see out. Nothing moved. Satisfied,
she flipped around and relaxed against the door.

A flicker of gold drew her attention. Her body jolted as if
she’d tripped a wire. A garbled scream tumbled between her gut and throat.
Still wearing his badge, Garvey sat slouched on the sofa with his boots propped
up on the coffee table.

Hand to her chest, she shot arrows of fury with her glare.

“Jesus, Garvey, what the hell are you doing here?”

He shrugged. “Sheriff’s orders.”

The still air inside the trailer made her mind sluggish. She
inhaled and exhaled slowly, waiting for her breath to regulate. Other than a
crushed beer can on the floor, nothing looked out of place.

Arms crossed, she asked, “You have nothing better to do than
snoop around my house?”

Garvey clicked his tongue. “Ah hell, Montana, you know
better than that.”

“Do I? How’d you get inside?”

“The door was unlocked. I was worried.”

Her arms fell to her sides, slapping her legs. “Well, I’m
fine. Now get out. I’m exhausted.”

He leaned forward but made no attempt to leave. “Where’ve
you been all night?”

“The heat kept me up.” She wished he’d go. Her toes throbbed
and she needed sleep. “I went for a walk.”

“All night?”

The barrage of questions provoked her annoyance. “What’s it
to you? I’ll come and go as I please. This is my place.”

His boots slid from the table to the floor. “Don’t talk to
me like that, it confuses me. I wish you’d quit playing hard to get all the
damn time.”

For a moment she swore the trailer tipped. Montana pressed
her palms to the door to stay steady. “You got rocks for brains? It’s not
playing hard to get since I’m not interested. I’ve told you, I don’t have
feelings for you, and never will. When will you listen?”

“When you quit messing around and tell me you’ll be my
wife.” His face flushed. “I know you don’t really mean what you say.”

Again the trailer tipped. “Wait a sec, back things up. You
want to know when I’ll be your wife?”

“Yep.”

“Tell you what. When hell freezes over, you come on back and
propose.”

He stood and his body cast a long shadow against the light.
“Why you gotta be like that? I like you somethin’ fierce. It’s not right
talkin’ to me the way you do.”

“This is my house and I’ll talk the way I want.” She hoped
he didn’t hear the waver in her voice.

Garvey smiled with a mouthful of smug. “It ain’t paid for
yet, so, it ain’t yours.”

“Fuck off.”

He pointed toward her. “There you go again.”

Montana aimed her thumb at the door. “Out.”

“After I have a look around.”

She paused. Where was this going? “For what?”

“To make sure all’s the way it should be.”

Her lips pursed. “You being here without my permission isn’t
the way it should be at all.”

“I see that fire in yer eyes. Damn if you ain’t teasing me.”

She blinked. Nothing she said had got through his dense
brain. “I’m very serious. Go.”

“You been seeing that stranger?”

Montana shifted her weight. He was fishing. “There was some
drifter in, had a drink or two. Why?”

“Sheriff says he’s trouble.” He took a step toward her.
“What do you have to say about that?”

She dropped her voice. “I couldn’t care less about some
stupid stranger.”

“You sure you didn’t flirt with him?”

Garvey continued forward, his eyes greedy.

She stepped back and her heel hit the door. “I didn’t.”

“You probably shook them titties at him. No one can resist
your sweet cherry pits.”

The trailer shrank around his giant form. She wet her lips.
Somehow she’d swallowed her voice.

“Do they make you as hot as you make me?”

A bitter taste filled her mouth. “I don’t feel anything for
you.”

He unbuckled his belt and a sick feeling rose in her
stomach.

“If you raised that skirt and pulled down those panties
you’d feel something. You’d feel a lot.”

“Please leave.”

“I’m not ready.”

Her eyes watered from his cigarette and beer breath against
her face. “I’m asking nice.”

“You sure are. Give me ten minutes and you’ll be glad you
did.”

She’d seen Garvey drunk, but never this forward. “Why are
you acting like this?”

“Being a nice guy don’t work, so I’m gonna take what I
want.”

Montana slid her hand to the doorknob. In the small space
he’d left her, she twisted her body and went to pull open the door. Garvey’s
arms wrapped tight around her waist.

“Let go,” she cried.

He dragged her across the room and wrestled her to the sofa.
The pillows fell around her face, smothering her.

“Garvey, don’t do this!”

“Hush, now. You’re gonna love it. I promise.”

Chapter Ten

Lawson rounded the corner and stopped to rehearse his
apology. Montana’s trailer sat up ahead surrounded by a mess of trees. Not what
he considered safe for a young woman who lived alone. But he reminded himself
that her safety didn’t concern him.

He was headed to her door when he noticed the police car.
He’d be pissed if she went behind his back and told Deputy Gutless the truth of
his identity.

Spewing obscenities, he walked away.

A muffled scream stopped him cold. He sprinted to her door.

“Montana?”

On a muted sob, he kicked the door open.

His body stiffened. Montana struggled with the deputy, her
body pinned beneath him.

“Get off her right now, asshole, and I’m not asking.”

The deputy cocked his head. “Hey, asshole, walk away, and
I’ll act like I didn’t see you.”

“Get off her or I’ll throw you off.”

Montana whimpered. “Garvey, please do what he says.”

“Stay out of this,” he hissed and went for his holster.

Lawson lunged, taking a lamp with him. He grabbed Garvey’s
forearm, pinned it behind his back and shoved him into the corner, collapsing a
table on his way down.

The deputy heaved himself to his feet and Lawson swung his
arm, nailing him in the mouth.

“Don’t ever touch her again,” he snarled, his teeth
vibrating.

“You just bought yourself time in the slammer.” Red-faced,
Deputy Gutless reached for his handcuffs.

From his back pocket, Lawson pulled a knife. “Leave, or I’ll
demonstrate how I gutted a guy in the military.”

Garvey’s hand halted. Sweat beaded his forehead. “My pop
will be hearing about this.”

“That’s right, go run home to your daddy. I’m terrified.”

“You ought to be. He’s the sheriff.”

An invisible fist punched Lawson in the gut. Another fucking
Mitchum? Why didn’t he hear about that until just now? He held his fighting
stance while Mitchum Jr. backed toward the door.

“I’ll be back, Montana.” His mouth pulled back into a
wolfish sneer. “I aim to finish what I started.”

“Like hell,” she seethed.

Lawson readied his fist but the deputy booked out to his
car. Standing guard in the doorway, he waited until the car lights faded.

He took a sharp intake of air and faced Montana. “You okay?”

She palmed her eyes dry and slammed a fist into a pillow.

“Damn you. What are you doing? Don’t you know how to stay
away?”

His eye twitched. “Hello? I saved you.”

“That’s not the point.” She rubbed her eyes and ran her
hands along her thighs. “You don’t need them in your business.”

“I’ll handle myself.”

Concern etched her delicate features. “I’m scared for you.”

“Don’t be.” He rubbed the top of his head. “Hell, I didn’t
know there were two Mitchums.”

“I thought you knew.”

He chuckled. “No matter. I can take that one in my sleep.”

“I’m sure.”

Lawson eyed her lithe form. Her hair lay in a tangled mess. Lips
pouted. The strap of her shirt hung off her shoulder, showing the swell of her
breast. Damn her for not wearing a bra.

As if she’d read his mind, Montana slid from the couch and
straightened her clothes. “Why were you coming to see me?”

His rehearsed apology fell flat on his tongue. He needed to
cut all ties. He cared more than he wanted, and anything he said now would
haunt him later.

“I forget.”

He walked out the door and didn’t stop until he’d reached
the motel.

* * * * *

The floor moved under Clint Mitchum, followed by a slam.
Garvey stalked inside.

He lit a cigarette and poked his head down the hall. “Did
you see Montana like I said?”

Garvey answered over his shoulder. “Yeah.”

Amusement creased his brow at the sight of dried blood in
the corner of the boy’s mouth. “Did she sock you?”

“No. The stranger did.”

His neck tensed. “Now how did that happen?”

“You won’t want to hear it.”

Lips curled, he said, “Tell me.”

His tolerance thinned as he listened to Garvey’s account of
what took place. Was the boy so stupid that he didn’t bother to fight back? “I
can’t believe you didn’t haul his ass in.”

“Pop, he had a knife.”

“And?” He jabbed his finger against the boy’s holster.
“Christ. You had a gun. Why didn’t you use it?”

Garvey looked at him with unfocused eyes.

“Ah hell, I’ll deal with him myself.”

“No, I’ll do it, Pop.”

“Forget it. You’re a coward. A momma’s boy. Had you pegged
from the start.”

Garvey’s face blanched. “He had the upper hand, is all.”

Furious, Clint resisted the urge to split his lip further.
“Boy, one day you’ll be running this town. You want to embarrass the Mitchum
name?”

“No, sir.”

“You looking to drag our family name into the ground?”

“No, sir. I’m not.”

“Then prove to me you ain’t a coward. It’s nothing to kill
someone.” He swiped Garvey’s gun from his holster. “You point and shoot.”

“’K, Pop.”

Through the wispy smoke of his cigarette, he watched Garvey
sulk into his bedroom. Clint shut his eyes tight. Times like this made him want
to come clean to the boy that he wasn’t his flesh and blood. That he’d been
duped by a whore into thinking he’d fathered him, until he’d received a letter
from a nurse. She’d mentioned that the whore had died the week prior from
pneumonia, but not before confessing in a state of delirium that she’d robbed
and stabbed the man who was Garvey’s real father.

A note had followed with a birth certificate, his name
scratched out. Straight after, he’d taken Garvey to a specialist in another
town for confirmation. Not wanting anyone to know, he chose to raise Garvey and
mold him into a Mitchum.

Except his idea continued to fail. The boy lacked sense,
balls and a gut for violence. Nothing like a Mitchum.

Clint extinguished his cigarette in an ashtray and knocked
on Garvey’s door.

“I’m off. Your gun’s on the counter. When you’re done
sniveling like a baby, get your ass to the jail.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Fuming, he grabbed a strong cup
of coffee. He’d need it to get through the morning.

* * * * *

Stretched out on his bed, Garvey forced his trembling hands
still. His father’s disappointment left him distraught. He’d seen the regret in
his eyes. Regret at having a son who failed him. He hated being a Mitchum.
Because of his name, everyone loathed him, including Montana.

He recalled her body squirming beneath him. He’d have taken
her all the way had the stranger not interrupted.

Garvey rolled to his side. His throat felt tight. He wanted
to please his pop. Be the son he expected. Be the man he expected. He didn’t
want to be a coward. The next time he encountered the stranger, he’d shoot him
between the eyes, and he’d do so in front of Montana to show her how tough he
could be when provoked. His future wife needed to fear him, and to understand
what he’d do to any man who messed with her. She needed to know that he’d be
handling her body, and her life.