Chapter Fourteen
Grayson Remington knew when a person was hiding something.
And Josie Tate had been hiding for weeks now.
From the moment she’d fled the general store, all hurried and panicked, he’d known something was suspicious.
She wasn’t just some woman passing through town—no, she was someone who had been on the run.
Someone just like the woman he was looking for.
His gut had told him that it was her the second he’d seen her with the baby, and now, just beyond the Montgomery boys’ property, he knew he was right.
He had followed her the entire way here.
A woman shacked up with the Montgomery boys, with a baby that he knew for a fact didn’t belong to any of them? It had to be the same girl.
She and her friend had left the general store as soon as possible after he’d approached them. Got right back on their wagon and headed out. If that didn’t stink to high noon, he wasn’t sure what did. Why was the girl so shaken if she had nothing to hide?
So, of course, he had followed them out of town.
He’d kept well behind them, taking every precaution not to be seen. He’d had a pretty good idea where they were headed when they’d first set off. There wasn’t much along that particular road out of town. Not for a long way.
In fact, there was only one place they could be going.
He had been careful to remain far enough back that he was following wagon wheel tracks on the ground, rather than keeping them in eyeshot and risking being seen himself. He didn’t want that, especially not when the landscape opened up.
He didn’t need anyone noticing. Not yet.
His chestnut stallion Jud had made this trek many times before. The trail to the Montgomery ranch. That had to be where she was headed.
The Montgomery boys were lucky he had a lot of patience.
Otherwise, he would’ve taken them all down that very day.
But this time, he was willing to wait. He was about to strike gold, and at the end of the day there was very little he liked more than money.
In fact, possibly the only thing he liked more than money was the Montgomery ranch itself.
And because of that, he hadn’t burned it all down to look for Josie Tate.
The trail was long. He spent his time puzzling over how long she had been out this way.
The man who’d first told him about Josie Tate seemed fixed on learning every detail of her whereabouts.
A man by the name of Randall Pierce. He was so fixed on her, in fact, that he had offered up a pretty penny to find her.
A soft chuckle escaped Grayson. How ironic that she would be at the Montgomery place. Josie Tate and that baby—Randall Pierce’s baby—were about to become the perfect leverage to get exactly what he wanted.
Finally, they’d reached the ranch, and Grayson had veered off from the trail, making for higher ground on one of the hillsides near the ranch.
Now, atop a hill, concealed in a scattering of trees, he watched as Cash Montgomery—the middle brother, and probably the biggest pain of the three—came storming out of the barn.
A few minutes later, Josie emerged, leading a saddled horse behind her.
Grayson let out a low sigh of satisfaction, his grip tightening on Jud’s reins.
This ranch. It was one of the largest, most coveted pieces of land in the whole west.
A fine prize indeed. He grinned devilishly, tugging the rim of his hat down low on his brow as he scanned the entire homestead. He could practically taste what he’d been after for so long.
Montgomery stormed inside, leaving the woman standing there. She looked a little frazzled, from what Grayson could tell.
Good. His lips curled again into a smile. She has every reason to be.
He watched for a little while longer as she led her saddled horse away from the barn. Then, with a final glance, he clicked his tongue and turned around.
Back to the saloon. He had all he needed. There a man waiting for him who would be very happy to hear that Josie Tate was alive, well, and in Austin.
***
Grayson scowled as he kicked the saloon doors open and walked inside.
The wooden shutters blocked out the last of the day’s light, and the place was dark and heavy with the stench of body odor, moonshine, and tobacco.
The usual crowd was all there. Low-lives, gamblers, drunkards.
Men who spent more time drinking than earning any real sort of keep.
Grayson already saw the man who had been waiting.
He was at a back table, hunched over a bottle, fingers clenched tightly around a glass.
He looked rough. Disheveled. Like he hadn’t slept in days.
His hair was a mess, and his beard had grown out in unkempt stubble, nothing like the clean-shaven look he’d had the first time Grayson had met him.
It had been an interesting first meeting, to say the least. Randall Pierce had been dressed in a nice, clean suit, and he’d asked if Grayson had seen a girl—a girl with a young baby.
He’d even offered a significant payment for the girl’s whereabouts.
As luck would have it, Grayson Remington could find a lot of people.
Especially the ones who didn’t want to be found.
He knew everyone in town—and he also knew their problems and their gossip. If the woman—Josie Tate—was in Austin, he’d find her. So he’d taken the job.
It hadn’t taken him long. There was a man, a frequent saloon patron who lived a few ranches over from the Montgomerys, who’d been down on his luck recently. He’d come in weeks ago, swearing he’d heard a baby crying one night.
His unintentional tip about the baby at the Montgomerys was all Grayson needed. He’d confirmed that the Tate girl was there with the baby only a few days after that. Pierce should’ve been nothing but pleased by the news.
But this hollow-looking man? This Randall Pierce? This was a shell of the man he thought he was. He looked unclean… and desperate.
But that boded well for Grayson. Desperate men were easy to manipulate. He wove through bodies until he reached the table, hiding a smirk.
Pierce must have heard the approaching footsteps. “You got news?” he slurred, staring blearily up at Grayson.
“Oh, I got plenty,” Grayson replied with a smile. Already, he was mentally listing all the ways this could work to his advantage. He dropped into the chair beside Pierce.
“Where is she?” Pierce asked desperately.
Grayson poured himself a drink from Pierce’s bottle and slung it back, savoring the slow burn of the whiskey. He let the silence stretch between them for a moment as he enjoyed the taste of his drink. And the anxious look on Pierce’s face. There wasn’t much he liked more than making people wait.
“She’s on the Montgomery ranch,” he finally said, twirling his glass between his fingertips.
Pierce went still. Then a scowl spread across his face. “Montgomery, huh?” His voice was rougher now, with a note of disbelief—or perhaps even fury. He straightened in his chair, shifting his weight. “That’s the big one?”
Grayson nodded. He could practically feel the drunken man’s mind working. Like gears grinding.
“Is that so?” Pierce muttered.
Grayson hid another amused smile and merely continued to play with the glass as he watched the man. Pierce was clearly running through all the worst-case scenarios in his mind.
He figured he might add a little fuel to the fire. “Saw her myself. The girl was spooked when she saw me watching her in town. She knew she’d been caught. I followed her all the way to the ranch.”
Pierce’s hand tightened around the bottle again as he brought it straight to his mouth, not bothering to pour it into a glass. “I want my son,” he growled angrily as soon as the bottle left his lips.
Grayson set his glass down slowly, eyes narrowing.
This man is more fool than I thought.
It was clear that he wasn’t much of a thinker. Not a bird’s-eye-view in the slightest. His emotions ran wild, and it was clear they went unchecked.
Grayson understood that in a way; he himself was a man of unchecked recklessness at times. But one thing he wasn’t was desperate, and he wouldn’t let anything as trivial as emotions cloud his judgment.
That was exactly why he was playing the long game with the Montgomery ranch. And it was why he was sure now that he’d been dealt the hand of a lifetime.
He’d been the leader of a gang for as long as he could remember. He’d been terrorizing the outskirts of Austin for years now, buying out businesses left and right. The rest of his days weren’t enough to make up for what he’d missed when he was a child.
He’d grown up poor, with his father dreaming of expanding west before he died. He learned early on that power belonged to those who took it—who demanded it.
And Pa had never demanded it. The man had been nothing but a drifter with dreams.
And Ma? She was nothing either. She had left her son high and dry before he could ever be considered a man. So he’d decided as soon as she left that he would do something Pa never could have done.
He would demand power. Demand respect.
He’d killed his first man when he was fifteen, and ever since, he’d made himself someone to be feared.
Someone with the power that he had been sure to seize as a boy.
He had climbed up the ranks of petty thieves.
Stolen what he wanted. Gathered wealth. Even bought out businesses—and the intimidation of being one of the most feared gangsters in the west had helped even there.
Randall Pierce was supposed to be a man dealt a similar hand. A landowner with money and leverage. But the man sitting at the table now, whining and crying about his son, a son he didn’t even know—he was not a man to be feared. Or respected. Not anymore.
And Grayson wasn’t about to let this man’s sniveling ruin anything for him.
He leaned closer to Pierce and gripped his shoulder forcefully. “Listen to me,” he growled. “You need to calm yourself down. Clean yourself up. I have a plan, and if you ever wanna see your boy again, you’d better listen real careful.”
“What are you talking about?” Pierce mumbled. His eyes were bloodshot. Grayson couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or from crying. Either way, he needed to straighten up.
Grayson grinned, a dark and knowing smile. “I will be honest, I ain’t gonna do all this for a baby.” He gestured around at the saloon full of people. His saloon. “I’ve got bigger plans than that.”
Pierce’s brow furrowed. “What plans? What do you mean?” His voice grew louder, and the slur in his words grew stronger. It was only a matter of time before he started yelling.
Grayson scowled. He didn’t need the entire saloon knowing his business. “The Montgomery ranch,” he whispered, drawing closer to Pierce.
Pierce scoffed, shaking his head. “That ranch ain’t got nothin’ to do with me.”
Grayson chuckled. “Well, that baby don’t have nothin’ to do with me, either,” he shot back coldly. “But here’s the deal: I’ll get you your kid. And in return, I want the Montgomery ranch.”
Pierce’s eyes blazed with sudden fury. “I already gave you money!” he spat, slamming his hand down on the table.
Grayson barely flinched. He’d half-expected the man to start yelling before now. Pierce was soft. Softer than even Grayson had estimated.
All the same, the outbursts didn’t come without their inconveniences. Eyes started shifting in their direction, and Grayson scowled again. He didn’t like unnecessary attention on him.
“You did,” he reminded the man. “And now I’ve told you where they are. But if you don’t want in on this, then get steppin’. Figure it out for yourself. Go get ‘em, and you’ll be blasted to Timbuktu.”
If Josie Tate was hanging around the Montgomery ranch, it had to mean that one of those men was sweet on her. And Grayson would bet his bottom dollar that it was Cash Montgomery. If Pierce squared off against Cash Montgomery, there wouldn’t be anything left of him after.
Pierce’s breathing grew labored, like he had just run a few miles in the dead Texas heat. It was clear that he was wrestling with his emotions and the booze.
Grayson didn’t rush him. He was patient. Men like Pierce needed to feel like they were in control, like they were making all their own decisions, that new ideas had been theirs all along.
But a man like Pierce would never be in control. Grayson already had him.
Checkmate.
Grayson watched with a smile as the man’s shoulders dropped in defeat. “We got a deal, then? You’ll help me get that ranch and put the Montgomery boys out, and I’ll get you the girl and the baby.”
He stuck his hand out to shake, grinning from ear to ear.
“Deal,” Pierce muttered in reply before grasping Grayson’s hand.
That sealed it.
The Montgomery ranch would be his. The Montgomery boys wouldn’t know what hit them.