The Rowdy Coyote Rumble (Jackrabbit Junction Humorous Mystery Book 4)

by Ann Charles

  “Butch is looking for you,” Arlene told her.

  Damn that man was persistent. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Footfalls drew close, pausing on the other side of the stall door. “Are you okay, sweetie? Do you need me to get you some ice water? A wet rag? Crackers?”

  Arlene was always so good to her. Kate thought about telling her the truth. How Butch had once had a girlfriend try to hornswoggle him into marriage through a fake baby claim. How he’d told Kate when they’d first started sleeping together that he didn’t see kids in his future, not with the business he was trying to build and all of the traveling to various classic car auctions.

  Maybe Arlene would empathize with Kate, understand why she was so nervous about being near him. Maybe she’d agree that Kate couldn’t give in to her heart, which had no qualms about trapping Butch in a life he didn’t want if it meant staying by his side. Maybe she’d help Kate find a way out of this corner of hell and set up house where she wouldn’t have to see Butch day after day. Maybe she’d let Kate climb up on her back and escape out the little square bathroom window right then without Butch seeing her.

  No, it wasn’t fair to put Arlene in the middle of the mess Kate had made of her life. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

  “Alrighty then, sweetie. Oh, I keep meanin’ to ask you if you were in Yuccaville yesterday trying to find me.”

  Kate’s scrambled brain tried to remember where she’d been yesterday. Oh, The Rowdy Coyote Motel and the Polar Bear. “I was in Yuccaville, but it didn’t have anything to do with you. Why do you ask?”

  “I thought I saw your car leaving the parking lot of the motel where I’m livin’.”

  “You’re staying at The Rowdy Coyote?” Surely Arlene must have seen the Polar Bear in passing? Would she be willing to let Kate hide out in her room to spy on him?

  “Sure am. The monthly rent is dirt cheap.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Kate could imagine, what with the way it looked so run down, not to mention the dead boat carcass. But why was a henchman with ties to a rich mobster hiding out there? Then it hit her—he was undercover, trying to fit in with the locals. The Polar Bear might look like a big meathead, but he was as clever as an Arctic fox.

  Arlene’s footfalls moved away, over toward the sink. “I’m fixin’ to stay on there until I’ve saved enough to rent a house.” She was probably checking her beehive hairdo in the mirror, something she did often in the mirror behind the bar, too.

  “That’s smart.” Kate stared down at the dead fly, wondering if she should look into renting a room there for a month or two until she got back on her feet. Then she thought about that swimming pool turned boat junkyard and cringed. On second thought, her grandfather’s Winnebago worked just fine for now.

  “Anyhoo, Katie-doll, let me know if there is anything I can help you with tonight. You’ve been looking more worn out than usual lately, and I mean that as a concerned friend.”

  “Thank you, Arlene. You’re always good to me.”

  “It’s the least I can do to help. Ronnie and I will cover your tables while you and Butch catch up.”

  Kate heard the bathroom door creak open and shut, a wave of bar-related racket rising and falling.

  Tucking back several tendrils of hair that had come loose while she worshiped the porcelain goddess, she blew out a breath. She could do this. Hell, she was about to become a mom. She needed to bone up, get ready to take on the world while single-handedly raising a child.

  Besides, she reminded herself, Butch wasn’t a monster. He was a nice guy who didn’t want kids. It wasn’t his fault she’d screwed up and gotten pregnant.

  She buttoned the black shirt she was wearing over her white tank top, trying to flatten out some of the wrinkles. She could face Butch without letting him see how much she wanted to cling to him and never let go. Besides, she needed to let him know about her substitute job at the school, and now was as good a time as any.

  The door creaked again, the bar ruckus louder for a second or two, then muffled again.

  She waited while water ran in the sink, picturing one of the pretty young brunettes playing pool in back checking her lipstick. Kate stood there without making a sound. She didn’t feel like looking all disheveled in front of the un-pregnant, flirty thing in skinny jeans.

  She counted to ten after the door opened and closed again to unlock the stall door and walk out.

  “Butch!” she gasped, stepping back in surprise.

  The source of her panic stood in front of her, bigger than life, in the women’s restroom. His arms crossed and cowboy boots planted, he barred the door in his white T-shirt, faded blue jeans, and squinty glare.

  Kate took another step backward, bumping into the outer corner of the stall. “You can’t be in here.”

  “I own the place. I can go wherever I damned well please.”

  “What if someone needs to use the bathroom?”

  “They can wait. We need to talk.”

  “I was on my way to your office.”

  “Were you?” His face was rigid with disbelief. “Hell, I was surprised to see your car still sitting in the parking lot after the way you’ve avoided me and my calls for the last couple of weeks.”

  “I wasn’t avoiding you,” she lied. “I had a lot of things going on.”

  “Right and your phone only takes incoming calls, making it impossible for you to call me back?”

  She opened her mouth to lie some more, but then decided it was time to stop playing cat and mouse. “No, I could have called you back.”

  His jaw tightened another notch. “But you didn’t.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Because it hurt to hear the sound of his voice, and she’d rather avoid pain whenever possible. “I didn’t want to hear what you had to say.”

  He took that in with a slow nod. “At least you’re finally being honest with me.”

  She walked to the sink, turning on the cold water. “I’ve been honest about most everything lately.”

  Well, except when Chester had shown up at The Shaft the other night in a long, pimp-style zebra suit jacket and satin black pants, asking her if she thought he had a chance with one of the new snow birds at the R.V. park who was twenty years his junior. Damn Manny and Gramps for putting younger-wife ideas in his head.

  Butch watched her in the mirror as she washed her hands and then splashed her face.

  “Good. Then tell me the truth about something.”

  She tore off some paper towel. “What?”

  “Is there another man?”

  His question stopped her mid-face dab. “Another man?”

  “As in someone else you’re seeing?”

  Did he mean someone else who had fathered this kid? Did he think she was trying to trap him for his money?

  Her forehead heated in a flash of anger. “There’s no other man and hasn’t been one since long before you.” She threw the paper towel in the trash, fighting to keep the bubbles of rage from surfacing as they often did so quickly these days. “The baby is yours, Butch. But don’t worry, like I told you before, I don’t want anything from you. I’m choosing to have the kid because I want it. I can provide for the two of us just fine without your damned money.”

  That wasn’t necessarily true yet, but Kate was more determined than ever to make it so now. Since the moment she’d seen those two little pink lines on the pregnancy test, she’d been worried about making him feel stuck playing daddy, and what did she get for her troubles and tears? Accusations about another man? Oh, this was rich.

  Butch frowned. “You misunderstood my question.”

  “Oh, I think I understand what you’re looking for here crystal clear—an escape clause.” She closed the distance between them, her chin jutting in ire. “You don’t want to be saddled with a kid. Well, don’t worry, you won’t be, because I don’t want to put up with a piece of shit father who breaks my kid’s heart without thinking twice about it.”

  She’d
witnessed how that worked first hand with Jessica and her dad, the poor girl.

  He cursed under his breath. “Kate, shut up and listen.”

  “No, you listen.” She crossed her arms, matching his stance. “I have a new job.”

  His eyebrows wrinkled. “You’re quitting?”

  “Not yet, it’s still part-time. But once I land a full-time teaching position, I’ll be out of your life. Until then, Ronnie said she will help out, covering for me when needed.”

  “But you hate teaching.”

  “Yeah, well my priorities have changed. Teaching isn’t as exciting as traveling from one classic car auction to the next, but it pays the bills, offers insurance, and provides stability.”

  “Don’t forget the respectability level and retirement options.”

  “That too.”

  “I always thought teaching would be nice because you get holidays and summers off.”

  “It is a nice benefit, but believe me, by the time you’ve had a good portion of a year with twenty-five or more kids day in and day out, that time off goes way too quick.”

  “I bet.”

  Kate stared up at Butch, her anger fizzling. What the hell? This wasn’t how she’d envisioned this conversation going at all. In her daydreams, Butch had begged her not to leave The Shaft, shoving a wedding ring on her finger and delivering a happily-ever-after ending. In her more rational fantasies, he’d offered her a raise to stay at the bar, provided paid time off for maternity leave, and thrown in a bonus for when the baby was born. In reality, he kept frowning at her like she’d grown a hairy wart between her eyes since he’d seen her last.

  Apparently their big talk was over. She’d gotten all worked up for nothing.

  “If you’ll step aside now and let me out of here, I have some tables to wait.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean no?”

  He leaned back against the door. “We’re not done.”

  They were done the moment she got pregnant, but since he was bigger than her and blocking the only feasible exit, she threw up her hands. “What else do you need to talk to me about? My overtime hours? The twenty bucks we were short in the till last night? Changing the exemptions on my W-2?”

  “I’ve had some time to think about things.”

  A hot blast of frustration made her start to sweat. She snorted, her hackles up. “Oh, yeah? You mean while you were traveling in luxury all over God’s green earth buying expensive old cars, and I was here in your hot stinky bar sweating and puking in between serving drinks to lonely cowboys and weary miners?”

  His lips twitched. “Yes, Kate, while I was traveling.”

  Oh, she double-dog dared him to laugh at her. “Please, do share these grand thoughts that are so important you had to burst into the ladies room to tell me.”

  “I’ve changed my mind.”

  “About what?” Her temper was racing out of control yet again, the reins ripped clear out of her hands. “Whether Pluto should be classified as a planet or what beers we’re keeping on tap this holiday season?”

  Dear Lord of the Rings, what was wrong with her? Who was this mad woman in her head running around screaming obscenities? Was this what stumbling down the rabbit hole into insanity felt like?

  Butch’s hands snaked out, catching her off guard. He hauled her against him, his mouth coming down fast before she could think about pulling away. By the time her brain caught up, she was kissing him back, damn it.

  As she melted against him, his touch softened. His lips became gentle and coaxing, his hands caressing a moan out of her. Hells bells, she’d missed him. She lifted her arms and draped them around his neck.

  The door opened, slamming into his back, making him stumble forward with her in his arms.

  “Oops!” The pretty pool-playing brunette peeked around Butch’s shoulder. “Sorry, you two. I’ll come back.”

  Kate stepped back from him as the door closed, her whole body burning with a confusing mixture of want and humiliation. Criminy, she was supposed to be strong, showing Butch she didn’t need him in her life. Instead she’d suctioned onto his mouth and shoved her tongue down his throat like one of those alien face-huggers.

  She straightened her shirt and tried to forget the scent of his skin, the heat of his touch, both of which she’d pined for in the middle of long and lonely nights for way too long. “So, what did you change your mind about?”

  Butch’s gaze searched her face, and then traveled down past her heaving chest and settled on her stomach. “That’s my kid in there.”

  No shit, daddy-o. “If you want me to take a paternity test, my answer is hell no and go fuck yourself.”

  His focus returned northward, his eyes suddenly hard. “I believe you. Contrary to what you thought I was asking earlier, I never once questioned that fact.”

  “Well,” she scoffed, “there’s something.”

  “Here’s something else—you’re not shutting me out.”

  The steeliness in his voice gave her pause. She purposely played dumb. “You’re the one blocking us in here.”

  “Whether you like it or not, Kate, my kid is going to have a father.” He pointed his thumb at his chest. “Me.”

  Without another word or kiss or by-your-leave, he opened the door and walked out, leaving Kate alone with her pounding heart and pale-faced reflection.

  * * *

  The Shaft was a ghost bar. The evening’s hooting and hollering a memory, the jukebox dark and resting for another night.

  Ronnie swallowed the last of her soda water and cleaned the glass in the sink behind the bar, setting it on a towel to air dry. She checked the main door, making sure it was locked, and hit the lights before pushing through the swinging doors leading into the kitchen area and beyond, which included the supply room, Butch’s office, and the back door.

  She hesitated in the doorway of the office, watching Butch’s chest rise and fall as he slept kicked back in his chair, boots resting on his desk. He should go home and get some sleep, but Ronnie didn’t rouse him. Something had gone down earlier between him and Katie, but she’d been too busy tonight to corner her sister and find out the details. Whatever it was, the poor girl had come out of the bathroom at one point looking like someone had used her to mop the kitchen floor, all blotchy-faced and frazzle-haired.

  Right about then Claire had shown up with a bandage wrapped around her finger. She’d downed a Corona with her burger and sautéed mushrooms, mentioning something about needing a break from Chester’s bristly personality, Jessica’s nonstop mouth, and their mother and Manny’s love-fiesta. When Ronnie inquired about the bandage, Claire had shaken her head. Ronnie had played bossy older sister then and ordered Claire to take Katie home with her. Katie had gone without much fight, which worried Ronnie even more.

  Tiptoeing inside Butch’s office, she grabbed her jacket and purse, dimmed the overhead can lights, and quietly shut his office door behind her.

  Arlene had taken off a half hour ago at Ronnie’s urging. While she appreciated the other waitress’s concern about leaving her alone to walk out to Katie’s Volvo, she wasn’t going to be alone. A certain cowboy had stopped by the bar at the end of the evening, sipped on a beer until a few minutes before closing, then had given Ronnie a quick nod and left. The FBI was waiting for her out there under the stars. She’d rather it were Grady and his badge, but there’d been no word from the Sheriff of Cholla County tonight. Maybe he’d given up on getting a moment alone with her in the dark.

  She hoped not.

  She headed out the back door. Her eyes adjusted to the light of the half-moon as she crossed the gravel to Katie’s car, which was parked outside the reach of the orange parking lot glow. Sitting in the shadows next to the Volvo was Mr. FBI’s pickup. Inside of the cab, his lit cigarette burned red then faded to a pale orange.

  She paused next to his open window, slipping on the jean jacket she’d borrowed from Claire. Old Hank Williams Sr.’s singing Your Cheatin’ Heart came fro
m his speakers. “It’s chilly tonight.”

  He blew a lungful of smoke through the window. “Desert nights can sneak up on you that way.” He tapped his cigarette on his side mirror. “So, tell me about this big idea of yours.”

  Ronnie waved away the smoke while glancing around. She was fairly certain they were alone, but she was still antsy. “You and I need to start working together.”

  “You have information to share with the FBI?”

  “No, but if I’m going to be used as chum, I need to know what sharks are in the water.”

  “I already gave you that detail.”

  “Right, the Polar Bear and the Husky.”

  “And maybe a few others.”

  Didn’t that extra threat just make her feel like tap dancing? “See, that’s what I mean. If trouble comes to town I can’t do much to help you catch your bad guys if I’m a sitting duck waiting for that lucky shooter to aim and pull the trigger.”

  “A duck?” He took a draw from his cigarette, blowing it out at her. “I thought you were chum.”

  “Blow that second-hand smoke at me again, you badge-toting tool, and I’m gonna shove that stupid cigarette up your anal cavity and laugh when the smoke puffs out your ears.”

  His laugh was husky, what she would expect from the Marlboro Man. He put out his cigarette and set the butt on the dash. “Work together how, spitfire?”

  “Nobody ever expects the FBI to be friendly with anyone, right? Especially a potential witness. I propose we establish a fictional relationship.”

  His teeth glowed in the feeble moonlight. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

  “No.” She had her hands full with one badge carrying pain in the ass. “I’m thinking more of a pal. You know, someone to shoot pool and drink with on nights I’m not working. That allows you to keep an eye on me without causing suspicion, and it gives me the peace of mind knowing you might have my back if someone pulls a gun on me.”

  “Might?”

  “Well, you are the FBI. The company retreats I’ve attended with your people skipped the trust building exercises entirely and went straight to the humiliation-based breakdown training.”