The Great Jackalope Stampede

by Ann Charles

  “Gramps is trying to protect you,” she told Jess. “There are boys out there who act very nice at first, buy you all sorts of pretty jewelry and designer clothes, take you on weekend trips to Paris or London, put you up in a huge fancy house with all kinds of expensive appliances …” Shit, where was she going with this? Oh, yeah. “But then they turn around and hurt you in ways you never thought about and were not even close to being prepared for mentally or financially. Gramps doesn’t want to see that happen to you is all.”

  Neither did Ronnie, not to Jess or any one of her family members. Well, except for her mother. Deborah could use a little comeuppance for her part in Ronnie’s now screwed up life.

  “Yeah, but it’s my life,” Jessica said. “If they don’t let me try a few things, how will I ever learn anything?”

  Good point. “You should talk to Claire about this.” Ronnie wiped her hands clean of the matter and dumped it on her sister’s doorstep instead.

  Claire had always been much better with kids. That was why it had not made sense when Katie had gone into teaching. Her youngest sister could barely stand being around one kid, let alone a roomful of them. Ronnie was surprised Katie had stayed in the teaching field as long as she had. She suspected it had more to do with Deborah’s firm hand in the matter and Katie’s inability to lie her way out of her mother’s grip.

  They made it through checkout with Jess hiding behind Ronnie until the tampons were stuffed in a bag.

  On their way out the door, Jess moved up beside her. “Claire’s lucky.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Jess swung her bag like she had not a care in the world. Oh, to be that young and bitter-free again, Ronnie thought.

  “She doesn’t have to buy embarrassing stuff at the store anymore since she’s pregnant.”

  “I don’t think Claire is feeling too lucky at the moment. If she is pregnant, I’m sure she’d rather be buying a box of tampons right about now. Raising a kid is hard work.”

  They turned up the row of vehicles where Ruby’s old Ford sat near the end next to a red pickup. She had seen that truck before somewhere, but she couldn’t remember where. Then again, pickups were thick as plastic bags stuck on barbed wire fences in these parts. She had probably seen ten red pickups just like it in the last few days.

  The Ford’s windshield glinted in the afternoon sunshine. A warm breeze ruffled Ronnie’s curls, along with a piece of paper stuffed under the pickup’s windshield wiper.

  Jessica headed around the back of the truck. “How do you know kids are hard work? You don’t even have any.”

  No, but Ronnie had daydreamed about having two or three of them for years, waiting for her husband to agree the time was right. Thank heaven that time had never come for them.

  “I’ve read a lot about kids.” She had also watched Ruby enough over the last couple of weeks and observed how raising a teenager could wear a person down to a throbbing nub.

  She unlocked the pickup door and popped the lock so Jess could get in. Setting the grocery bag in the middle of the bench seat, she settled behind the wheel. The piece of paper flapped against the outside of her window, partially blocking her view.

  Darn salesmen and their stupid fliers.

  “I bet Claire would make a great mom,” Jessica said. “She’d be a lot more fun than my mom is.”

  More fun than Ronnie’s mom, too. Hell, the bloody Queen Mary would have been more fun. She reached out through her open window and grabbed the flier, tossing it on the seat next to her.

  “I think you’re being too tough on Ruby.” Ronnie started the pickup and shifted into reverse, backing out of the parking spot. She glanced over at Jess, who was looking at the flier. “Raising a child on your own is no easy job. It seems like she’s worked hard to provide a roof over your head, food to eat, and clothes—”

  “What’s with this castle?” Jessica asked.

  Teenagers these days had the attention span of a gnat. She finished backing out before looking over at Jessica. “What castle?”

  Jessica held up the flier. “This castle? I can’t read this. It’s in some funky language.”

  Funky lang … Ronnie nearly choked on her tongue. She swiped the flier from Jessica. Only it was not a flier, but rather a copy of the German article about the stolen watches.

  “Rudeness!” Jessica said, trying to take it back.

  Her pulse pounding in every finger and toe, Ronnie held it out of reach. “Knock it off, Jessica. This belongs to me.”

  “It doesn’t have your name on it.”

  Yes, it did. Her name was written all over it, and she knew exactly who left her this little present. He had not stopped at meddling in her past, now he was nosing into her current business. The intrusive son of a bitch! Just because he had that damned star did not give him the right to harass her like this.

  A horn blared behind her, making both her and Jessica jump.

  Jess leaned out her window, “Honk again, butt face, and we’ll—”

  “Jessica!” Ronnie grabbed the girl by the waistband of her shorts and tugged her back inside. “Buckle your seat belt.”

  “But … ” Jessica sputtered.

  “Now!” Ronnie shifted into gear and stomped on the gas, burning rubber out onto the side street. She slammed to a halt at the four-way STOP sign. Then she gunned it again, keeping an eye out for a certain Sheriff’s pickup, jerking the wheel right and left, locking up the brakes in a controlled skid when a dog ran out in the road.

  Jessica reached for the dash and screamed like the reaper had swung his scythe at her neck, making Ronnie grit her teeth.

  As soon as the dog cleared her path, Ronnie slammed on the gas pedal and roared off again. When she hit State Route 191 leading back to Jackrabbit Junction, she slowed to the speed limit and did several breathing exercises she had learned in her yoga classes years ago.

  Jessica still clung to the dash. She gawked at Ronnie. “You are a crazy driver!”

  “That was fun, wasn’t it?” Ronnie laughed, trying to make light of her Dukes of Hazzard performance through the streets of Yuccaville.

  “No! Not fun at all.”

  “Baby,” Ronnie said under her breath.

  “You’re a worse driver than Kate.”

  “Nobody drives worse than Katie. We didn’t get in an accident, did we?”

  “Okay, then you’re a close second.” Jessica sat back, covering her heart.

  “I had control of the vehicle the whole time.”

  “Wait until Claire hears about this.”

  “She won’t. If you tell anyone about my driving or this paper, I’ll tell your mom you told me you are going to go live with your dad.”

  “What?! I didn’t say that I was going to do it. I’m just considering it.”

  That would be a huge mistake if Jess took him up on it, but it was not Ronnie’s place to interfere. “Did he ask you?”

  Jessica nodded.

  “That’s good enough for me. You tell about me and I’ll tell about you.”

  “Claire was right.”

  “About what?”

  “She said you were kind of nutso.”

  “She did, huh?” Ronnie grinned. Only ‘kind of nutso’? “My sister knows me well.”

  But not as well as Claire thought. She didn’t know the new Ronnie. The one who would do whatever was necessary to make sure her family didn’t have to go through the hell she had at the hands of nosy federal investigators or murdering thieves who wanted back what had been stolen from them.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t hit that dog.”

  “I’d say it’s more like he’s lucky.”

  Ronnie’s luck had run out the day she’d landed on Sheriff Grady Harrison’s radar. One small attempt at bribing a lawman and now he was all over her like a hungry flea on a fat cat. He might think slipping that copy of the article under her windshield wiper put him in the checkmate position, but he was underestimating her queen.

  “Where did you learn t
o drive like that?”

  “Gramps taught me.”

  “Really?” At Ronnie’s nod, Jess looked back out the front window. “Maybe I need to ask him for some help prepping for my driving exam instead of my dad.”

  “I can teach you.” Ronnie glanced over at Jess. “For a price.”

  * * *

  Saturday, October 6th

  Claire brushed purple nail polish on her big toenail, using long, smooth strokes. Maybe she’d add one of Jess’s little white flower nail stickers to top her pedicure off. Mac might think it was cute, even sexy, and right now she was desperate to butter him up before he found out her situation. She thought about slathering herself in actual butter since he was so fond of the creamy stuff, but she would have slipped right out of his fingers every time he tried to grab her.

  She looked out the General Store’s screen door, searching for a dust cloud coming up the road. He should be here soon. The thought of looking into his hazel eyes and coughing up her current predicament made her tongue feel thick and heavy in her mouth. Lord, she needed a cigarette. She imagined the feel of the soft stick of nicotine in her fingers, the taste of tobacco on the back of her throat.

  She held up the bottle of nail polish and sniffed, desperate for any kind of mind-altering toxin. What good was having a laundry list of vices if she couldn’t enjoy them. Pregnancy was going to be a long-suffering, washboard road weaving through Sobriety County.

  “Ugh,” she groaned aloud. She had to think of something else. Blowing on her wet nails, she focused on Mac again and how she was going to tell him.

  Since last night after he had called to say he would not be able to make it to Ruby’s until today, she had hashed and rehashed his many possible reactions to her news. Some ended with him twirling her around like the ending to a happily-ever-after romance, others ended up with her living all alone in a trailer in the desert with Sheriff Harrison delivering her baby while his idiot deputy puked into a bucket behind him.

  Claire heard the velvet curtain swish and then the creak of a pair of crutches.

  “What in Hades are you doing, child?” Gramps asked. “Have you been possessed? Is this gonna turn out like that Rosemary’s Baby movie?”

  Capping Jessica’s nail polish, she set the bottle of Grape Fizz next to her bare foot, which rested on the counter next to the cash register. “I’m painting my toenails.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I want them to look pretty.”

  Gramps crutched over and placed his hand on her forehead for a moment. “You don’t feel feverish.” He tipped up her chin, spreading one eyelid wide, then the other. “Your pupils don’t appear to be dilated. Have you and Kate switched bodies today?”

  After batting his hand away, she gingerly touched one nail. Not dry yet. “I feel fine. I just want my feet to look sexy for Mac when he gets here.”

  He snorted. “I don’t think that boy is gonna care one iota about your silly feet when he sees you.”

  “It doesn’t hurt to stack the deck.”

  “What are you doing running the store this morning? I thought Ronnie was supposed to be filling in so that you could help your cousin get the rest of that drywall taped and another layer of mud on it.”

  Natalie and Claire had spent yesterday hanging drywall, with help holding the gypsum board from Chester and Manny and a lot of supervision from Gramps. As Natalie and Claire took turns hanging drywall, the jokes flowed in abundance about women and screwing, studs and mudding. By the end of the day, Claire was not sure which hurt more, her ears or her arms.

  “Ronnie left early to take Jessica to Yuccaville to see her dad,” Claire told him, grabbing the latest teen queen magazine Jess had stashed under the counter to fan her toes.

  “Why would she do that?”

  “Because Jess wanted to spend the day with him and Ruby told us that if she saw the ‘rotten son of a bitch today,’” Claire quoted with a smile, “she might clobber him with her frying pan.”

  “That woman has one hell of a swing.” His eyes shined with pride.

  Claire had no doubts about the redhead after having witnessed her temper erupt now and then over the last few months. “I think he’s taking Jess to a double-feature.”

  “That asshole is sure determined to buy the kid’s love.”

  “She’s eating it up, too.”

  So far, during Claire’s tenderfooted attempts to find out what Jess was thinking when it came to her future living arrangements, all she had gotten was a series of wary looks and I-don’t-knows from the kid. Ruby should have picked another spy to work on Jess because Claire had a feeling she had already been made.

  The rumbling sound of an engine rolled through the screen door.

  Claire leaned forward to look outside, watching as Mac parked his white pickup in front of the porch and cut the engine. Her heart sat up and wiggled like a dog, smacking its tail against her ribcage.

  Excitement and fear tingled through her, spurring a herd of goosebumps up her arms. This was the real deal. She could no longer pretend this whole pregnancy test was a work of women’s fiction … or horror. There was no more delaying it. She was finally going to find out if there were a baby coming or not. Shouldn’t she be feeling something other than the need to vomit at this moment?

  “The white knight has returned.” Gramps’s sarcasm cut through her cacophony of emotions. “You ladies can go back to pretending to faint as he walks past.”

  She frowned at him. “You really need to grab a beer and wash down that sourpuss pill lodged in your gullet.”

  Mac shut his pickup door, shielding his eyes and frowning off toward the eastern horizon. In his faded brown T-shirt, blue jeans, and work boots, he could have come straight from the job site. Maybe he had. Some days she wished she had a career she loved so much, something she was willing to pour her heart and soul into until well past quitting time.

  Scrubbing down his face, he wiped away whatever had given him pause and headed her way. He took the porch steps two at a time. His gaze locked onto hers through the screen and his eyes lit with a wicked gleam. Then he was inside, rounding the counter, and bending her over backwards with a kiss that would have knocked her socks off had she been wearing any.

  When he tipped her back upright, the room spun a little. Most of her blood had packed up and headed south, pulsing out an SOS beacon to lure Mac closer. “Holy crap,” she whispered, all flowery words blasted clear out of her brain. “What was that?”

  He cupped her jaw, dropping a kiss on her nose. “I missed you, Slugger.”

  Gramps cleared his throat. When Claire looked over, he said, “I told you he wouldn’t give a shit about your toes.”

  “What’s wrong with your toes?” Mac asked, stepping back while keeping a warm hand on her lower back.

  “They’re painted.”

  “They’re cute.”

  “They’re supposed to be sexy.”

  “You know the fodder for my fetishes lies to the north of your toes.” His hazel eyes traveled up over the hills and dales of her faded green Dancing Winnebagos T-shirt, stalling on the hills before returning to her face. “You’re getting tan, Slugger. I hope you’re taking plenty of breaks while you slave away on that building.”

  Her breath wheezed. Did Mac know her secret? She shot Gramps a wide-eyed look. Had somebody blabbed before she’d had the chance to tell Mac herself? “Why do you say that?”

  “Because I know how much your grandfather and his cronies like to watch the fairer sex work.”

  Gramps grunted. “Manny and Chester like to watch; I’d rather be up there with her.”

  The curtain to the rec room swished open.

  “Mac!” Ruby’s lined face relaxed into a big smile. She held her arms wide. “Boy, I am happy as a dung beetle in an elephant pen to see you back here.”

  A harrumph sound came from Gramps’s direction, but when Claire looked, he was straightening the cans of pork and beans on the camp store shelf.

  “A
re you hungry, darlin’?” Ruby asked as Mac gave her a squeeze. “I’m fixin’ to make Harley some breakfast. I can throw together an omelet for you with your favorite stuff.” She pinched his side. “You’re getting’ skinny working so hard day and night. How about a double with some bacon on top?”

  “I never say no to bacon,” he dropped a kiss on her cheek. “How are things going here?”

  Ruby let out something that sounded like a snort and a guffaw mixed together.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “It’s been tryin’ at times.” She seemed to be avoiding Harley’s eyes. “I could use your help with the archaeology folks.”

  She could? Was Ruby planning to put the fear of God in Beanpole if he even thought of touching Jess again with a threat for a neck wringing from Mac?

  “They giving you trouble?” Mac’s raised brows included Claire. “Claire mentioned a couple of suspicions before I left.”

  She would have clapped her hand over his mouth had Ruby not been watching her. Claire had mentioned her suspicions, but they were slightly unfounded and partially illogical yet. More just hunches than anything. But that beige camper still gave her the heebie jeebies, along with the khaki twins. The way they were always showing up everywhere together in matching clothes reminded her of those dead twin girls on The Shining. She kept waiting for them to show up next to her bed in the middle of the night whispering, “REDRUM!”

  “No trouble.” Ruby cast a quick frown in Claire’s direction. “No suspicions, either, on my part yet.” Her focus back on Mac, she said, “The head archaeologist, Dr. García, stopped by the other evenin’ and asked if you were around to look at somethin’ they found in the mine and discuss options. I told him that you’d be back this weekend.”

  Shit! Claire glanced away to hide her reaction to Ruby’s news. What had they found? More of Joe’s hidden stash? This was exactly what Claire had been pacing the floor about since she had heard they were up in that mine. Thirty years of stealing from thieves could account for a ton of loot, and Joe was an ace at burying treasures.