The Great Jackalope Stampede

by Ann Charles

  “Jesus.” Mac covered his face. “Somebody please wake me up.”

  Claire tried to focus on the cookies and not remember the sight of Manny’s naked stress reliever. “Is this thing with you two going to keep happening, Mom?”

  “Well,” Deborah hem-hawed. “Manuel is a very generous lover.”

  A sickly sounding groan came from Mac. “This isn’t happening in my world,” he said and left them in his dust. Claire watched him go, surprised he didn’t break into a sprint.

  “And,” Deborah continued, “he makes me feel attractive again for the first time in a long time.” She tittered. “You should hear the things he says to me when he—”

  “Mother, stop!” Claire interrupted before her stomach turned inside out and dumped her lunch on the ground. “It was a simple question to help me prepare mentally for future visuals.”

  She heard Gramps shout and watched Mac veer off toward the new restroom, joining Gramps and Manny who were both holding paintbrushes.

  “Yes.”

  Claire turned back to her mother. “Yes?”

  “I enjoyed having sexual relations with Manuel.” She looked over at the man of the hour.

  The old sex god glanced their way. His new hearing aid must have started ringing. When his gaze settled on Deborah, his smile widened, making him look like a lovesick Don Juan. He waved his paintbrush.

  Deborah lifted her chin and turned her back on him. “But I’m not going to make it easy for him.”

  “Mother,” Claire waved at Manny in Deborah’s place. “That’s rude.”

  Deborah patted Claire’s cheek. “No darling, it’s called playing hard to get. You could use a lesson or two. You make it way too easy for MacDonald. Did he even offer to marry you when he thought you were pregnant?”

  They were not going to have this discussion again right then and there while Claire held a plate of cookies. “Why am I carrying cookies?”

  “Ruby made them for the men.” Deborah glanced back at Manny again, fluttering her eyelashes.

  “I don’t think he can even see you do that this far away, Mother.”

  “You’d be surprised what a man can see when he wants to. That reminds me, I need you to take me to the beauty parlor in Yuccaville tomorrow for some highlights.” She took a closer look at Claire’s hair. “You could use a haircut and maybe some highlights, too. I see some gray strands poking through. If you want to keep MacDonald coming back for more, you need to work harder on looking good for him. Let’s get a mani-pedi while we’re at it, and then we can see about getting you a pretty dress to make MacDonald pay a little more attention when he comes back next weekend.”

  No freaking way. This was not happening. Damned Kate for being too sick to do this shit with their mother. And where in the hell was Ronnie? She used to love this mother-daughter bonding crap. Didn’t she?

  Claire grabbed a cookie and crammed it in her mouth to keep from screaming in terror. “Gotta go,” she said, spitting crumbs on Deborah, who frowned, clearly disapproving.

  Sidestepping her mother’s reprimand, Claire jogged over to where Mac stood listening to Gramps.

  “… so I’ve been a little more crotchety than normal,” Gramps finished as Claire joined them.

  Just a little, she thought, jamming another cookie half into her mouth so her tongue didn’t decide to speak up and agree with him. Ruby had doubled the chocolate chips today. Was there a reason for celebrating Claire didn’t know about?

  Manny patted Mac on the shoulder. “This is Ford’s way of saying he’s sorry for being such an asshole lately.”

  Gramps glared at Manny.

  “Apology accepted,” Mac said, stealing the other half of the cookie sticking out of Claire’s mouth. “If Ruby asks me to help her with something in the future, I’ll refer her to you.”

  “Good,” Gramps said, glancing at Claire under his bushy brow.

  “But,” Mac continued, “if she tells me something in secret, I won’t break her confidence.”

  “Fine.” Gramps took a cookie from the plate. “Same goes for me with Claire.”

  Claire gulped down her mouthful of cookie. “What?”

  Manny grabbed two cookies. “Your grandfather is promising to keep your secrets from Mac.”

  The squint Mac was giving her made her want to go back and discuss more beauty ideas with her mom. She smiled. “I’m an open book, baby. I swear.”

  Gramps snickered, not helping her win her case.

  “Did your mom say anything about me?” Manny asked, sidling up next to Claire.

  He was standing too close, especially now that she’d seen him naked and her mother had talked about his generosity under the sheets. She shoved the plate of cookies at him.

  “She said …” Claire thought about how her mother had actually smiled at her—a real, honest-to-God smile—before cutting into her about her hair. Maybe Chester was right, Manny was a hero. He had taken the edge off her mom. “She said that you look handsome in blue, but she didn’t know if you were going to be man enough for her.”

  Manny glanced down at his blue shirt covered in paint splotches. His eyes twinkled when he looked back up at her. “Ay yi yi. That sounds like a challenge to me.” He walked off whistling, carrying the cookies over to where Chester stood in a holey T-shirt and ripped overalls, painting while a cigar hung out of his mouth.

  “You owe me for that, girl,” Gramps said, his whole face scrunched in a scowl. “Now I’m gonna have to listen to the fool moon over my daughter all afternoon.”

  “Hello,” a voice said from behind Claire.

  “Dr. García,” Mac said, shaking the other man’s hand. “We were making our way down to you.”

  The doctor looked tired today. His brown eyes drooped at the edges and his thick salt-and-pepper hair was mussed like he’d been running his hands through it, but his smile held strong. “Good to see you again, Mac, Claire,” he nodded at each of them and then Gramps, “Harley.”

  Gramps shifted his paintbrush to his left hand, balanced without his crutch, and shook the doctor’s hand. “How is your crew holding up?”

  “Well, they’re still shocked, but we’re keeping busy so there isn’t time to let their tongues wag too much.” He turned to Claire, squeezing her shoulder. “Once again, I’m so sorry you had to go through what you did.”

  She waved him off. “I’ve been through worse.”

  The tender look in his eyes made her feel warm and happy inside. It was no wonder his crew was willing to work so hard for him, including Sundays.

  “You remind me of my daughter, Angélica. She runs her own dig site down in Mexico.” He sighed. “I spoke with her on the phone last night about all of this. She confirmed my suspicions—the jade pieces were stolen two years ago from a dig site near her own. She was able to describe the pieces to me from memory. Her brain is much sharper than mine these days.”

  “I can relate to that,” Gramps said, glancing at Claire.

  Was that a compliment from the old buzzard? Was the world coming to an end this afternoon?

  “Angélica remembered seeing our two thieves at that site when she visited it years back. They’d pulled her aside and spoken with her about joining her crew, but she had no need for them at the time.”

  “Lucky for her she didn’t, it sounds like,” Claire said.

  “Yes. She’s had enough trouble lately.” His lips tightened for a moment, making Claire wonder what kind of trouble. Like drug cartel trouble? “Anyway, she mentioned that they may be responsible for thefts at several other dig sites where valuable Maya artifacts have disappeared over the last decade, including a few rare gold pieces. I will need to contact the Sheriff and see if they found anything inside of their camper.”

  Like a box of eyeballs?

  Mac shot her a frown.

  She had kept that thought in her head, hadn’t she?

  She focused back on Dr. García. “Do you think they were selling pieces through some black market?” Claire aske
d. Was the black market for archaeology finds the same one Joe had dabbled in with his stolen treasures?

  “Yes, I was thinking that, but Angélica suggested they might merely have been mules.”

  “Mules?” Mac asked. “You mean like a drug mule?”

  Dr. García nodded. “They could have been working for someone here in the States. We have been warned by customs to watch for these ‘mules’ since we cross borders with artifacts.”

  Claire glanced at Mac. What were the chances of these two women ending up at a campground that used to be owned by a man who stole high-priced treasures from other thieves? It was too much of a coincidence for Claire’s gut to let it go. Had they been here before? And if they had, did they know he had stashed treasures up in his mines? If the eyeballs were Joe’s, then they had known, and they might not be the only treasure.

  “Dr. García,” Claire said, “how did these two women end up working for you here? Did they come to you looking to volunteer?”

  He nodded. “We had worked together before at a site up on the Navajo reservation.”

  “Did they request this site in particular?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, they did. We had another site the university was considering at the time with more area to cover and I offered that one to them, but they wanted to join me here.”

  “What are you getting at?” Mac asked her.

  She didn’t want to spell it out in front of Dr. García. She shrugged. “I find it interesting that they may have been acting as mules over the last decade and that they knew of this place.” Hint, hint!

  His eyes widened. “That is interesting.”

  Gramps grunted. He got it, too. “Well,” Gramps patted Dr. García’s shoulder, “in spite of the most recent problem, we’ve appreciated your crew staying at the campground.”

  “It’s been our pleasure.” García nodded back toward his group of campers. Jessica stood there talking to Beanpole, her smile too wide to be flirty. She hadn’t mastered the art yet, thankfully. Claire would have to keep her away from Deborah and her new man-catching agenda. “I see that one of my kids has taken a real shine to your girl. If you need me to curtail that, let me know.”

  “He’s been a gentleman so far,” Gramps said, “but I have my shotgun handy just in case.”

  Dr. García grinned. “I’ll let him know you’re watching.”

  “You mentioned you were concerned about vandals,” Mac said. “Is there anything we can do to help secure the dig site?”

  “Mac works for a company that builds retaining walls,” Gramps explained. “He could help you guys out.”

  “I’m thinking we,” Mac pointed to Gramps and then himself, “could put up something to secure the opening when your crew isn’t up there.”

  “That would be excellent. We have to be cautious about taking care of our equipment as well as our finds.”

  They needed to be cautious, period. If those women knew about Joe and his skimming, whether acting as his mules or fellow thieves, Claire’s fears about the pocket watch and what it meant to Ruby and Gramps’s welfare—hell, to all of their lives—had a solid base. This might be just the beginning of the flood of trouble flowing their way. If Joe had left a piece like the pocket watch where it was relatively easy to find, what things had he gone out of his way to hide? And where?

  She glanced at the bluffs surrounding them. Joe was no idiot. He must have come back to Jackrabbit Junction on purpose. Here, out in the open amongst the creosote and sandy bluffs, in an open valley ringed with mountains full of excellent hiding places, he could have made a stand, if needed. Unfortunately, he had keeled over and left his widow alone with the shotguns and stolen loot, a mound of debt, and an R.V. park in shambles.

  Lucky for Ruby, Gramps had come along, dragging his family and friends with him.

  Mac squeezed her hand, bringing her back to the present.

  Dr. García apologized again for her ending up in a mine shaft, then he and Gramps headed off toward the golf cart.

  “Where are they going?” she asked Mac.

  “To the store to discuss their options over a cold drink.”

  “Aren’t you going with them?”

  “They don’t need me right now.” He took her face in his hands, his gaze full of a warm tenderness that made her knees loosey-goosey. “What about you, Slugger? Do you need me?”

  “Careful, Claire,” Chester called out from over by the cans of paint. “I hear sweet buns there isn’t afraid to hit a woman.”

  “Even old women,” Manny piped in. “Maybe we should change his nickname to Rocky.”

  “Slugger and Rocky,” Chester puffed his cigar in thought. “Yep, I like that. Reminds me of a pair of mud wrestlers I saw up in Reno years ago. They looked a lot like men in the face, but once you covered ‘em in mud, that didn’t matter so much. All of the bumps were in all the right places, and that’s all I cared about three beers into the match.”

  Claire stood on her toes, wrapped her arms around Mac’s neck, and kissed him, long and slow. She did her best to make him forget about eyeballs, Deborah, and the two dirty birds heckling them.

  When she pulled back, she smiled up at him, feeling all sloppy inside with love. “I need you more than ever, Mac.”

  Especially if Jackrabbit Junction was about to recreate the Alamo.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Later that night …

  Claire sat on the top porch step of the General Store, waiting for Mac to finish his game of Euchre with Gramps and the boys. She had left the porch lights off so she could see the stars. She could still smell the scent of burned cedar chips in the air from the fish Gramps had smoked for dinner.

  A cool breeze tickled Ruby’s wind chimes, making them jingle and ping.

  Henry growled from his perch behind her on the porch swing. He pushed up onto his front legs, eyeing the drive.

  Something moved in the darkness.

  Her heart stopped to see what it was. She peered into the shadows and then chuckled. “Relax, Cujo,” Claire mocked. “It’s just a tumbleweed.”

  He barked at her.

  Flipping off the ornery mutt, she returned to star-gazing.

  It was the perfect night to drive out into the desert, lie down in the back of a pickup, and look for constellations. That had been Mac’s romantic suggestion, anyway, for his last night before heading back to Tucson for a few days.

  Claire had another idea. “Or we could have more sex on a soft bed inside a stinky R.V.”

  “The stars are overrated,” Mac had returned, his gaze already undressing her.

  Looking up now, she was reconsidering his idea. The stars were out in abundance tonight, celebrating in the moon’s absence with all kinds of twinkling. Maybe they could consolidate the two notions—have sex under the stars. That might be fun, so long as they didn’t get busted again. A third time would not be a charm.

  The sound of a car engine reached her long before headlights came over the bridge. Claire shielded her eyes as Kate slowed to a stop and killed the lights and engine.

  She waited for both of her sisters to climb out and shut their doors, realizing Ronnie was driving instead of Kate. “How did Butch take the news?” she asked.

  Kate sniffed. “I think he’s in shock.”

  “You think?” Ronnie asked with a dose of sarcasm. “When you said the word, ‘pregnant,’ the man turned chalk white.”

  Claire scooted over, making room for Kate. “So what’s next?”

  “She’s going to keep working there,” Ronnie answered, leaning against the railing.

  “Really?”

  “I have to.” The porch step creaked as Kate settled onto it. “At least until I find another job.”

  Henry hopped down from the porch swing and planted himself on Kate’s lap, his butt toward Claire. The little shit.

  “I’m sure Butch had no problem with that.” Claire had a lot of doubts about many things in Jackrabbit Junction but not Butch’s feelings for her sis
ter. The little smile he got whenever he watched Kate move around the bar gave away too much.

  “I don’t think he heard a word Katie said after she dropped the baby bomb.”

  “So did you actually break up with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “More like ‘sort of’,” Ronnie said.

  “What do you mean sort of?” Kate asked. “I clearly explained that I didn’t expect him to want to have any part in this baby’s life.”

  “First of all, as I already said, I don’t think he heard a word you said after you told him about the baby. Second, you didn’t actually say, ‘Butch, I’m breaking up with you.’ It was much more garbled than that, with a bunch of half sentences in between your sobs.”

  “I didn’t sob.”

  “You did.”

  “It’s the damned hormones.”

  “Right,” Claire said, not believing that for a moment.

  “I’ll be sure to make it all crystal clear when he gets back from his brother’s later next week.”

  “He’s leaving again?” Claire asked.

  “Yes, but this is just a short trip to attend a couple of meetings and sign off on some more paperwork. After that, he’ll be around for a few weeks.”

  For a man who owned a bar in a dusty pit stop, Butch had a lot of shit going on in his life. “Kate, are you sure he won’t want to be part of this kid’s life?”

  “I told you, he said kids were not in his future. There was no ‘ifs’ or ‘maybes’ in his tone when he said it.”

  “There were none at that time, Katie,” Ronnie emphasized. “He might change his mind now.”

  “I’m not trapping him like that. An old girlfriend tried to do that to him, only the baby turned out to be a lie.” Kate hugged her knees. “I want him to want this baby and me out of love, not obligation.”

  Ronnie snorted. “You’ve been reading too many romance novels. Real life doesn’t happen that way. Look at Mom and Dad.”

  “I am thinking of Mom and Dad. I don’t want Butch to hate me two years into the relationship and spend the next thirty miserable, eventually leaving me for another woman when I’m too old and bitter to pick up the pieces.”