Drive-By Daddy & Calamity Jo

by Cheryl Anne Porter

  The next morning, they were up early. They packed their things and eradicated all signs of their occupation of the site, just in case anyone else happened along to jump their claim.

  “I say, Shipper,” Battlehaven called out when he had meticulously followed instructions to brush out their tracks with a branch of a creosote bush. “Won’t we have trouble finding this when we return?”

  Shipper gave him a pitying look. Didn’t they teach these aristocrats anything? “Look around, Battlehaven, at the signs that are here; that outcropping of rock, these piles of stones, this empty wash. They’ll lead us right to our gold. Don’t worry.”

  Carefully, he folded away the detailed map he’d made of their claim. “Besides, we can’t leave any signs of our own to show us the way back here. We don’t want people finding it and jumping our claim. If we say anything, people will come rushing in on us just like they did on poor old John Sutter thirty years ago in California.”

  Battlehaven nodded. “I’ll defer to your superior knowledge if not your intellect,” he said.

  Shipper grinned, pleased that the Englishman knew which of them was smarter.

  They finished packing and hurried back to Tucson.

  This time, they agreed there would be no dinner with their new acquaintances, no flow of rotgut, because they both knew it would loosen their tongues and reveal the whereabouts of their strike. Nothing was going to jeopardize their claim. Again, they spent a sleepless night watching each other, and filed their claim first thing the next morning. Then they set off for the river again.

  When they were fifty yards from the site, the animals started to behave strangely, dancing and rearing back to paw the air.

  “What the…?” Even an expert horseman like Battlehaven couldn’t hold his animal. He leaned forward and shortened the reins.

  Shipper was hopelessly outmatched by the mule he rode. The panicked animal dumped him into a stand of cholla cactus. Shrieking and struggling out of the spiny thing, he shrieked again when he felt the ground moving beneath him in a way he’d known in California. “Earthquake,” he yelled.

  He threw himself on the ground, only to feel it rippling beneath him, so he staggered upwards and swerved drunkenly from side to side, looking for safety. Battlehaven continued to fight his mule who was crow-hopping around in circles, trying to throw him off.

  The tremor lasted only seconds, but it was enough to loosen the outcropping of rock where they’d found their mother lode. Boulders tumbled and crashed down, dumping tons of rock and debris into the stream. Undaunted, the water worked its way up and over, forming a waterfall about ten feet high that splashed merrily down the once-empty wash, sweeping away their dreams of riches.

  When the ground settled, Shipper stared at the falls and began to whimper.

  “This is a calamity,” Battlehaven pointed out unnecessarily.

  “Yup,” Shipper agreed. “We thought we’d found our destiny, but we all we got was calamity. Calamity Falls.”

  1

  JO ELLA QUILLAN opened the door of Perk Avenue and stepped carefully inside. Ever the optimist, she hoped that if she didn’t move too quickly, her head wouldn’t fall off and go rolling across the floor. Behind her, a car backfired and she winced, biting back a moan of pain as the sound seared through her head.

  The scent of fresh roasted coffee mingled with baking muffins swept over her in a wave that made her choke. Ordinarily, her taste buds would have sat up and begged, but today her stomach was roiling.

  Late-night wine didn’t agree with her. In fact, wine rarely agreed with her, so she didn’t drink it often. Unfortunately, she’d forgotten that last night when she’d arrived home, depressed over the way her evening had turned out.

  She took a quick glance around, saw that the place was almost empty and aimed her bumbling feet toward a chair. Gratefully, she sank into it and draped herself over the glass-topped table. Her chin-length chocolate-brown hair spilled over her face, cutting off her view of the room. That was okay. There wasn’t anyone she wanted to see and she was sure that after they’d taken one look, they wouldn’t want to see her, either. The glass felt cool on her flushed cheek. Maybe Lainey would let her stay there all day. She opened one bleary, sea-green eye to see where her best friend was.

  Lainey Pangburn, the owner of Perk Avenue was making her way toward Jo carrying a tray that held two large glasses of water and a cup of coffee. Deftly, she wove between the tables, her long, brightly patterned skirt swishing softly as she moved. She sat down with a whoosh of breath, brushed her long, straight, red hair back from her face, and looked at Jo with sympathy melting her brown eyes.

  “You’re a pal, Lainey.” Jo reached for the coffee only to have a glass of water shoved into her hand.

  “Coffee for me. Water for you until you wash the lingering alcohol out of your system. How much wine did you have last night?”

  “I don’t know,” Jo answered wearily, gulping the ice water, then laying her head back down on the table.

  “I understand you’re upset about Steve dumping you over dinner at the Copper Pot last night, saying that he wasn’t ready to make a commitment and it was time for him to move on.”

  “No, I’m not.…”

  “Yes, you are,” Lainey answered breezily. “His timing was pretty convenient, since his surveying job here was finished anyway and he was heading back to Tucson. He’s a rat and you’re too good for him even if you did love him.…”

  “No, I didn’t.…”

  “Yes, you did,” her friend went on. “And he broke your heart.”

  “No, actually, he didn’t.”

  “Yes, he did, and…”

  “Lainey,” Jo said sharply, almost leaping across the table to silence her. She took a breath and waited for her head to stop doing an imitation of a Tilt-A-Whirl. When she could speak, she said, “He didn’t break my heart. He didn’t even dent its fender. I didn’t love him. I’m not upset about him dumping me.”

  “Methinks you doth protest too much,” Lainey responded sagely.

  Ignoring her, Jo went on, “However, I think he could have found a better place than the Copper Pot on a Monday night, with half of Calamity Falls and a battalion of tourists listening in.”

  Lainey blinked at her skeptically. “If your heart’s not broken, what was that all about when you called me last night after drinking a bottle of wine?”

  “I think it was only two glasses,” Jo admitted. “I have no head for the stuff.” She sat up straight, took a deep breath, and said, “I was upset because I wasted four months on Steve Grover. What kind of woman dates a guy for that long when she doesn’t even like him very much?”

  “You liked him,” Lainey insisted. “In fact, you loved him.”

  Jo waved off that response and answered her own question. “I’ll tell you what kind,” she said, wagging a finger beneath her friend’s nose. “One who obviously needs a major change in her life, and not just in my choice of boyfriends either. I need a new job. A new life. A new home.” She gulped down the second glass of water, then frowned. “On second thought, maybe changing my life isn’t such a good idea,” she said doubtfully. “After all, look what happened last night when I tried to change myself into a drunk.”

  “One evening of overindulging does not a drunk make,” Lainey answered pedantically. “You’re a smart, capable woman and a good reporter. If you think you’re not satisfied and happy in this town, you probably aren’t.”

  Jo rubbed her palms down the front of her jeans, then straightened the collar of her pumpkin-orange camp shirt. “You’re right, of course. So how do I go about making this change?”

  Lainey returned to sipping her coffee. “You tell me.”

  Jo thought about it for a minute, her smooth forehead pleated into a fierce frown. “I like Calamity Falls, for the most part. I love Aunt Millie and Uncle Don and I was glad to come help run the Ingot when Uncle Don got sick. Even with modern medicine, pneumonia is still serious. But he’s well now, has be
en for a couple of years.”

  “So what’s your point?”

  “The point is that I’m grateful for the experience they’ve let me have working as a reporter, but I’m not making use of my journalism degree. I want to do something bigger, more important. This place isn’t big enough for me.” Her hands shot out to take in the room—the whole town, in fact. “I’m a better reporter than they need. Any journalism student at Calamity Falls High School could do what I’m doing. I’ve tried writing articles and sending them to the Phoenix and Tucson papers on spec, but I get replies back saying ‘Thanks, but no thanks’.”

  “What kind of articles?”

  “One on the danger of the unsecured, open underground mines around here. Another about the rising water table in some of the mines, and how it’s threatening the infrastructure of Calamity Falls.”

  “Those sound like newsworthy topics to me.”

  Jo sighed. “That’s what I thought, but the editors only seem to want articles on our local eccentrics.”

  Lainey rolled her eyes. “You’d think that had been done to death by now. Every newspaper and broadcasting station in the state has been here in the past five years. Some of them more than once.”

  Jo nodded. “I know. They usually end up at the Ingot office to find out what new kook has moved into town.”

  The two women looked at each other. The influx of odd and eccentric people into Calamity Falls was the idea of Lainey’s grandfather, Dr. Julius Pangburn. A retired university chemistry professor, Julius had come to Calamity Falls eight years before and immediately decided it would be a perfect haven for people whose ideas didn’t exactly mesh with those of mainstream society. He had put out the word among his friends and colleagues and soon the place had begun filling up with people who had unusual obsessions and hobbies. All of them were harmless, but the townspeople, and especially the city council, had been worried about the reputation Calamity Falls was gaining. Yet another newspaper article on the subject wouldn’t make any of them happy.

  “I’ve got to find a new angle, something besides our local eccentrics, a new story or slant on a story that will make an editor sit up and take notice.” She glanced around thoughtfully at the few customers in the normally busy establishment. They sat alone or in pairs, reading the newspaper, or just contemplating the coming day. “Slow morning?”

  “Not really. You’re just later than usual today. This place was packed until half an hour ago, then Charlotte came in and announced that she was ready to give one of her hawk lectures. All the tourists grabbed their coffee and scurried outside.”

  “At least she’s moved to that empty lot across the street and has quit tying up traffic right in front of your shop.”

  Lainey answered with a rueful grin. “It would be better if she found a lecture hall or something. There are suitable places available in town and she could more than afford it.”

  The two women fell silent as they considered ways to change Jo’s life. Because she knew her friend so well, Jo knew Lainey was thinking in terms of new clothes, new hairdo, new man. Jo had decided, rather fuzzily, during her night of wine-sipping and self-pity wallowing, that she really didn’t need any of those things. Steve hadn’t broken her heart. He hadn’t. And if she said that often enough, she might actually begin to believe it. What she had just told Lainey was true. She needed a story that would get the attention she wanted. Journalism jobs weren’t exactly thick on the ground, so she needed an angle.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a tall, robust man with a mane of white hair jog by. His high-tech running shoes slapped the pavement rhythmically. His paisley-print robe and striped pajamas flapped and fluttered in time to his steps.

  Jo straightened up. “Your grandpa’s late for his morning run.”

  “He was out late. Had a hot date last night,” Lainey said.

  Dread filled Jo’s eyes. “He and Martha didn’t go to the…?”

  “Copper Pot. Yes, but probably after you and Steve had left.”

  Jo groaned. She loved Julius and his lady friend, Martha Smalley, but they loved gossip. Anyone who didn’t already know she’d been dumped would find out before lunch was over. “My life sucks,” she moaned.

  Lainey reached over and patted her hand. “Jo, I’m your best friend so I can tell you. Whining doesn’t suit you.”

  Jo gave her a disgruntled look and went back to wracking her brain for a story idea that would get her the attention she needed.

  What could it be, though, here in Calamity Falls? She glanced up idly as the bell on the door jingled with a merry sound. A man entered and she gave him a casual look, then her eyes drifted away. However, when the image her eyes had picked up worked its way through her sluggish brain, her attention snapped back to him.

  This was no ordinary tourist. Wind-tossed black hair, dark brown eyes, a smooth, square jaw. His nose was long and straight, the perfect complement to his other strong features. He wore a black Henley shirt, black jeans, and black butt-kicking boots, as if he’d just swept into town on his way to a bikers’ convention. He stopped a few paces inside the door and looked around, his midnight eyes taking in everyone there.

  Dark, dangerous and…delicious, Jo thought wistfully. Too bad she’d sworn off men last night.

  However, her heart thudded, pumping much-needed blood to her brain. Her vivid imagination conjured up pictures of the two of them, wide-open spaces, the back of a Harley. Maybe she had just found a new cure for a hangover.

  As Lainey’s assistant waited on him, Jo’s mental processes began to work a little harder. She’d seen this man somewhere before. Not in person, but somewhere. In print. She frowned. Then she remembered. It had been in an obscure little publication from a Phoenix insurance company. When she made the connection, her eyes widened.

  Turning to Lainey, she said, “What on earth is Case Houston doing in Calamity Falls?”

  “Case who?” Lainey looked around and spotted the newcomer. “Oh, him. I don’t know what he’s doing here. He arrived yesterday. He’s staying at the Copper Quest Bed and Breakfast. He seems like a nice guy,” she added casually.

  Jo’s attention was still riveted on him. Was Lainey blind? He was more than nice. He was breathtaking, sexy, rugged. Dangerous with a capital D.

  He placed his order with Lainey’s assistant behind the counter, then stood looking around, his dark eyes surveying each person in the room. When his gaze met Jo’s, it paused for a second. Did she imagine there was a flicker of interest in his eyes? She hoped so because his look had sent her pulse into a wild flamenco dance. She glanced down at her wrist to see if she could detect the interesting action going on there.

  “Do you know him?” Lainey went on.

  “One can only hope,” Jo murmured, propping her chin on her palm.

  “What?”

  Jo blushed, realizing what she’d said. Only the most pathetic of women would get dumped on a Monday and start ogling a new man in town on Tuesday. She wasn’t pathetic. Only somewhat confused.

  She cleared her throat. “I know of him. He used to work for the state attorney general’s office. Remember that insurance scam that was uncovered a couple of years ago? The one that involved a huge group of people filing claims under various false names for work-related injuries that never happened?”

  “Vaguely,” Lainey admitted, then shrugged. “You know I don’t keep up with the news the way you do.”

  “It was a big story at the time. Anyway, he was the one who exposed the scam by going undercover. He had his life threatened, the whole thing. I’d love to know why he’s here.” Jo fell silent as her mind clicked over various possible reasons for his appearance in town, pleased to notice that her mind finally seemed to be functioning on all cylinders. She was relieved. For a while after she’d first awakened, she’d been afraid she’d permanently pickled her brain.

  “Uh, Jo? It’s October, the beginning of our tourist season. Could it be that he’s simply here on a vacation?”

&n
bsp; “Could be,” she admitted slowly. Heat was tickling the tips of her fingers and moving up her arms. “Lainey,” she said. Her voice was faint, her eyes wide. Excited color washed into her cheeks. “I’ve got the tingle.”

  Her friend’s eyes widened. In alarm. “Oh, no. No. No. It’s only your hangover, and…”

  “I’m telling you it’s the tingle,” Jo insisted.

  Lainey slumped in her chair. “I hate it when you have the tingle. It always means trouble.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “Exaggerating? I don’t think so. You had the tingle just before you talked me into going on that blind date last month with that friend of Ralph Byrdsong’s. I should have known better than to date the best friend of a man whose hobby is collecting leg manacles. You said you had the tingle and that you just knew this guy was the right one for me.”

  Jo looked away. “Sal wasn’t so bad.”

  “He was a prison escapee. The sheriff tracked him down right in front of the theater where we had agreed to meet for a movie. It was just like a replay of John Dillinger. I felt like the woman in red.”

  Jo winced sympathetically. “Maybe that wasn’t the tingle, after all. Maybe it was a rash or something.” She shrugged. “Look on the bright side. He said he’d never forget you.”

  “Jo, my friend, he thought I’d turned him in. That was a threat, not a promise.” Lainey gave Jo a fierce look. “So don’t go telling me anything about that blasted tingle of yours.”

  Jo relented. “Okay, I admit I may have been a little off there, but this time, I know it’s going to lead to something big.”

  “Yeah, maybe this time you’ll be the one trying to escape prison,” Lainey said morosely. “Did you ever think the tingle might truly be nothing but allergies?”

  “Don’t be silly. Besides, it’s never failed to bring something exciting into my life, and you’re the one who agreed I need to make some changes.”