The Great Jackalope Stampede

by Ann Charles

  With a cackling laugh, Aunt Millie and her red walker squeaked off down the sidewalk, probably heading toward the library.

  “Shit,” he said under his breath. “This is going to get a lot of laughs at the Thanksgiving table this year.”

  Ronnie adjusted her shirt, fanning herself. “I didn’t expect it to go like that.”

  “Me either. That’s what I get for going against my better judgment.”

  Her, too. Lesson learned. Don’t play with fire. Her fingers and lips were still burning.

  The silence in the cab reminded her of prom night when she caught her date masturbating under the bleachers while watching their Spanish teacher do the tango with the basketball coach—sticky and awkward.

  She cleared her throat. “Was there something else you wanted to tell me?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He pulled a crinkled piece of paper from his pants’ pocket and handed it to her. Then he grabbed his hat from where it had fallen onto the floor at some point and shoved open the pickup door. Leaning inside, he looked her over once more, pointing at the paper. “You need to tell me what’s going on with that.”

  With a nod, he closed the door, planted his hat on his head, and strode off.

  Ronnie watched his backside in the rearview mirror until he climbed into an unmarked sedan and cruised by her without even a wave.

  She looked down at the paper in her hand, smoothing it out on the bench seat next to her.

  “Fuck,” she whispered, grasping the steering wheel until her world stopped swirling toward the drain.

  The article on the German castle and stolen pocket watch tried to crinkle back into a bowl shape. The Sheriff must have found it last night while he was at The Shaft. She should have picked it up before drinking all of that gin. If only her mom hadn’t … no, she was not going to play the blame game, anymore. This was her fault.

  Now what?

  With one last glance at Mindy Lou’s love nest, she started up the Ford and took off for home. Maybe Claire would know what to do to get Ronnie out of this mess.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mac’s Sunday evening with Claire was not going as planned.

  Not even close.

  It had all started this afternoon when Jess’s dad had called and cancelled movie night with her because of a migraine.

  Ruby had taken one look at Jess’s teary eyes and decided to take her to the movie in his place. “A movie with my baby girl is exactly what I need right now,” she had told Mac, who was down in the basement office going through a bunch of records and information he had collected on Ruby’s mines over the last couple of months.

  “You do remember the movie is about zombie hunting vampires, right?”

  She placed a plate of lemon bars in front of him, one of his favorites since childhood. The smell alone made him swoon a little.

  “I know it’s not exactly some fancy mother-daughter tea,” Ruby ran her finger over the part of the desk not covered with copies and maps, frowning at the dust she found. “But any bonding time at this age is good, don’t ya think?”

  If Ruby was taking Jess to the movies, that meant Claire was his for the night. Sweet. Mac picked up one of the powdered sugar crusted lemon bars. It was still warm. His mouth watered, thinking about lemon bars and Claire—naked. Maybe he should dust her with powdered sugar, too.

  “I need a favor,” Ruby said, interrupting his thoughts of Claire. He bit into the bar and groaned in appreciation, then looked up at his aunt. “Name it.”

  “Well,” she hesitated, which made Mac’s shoulders tense. “Since I’m fixin’ to go to the movies, the boys are gonna need a fourth player for their usual Sunday night Euchre game.”

  No way. Mac grabbed another bar. “Isn’t there somebody else who could fill in?”

  She held up her hand and began ticking off her fingers. “Natalie left.”

  Claire’s cousin had loaded up her pickup after lunch, passed around hugs goodbye with promises to return again soon, and headed back home to South Dakota. Claire had watched Natalie’s dust trail until it dissipated in the breeze, then she had turned to her grandfather and told him he’d better buck up because she couldn’t finish the restroom on her own.

  “Claire can’t because Kate needs her help at the bar—Gary is out sick still with the flu.”

  “What about Ronnie?”

  “She’s already at The Shaft, coverin’ for Arlene. It’s her night off.”

  Butch needed to get his ass home soon before the Morgan sisters took over the bar and ran him out of town.

  “Deborah can play,” Mac said. “It’s about time she came out of her bedroom and faced the music.” Claire’s mom had been hiding away since “the incident.”

  Ruby grimaced. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Those boys will fight more if she’s there, and I sure don’t need Harley reinjuring that leg.”

  Mac shoved the whole lemon bar in his mouth. Fine. Maybe he could play a few hands and then head up to The Shaft and spend the night keeping Claire company while she worked.

  One of these days he was going to learn how to say “No” to his aunt, damn it.

  A few hours later he found himself sitting at the Euchre table as agreed, holding a lousy hand containing only two trump cards in a rec room full of Chester’s cigar smoke and Manny’s liniment fumes.

  Harley was off cigars still and now beer, too, thanks to some new pain medication he had started yesterday, so he had no vices available to soften his current cantankerousness. Mac was playing it smart and keeping his mouth shut and fingers back. After the last week or two of being on the receiving end of some of Harley’s teeth gnashes, Mac was happy to let Manny hold the chair and whip for a while.

  “Hearts is trump,” Chester declared, leading with the Ace of hearts.

  Mac had no hearts, so he tossed out the ten of spades. He waited for a smart-assed remark from one of the three musketeers, but none came. Conversation had been at a minimum so far. Manny’s romantic romp with Harley’s daughter had left the atmosphere in the room unstable at best. Mac was beginning to believe his aunt had more reasons for choosing zombies and vampires over Euchre tonight than bonding time with her kid.

  Manny sat on Mac’s left, following his turn of play. He frowned down at his card while twirling the end of his moustache.

  “Any time, lover boy,” Chester said around his cigar and puffed smoke at his partner. “Don’t mind me; I’m just dying a slow death over here.”

  Manny touched one card, then another.

  Gramps drummed his fingers on the table. “I sure wish you’d thought that hard before weaseling your way into my daughter’s bed.”

  “I did not ‘weasel’ as you say.” Manny threw down the Jack of diamonds, the second highest trump card. “I was invited, not that it’s any of your business.”

  Harley slapped the Jack of hearts down on top of Manny’s card, winning the round with the big daddy of trump cards. “Of course it’s my business. She’s my daughter and young enough to be yours.”

  “Be careful, viejo.” Manny had an old West one-eyed squint going on. “Your new bride is not much older than your daughter. There’s not a lot of room at this table for you to talk.”

  “Personally,” Chester rolled his cigar in the ash tray as he spoke, “I think Carrera here is my new hero. I didn’t think a man could tame that shrew without losing a testicle or two.” He raised one bushy eyebrow at Manny. “You do still have both huevos after mating with her, don’t you?”

  “Sí. How do you say it—her bark is worse than her bite.”

  “So she does bite in bed then.” Chester grinned. “I win that bet. You owe me a six pack.”

  “Keep in mind that it’s my daughter you two are running your mouths about.” Harley’s cheeks had darkened since Mac had last looked at him.

  Much more of this teasing and Mac might be calling 911. Ruby needed to install a defibrillator on the wall next to the phone if these guys were going to keep having sex in the hous
e.

  “What are you shaking your head at, sweet buns?” Chester asked.

  Mac had not missed hearing that nickname. “Nothing.” He looked at Harley. “It’s your turn.”

  Grumbling under his breath, Harley tossed out the Ace of clubs.

  Chester and then Mac followed his suit.

  Manny trumped it with a low heart.

  “Now you’re just being an asshole,” Harley said.

  “I’m just following your lead, hombre.”

  Chester grunted. “Would you two quit pillow fighting and get back to playing the game like grown men?”

  “He started it,” Manny said, leading the next round with the King of diamonds.

  “You started it when you climbed into my daughter’s bed.” Harley threw down the Ace of diamonds. “In your old age, you seemed to have forgotten the golden rule—family is off limits.”

  “She invited me into her room,” Manny said.

  “You should have said, ‘No.’”

  “And reject her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you blind to your daughter’s pain?”

  Chester trumped Harley’s Ace with the ten of hearts. Mac slid the Queen of diamonds across the table, really wishing they would change the subject to something other than sex with Claire’s mother.

  “She needed a man to make her feel better.”

  Chester grunted again while pulling in the pile he won. “Carrera has a point. You should have heard her last night, Ford. Jessica’s dad’s rejection cut ‘er deep. The way I see it, Carrera took one for the team. We should be thanking him for smoothing the edge off her.” He tossed out the Queen of clubs to start the next round.

  “Nobody asked for your opinion.” Harley glared at his cards.

  Mac followed Chester’s lead with the King of clubs. It had been nice not to have Deborah flouncing around all day, speaking her mind when nobody had asked her opinion, bossing Ruby around in between chastising her. Mac took a drink of his iced tea. Maybe Manny should continue with his tequila and whipped cream therapy sessions, at least until Mac headed back to Tucson Tuesday night.

  “Besides,” Manny said, twirling his moustache again. “Maybe I’ll make an honest woman of her someday.”

  Mac swallowed a laugh along with his tea, coughing into his hand as his eyes watered.

  Chester laughed and swatted Mac on the back a few times. “You got sweet buns all choked up on that one.”

  Harley shot Mac a glare. “He shouldn’t be laughing, not with Claire in her situation and no ring on her finger.”

  Mac took another drink to clear his throat. “What situation?”

  Harley’s blue eyes widened for a moment, then he looked down at his cards. “Never mind.”

  Claire’s grandfather was suddenly focusing way too hard on the few cards left in his hand. Mac turned to the other two clowns. “What situation?” he asked again.

  Chester covered his mouth as if he were going to whisper. “The baby,” he said loud and clear.

  Mac blinked, unable to make things add up in his head. “What does Kate being pregnant have to do with Claire and me getting married?”

  “What?” Harley’s forehead crinkled like a squeezebox. “Kate’s pregnant, too?”

  Too? “What do you mean ‘too’?”

  Chester snorted. “There must be something in the water around here getting everyone knocked up.”

  “Claire’s pregnant?” The cards fell from Mac’s fingers, drifting to the floor.

  “Shit,” Harley said. “There is too much sex going on around this place. Reminds me of a bunch of damned rabbits.”

  Chester chuckled. “It’s like the Great Jackalope Stampede of ’58 I read about while waiting for you at the doctor’s office the other day.”

  How could Claire be pregnant? She said she was on her period.

  “Dios mio!” Manny covered his heart, his face paling.

  “What’s got your knickers all twisted up?” Chester asked, stubbing out his cigar.

  Mac raked his fingers through his hair. Why hadn’t Claire told him she was pregnant? Was that why she had been acting so funny last week each time they had spoken on the phone? And here he had thought it was something to do with the damned pocket watch that she was not telling him.

  “All this talk about bambinos reminded me of something.”

  “What now?” Harley said.

  Manny gulped. “I didn’t wear any protection last night.”

  * * *

  “Why is this place so freaking busy tonight?” Claire asked Kate, who stood at the cash register at The Shaft ringing up orders. “It’s Sunday for crissakes. Don’t these people have to work tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” Kate said, impaling an order on the sharp pointy metal holder. “But Sunday is our third busiest night after Friday and Saturday. People come here to try to forget that they have to go back to work tomorrow.”

  When Claire had agreed to help Kate at The Shaft after a long afternoon of sanding and painting, she’d expected to be pouring a beer or three an hour. Not struggling to keep up with Ronnie and Kate, who kept bringing her drink orders and dirtying up all of the glasses she kept washing. Butch needed to quit fooling around with buying old cars and get his butt back here. Claire much preferred to be on the other side of the bar when hanging out at The Shaft.

  Ronnie dropped onto a bar stool and blew her hair out of her face. “Here’s another one.” She held out an order to Claire.

  Claire frowned down at it. “This has food on it.”

  “I know. Let the cook know.”

  “My job is drinks only.”

  “Don’t be a putz. You’re right there by the kitchen window.”

  “You want me to go around and take orders for you, too, lazy bones?”

  Ronnie rolled her eyes. “Quit your whining and just take care of it.”

  “Knock it off, both of you,” Kate said, coming over and taking the order from Claire. “You two are acting like some of my students used to.” She called the food order back through the kitchen window. “Next you’ll be shooting spit wads at each other behind my back.”

  “Sorry,” Claire said, grabbing two glasses and filling them with beer. “What’s that third drink?”

  “Gin and tonic,” Ronnie said. When Claire shot her a suspicious glance, Ronnie held up her hands. “It’s not for me, I swear.”

  Kate had made it clear that if either of them drank on the job, she would cut off their hair while they slept. Her inability to sleep through the night at the moment made her threat all the more real.

  “I’m going to run to the bathroom,” Kate said.

  “You okay?” Claire asked.

  She nodded, fanning herself. “Just need to take care of business and cool off my face.”

  When Kate left, Ronnie leaned on the bar, her expression earnest. “Claire, I need to tell you something.”

  “If this is about you stealing my favorite mohair sweater back in high school and burning cigarette holes in it, I know already. Natalie told me about it last week while we were listening to an oldies station on the radio while working.”

  “That tattletale,” Ronnie muttered. “It’s not about the past. Well, not about our past anyway.”

  Claire poured the gin and tonic. “Spill.”

  “It’s about the pocket watch.”

  She put the drinks on a tray and set it down in front of Ronnie. “What about it?”

  “I took it.”

  “You what!?”

  “I took the watch. It’s not stolen.”

  “What … why would you do that?”

  “Because I found something out about it that puts you at risk.”

  “Me?”

  “You and everyone else in the family.”

  Claire frowned. “I already knew we were all at risk because of it. I’ve been telling everyone that for weeks but nobody would listen to me.”

  “I know, I know.”

  “Then why would you take it an
d let me think it was stolen?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “I’m waiting.”

  A sharp whistle from over by the pool table caught their attention. An old cowboy was waving Ronnie over.

  “I’ll be right back,” Ronnie said and took the tray with her.

  While she waited for Ronnie to return, Claire busied herself with trying to come up with an explanation why her sister would steal the watch from a secure safe in Ruby’s basement and think that would keep the family safe. For the life of her, she couldn’t come up with a legitimate reason. Then she remembered the article Ronnie had tried to show her last night. She looked around on the floor, searching the shelves and drawers behind the bar, and wondered where it had gone.

  “What are you looking for?” Kate asked, back from the bathroom.

  “Did you see a wrinkled piece of paper on the floor back here last night?”

  “I put it next to the cash register. I figured someone must have dropped it and might come back for it.”

  “Did they?”

  “Must have. It was gone a little later.”

  Ronnie returned with another order and handed it to Claire.

  “Did you pick up that paper you were trying to show me last night?” Claire asked her.

  “You mean this?” Ronnie pulled a folded piece of paper out of her back pocket. When Claire nodded, she said, “No.”

  Claire scoffed. “What do you mean? You’re showing it to me right now.”

  “I know, but I didn’t pick it up. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We have a problem.”

  Kate moved in closer. “What’s going on?”

  “Ronnie took the watch out of the safe,” Claire explained. “She’s about to tell me why, and it better be good.”

  Ronnie smoothed out the paper on the bar. “This article talks about how the watch was stolen from this German castle.”

  Claire stared down at the picture of the castle, a memory of another article she had found in the file cabinet down in Ruby’s office flickering in her head. “I think Joe has something on this castle in his old files down in the basement. It was in German, too, so I couldn’t read it.”