The Great Jackalope Stampede (27 page)

Without looking back, Manny and then Ruby followed her inside and closed the door behind them.

“Wow!” Natalie came down the steps, joining them.

Kate blew out a breath. “That’s going to make life hell for the rest of us.”

“Where have you been?” Ronnie returned to the conversation, no longer leaking squeaks. “Hell has come and gone. We’re in Hell’s basement now dynamiting deeper by the day.”

“Jesus,” Claire rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. “I could really use a cigarette and a beer.”

“How about a Shirley Temple?” Natalie squeezed her shoulder.

“I could smoke and you could smell my breath in between puffs,” Ronnie offered.

Sighing, Claire shook her head. “I don’t want to be pregnant.”

Much to her surprise, Kate pulled her into a hug. “Sometimes we don’t always get what we want.”

She must be referring to Butch.

“But lucky for you,” Natalie tugged her free of Kate’s hold and led her toward her sister’s car, which was still ticking in the darkness. “You have a wonderful, warm, and loving mother to support you in your time of need.”

That made all of them laugh, especially Kate, who really cackled until Ronnie asked, “Katie, are you flipping out?”

Kate nodded and then shook her head. Her laughter stopped on a dime.

“Wait!” Claire said as her cousin shoved her into the back seat. “Where are we going?”

“You’re going to watch me get soused for my going away party.”

“But you’re not leaving until Sunday.”

“It’s a three-night extravaganza.” She pointed at Kate. “Jeeves, take us to The Shaft. Let’s go find Ronnie a man.”

“Why?” Kate asked.

Natalie grinned. “So she can beat him up.”

Chapter Fourteen

Friday, October 5th

The grocery store in Yuccaville was crawling with shoppers. Ronnie dodged heaped carts in every aisle. With their paychecks still warm in their bank accounts, the mining community en masse appeared to be stocking up for another week of living the glamorous life of digging for copper.

Ronnie grabbed the barbecue sauce scrawled on Ruby’s list and dropped it into her grocery basket. She scanned the slip of paper—
refried beans, bacon, bananas, BBQ sauce, beets, brownie mix
. Apparently, tonight’s feature film was going to be “Dinner at Ruby’s,” brought to viewers by the letter B.

Standing in line behind a sweat-ringed guy who looked and smelled like he had spent the day eating the dust billowing off a mega-huge mining truck, Ronnie searched the sea of heads. She was looking for a familiar patch of ginger red in the crowd.

Jessica was supposed to meet her in line with her own basket full of the other half of Ruby’s list—dish soap, liniment rub for Gramps’s leg, three packs of low-energy lightbulbs, and a box of tampons. They had split up to save time, but now Jess was nowhere to be seen.

She was probably still sulking about Ronnie being the one to pick her up from school today instead of her new boyfriend, whom Gramps had waylaid back at the R.V. park. The silly boy should have known better than to ask the old man running the General Store counter directions to the high school in Yuccaville. He must have left his brains back in his dorm in Tucson and packed his dick instead.

“This is so embarrassing.” Jessica spoke from behind her.

Ronnie turned. “What? Being seen at the grocery store?” She was clueless as to what was cool these days on the teen scene.

“No, hanging out in the tampon aisle. I can’t believe you made me pick those out.”

If she thought that was embarrassing, she should try having a handful of Feds explain that the video camera Lyle had hidden away in the master bathroom had a clear shot of the shower—the one with the handheld massaging shower head installed behind the clear glass shower door. Ronnie had nightmares about the stag parties in the evidence room for weeks after learning that detail.

Ronnie emptied her basket’s contents on the black motorized belt. “They’re for you, kid, not me. Why should I have to carry them around?”

“Mom always buys them for me so I don’t have to be seen with them.”

“You know,” Ronnie grabbed the box from Jess’s basket and tossed it on the belt. “If you move in with your dad, you’re going to have to buy embarrassing stuff like tampons all of the time.”

“Who said I was thinking of moving in with Dad?” Jess’s voice had an equal pinch of suspicion and defensiveness. “Is Mom trying to get rid of me?”

Ronnie shook her head. “Nobody said anything. I figure that with your dad in town buying you stuff left and right like that necklace you showed me, taking you to the movies and all of that jazz, you’re probably thinking life with him would be a lot nicer than staying with your mom and Gramps.”

The teenager’s cheeks darkened as she unloaded her basket onto the belt. “Dad said he would let me go out on dates, but Harley thinks I’m too young, and Mom keeps listening to him instead of me. It’s not fair. Harley is so old-fashioned. He wants me to wait to date until I’m eighteen. Can you believe that? They might as well send me off to some nun school.”

Deborah had made Ronnie wait until she was seventeen to start dating, and then insisted on being present during the first date. In the meantime, Claire and Kate had been sneaking under the bleachers with boys during football games and playing tongue tag with whomever they felt like. Which of the three of them was more well-balanced was up in the air, but only Ronnie had ever sought counseling from a professional.

And a lot of good that had done.

The therapist had strongly suggested Ronnie stay with her husband. That she try harder to break through their communication barriers and give him yet another chance to show his devotion to the sanctity of their marriage vows. A few years later they had a new communication barrier—a thick plate of Plexiglas, and their marriage had turned out to be a steaming pile of lies. These days, her therapy came in the form of gin and tonic, which was much easier to swallow and cost a hell of a lot less per hour.

“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.”