Jackrabbit Junction Jitters by Ann Charles

She
brushed the stone crumbs from her linen shorts, straightened the hem of her
white, silk tank top, and braced for the storm.
    “What in the hell is wrong with you, woman?” Butch’s glare
rivaled the sun.
    Kate lifted her chin. “If you’re referring to the possible
variance in our reports, I can assure you—”
    “I’m referring to the load of shit you tried to slide under
Grady’s nose.”
    “Grady?”
    “Sheriff Grady Harrison.”
    Kate was surprised the sheriff’s name wasn’t Opie, Jeb, or
Billy Bob. “Well, I was just relaying the facts as I saw them.”
    “Really?” Butch’s eyes narrowed. He leaned closer, nearly
nose-to-nose. “Explain to me how I was backing recklessly into oncoming traffic
when I hadn’t even left the parking lot.”
    Kate held her ground, unruffled by his proximity. She’d
battled screaming, outraged parents enough times to know a level voice and
polite smile were her best defenses. “You were backing up without checking to
see if anyone was pulling into the lot.”
    “And you were the ‘oncoming traffic’?”
    “Exactly.” So she’d been reaching on that one, but it had a
grain of sense to it. Unfortunately, the sheriff had only chuckled and kept
writing, unlike Butch, whose fists were now clenched.
    “And what about the ‘failure to use a signal’ part?”
    That had taken some creativity, but Kate had been spinning
the truth since potty training. “Had you used your turn signal, I might’ve been
able to swerve to avoid your truck.”
    “I was backing up.”
    “All the more reason to use your signal to indicate the
direction in which you were going to back.”
    Butch opened his mouth, then glanced at Jess and snapped it
shut. He shook his head. “Amazing. You crash into me and it’s my fault.”
    Kate smiled politely.
    “Woman, they should take your license, cut it into pieces,
and spread it over the Sonoran Desert. It’s a good thing Grady could see
through your bullshit. I’m just lucky you have insurance.”
    “Umm, about that.” Kate almost swallowed her tongue at the
death-threat look Butch nailed her with. She took a deep breath and continued. “I’d
like to skip turning this into my insurance and just pay for it myself. You can
choose which repair facility you’d like to use, so long as the prices are
reasonable. I’m sure you ‘know a guy,’ being a bartender and all, but I’d
prefer to stick with legitimate shops. A triple-A mechanic in Yuccaville should
do just fine.”
    Butch stared at her, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “You’ve
got to be fuckin’ kidding me.”
    “Really, Mr. … ah, Butch.” She nudged her head toward Jess,
who watched them with her mouth open wide. Kate could see the wad of purple gum
on her tongue. “We have young ears listening.”
    Butch’s chest rose and fell rapidly several times. “Listen,
lady—”
    “Excuse me, Ms. Morgan.” Sheriff Harrison approached them
with an unreadable expression on his face.
    “Yes, Sheriff?” Kate beamed at him, relieved to have a
referee enter the ring and break up the fight. Maybe good ol’ Grady had changed
his mind about the citation she still clutched in her sweaty palm.
    “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I’m gonna have to take you in.”
    Kate blinked. “Take me into where?”
    “The police station.”
    The air suddenly seemed pizza oven hot. Kate’s smile
faltered. “The police station?” She tittered, sounding like her mother after a
martini and hating herself for it. “Is being a victim in an accident a crime in
this state?”
    “No. But driving a stolen vehicle is.”
    * * *
    Claire and Ruby sat on the General Store’s front porch and
basked in the warm rays of the setting sun. The early evening storm rumbled its
goodbyes as it traveled on to the next valley, a cool breeze its parting gift.
The air, washed clean and sun dried, still smelled of wet greasewood and damp
dirt.
    “So, the sheriff detained Kate for six hours.” Claire said.
    Sipping from