The Great Jackalope Stampede by Ann Charles, C. S. Kunkle

rescue when I was being threatened. She may be right on this one.”
    Everything revolved around conspiracy theories in Claire’s world. The girl had watched too many Scooby Doo episodes when they were kids. “So you’ve been looking up information on that pocket watch Claire had in the rec room?”
    Katie parked in front of The Shaft and killed the engine. “That and some other pieces.”
    “Like what?” Anything that Ronnie could pawn for a quick thousand that would help her escape the goons keeping an eye on her? She’d find a way to pay Ruby back after the issues with Lyle’s illegal financial activities had settled down.
    “Some of the first editions in Ruby’s bookcase, a bunch of those antique cameras Joe had, and some stock certificates Gramps found last month, to name a few things.”
    Stock certificates? How hard was it to cash in on those? She couldn’t leave a paper trail, though. She would have to settle for returning to that greasy dude’s pawn shop with that pocket watch in hand. “Why don’t you let me help you out?”
    “What do you mean?” Katie climbed out of the car.
    Ronnie opened her door. “Let me borrow your car today and go hang out at the library in Yuccaville, do some research.”
    “You don’t even know what to look for.”
    “Don’t you have some notes already on it all? Pictures?”
    “No pictures. Claire’s been pretty adamant about not taking pictures before today.” Kate’s forehead crinkled in thought. “I think I left my notes back at … no wait. They’re in the trunk.”
    She popped the trunk and pulled out a flowery backpack. “You sure you want to do this? I thought you were boycotting the internet these days.”
    Which was the excuse Ronnie had used when Claire had offered to help her get her resume up online via a job hunting website. The last thing she needed was to be posting her address online where any Tom, Dick, or Harry-the-hit-man could find it.
    “What else do I have to do here? I’m tired of sitting behind the counter and painting my nails with Jessica’s glittery nail polish.”
    “Fine. Have at it.” She handed Ronnie the backpack. “But you need to be back tonight to pick me up when we close.”
    “I’ll be here.”
    “And be careful with my car. I just got it back from the body shop after my last … uh … accident.”
    “You mean after the last time you plowed into your boyfriend’s pickup.”
    “Stuff a sock in it, rubba dub.” Katie tossed her the keys and headed into the bar.
    Hopeful for the first time since the pawn shop creep had spread manure all over her field of dreams, Ronnie zipped around the back of Katie’s car and slid behind the wheel.
    Perfect! Now to go find out how much she could snag for that pocket watch.
    She pulled out of The Shaft’s parking lot and headed toward Yuccaville, cranking up the radio and singing along with a sad Dolly Parton song about a bunch of laughing and drinking going on two doors down. If she could score some quick cash with one of Ruby’s antiques, she might be able to get the hell out of Dodge before she ended up polka-dotted with bullet holes. Then she could join the party going on two doors down, too.
    After cruising around Yuccaville’s dusty streets for twenty minutes, she found the library. Just her luck, it sat kitty corner from the Sheriff’s Department building. At least the parking spots were plentiful this morning. She grabbed the flowery backpack and a sunhat from Katie’s backseat. Hiding behind her sunglasses, she stepped out into the hot sunlight, careful to keep her head down and face averted in case Sheriff Hardass was daydreaming out the window this afternoon about handing out more speeding tickets to poor, desperate women.
    Last night after her initial striptease, the big ape had relented to driving her home. He had thrown her shirt back at her and ordered her to buckle up. They had ridden to Ruby’s place with the thump-thump of tar strips on the asphalt and a