Turkey Ranch Road Rage Read Online Free Page A

Lucille said, tipping her nose in the air. “The Smart People Against Stupid Ideas.”
    I sorted out the acronym in my head, wondering how long it had taken them to come up with that. “So, Leroy, how big is this group, and who else was arrested besides space cadet number one here?”
    Lucille glared and snorted then stomped over to her chair and sat down.
    “Oh, just the three of them,” Leroy said, but that was from the morning incident. Nobody was arrested at the rally.”
    I wondered why no one got nailed for the courthouse fiasco, but I did not wonder about who he meant by the “three of them.” He meant Mother and her two very best friends in the whole world, to use her words, Merline Campbell and Agnes Riddles. I also wondered about the “friends” terminology since Lucille and Merline were eternally locked in a fashion/coiffure competition that bordered on guerilla warfare. Agnes has tried to mediate, but despite her best efforts the two still managed to one-up each other until Merline sported six pounds of sparkling spangles on her sweatshirt and Lucille had glowing pink hair. I couldn’t decide if uniting them against the park was a good thing or not.
    “Miz Campbell and Miz Riddles posted their bonds right away,” Leroy added, hesitantly, glancing between me and the mother ship. “Miz Jackson didn’t want to do that.”
    “I told them to go on home,” Lucille said magnanimously, hand to her chest, like she was ready to recite the pledge. “It’s my house and I’m the one that should suffer most for the cause.”
    Somehow I didn’t quite equate this with some of your bigger causes, like say women’s rights over their own bodies, equal pay for equal work, or even save the whales. But then I wasn’t the one about to have campers lining up for the dump station in view of my back porch either “How long has this park thing been going on?”
    “I’ve seen people prowling around over there for months now,” Lucille said, snatching her cup from the desk. “Out behind my fence, poking around my yard and peeping in my windows. That’s just flat trespassing.” She sipped the coffee and sighed. “I should have kept your dad’s deer rifle, that’s what I should have done. I could have gotten them with that.”
    Yes, meaning that she hadn’t gotten them with what she had used. Her handgun is not a long distance weapon, thank God. I sighed and rubbed my eyes again just for the drill. It had yet to change anything, but a moment of melodramatic martyrdom made me feel a little better. “What were they doing behind the house? Staking out camper pads? Counting horny toads? Drilling for oil, what?”
    Her head snapped up. “Why’d you say that?”
    “Say what?”
    “They’re up to no good, that’s what they’re up to.” Lucille set her jaw and her narrowed her eyes darted this way and that. “Right there behind my back fence.”
    I know that look and it never bodes well. Never. So, what had triggered it? Camper pads and lizards were not new on the conversational menu, but my offhand comment about drilling for oil was. Suspicion bubbled up like Jed’s Texas tea. “What have you seen back there? Trucks, equipment, what?”
    More eye darting and brow furrowing. “Yes, well, there were trucks out there, yes, mostly pickups. They had lots of lights too, and one bigger truck with a shiny silver pole on it. I tried to take pictures but you couldn’t tell anything, I don’t know what they’re doing but they’re up to no good, that’s for sure.”
    “Tell me about the truck with the pole.”
    “It was making all kinds of racket,” she huffed. “It rattled my walls, that’s what it did. I thought we were having earthquakes.” She reached for her cup again and sipped, but her arm was shaking as she did so. “Just made me so mad I could spit.”
    As we all know, Mother does not spit, but she was indeed mad. But why was she that mad? “You know, I hate to say it, but it is Bob Little’s land