Coyote Inn

Excerpt

When Jarrika stepped off the bus in the middle of her new hometown, she didn’t know what to expect—people being neighborly, kids running around, maybe. What she got was tossed into the middle of the past. Neat rows of houses lined the streets, all similar in style and size. Lawns were manicured, and there must have been a rule book somewhere about what to include in the décor, because at each driveway lay a bicycle turned on its side like the rider had just dashed inside for a quick homemade snack from Mom. She half expected a 1950s Oldsmobile to come rolling around the corner, but prayed it wouldn’t. Were there even any black people in this town?

Jarrika shifted her bag higher on her shoulder and gripped her suitcase’s handle. With any luck, the raggedy thing would hold up until she reached her destination. At the end of the residential street, above the trees, Jarrika spotted the mountains beyond. She smiled as hope swelled in her chest. If the people were as friendly as the land was beautiful, everything would be okay in Oregon. This move had to work out because she was out of money and out of resources.

Once Jarrika stopped to check the address she’d been given against the nearest house. She groaned realizing she had another five blocks at least. When sweat poured down her back from the beaming sun and her physical exertion, Jarrika stopped. The neatly paved road had turned to partial gravel, then to full-out dirt. The lawns on this end were a tad less cared for, and the houses farther in between.

Spotting a building at the end of the block that was in desperate need of a paint job among other repairs, Jarrika pleaded with God that this was not Coyote Inn. “You can’t be so cruel,” she said to her maker. He didn’t answer, and sure enough, the joke was on her.

When she was close enough, she noticed the sign above the wraparound porch. One side had come loose, so it dangled, faded and worn. If she squinted, she could make out the Inn part, but most of the letters in Coyote were missing.

“Great,” she muttered. “I’ve inherited a stupid inn that nobody with half a brain would ever want, let alone visit.”

A low growl behind her made her spin around and stumble back to fall onto the steps. The wood under her cracked, but Jarrika was focused on the animal with its teeth bared and eyes so pale they creeped her out. Her throat went dry, and she held up a hand, hoping it wouldn’t set the beast off. “Good boy. I’m not an enemy. You don’t want to eat me.”

The animal inched closer.

Jarrika squeaked. “Help? Anyone around here? Please!”

The door behind her opened, and when the animal looked to see who was coming through, Jarrika took the opportunity to scramble up the steps and leap behind the man standing there. She gripped the man’s arm and peeked out. “You have a gun or something? I think it’s a wolf.”

“Is that how you city folks handle your problems?” he asked. “Just shoot it?”

“He almost attacked me, and you’re just standing there.” She hadn’t removed her eyes from the animal. Since the man came on the scene, the thing acted like it hadn’t a moment ago been sizing her up as its next meal. The stupid beast had the nerve to sit down as if it was simply enjoying the fresh air. Hadn’t she just walked down from civilization with the lawns and the bikes and whatnot? What was this?

“For your information,” the man said, still not moving to help her, “he’s a coyote. And he’s mine. I have no intension of shooting him. Now, mind telling me what you’re doing on my property, miss?”

“Your property!” Forgetting the creepy pet, she rounded on the man, at last giving him a once-over, and promptly forgot what she was going to say. She was pretty tall for a woman at five foot ten, but this man was taller, at least six-four. He was all lean muscle, not an inch of fat that she could see, no weight wasted. His chiseled jaw appeared cut from steel, bristled like he shaved with a knife—when he felt like it. What unsettled her most was that his eyes matched those of the coyote, being pale and hard like he didn’t give a crap about her or anyone else.

His shirt hung open to the waist, showing off rock-solid abs, and the aforementioned knife was tucked in the band of his slacks. Jarrika wanted to look lower but was too nervous to. She took a step back. Tall-and-Dangerous reached into the bowl in his hand and removed a scrap of meat. He turned toward the coyote, allowing her to see that he had pulled long, silken black hair into a ponytail on his back. He whistled, and the animal came bounding up like a pet dog.

The fact that he ignored her pissed Jarrika off, so she went down to lug her suitcase onto the porch. Seeing she struggled, the man made no move to help her. Swearing he’d be all apologies when she showed him just who belonged here and who didn’t, she snapped open the case and searched around for the manila envelope she’d tucked there before leaving for her trip.

The coyote came up to nose around in the case. To Jarrika’s embarrassment the mangy mutt snagged a pair of her panties and took off with them. Jarrika jumped to her feet. “Hey!”

“Casey, get back here,” the man yelled, but the animal kept running and soon disappeared.

Jarrika glared at him. “You owe me a pair of panties.”

He ogled her up and down, the interest in his eyes annoying her. “I’m sure you’ve got more.”

Jarrika clenched her hands at her sides and then snatched up the envelope. She ripped open the flap and pulled out the official document she’d been sent. Handing it to him, she couldn’t keep the smug expression from her face. “This will show you that I have every right to be here, and you don’t.”

He took all of two seconds to peruse it before handing it back. “That’s a load of horseshit, if you’ll pardon my French.”

“I won’t!” She snatched the sheet back and stabbed it with her finger. “It says right here in this letter that I have inherited this inn, and right here is the deed to this property. You can’t deny my rights. I’ll get a policeman or someone to come to make you leave.” She put her hands on her hips and drew herself up to her full height. “Maybe you think I don’t belong here because I’m black. Is that it? I know how these small-town people think.”

He tugged his knife from his waistband and began to clean his fingernails with it. Jarrika tried not to show her disgust. After a minute, he tapped it on the palm of his hand and started over toward her. Oh no, he’s going to kill me. When will I learn keep my mouth shut?

With each step he advanced, she took one in retreat until she hit the wooden rail behind her. He stood over her, eyes narrowed. Her heart raced, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t all about how scared silly she was.

“Trust me, your lovely chocolate skin has nothing to do with why you don’t have a right to be here.” His pale gaze dropped to her lips, and he leaned closer but didn’t touch her. He breathed deep like he was taking in her essence. “You smell like a city woman.” The disgust was not disguised in the least.

“So what?” she demanded, wanting to run but forcing herself to stand her ground.

He jerked the papers from her fingers and speared them with the knife on the post next to her. A jab of his finger under the county name brought her attention to it. “In your excitement to claim my property, did you stop to notice the discrepancies?”

Dread rolled in her belly. “W-What discrepancies?”

“The fact that the county name is fictional, for one.”

It couldn’t be. Jarrika looked at the deed, and then she tugged the map she’d purchased to help her find Mythe Cove, Oregon. She peered close to the tiny letters on the sheet, and her heart slammed in her chest. Had she been the subject of a cruel joke? She’d ridden across the country, had spent her last dime on the bus ride, and hadn’t eaten since morning. Still, she clung to hope that it was just a typo.

“That could be a small mistake,” she whispered. Excited, she had examined the document over and over for two weeks before she decided to come. She couldn’t find anything else that might be wrong. And the letter that had come with the deed, sent from the county clerk’s office—that had to be real. The postmark showed Mythe Cove. The clerk’s signature and title looked official.

“A mistake, huh?” He pointed her back to the deed. “Mythe Cove, Oregon Territory? Yeah, we’re not a state or anything.” Sarcasm dripped from his lips. “The only clerk we have here isn’t a man. It’s a woman. The office isn’t on Curzon. It’s on Main. I can go on and on if you need me to.”

“Sorry to have bothered you.” Jarrika snatched the fake papers from around the knife and stuffed them with the envelope into her case. She latched it closed and dragged it off the rotting porch. She didn’t want this ugly place anyway, and living in a small town would never have suited her. Tears filled her eyes as her stomach growled. Steps away from the inn, she realized the sun had begun to go down, and somewhere in the hills leading up the mountain an animal howled. She imagined it was Casey, happy with his stolen treasure.

Oh God, what am I going to do? I have nothing. How did I get to this point?

“You can stay for one night,” he called out behind her.

She stopped but didn’t turn around. “What?”

“One night only, then you can head back to wherever you came from. It’s getting late anyway. Not safe at night for a city woman.”

She hated his condescending tone, like she wasn’t just a city woman. She was a dumb city woman. However, she was in no position to argue. Hurriedly wiping away her tears, she turned. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

He held the screen door open for her, and she stepped inside the cool, dark interior of the inn. The place was no better on the inside. “I’m Jarrika Griffin,” she told him, holding out her hand, trying for a friendlier note than the one she’d arrived on.

He passed her by and went behind the dusty old desk. Jarrika gritted her teeth while he took a key from one of the compartments filled with cobwebs. She winced when he slapped it into her hand.

“Jack Summers. Third door on the right.” He pointed to the stairs.

Grumbling, she said, “Would it kill you to be nice?”

His eyebrow shot up. “Yes.”

The man wasn’t worth her time or effort. She’d just get some sleep and head out in the morning, putting this whole embarrassing experience behind her. She never had to see this man again, and it suited her just fine. Jarrika climbed the stairs to the second floor and found her room. To her surprise, Jack had assigned her a decent room. The place had been aired recently, and the sheets were clean.

Knowing this might be the last bed she slept in for a long time, she lay down on it and cried herself to sleep.