4. Rodeo Clown

Nicole drove along the empty road, the radio on low and tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. She pulled up to her house and took the keys out of the ignition, wiping her face off with her sleeve. It was now already 9 PM. She grabbed her phone off the seat next to her and opened it to make sure she didn’t miss a text or call from either of the girls. When she saw nothing, she tossed it back on the seat and sat there for a while. Her mind was spinning with all these thoughts, and she didn’t know what to do about it. She wanted to know everything she could about this Champ Hardy so she could make sure he suffered as much as possible. She put the keys back in and sped off. 

She knew exactly what she needed to do.

___

Wynonna locked the top and bottom locks on the front door, making sure Waverly noticed. She walked over to the couch and set all their things down. “So . . . Do you want me to make you some food? I can make pancakes,” she offered with a smile.

“I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” Waverly answered softly.

Wynonna pursed her lips, letting out a sigh. “Alright . . . You want me to sleep in there with you tonight?”

“Yea,” she mumbled in a whisper, almost sounding ashamed.

“Ok, Babygirl, whatever you want, whatever you need, just let me know and I’ll try my best to help you.”

Waverly looked up at her, obviously some of the guilt on her face gone. “Thanks, Wy.” She gave her sister a hug. “I’m gonna shower first, though.”

“Alright. Holler if you need me, I’ll be in here.” Wynonna sat down on the couch and flipped on the TV. Waverly went upstairs to grab some clothes. When she arrived in her room, she gently set the hat down on her pillow. Back downstairs after a minute, she went into the bathroom, turned the light on, and shut the door, locking it. She twisted and pulled on the handle to make sure it was not going to come open.

 Waverly set her clothes down on the cabinet shelf and stared at herself in the mirror above the sink. She rubbed her hands on the back of her neck and then brought them around and rubbed her face, noticing that she had light black lines under both eyes from her mascara running. “Waterproof, my ass,” she muttered as she reached under the sink to grab the makeup wipes. After she cleaned her face, she started the shower, warmer than she usually set it. She now realized she had to get undressed. She paced back and forth in the small area, hugging her body. She stopped and closed her eyes to calm herself down.

She saw him again, pressing himself against her.

Her eyes shot open with a gasp. She shook her head and gathered her surroundings, reminding herself that she was safe at home.

She let out a breath and began slowly taking off her clothes, eyes glued on the door. She stepped into the burning stream of water and closed the curtain. The steaming water rolled down her chilled skin, sending a shiver down her spine. She let it pour onto her head, drenching her hair. She now noticed her eyes were closed, and she pulled her head back in fear of seeing those dreaded images again. It was inevitable that she was going to have to close her eyes. She was in the shower and unless she wanted water and shampoo in her eyes, it would have to happen. She dropped her arms to her sides and shook them, opening and closing her hands. She decided to save the worst for last and washed her body first, making sure to give an extra scrub to all the places he was touching most.

It was now time for her hair. She grabbed the shampoo bottle and squirted a dollop of it onto her hand. She wet her hair once more and closed her eyes, moving her hands quickly through her long brunette hair. To distract herself, she was thinking of one thing and one thing only: laying on Nicole’s chest in the bathroom. She could almost hear her heartbeat and feel her stroking her fingers through her tangled hair. She washed the shampoo out and opened her eyes, deciding she could forget about conditioner for tonight. Giving herself one last rinse, she shut the water off.

She grabbed the towel that was on the rack outside the shower and began rubbing it throughout her hair. She twisted it up in the towel and grabbed the other to continue drying herself off. She put on an oversized Mickey Mouse shirt and some black spandex shorts. After brushing her teeth, she unlocked the door and walked out of the bathroom, tossing her dirty clothes in the hamper outside the door of the laundry room. Wynonna was sitting on the couch watching some weird Mexican cooking show.

“You ready for bed?” she asked, looking up at Waverly.

“I guess we can wait until my hair is dry,” she mumbled.

“Ok, come sit down then.”

Waverly walked over to the couch and sat next to her, snuggling up next to her. “Why are you watching this?” she questioned with a little laugh. “It’s not even in English.”

“I am expanding my horizons, Waves . . . And I really like Mexican food.” 

“Whatever you say, Wynonna,” she sighed. Wynonna grabbed the remote and switched it to the news, seeing that the weather was on.

“It's been awful cold for March, wouldn’t you say, Sharron?” the reporter questioned.

“It sure has, Bill,” Sharron responded. 

“Our next story might be a shock for some of those from Littlefield. Well-loved citizen, John Abraham, was just charged with raping a young lady in a local bar-” Wynonna quickly flipped the channel. She glanced down at her sister, who now looked like a deer in headlights, staring at the tv. Wynonna put her arm around her and pulled her close. She slowly leaned more into her sister and curled herself into a ball.

“I think it is time for bed,” the older girl whispered, slowly rubbing her hand up and down her back. Waverly nodded her head in agreement, and Wynonna stood and turned the TV off. She grabbed Waverly’s hand as they walked up to the smaller girl's room.

They sat down on her bed and Wynonna pulled the covers over both of them. Waverly took the towel off her head and shook her hair out before laying down next to her. “You can wake me up at any time, ok, Waves?” Waverly nodded, now clutching Nicole’shat to her chest. Wynonna gave her a kiss on the cheek and situated herself on her pillow. “Love you, Babygirl.”

“Love you, too, Nonna,” Waverly replied softly. She was extremely tired but didn’t want to sleep in fear of nightmares. After a while of contemplation, she decided she better at least try. She shifted onto her side and closed her eyes. She began imagining Nicole again after taking in her aroma from the Stetson and slowly drifted off to sleep with a tiny smile on her face.

___

Nicole pulled up to the station and jumped out of her car. She walked in and headed straight for Nedley’s office. The door was open and she saw him hovering over a stack of paperwork, so she knocked on the door. “Sir?”

He looked up and removed his glasses with a smile. “Officer Haught, I didn’t expect to see you here so late. What can I do for you?”

She walked in and sat in the chair in front of his desk, reaching to remove her hat but then remembered she had donated it to Waverly. “I, uh, . . . I need everything we have on Champ Hardy,” she said nervously, grinding her teeth as she said his name.

The Sheriff looked a bit confused. “And why’s that?” he asked, leaning forward in his chair.

Nicole hadn’t thought about the possibility that he would ask that. “Because . . . of last night’s fight. I’ve been wondering how often he causes problems.” 

Nedley stood up with a sigh and turned to his file cabinet, opening it and thumbing through files. Nicole walked over to him. He pulled out a semi-thick file and handed it to her. “Be careful with it. I’m sure I’ll be needin’ it soon.”

“Thank you, Sir. I will.” She rushed out of his office and headed straight for her own. She was glancing down at the blue label that read “James “Champ” Hardy” when she was suddenly stopped by a hand on her chest.

The Officer looked up and saw Agent Xavier Dolls. “Woah there, Cowgirl! What’s the rush?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

“It's classified," she huffed, pushing past him.

The Marshal pursed his lips. “Who are you looking into, Haught?” he asked, following her. 

She sighed, entering her office and waving him in, shutting the door behind him. “Oh, ya know, just our favorite rodeo clown,” she grumbled, slamming the file down on her desk and sitting down.

Dolls sat down in front of her. “Champ?”

“Mhm.”

“Why?”

A wave of worry rushed over her. Should she tell him? Wynonna would probably tell him anyway, right? He would be a good help, too. She was staring at him, mouth slightly opened. “He, uh . . . Waverly . . . broke up with him earlier and he tried to . . . do things to her . . . in the bathroom at Shorty’s. I knocked him out before anything too bad happened, . . . but she is really shaken up about it, so I wanna do everything I can to help her.” 

Dolls shot up after a few seconds of staring at her with pure fire in his eyes, pacing back and forth and rubbing his hands together. “I’m gonna beat the shit out of that son of a bitch!” He slammed his hands down on the back of the chair. “Where the hell is he?!”

Nicole pursed her lips. “Doc has him. I dunno where he’s taking him or what he’s gonna do with him, but the last I saw him, he was tossing him in the back of Wynonna’s truck, and then Doc just sped off.”

Dolls locked and unlocked his jaw a few times. “Well. I think I am gonna go pay Mr. Hardy a visit. I’ll let you know what I find out.” Dolls stormed out of her office, leaving Nicole alone with the file.

She opened the front cover and picked up the stack of papers, thumbing through them. There were around 30 records. She closed it and stood up with a sigh, “It's gonna be a long night.” She walked out and headed towards the break room, pouring herself a large mug of coffee with just the right amount of half-n-half before grabbing a small bag of cookies from the counter and making her way back to her office. 

Nicole picked up the stack of papers and flipped them over. If she was going to learn everything she could, she was going to start from the beginning. It took a moment, but she realized she was looking at a juvenile record sheet. She saw his birthday at the top. 6/2/93. The date of the arrest was 5/14/06. “12 years old, huh?” It was for theft. She read the incident report. He was with his friends and they were running around Purgatory stealing garden flamingos out of people's yards. She read through the next couple. They were from the next 3-4 years and were mostly for underage drinking and trespassing, nothing too shocking.

When she got to the 11th paper, she almost fell out of her chair when she read the incident report.