Coyote Energy Partners V LLC v. Rumble Energy LLC

Let’s cut to the chase: an oil and gas company is suing its former business partner for over half a million dollars—because he tried to sell the company out from under them while still owing money. And not just any money. We’re talking about a loan that ballooned from $540,000 to nearly $570,000 in less than a year, with interest rates spiking to 25% when things went sideways. This isn’t just a breach of contract. This is a masterclass in how not to ghost your business partner when you owe them a small fortune.

Meet the players. On one side: Coyote Energy Partners V LLC, a Delaware-based energy investor with deep pockets and even deeper paperwork. They’re the kind of outfit that doesn’t do handshake deals—they do promissory notes, guarantees, and UCC filings before breakfast. On the other side: Rumble Energy LLC, a Texas-based oil and gas venture, and its one-man band, Matthew R. Patterson—President, Manager, Sole Member, and apparently, Chief Financial Optimist. Patterson runs Rumble out of Skiatook, Oklahoma, and for a brief moment in 2025, he and Coyote were trying to strike oil—literally—by setting up a deal involving a “term overriding royalty interest” in some hydrocarbon-rich land. Think of it as Coyote paying Rumble a deposit to get a cut of future oil profits. Simple enough.

But here’s where it gets juicy. In March 2025, Coyote drops $540,000 as a deposit for this deal. The agreement says: if the deal doesn’t close by June 30, 2025, Rumble has to give the money back. No ifs, ands, or “market volatility” excuses. And guess what? June 30 comes and goes. No deal. No closing. No return of deposit. But instead of writing a check, Patterson and Rumble do something far more creative: they turn the deposit into a loan. On June 30, 2025—the very day the money was due back—Rumble signs a promissory note for $540,000, promising to pay it back by August 15. And just to make sure Coyote feels extra secure, Patterson personally guarantees the whole thing. He doesn’t just sign on behalf of the company—he puts his own name on the line. “I will pay this,” he essentially says. “Even if Rumble folds, I will make it right.”

Except… he doesn’t.

By August 15, Rumble still hasn’t paid. So Coyote, being the patient type (or maybe just good at restructuring bad debt), agrees to a do-over. They issue a new, amended promissory note for $594,000—yes, that’s $54,000 more, which Coyote calls an “exit fee,” but we all know it’s just interest in a fancy hat. The new deadline? December 31, 2025. And this time, they go full Godfather on the collateral. Patterson signs a Pledge Agreement, handing over 100% of his ownership in Rumble as security. That’s right—he pledges his entire company to Coyote as collateral. Then, to top it off, Coyote files a UCC-1 financing statement in September, officially staking their claim on Rumble’s membership interests. Legally speaking, if Patterson defaults, Coyote doesn’t just have a claim on the money—they have a claim on Rumble itself.

And then… Patterson tries to sell it.

On October 31, 2025—while still owing installments on the $594,000 note—Patterson enters into a Membership Purchase Agreement to sell all of Rumble’s membership interests to another company, Vision Oil and Gas Inc. It’s like trying to sell your car while still making payments to the bank—except the bank has the title. And Coyote definitely has the title. They send a formal Notice of Default on November 7, 2025, pointing out that Rumble missed its October 31 payment, accelerating the entire loan balance to $558,054.59 (now including legal fees). They also drop the hammer: You cannot sell Rumble without our permission. And we are not giving it—unless you pay us in full by November 14.

Patterson doesn’t pay.

So Coyote tries one last time. On November 24, they send another letter, offering a lifeline: pay $80,000 by November 26—$30,000 for legal costs, $50,000 toward the debt—and they’ll extend the forbearance to December 5. It’s a mercy round. A chance to reset. A hail mary.

Patterson doesn’t pay that either.

Now, as of February 20, 2026, Coyote is back in court—this time not with a warning, but with a lawsuit. They’re asking for $568,337.17—and that’s before ongoing interest, which adds $360.03 per day. They’re suing on three fronts: (1) Judgment on the Amended Note—Rumble broke the loan agreement; (2) Breach of Guaranty—Patterson personally guaranteed it and didn’t pay; and (3) Security Interest Foreclosure—they want to seize Rumble itself, because Patterson pledged it as collateral. Legally, this is a textbook secured creditor move. Coyote followed every rule, filed every form, sent every notice. They’re not just owed money—they’re owed a company.

Now, is $568,000 a lot? In the oil and gas world, it’s a rounding error. But for a small operator like Rumble, it’s existential. And Coyote isn’t just after the cash—they want to own the business that defaulted on them. That’s the nuclear option. It’s not just about getting paid. It’s about sending a message: You don’t restructure a loan, pledge your company, and then try to sell it behind our back.

Here’s the most absurd part: Patterson didn’t even try to negotiate. He didn’t ask for more time. He didn’t propose a payment plan. He didn’t dispute the numbers. He just… ghosted. While trying to sell the asset that was already collateral. It’s like signing your house over to the bank as security, then listing it on Zillow without telling them. The sheer audacity is breathtaking.

And yet—part of us wants to root for him. Not because he’s in the right—because he’s clearly not—but because there’s something almost Shakespearean in his downfall. A small-time energy guy trying to play in the big leagues, overpromising, underdelivering, and getting crushed by the machinery of corporate finance. He signed every document, waived every defense, and still thought he could outmaneuver a company with a team of lawyers in New York and Tulsa.

But this isn’t a David vs. Goliath story. This is Goliath sending David a certified letter explaining, in 17-point font, exactly how he violated Section 6.1 of the Amended and Restated Promissory Note.

Coyote will likely win. The paperwork is airtight. The defaults are undisputed. The collateral is perfected. But the real winner? The legal team at Crowe & Dunlevy, who now get to bill for drafting a petition that reads like a financial thriller. And maybe, just maybe, the rest of us—because nothing says “entertainment” like watching a man try to sell his company right out from under the people who own it.