The Calamity Janes
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Sue Ellen and Donny were living in a small apartment in a converted garage just a few blocks from where Cassie had grown up. It wasn’t the best part of town. There had been little effort at upkeep and even less at landscaping. No doubt whatever money Donny earned went for booze, Emma thought, more sadly than cynically.
Emma knocked on the Carters’ door, waited, then knocked again. She was almost certain that she heard a faint stirring inside, but no one answered the knock.
“Sue Ellen, are you there? It’s Emma Rogers. I’d love to visit with you, if you have a few minutes.”
The rustling sound came closer to the door, but it remained tightly shut.
“I’m…I’m not feeling well,” Sue Ellen whispered, her voice hoarse. “It’s not a good time.”
“I’m not worried about catching a few germs,” Emma said, deliberately pretending to go along with the excuse but at the same time refusing to leave.
“Please, Emma, not now.” Sue Ellen sounded near tears.
Concluding that dancing around the obvious was accomplishing nothing, Emma asked bluntly, “Has Donny hurt you again?”
The question was greeted by a sharp intake of breath, then a sob.
“It’s okay, Sue Ellen. I just want to help.”
“You can’t. Nobody can.”
“That’s not true. Won’t you at least let me try?”
“I can’t. It will only make it worse if Donny finds out. Please go away,” she begged. “That’s the best thing you can do for me, Emma.”
Emma took a card for an abuse hot line from her purse, scribbled her own cell phone number on the back, and slid it under the door. “If you change your mind, call me or call that hot line. There is help, Sue Ellen. All you have to do is ask for it.”
Only the sound of wrenching sobs answered her.
“Call,” Emma pleaded one last time, then reluctantly turned and walked away.
She drove to Main Street, then parked in front of Stella’s. She needed to eat something completely and thoroughly decadent, some confection to remind her that life wasn’t entirely bleak. Bumping into a few of her friends wouldn’t hurt either.
Unfortunately, the only familiar face besides Stella’s was Ford Hamilton’s. Right this second, she would take whatever company she could get, if only because it would keep her from having to think about Sue Ellen.
Ford eyed her warily when she slid into the booth opposite him. Wariness quickly shifted to concern. “Everything okay? You look a little pale.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said grimly, then glanced up at Stella. “I want the biggest hot-fudge sundae you can make, extra hot fudge and extra nuts.”
“Now I know something’s wrong,” Ford said.
“Oh, why?”
“Because you strike me as the type who normally splurges on carrot sticks.”
“Well, now you know I’m not,” she said testily. “And if you’re just going to take digs at me, I’ll sit someplace else.”
He held up a placating hand. “Stay. I’ll be good.”
She wasn’t buying the promise, but she stayed where she was because she was suddenly too exhausted to move.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked.
“No.”
“Want to talk about something else?”
“Not especially.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Then you’re with me just because you prefer anything to your own company?”
“Pretty much.”
“Okay. I can relate to that.” He picked up the New York paper he’d been reading. “Want some of this? Hard news? Features? Sports?”
“Business,” she said without enthusiasm.
“Checking on your investment portfolio?”
“Nope, checking to see if one of my clients made any headlines this morning.”
Ford’s eyes lit up. “Big case?”
“In some circles.” Despite herself, she began to grin at his obvious yearning to question her about it. “Go ahead. Ask.”
“What company?”
She mentioned the name of the software manufacturer.
Ford whistled. “That is big. I’ve been reading about it. Patent infringement, right?”
“That’s the charge. A former employee is suing them, claiming that they stole his idea then fired him.”
“And you’re claiming it was their property since he developed the idea while working for them,” he speculated.
“Exactly. And it’s not a claim. It’s the truth.”
“Still, it must be fascinating.”
Emma shrugged. Normally this case—all of her cases—brought on an adrenaline rush, but after her failed meeting with Sue Ellen, none of them seemed all that important.
Ford regarded her intently. “You’ve been to see your friend this morning, haven’t you? Sue Ellen?”
Once again, Emma was surprised by his perceptiveness. “How did you guess?”
“It wasn’t that difficult. Even after a couple of encounters, I can tell you’re the kind of woman who gets excited by work, yet I ask about the biggest case you’re handling and you shrug it off. That had to mean that something else is weighing on your mind.”
“Sue Ellen, Cassie’s mom—she was just diagnosed with breast cancer,” she explained when he regarded her blankly. “Then there’s my daughter’s unhappiness at the prospect of going back to Denver.”
“So you’re not having a good day.”
“Not especially.” She met his disconcertingly blue gaze. “Why did you end up in Winding River?”
“Do you really care about that?”
If it meant avoiding a conversation about Sue Ellen, she would listen to him talk endlessly about life before Winding River. “Let’s just say I’m curious. I heard you were a hotshot reporter in a big city before you came here. Did you get fired?”
“Naturally you would think that, wouldn’t you?” he said with a weary expression. “I’m sure there has to be a story behind your distrust of the media. One of these days I’ll get it out of you. As for me, the truth is that I did some investigative reporting in Atlanta and then in Chicago, and I was damned good at it.”
“That must have been exciting compared to covering a class reunion.”
“True, but it wasn’t as satisfying as I’d expected it to be. Oh, I liked exposing the bad guys well enough, but there’s a lot of bureaucracy on a large newspaper, a lot of economic pressure. I got tired of fighting it. I quit.”
“And here you’re in control,” she guessed, understanding the need to be in charge. For the first time since they’d met, she could relate to him.
“In charge and in a position to make a difference. If I do this right, I might be able to influence the future of this town.”
“In what direction?”
He grinned. “Hard to say. I’m still getting to know it. I’m not going to start out recommending that we bulldoze the trees and encourage development.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“Which is not to say that I might not recommend that very thing at some point in the future.”
Emma tried to imagine Winding River as something other than the small, peaceful town it had always been. The image bothered her more than she’d expected. “I hope you don’t. Winding River is…I don’t know…special. It shouldn’t be tampered with too much.”
“So it’s too small for you to be happy here, but you want to know it’s unchanged for those rare occasions when you feel like coming home?” he challenged.
“Exactly,” she said without remorse. “Some things should never change.”
“Then maybe you need to stick around so you can have a say in what happens.”
She shook her head. “No, my life is in Denver now.”
“What life?” he asked.
She scowled at the deliberate challenge. “My career, my daughter.”
“Interesting that you put your work first,” he noted. “But let’s stick to your daughter for the moment. Don’t you think she’ll be happy wherever you are? Besides, didn’t you just tell me she didn’t want to go back?”
The reminder grated. “She has friends there. School. She loves it.”
“She just likes it here better. Why is that?” he prodded.
“Her grandfather just bribed her with a horse.”
Ford laughed. “That would do it for most kids, but are you sure that’s all of it?”
“What else could it be?”
“I’m hazarding a guess, but could it have something to do with the fact that she sees more of her mom here than she does at home?”
“You haven’t interviewed my daughter, have you?” she asked, only half in jest.
“So that is it?”
“Probably part of it,” she conceded.
Ford gathered up his newspaper and slid out of the booth. “I’m the last person on earth qualified to give parenting advice, but it seems to me there’s a message there that’s worth taking to heart. I’ll leave you to think about it.”
Emma sighed as he left her alone with her still-troubled thoughts. Now, though, she was focused on her own problems instead of Sue Ellen’s. Funny thing about that. A few days ago she wouldn’t have said she had any problems. Now, thanks to a pushy reporter who was more intuitive than she’d imagined, she realized that she’d just spent the past few years sweeping them under her very expensive rug.
Chapter 4
“Where’s Caitlyn?” Emma asked, walking into her mother’s kitchen and snagging an apple. After that hot-fudge sundae, she hadn’t expected to be hungry for days, but she’d taken a brisk walk up and down Main Street before driving back out to the ranch.
“Where do you think?” her mother asked with a chuckle. “In the barn with her grandfather. She’s helping with the chores, though my impression is that she’s more hindrance than help.”
“Maybe I ought to go out and rescue Dad.”
“Don’t you dare. He’s having the time of his life. He swears it’s like having you back again. Don’t you remember how you used to shadow his every move when you were Caitlyn’s age?”
Emma felt the tug of a smile. “I did, didn’t I? No wonder he was so shocked when I announced I was going to be a lawyer. He must have been certain I was going to take over the ranch.”
Her mother’s expression turned nostalgic. “Of all the kids, you were the one who showed the most interest in it. Now it looks as if Matt’s going to take over by default.”
Emma was startled by the observation. “Why do you say it like that? He’s doing a good job, isn’t he?”
“Of course. Matt’s a hard worker, but his heart’s not in it, not the way it should be.”
“I thought he wanted this,” Emma said.
Her mother shook her head. “No, there just wasn’t anything else he wanted more. It didn’t help that he and Martha married so young. Maybe if he’d gone to college…” She shrugged, her voice trailing off.
“You’re really worried about Matt, aren’t you?” Emma asked.
“I am. I’m afraid your brother is adrift. That’s why he’s so unhappy. You heard him at lunch the other day. He grumbles about everything. He sounds like an old man.”
“Who’s an old man?” Emma’s father demanded, coming in at the end of the conversation. “Not me.”
Her mother stood on tiptoe to kiss his weathered cheek. “Never you. You won’t ever get old.”
Caitlyn tugged excitedly on Emma’s arm. “Mom, guess what? Grandpa taught me to muck out the stalls.”
“Really?” Emma said, barely containing her amusement. “And you liked that?”
“It’s kind of yucky, but it’s real, real important, isn’t it, Grandpa?”
“Very important,” he agreed, winking at Emma. “You bought it when you were her age, too. Don’t disillusion her.”
A puzzled frown knit Caitlyn’s brow. “What’s disillusion?”
Emma brushed her hair away from her face. “Nothing you need to worry about, my love. How did your riding lesson go?”
An incandescent smile lit Caitlyn’s eyes. “It was sooo fun. I’m getting good, aren’t I, Grandpa?”
“You’re terrific, baby doll.”
Emma’s eyes misted at the endearment. It was what he had once called her. As if he understood what she was feeling, her father clasped her hand in his large callused hand and squeezed.
Thinking of her conversation with her mother, Emma whispered, “I’m sorry, Dad.”
He seemed startled. “For what? You have nothing to apologize to me for.”
“I know you’d hoped that I’d stay here and work with you.”
“That was my dream, not yours. You’re entitled to the life you want. All that matters is that you’re happy.”
Of course, that was the problem, Emma realized. In the past few days she’d been forced to face the fact that she didn’t even know what real happiness meant anymore. Worse, she couldn’t seem to remember when it had ceased to matter. Maybe she and her brother Matt were in the same sinking boat.
Ford was putting the finishing touches on the layout of photos from the class reunion when Ryan strolled in. The sheriff peered over his shoulder.
“Teddy did a good job, didn’t he?” he said, sounding surprised.
“The boy’s definitely got a way with a camera,” Ford agreed.
“Having you as a mentor is real good for him,” Ryan said. “I’m grateful. Ever since his dad left, he’s been desperate for a role model.”
“An uncle who’s the sheriff isn’t a bad one,” Ford pointed out. “He idolizes you.”
“In some ways, not in others,” Ryan said. “I always thought he was wasting his time and my sister’s money by shooting five rolls of film at every family gathering. It took someone like you to channel what he loves into a money-making proposition. Now all he talks about is being a photojournalist. He can’t wait to get to college this fall. Before, he was going just because his mother and I pushed him to.”
“He is motivated,” Ford agreed. “He’ll make the most of it.” He studied the sheriff speculatively. “What brings you by? I’m sure it wasn’t to get an advance peek at this week’s headlines.”
“Nothing specific,” Ryan said. “I had a few minutes to kill before I head over to the town council meeting. You going?”
“Of course. Anything exciting on the agenda?”
“I hear there’s a zoning request to subdivide the old Callaway ranch into a housing development.”
Though his attitude was nonchalant, something in Ryan’s voice alerted Ford that he wasn’t happy about the plan. “Is there a problem with that?”
“The plan calls for low-cost, subsidized housing. I’m afraid we’re going to be attracting nothing but trouble.”
“There’s not a need for it around here?”
“No. Housing costs are modest as it is. I’ve checked. Locally there aren’t any families in dire need of low-cost housing. It would be a draw for folks from the bigger cities. I’ve got nothing against that on principle, but a whole development all at once will end up putting a strain on the school and on all the other services, law enforcement included. There will be an economic impact on the community, no doubt about it. Winding River’s just beginning to get back on its feet. Tourism is starting to flourish. We’ve had a few people with big bucks move into the county. Last year a few small businesses opened. I don’t want to see anything come along to change that direction.”
What Ryan was saying made a lot of sense. Development per se wasn’t necessarily bad, but the wrong kind could sabotage all efforts to improve the town.
“Is this a done deal?” Ford asked.
“Not by a long shot.”
Ford grinned at him. “Then let’s go do our part to inject a little common sense into the discussion and put a stop to it. You talk, and I’ll give you coverage in this week’s paper. I can still get it in before tomorrow’s deadline, along with an editorial in opposition to the development.”
The sheriff slapped him on the back. “I had a feeling I could count on you.”
As they walked toward the school, where council meetings were held in the auditorium, Ryan cast a sideways look at him. “Heard you and Emma had quite a little chat over at Stella’s today. Looked real cozy.”
“Who’s your source?” Ford asked.
“Now a newspaperman ought to know better than to ask a question like that,” Ryan taunted. “Were they right?”
“Emma and I talked. I don’t know how cozy we were. Having a conversation with that woman is like dealing with a porcupine. You never know when she’s going to take offense and come after you with a sharp barb.”
“You look to me like a man whose hide is tough enough to take a few pointed remarks and to give back as good as you get.”
“There is a certain amount of intellectual stimulation involved, but it can take a toll. I must admit, though, she’s a more complicated female than I first imagined.”
“Complicated, huh?” Ryan grinned. “Watch yourself, pal. Complicated women have a way of getting under a man’s skin and staying there.”
“Emma Rogers is not getting under my skin,” Ford insisted, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew he was lying through his teeth.
“The last man who said that wound up married to her.”
Ford regarded him with surprise. “You knew her husband?”
“We’d met. My sister knew him better.”
“Teddy’s mom?”
“No, my oldest sister, Adele,” Ryan explained. “She dated Kit Rogers for a while at college. That’s how he and Emma met. Kit was here visiting over the holidays one year—we were all at the same party. Then he got one look at Emma, and that was it for him and Adele. They broke up that same night. Can’t say I was sorry. For that matter, neither was Adele. She told me he had ‘control issues,’ which I took to mean that he was a possessive son of a gun.”
Ford digested that news with a sense of astonishment. “I can’t imagine any man controlling Emma.”
“Not for long, that’s for sure,” Ryan said. “Emma hasn’t said, but I suspect that’s what broke up their marriage. She might have tolerated it for a while, but she’s too strong willed to be anybody’s doormat.” He slanted a look at Ford. “A word to the wise.”
“You don’t have to tell me that,” Ford said. “If I were interested, which I’m not, I’d know better than to think there was a single submissive bone in that woman’s very attractive body.”
Ryan hooted. “All right!”
“What?”
“You noticed that Emma has a fabulous body. I was beginning to worry about you.”
“I noticed,” Ford said, then added firmly, “not that I have any intention of doing anything about it…even if she’d let me…” He met Ryan’s gaze. “Which she won’t. She’s none too crazy about my profession, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“And that’s enough to scare you off?” Ryan asked indignantly. “You’re not even going to try to get her to see past that?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then maybe I’ll give her another shot,” Ryan said, his expression innocent. “We were pretty tight back in high school.”
Ford scowled at him. “Whatever.”
“You wouldn’t care?”
“It’s not up to me.”
“But you wouldn’t feel even the tiniest little twinge if I asked her out?” Ryan persisted.
A twinge? He’d probably want to slug the man, sheriff or not. He refused to admit it, though. “Nope.”
“Liar,” Ryan accused.
Ford sighed heavily. “You got that right.”
“Emma, sweetie, wake up!”
Emma heard her mother’s voice, and for a moment thought she must have been caught up in a dream. Then she felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her.
“Emma!”
For the first time in months she had actually been in a deep, restful sleep. She came to slowly. “What is it, Mom? Caitlyn’s not sick, is she? Is it Dad?”
“No, no, it’s Lauren. She’s on the phone. She needs to talk to you now. She says it’s urgent.”
Emma tugged on her robe and raced down the hall, heart pounding. Lauren would never call in the middle of the night unless it truly was urgent. Was she sick? Were the tabloids about to break some story that could destroy her career? Had there been an accident? Or was it one of the other Calamity Janes? She had spoken to most of them during the day. They’d all seemed fine.
Clutching her robe around her, she picked up the phone. “Lauren, what’s wrong?”
“Oh, Emma, it’s so horrible,” Lauren said, her voice choked. This wasn’t the sexy huskiness she used on screen, but real emotion. “There was another fight between Donny and Sue Ellen. I had the windows open, and I could hear it all the way over here at the hotel. Donny chased her out of their house, screaming and cursing. I called the sheriff, but before he got over here, I heard a shot.”
“Oh, my God,” Emma whispered. “Please tell me Donny didn’t shoot Sue Ellen.”
“No, she shot him. He’s dead, Emma.”
Emma’s heart sank. “Where is she?”
“Ryan just took her down to the jail. He told me there wasn’t any point in my coming along, that he couldn’t let me see her. Can you go over there? Please. She needs an attorney, a really good one. I doubt she has any money, but I’ll pay for it.”
“I’m on my way,” Emma said at once. “And don’t worry about the money. This one’s on the house.”
Emma yanked on her clothes, explained the situation to her mother and raced to the jail. She was only moderately surprised to find Ford Hamilton there ahead of her. He was arguing with Ryan, demanding to see the sheriff’s report on the shooting.
“Settle down,” Ryan told him. “This isn’t Chicago. We take our time and get things right. We don’t jump to conclusions. You’ll see the report when I have all the facts.”
“I wasn’t suggesting—” Ford began.
“Whatever,” Ryan said, waving off what was obviously the beginning of an insincere apology. “It’s going to take a while to talk to Sue Ellen and to the neighbors about what they saw and heard. In the meantime, why don’t you go get yourself a cup of coffee?”
Ford frowned. “At this hour? Where?”
“Stella will be in now,” Ryan told him. “Whenever there’s a crisis, she hears about it and opens early.”
Emma’s gaze slid past the journalist, searching the room until she spotted Sue Ellen over by the window, still in her bathrobe, her bruised and battered face streaked with dried tears and blood. Her expression, reflected in the glass, was blank.
“Let me talk to Mrs. Carter,” Ford said to Ryan. “Just a couple of questions.”
“No way,” Emma said so fiercely that both men’s heads snapped around to face her.
“Emma,” Ryan said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He looked exhausted and sad. “I didn’t expect you to show up here.”
“Lauren called. She told me what happened.”
“I’m glad,” he said, casting a worried look at the woman huddled in a chair across the room. “Sue Ellen’s going to need all the legal help she can get.”
Ford scowled at them. “If you two are finished, do you suppose we could get back to business?” Ford asked. “I’d like to speak to Mrs. Carter, so I can get a couple of paragraphs into this week’s edition. Then I’ll get out of your hair.”
“And I told you to forget about it,” Emma said. “She’s not talking to anybody, you or the sheriff, until I’ve had a chance to talk to her. How did you get here so fast, anyway? Do you have a police scanner in your bedroom?”
“I’ve been up all night,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Ryan was with me at the paper. I was getting it ready to go to the printer this morning. The call came in about an hour ago.”
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