Lone Ranger Read online

  “Never happen.” She’d definitely never kick Ann out. And she’d probably never find that special person who made her want to commit to forever. “Let’s get you a drink.”

  “That’s my girl.” Ann laughed and followed Carter toward the house. “Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

  Chapter Two

  Each step of Emma’s walk to the park office next morning jarred her pounding head and churned her morning coffee perilously in her stomach. When she opened the door, Ann stood behind the counter, a straw hat decorated with fishing hooks and lures covering her head.

  Ann smiled broadly and waved.

  “Morning, Ann. Do you have anything for a monster headache?” Emma dropped her messenger bag on the floor and leaned against the counter. “I was going into town, but I don’t think I’ll make it like this. I could be a hazard to the motoring public.”

  “What’s the matter, honey? You look a little blanched. Rough night?”

  “You could say that. I’m not really an outdoors person, and I heard lots of strange sounds outside my cabin. Guess I over-medicated with the wine.”

  “And maybe it’s not the setting. You looked a little unsettled and your eyes were puffy when you checked in yesterday. I thought a quiet night in nature would help, but…” When Emma gave her a quizzical look, Ann added, “I usually save my personal observations for day three. I don’t mean to pry, but you can talk to me…if you want.”

  “I’m sure I was a fright yesterday if I looked half as bad as I felt. I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about. Happens to the best of us. My offer is always open.”

  Ann’s words had the ring of sincerity, and her concern touched Emma. “Thanks, but just the meds, if you have anything.” She wasn’t in the mood for conversation, especially about the reason for her puffy eyes yesterday or her wine-induced disposition today.

  “Got what you need right here.” Ann busied herself for a few minutes with an electric kettle in the kitchenette a few feet behind the counter and then proudly offered her a smelly concoction in a white Styrofoam cup. “Drink it all right down or it won’t work. Don’t sniff it or you might not make it.”

  Taking one whiff of the brew, Emma pushed it aside. “Not a chance I’m drinking that stuff. Are you trying to kill me?”

  “Oh, no, ma’am,” Ann replied without a hint of levity. “Just because I wear weird clothes and see things a little differently doesn’t mean I’m a whack job. This really works. It’s only herbs, nothing artificial. It’ll cure what ails you, the headache and your—”

  “My what?” Emma was intrigued and a bit amused.

  “Your…you know…your frustrations.” Ann waved her hand toward Emma’s middle like she should know exactly what she meant.

  “What do you know about my frustrations?”

  “Honey child, I’ve lived a long time. There are not many looks a woman has that I can’t name. I lived with crazy Cass Calloway for thirty-six years. Mood-reading was a means of self-preservation. Now you, Ms. Ferguson, you’ve got that—”

  “No need for details.” Emma raised her hand to stop what would probably have been an accurate assessment of her preoccupation with Ann’s niece. “I’ll drink the medicine.” Emma held her nose and downed the vile mixture in several quick gulps. It didn’t taste as bad as it smelled, with a slight hint of coffee, a touch of cinnamon, and some indescribables thrown in.

  “How’s that?” Ann smiled, wiping her hands down the front of her Burning Man sweatshirt.

  “Not bad, not bad at all. Let’s just hope it lives up to your claims.”

  “It will, but you might want to wait a few minutes before you head out. Come over here and have a seat. That concoction’s been known to cause strong reactions in folks. Might not bother you though. You look like you have a pretty robust constitution, if you get my drift.”

  Emma joined Ann in the leather recliners beside the wood stove. It could be a full-time job keeping up with all Ann’s drifts. “So, you lived with a woman for thirty-six years? Did you? I mean were you—”

  “Lovers? Is that what you’re trying to ask? You don’t seem like the beat-around-the-bush type to me. Spit it out, child.”

  Emma’s face flushed. “Yes, but I didn’t want to pry. You don’t even know me.”

  “You weren’t prying, honey. I know you writers are a curious lot. And I take every chance I get to talk about my Cass. It keeps her alive in here.” Ann patted her chest. “We were friends, lovers, fighters, partners, Mrs. and Mrs., and everything else that goes along with loving another woman.”

  Emma was fascinated, and more than a little impressed, that a woman of Ann’s age and experience would talk so openly about a lesbian relationship. The subject was bound to have been taboo in her youth. “Have you always lived here in Patrick County?”

  “Oh yeah. I was probably the first full-blown lez-bean this county ever knew about for sure. Sometimes I felt like a local attraction, the way people pointed and stared. But it didn’t bother me. I didn’t try to hide my feelings for Cass from day one. No, sir. What you see is what you get with Ann West.”

  “How old were you when you met?”

  “Cass and I knew each other all our lives. We went to school together and lived right next door to one another. I had a crush on her from about age ten. She was in the kissing booth at the fall festival when I was fifteen, and a couple of boys dared me to kiss her. That kiss changed my life. You ever had anyone kiss you like that?”

  Not even close. Emma kept her response to herself. The look in Ann’s eyes told her she wouldn’t believe her. “Why did it take so long for you to get together? If my math is right, and I’m guessing your age close at all, that leaves a lot of years unaccounted for.”

  “Cass wasn’t quite as good at snubbing decorum as I was. She tried to convince herself she wasn’t that way, as it was called back then. She spent a long time dancing around the whoopee pole.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Going with men, being married, being straight, or being whatever everybody thought she ought to be.”

  Ann’s eyes suddenly lost some of their vibrancy. Cass’s decision to remain closeted and not commit to their relationship had obviously affected her deeply. Emma understood the longing for a truly loving commitment. “I’m sorry, Ann. Where were you all this time Cass was so undecided—in a convent?”

  “Oh, no. I could take a hint. No way was I staying in this rinky-dink town watching the woman I love be passed from man to man. Most of them were uglier than a sack of smashed assholes and dumber than a stump. I joined the national guard soon as I was old enough. They’d take you as a nursing trainee at the time. I ended up in a MASH unit and traveled the world. Honey, I sampled some of the world’s best feminine cuisine. You couldn’t tell it now, but I was quite a catch at the time.” Ann raked a hand through wavy gray hair, lifted her chin, and winked.

  Emma couldn’t help but laugh. “So, did it help you forget Cass?”

  “Nothing can make you forget your soul mate—not someone else, not time, not distance. You seem smart enough to know that.”

  Emma was completely out of her depth. If she’d ever experienced the kind of love Ann felt for Cass, she might’ve been able to identify with what Ann was talking about. Her heart ached with the realization that she had not, maybe never would. She stood.

  “I’m feeling better, Ann. Thank you for the medicine and the chat. I should get moving, or I’ll pass the whole day here with you.” She started toward the door and turned back. “Maybe we can talk about my story some other time.”

  “I’d be honored. Just tell me what you need.” Ann gave a thumbs-up.

  “I need to locate Fannie Mae Buffkin first. I understand she lives downtown.”

  Ann broke eye contact and wiped her hand across the spotless countertop. “Yeah. She lives in the mansion on the hill in the center of town, overlooking the old furniture factory. You can’t miss it. If you don’t mind me asking, why
her?” Ann sounded a little tense.

  “She’s hired me to write an article, so she’s my initial stop.”

  Ann nodded as if satisfied with her answer, but her expression was still strained. “If you want the busiest busy-body in town, you need to talk to Harriett Smoltz, the librarian. You can’t miss her. She looks like a frumpy old maid, always wears the most unflattering clothes. If she doesn’t have what you need, her meddlesome twin sister, Hannah, will. She’s the historian for the county. The jobs couldn’t have gone to a better pair. They started out as telephone switchboard operators in the day and held on until the last gasp. The town had to come up with other jobs that allowed them to remain respectably nosy.”

  “That sounds perfect. Who knows? This history piece may be sprinkled with a little excitement after all.”

  Ann mumbled something she couldn’t quite make out.

  “Sorry?”

  “I said good luck.”

  Emma turned toward the door just as it opened, and Carter strolled in. She looked as surprised as Emma felt to bump into each other again so soon. Her pressed uniform hugged her toned body, and her eyes swept Emma slowly. God help her, but she liked being visually caressed by the sexy ranger.

  “Now here’s exactly what you need,” Ann said. “Carter, give Emma a ride into town and show her around.”

  Emma’s insides tightened and her pulse pounded at the possibility of being confined in a vehicle with Carter for any amount of time. “That’s really not necessary. I have my car.”

  “And I really need to—”

  “You need to take care of our guest. There’s nothing earth-shattering on your schedule today, unless you’re partial to unblocking a toilet.” Ann’s eyes twinkled, and Emma suspected that her matchmaking gene had taken over.

  “I’m sure Ranger West has better things to do, Ann. I’m quite capable of getting to town and locating contacts.” Emma cast a glance at Carter and prayed she’d object more fervently.

  “Well, I guess I could spare part of my day, but we need to get going.” Shrugging at Emma, Carter held the door like a perfectly mannered hostess.

  “Really, I’m sure I can find—”

  “It’s not a problem,” Carter said.

  Emma looked from Carter back to Ann, who smiled sweetly.

  “Thank you. I do get lost easily in unfamiliar places,” she grudgingly admitted.

  The short ride to downtown Stuart felt like a stint in a sauna, and Carter’s musky perfume mingled with the freshness of outdoors. Emma wanted to lick her to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. What? She’d never had thoughts like that about anyone. What had Ann put in that concoction? A love potion? Carter gave no sign of being affected at all. She spoke little, but her body exuded heat and a wild energy that made Emma edgy.

  “You might’ve been a little more forceful with your aunt and saved yourself a trip.”

  Carter kept her eyes on the road. “Wouldn’t do any good. It’s pointless to argue when she gets something in her head.”

  “And what exactly has she gotten into her head?” Years as a reporter had taught Emma to read people’s body language and nonverbal cues. She could tell by the way Carter fidgeted that she was going to sidestep her question.

  “I guess she just likes you. What do you do for a living, Emma?”

  Carter’s lips formed a perfect pucker as she said her name, almost in a whisper. It took a second to recall what Carter had asked. “I’m a reporter doing a story on the history of Stuart, and that wasn’t much of an answer to my question, Ranger.”

  Carter squirmed again as they pulled in front of an old two-story brick building. A wooden shingle dangling from a rusty pole identified the Stuart Library.

  “This is our stop. I’ve got some errands to take care of, and then I’ll be at the school gym later this afternoon.” She pointed toward the end of the street, scribbled her number on a Fairy Stone Park business card, and offered it to her.

  When Emma reached for the card, their fingers brushed and she jerked away. Her skin burned, and she remembered touching a hot stove for the first time. That burn had been painful, but this one left her fingers tingling for the stimulus again. What would Sheri think about her visceral reaction to another woman? She’d accused Emma of being cold and unresponsive, but she felt anything but cold around Carter West. Or maybe she was just emotionally sensitive and imagined a connection. She looked, and Carter’s eyes searched hers. Emma quickly glanced away. It was as if Carter could see everything she felt.

  “Call me when you’re finished or just come by the school. Everything else is in pretty close proximity to the library. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding your way around.”

  If she didn’t get her mind back on work, she wouldn’t be able to find her way across the street. “I think I can manage.” Emma closed the Jeep door with too much force and immediately regretted her sharp comment. Carter was only trying to help. It wasn’t her fault Emma found her totally distracting.

  “But thanks for the ride.”

  Emma almost missed Carter’s low, sarcastic prompt as she walked toward the gym.

  Great. Now they both sounded like a couple of pouty teenagers. She watched Carter swagger down the street. The woman was infuriating. She said little and offered less in the way of nonverbal clues. Not even her deep-brown eyes indicated what she was thinking or feeling. Emma hefted her messenger bag onto her shoulder, determined not to be distracted by Carter West one second longer.

  *

  Carter could’ve strangled Ann for suggesting she give Emma a ride into town. The woman had a car of her own, and Carter had a job and not as a taxi driver or tour guide. But she’d been happy to see Emma a little less stressed this morning. Some of the dark circles under her eyes from yesterday had lightened, and the puffiness had disappeared. Carter had wanted to ask why she was upset, but it wasn’t her concern. She wouldn’t appreciate a stranger meddling in her private life.

  Emma’s fiery red hair was styled so it hung straight and fell across her shoulders and down her back, not bushy and unruly like the night before. If she’d met the Emma Ferguson who checked in at the park in a bar, she’d have stopped, tried to cheer her up, maybe even asked her to dance, slow. Today Emma wore snug jeans, a clover-green sweater that flaunted the swell of full breasts, and sensible shoes, not the heeled ones she’d fallen in last evening. If Carter had seen this woman, she’d have passed her by, knowing she was out of her league.

  The trip to town had felt endless, probably because Emma’s eyes had threatened to lay her bare. Something in her look made Carter want to open up. Was it the azure color of her eyes or her crooked smile that suggested she knew Carter wanted to talk, or maybe just the undeniable chemistry sparking between them?

  When their fingers had touched, Carter turned away so Emma wouldn’t see the surprise she was certain showed on her face. Her heart pounded. She felt breathless, and her mouth watered as if she were starving. She’d been attracted to women before, but nothing like this.

  Emma’s responses had been just as telling. Carter appraised women like scholars studied history or the classics. Emma’s lips had parted as if she’d been shocked, and her crooked smile had turned into a perfect O. She wouldn’t meet Carter’s gaze, and her freckled cheeks had flushed the most gorgeous shade of pink. Yes, the lovely Ms. Ferguson had been attracted to her as well. No way to hide chemistry that strong.

  But Emma had also been sharp and sarcastic, questioning why she hadn’t challenged Ann about giving her a ride. There was fire in more than Emma’s hair. If she didn’t want to spend any time with her, that suited Carter just fine. She’d briefly entertained the idea of a quickie with an out-of-town reporter, since she’d be leaving as soon as she finished her boring story, but Emma was proving to be the complicated type, and she didn’t want complications.

  “Hey, it’s Carter.” An eleven-year old named Nico ran toward her when she opened the door of the school gym.

  “What’s
happening, dude?” She gave him a fist bump and joined the other five kids waiting on the bleachers. “Sorry I’m a little late. Had to give a lady a ride into town.”

  Mitch, one of the other boys, chimed in. “Yeah. We saw you in front of the library. Is that your girlfriend?”

  Why were kids so grown up these days? “No. She’s just a lady staying at the park who needed a ride. Now, let’s get started. Have you chosen teams already?”

  One of the girls, Maddie, raised her hand and waited patiently until Carter called on her.

  “Yes, Maddie.” She was so polite and had come further than any of the others in the program.

  “We’ve got three boys and three girls today, but we decided all by ourselves that we should mix it up and then switch again for the second half of the basketball game. How about that?” Her green eyes sparkled, and she placed her hands on her hips in a very adult pose.

  “That’s excellent planning, but let’s tidy up the gym. Then we’ll play, and talk last.” She’d had considerably more luck getting the kids to open up about problems when they were tired and their defenses were down.

  She stood in the center of the circle, tossed the ball, and watched the two tallest kids jump for it. As the game got underway, she forgot all about Emma Ferguson and focused on doing what she loved, helping kids.

  Chapter Three

  Emma glanced between the Stuart library and the large Buffkin house overlooking downtown. Plunge in cold or do preparatory research? She’d been too distracted by her breakup and moving out to give Fannie Buffkin more than a cursory pass before leaving Greensboro. Knowing as much about her subject as possible would help her ask better questions and all the ones necessary to write a thorough narrative. She took a deep breath and grabbed the polished brass handle of the heavy wooden library door.

  Harriett Smoltz descended on Emma the minute a door chime announced her entrance. Ann’s description had been so precise that Emma would’ve recognized the woman in a lineup. Her lackluster brown hair was swept back in a tight bun at the base of her skull, making her sharp features more severe. Harriett was younger than Emma imagined, probably early fifties, but wore a circa 1960s flowered tent dress and clashing blue sweater that successfully camouflaged any hint of a feminine shape.