Lone Ranger

by VK Powell

  She was happy to see Ann through the window still puttering around in the office. “Jeez, it gets cold up here after dark, Ann. Got any coffee handy?” She hugged herself and rocked back and forth, trying to warm up.

  “Are you all right?” Ann rubbed Emma’s back while pulling leaves from her hair.

  “A little cold. I obviously didn’t wear enough layers, but I didn’t expect to be out this late. I got a little disoriented somewhere between Squirrelville and Possum Trot.”

  “Come sit down and warm yourself by the fire. I’ll get something for the insides.”

  “I can hear Madam Wilderness now saying a smug ‘I told you so’ because I strayed.”

  Ann stopped searching under the counter and turned to her. “Then you haven’t seen Carter?”

  “No, why?”

  “Oh, brother. She’s going to be as mad as a whore in church. When I told her you weren’t back from the Pointe, she got pretty fired up. She left over an hour ago looking for you. By the way, how did you find your way back?”

  “I may be a self-proclaimed nature-phobe, but I’ve got pretty good common sense. I did get kind of lost, but I listened for sounds of civilization and watched for smoke from the cabins. I’d been going around in circles for a while, so I wasn’t far away at all.”

  “I knew you were a gutsy one, Emma.” Ann handed her a tin coffee cup and clicked it against her own. “Here’s to self-sufficient women.”

  “Amen.” She took a sip, and the strong liquid stole her breath. “Good Lord, Ann, what is this? More of your concoctions?” Emma gasped as alcohol burned down her throat and brought tears to her eyes.

  “It’s just a little touch of brandy I had stashed away in the back for medical emergencies. Seems to me this qualifies. Don’t you agree? I used to drink Geritol, supposed to be good for old folks, until I found out it was addictive.”

  “I like the way you think, Ann. I guess you should call Carter on the radio and tell her I’m back.” Emma inhaled the smoky fragrance from the wood stove and took a much smaller sip of the lukewarm liquid.

  “Well, normally that would be a real good idea, but I can’t.” She pointed to a radio sitting on the counter. “She was in such a rush, she left her handheld. Nothing to do now but wait. Care for another shot?” Ann asked, not waiting for an answer before refilling Emma’s cup.

  “Should we send someone after her?” The warming effects of the brandy lulled Emma into a more relaxed state. “Will she be all right?”

  “Few people know these parts better than my Carter. She’ll be just fine.”

  Emma removed her tennis shoes, reclined, and raised her socked feet toward the wood stove. She scrutinized Ann from the corner of her eye, wondering about her and Cass and about Carter’s past.

  “Spit it out, Emma,” Ann said. “I can hear those wheels turning, but your mouth isn’t engaging. What do you want to know?”

  “You’re much too intuitive for your own good. I really don’t want to meddle.”

  “Of course you do. It’s an occupational hazard. I just whet your appetite this morning about Cass. I know you’re itching to pick the cobwebs for the rest of the story. Fire away. In a few more minutes, neither of us will care.” Ann waved her cup in an air toast.

  Emma wasn’t sure what to ask first. She needed to work up to her questions about Carter. “What happened to Cass while you were away with the national guard?”

  A painful look crossed Ann’s face as she tilted her head. “I was gone close to four years before I came back for a visit. She’d already been married once and was heading for her second husband.” She took another swig. “This one was harmless enough. He drank some and didn’t make many demands on her…to be a real wife. At least that’s what she told me the one night we spent together.”

  Emma stopped pulling at a leaf stuck to her sock as she realized the implications of Ann’s comment. “You mean you actually got to sleep with her?”

  “Wasn’t any sleeping going on, but if you mean sex, yeah. We finally did the deed. I hate to sound like a cliché, but I loved everything about Cass. Her skin was the color of pure ivory, and when I touched her, I burned in places I didn’t even know I had. I spent that night loving her with my body, mind, and soul. For the first time in my life, everything was perfect.”

  Emma’s skin warmed too quickly to blame the fire or the alcohol, and she loosened the top button of her corduroy shirt. What would it feel like to love someone that much and to make love to them with your entire being? “So the two of you went away together, right?” There was no way this story didn’t have a happy ending.

  “Nope. She said she loved me with all her heart, couldn’t imagine anyone else ever touching her, but she couldn’t leave with me. Her family was here, her mother was ailing, and she’d given her word to this man that she’d marry him.”

  “But Ann—”

  Just then the front door flew open and Carter rushed in, face red, brows furrowed. “Ann, I can’t find her. She’s good and lost.” Then her eyes focused on them. “What the—”

  “Look what the cat dragged in, Carter,” Ann said too loudly, rising too quickly and grabbing the counter for support. “She made it back all by herself.”

  Carter walked to the recliner and glared down at Emma, her eyes scanning her body. Temporary relief washed over her face but was replaced almost immediately with anger as she looked from Emma to Ann and back again. “You two have been drinking? I was out there scouring half of the mountainside, and you’re here getting plastered around the woodstove.”

  “Don’t be so hard on her, Carter,” Ann said.

  “And you stay out of this,” Carter snapped.

  “Wait a minute, young lady. Don’t give me that tone. After all, she made it back safely.”

  Emma rose to her feet cautiously. “It’s okay, Ann.” Then she turned on Carter. “I’m so sorry I spoiled your Tarzan rescue. Pardon me for not waiting helplessly in the woods for the liberation.”

  Carter’s shocked expression almost made Emma smile. Part of her liked Carter’s Neanderthal protectiveness, but Carter didn’t need to know that.

  She pulled on her shoes and took Ann’s hands in hers. “Thank you for your concern and your hospitality. Don’t think I’m going to let you get by without telling me the end of the story.” She kissed Ann on each cheek and brushed past Carter on her way out.

  Chapter Five

  Damn you, Carter West. Emma had tossed and turned for hours after the unpleasant exchange with Carter at the office and then been unable to sleep at all. Maybe she’d overreacted and been ungrateful to boot. Carter’s protectiveness had been a turn-on. Who was she kidding? Everything about Carter fascinated her.

  She rolled out of bed and schlepped into the tiny kitchen for her morning caffeine fix. When she found only one remaining pack of complimentary coffee, she added grocery shopping to her to-do list for the day. She ate a flattened protein bar she’d found in the bottom of her computer bag, then showered and dressed in comfortable jeans and a blouse. First, she’d go see Fannie and hopefully begin researching her new paying project.

  Emma stuffed her notepad and phone into her messenger bag as she opened the door and pulled it closed. As she bent to insert the key into the lock, she backed into something firm and unyielding. Strong hands encircled her waist. She whirled around, stumbled backward, and came face to face with Carter’s deep-brown eyes and inviting lips. Her hands still rested on Emma’s waist, and their bodies pressed together at the most distracting places.

  Carter backed away quickly and almost stepped off the side of the porch. “Sorry. I was going to knock, but…” Her eyes held Emma’s stare, showing no signs of discomfort.

  Emma fought to keep her face from blazing as red as her hair. “No problem.” She turned back to the door and locked it slowly, giving herself time to recover. When she finally looked at Carter again, she almost gasped. This was the first time she’d seen her out of the unflattering ranger’s uniform. Tight,
faded blue jeans covered her long legs and broadcast every ripple of her muscular legs. A crisp white cotton shirt covered firm, compact breasts but clearly showed her erect nipples pressing against the fabric.

  Carter followed Emma’s gaze but made no attempt to pull her black leather jacket together as she stepped back. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night. It looks bad for the park if someone goes missing…and I was worried about you.”

  Emma’s heartbeat quickened at Carter’s admission. Her words resonated with honesty and concern. “I overreacted, and you were right. I should’ve come back with you. Besides, it is your job to keep the visitors from walking off the side of a mountain.”

  “Yeah, but it was more than that.” Carter twirled her necklace between her fingers and scuffed her boot against the edge of the porch. Emma had the feeling Carter was about to say more, so she waited. “Could I offer you a ride to town? I have to go. Plus, I’d like to make up for being such an ass last night.”

  Emma regarded Carter unabashedly for the first time. Carter didn’t seem nervous or shy, but her words didn’t come easily, as if merely speaking was an effort that required concentration. And that vulnerability tugged at Emma’s heart. She longed to understand and protect this woman who seemingly needed no protection. Her heart pounded wildly, and she realized Carter was waiting for a response.

  She cleared her dry throat and tried. “Uh…I need to go by the grocery store, but I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

  “I don’t mind dropping by on the way back.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure it won’t be a bother.”

  “No bother.”

  On the short ride, Emma watched Carter’s agile fingers maneuver the steering wheel and gearshift. She imagined those hands on her body. What effect would they have? Would she be as unmoved as she’d been with Sheri, or could Carter summon her passion? She took a deep breath and found her reporter’s voice. “So, do you have other family besides Ann?”

  Carter gave her an almost pained look. “No.”

  Emma hesitated, not wanting to cause discomfort but unable to suppress her need to know. “What about your parents?”

  “No. It’s just me and Ann.” Another artful dodge by the private ranger. “What about your family? Are they nearby?”

  “My father disappeared during the Gulf War, and my mother lives on the opposite side of the country. My father was an embedded journalist, and my mother was an architect, retired now. I see her a couple of times a year.”

  “Did you move around a lot as a child? I always wondered what it would be like to travel, like Ann did when she was with the national guard. Seems exciting.” Carter’s voice had a faraway sound, like she was picturing herself in some exotic locale.

  “We followed my dad to assignments all over the world. I guess some of it was exciting, but you miss a lot too.”

  Carter looked over at her. “Like what?”

  “A permanent home with family traditions, getting to know classmates, forming strong friendships and relationships. My father was seldom home, my mother worked long hours, and I was often with a sitter, at summer camp, or at boarding school. My last birthday party was when I turned five. We lived in Germany. My mother had decorated the dining room with balloons and streamers, and we were waiting for my father, who’d promised to be there.” Her chest tightened with a flood of sadness. “I’m sorry. It was a…long time ago.”

  Carter reached over and squeezed Emma’s hand where it rested on her lap. “You don’t need to apologize, Emma. You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sure that hurt a lot.”

  “Thank you. Distract me. What about you and your family?” The atmosphere in the Jeep noticeably shifted from sparking chemistry to strained discomfort. Carter obviously didn’t want to discuss her family, and Emma longed to know more about them.

  “No time.” Carter parked on the street near the library.

  Their ride was already over, and she hadn’t even scratched the surface of Carter’s defenses, while exposing some of her own. “Okay.”

  “Shall I pick you up here around four?”

  “I’ll see you then, and thanks for the lift.” She exited the Jeep before either of them had to say anything else.

  On the walk to Fannie Buffkin’s house, Emma considered tactful ways to revisit the conversation with Carter and, if that failed, how to pump Ann for information. Fannie’s door opened as if she’d been expected, but she didn’t see anyone. She poked her head inside. “Mrs. Buffkin?”

  “What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Come in.”

  Emma followed the sound of Fannie’s voice to the same sitting room as before. “How did you do that?”

  Fannie, dressed today in housecoat and slippers, smiled as if she had a secret she wasn’t going to share, but then said, “I have special powers. Crystal, my part-time helper, saw you coming from the center of town. There are advantages to living on a hill. Nobody can slip up on you.” She gave Emma an appraising glance. “Had a feeling I’d see you again. What brought you back? Your father’s memory and a bit of personal pride?”

  “You piqued my curiosity. How did you know invoking my father’s name would work?”

  “Calculated risk. He was an honorable man. My husband and I followed his coverage of the war religiously. His disappearance was a great loss to the field of journalism, as I’m sure it was to your family. I knew if you had half his courage and professional dedication, you’d come around.”

  “And your risk paid off.”

  Fannie sat regally in the worn chair as if holding court. She brushed at wrinkles in her frayed housecoat like it was a designer dress. She clearly hadn’t been expecting guests today. Emma felt sorry for her and knew Fannie would hate that.

  “If you’re willing to lie to get me here, this story must be important.”

  “Does that mean you’ll write the piece?”

  “That depends on the subject and your promise to be truthful with me from now on. I have to warn you that I will cross-check everything you tell me through other sources.”

  “I understand. Let’s get to it. My brother, Theodore Wayne Thompson, was murdered thirty-seven years ago, and no one has bothered to find out who did it or why.” She retrieved a framed picture from the table behind her and handed it to Emma. “I’ve raised hell, talked to every lawman ever elected or hired, called every politician local and state, and written every newspaper in the country begging for answers.”

  Emma stared at the photograph of a distinguished-looking man as if he might speak. “A murder? That’s certainly different from a history piece.”

  “I have no interest in the history of this place! My family is the damn history.”

  Emma’s mind hummed with excitement, but her reporter’s instinct urged caution. The world was full of people who couldn’t accept hard facts and wanted a reporter to write a story, as if it could change the outcome. “I’m so sorry about your brother, but I have to ask why you think he was murdered. Wasn’t an investigation conducted at the time?”

  “If you can call it an investigation. The lawmen around this town couldn’t investigate their way out of an outhouse with directions on the door. It was a sham.”

  “Did you get a copy of the police inquiry, and could I see it?” Emma needed something concrete to add credence to Fannie’s allegations.

  “I’m telling you there wasn’t any inquiry—just a missing-person’s report.” Fannie snorted with disgust and pushed her thick glasses up on her nose. She dug under the cushion of the discolored wing chair, produced a brownish piece of paper, and shoved it toward Emma. “This is all I’ve got. It’s a few statements from people in town that don’t say much.”

  The paper contained barely visible handwritten notes on official-looking Patrick County letterhead. Coffee stains and grease obstructed most of the content. Emma strained to make out any legible comments but couldn’t. She handed the paper back.

  “A missing-person’s report? I thought yo
u said he was murdered.” The more Fannie talked, the more confused her story became. Why hadn’t Harriett mentioned anything about a murder or disappearance? Surely it would have made news in a small town like Stuart, even if it didn’t make the papers.

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s fishy about this, Emma? My brother was only thirty years old and heir to half of what our granddaddy built in this town, which was considerable. He was a happily married man, expecting his first child, a church-going pillar of the community, and just a decent hard-working man and boss.

  “The night he disappeared was a strange one. Theo was going to the factory to close after second shift, around ten thirty, but Sandra, his wife, volunteered. She was planning to check on her mother anyway. He agreed but then left shortly after her and didn’t say where he was going. Neither of them came back. I figured Sandra had to stay with her mother. That happened sometimes. But they both just disappeared without a word to anybody. Doesn’t that strike you as strange?”

  “I have to admit it doesn’t make sense. What was the official conclusion?”

  “Sheriff said he just disappeared, no sign of foul play, nothing to indicate he didn’t leave of his own free will. And they left it at that, but I can’t.”

  “And what about his wife, Sandra? What did she say?”

  “Turns out she’d gone to the hospital that night—miscarriage. Afterward she lived with her mother, who passed on a few months later. Sandra said she never saw Theo after that night. She and I grew apart after he disappeared…and the baby…nothing to bind us anymore.”

  “I’ll want to talk with her.”

  Fannie shook her head. “She’s dead, and I’m seventy-one years old and don’t have a lot of time left to find answers.” A tear trickled down her face, sliding her thick glasses to the end of her nose. She pushed them back up and looked over at Emma.

  Fannie’s eyes reminded her of her mother’s as she’d waited for news about her missing husband. She and Emma had reminisced for hours, trying to remain hopeful. Even through her mother’s laughter and words of encouragement, Emma saw the look of hopelessness—the same look Fannie Buffkin wore. She’d been unable to ease her mother’s pain or answer her questions about her husband’s disappearance all those years earlier. Maybe she wouldn’t fail this time. Could she possibly find out what happened to Fannie’s brother? “Why didn’t you tell me this was why you wanted me to come here?”