Tennessee Rescue

by Carolyn McSparren

  Would she ever have that mother feeling with her own newborn? Didn’t look like it at the moment. She wanted a man she could count on, who believed in fidelity. Trip obviously did not. If he could cheat on his fiancée, what would he do to his wife?

  The whole situation had looked so perfect at the start. Even her father had finally agreed that marrying Trip would be a good choice. Well—goodish. Daddy’s take was that no man who’d ever lived was good enough for his Emma, but Trip would keep her safe and happy.

  Now, she’d come to the realization that even if Trip wanted her back, she did not now or ever want to marry him. Whatever she’d thought she felt for him, she knew it was never love. Convenience? Appropriateness? Timing? She wasn’t sure she’d recognize real love if she ran into it like a brick wall.

  Maybe she’d move to Montana or Alaska or somewhere there were more men than women. The pool of eligible bachelors in west Tennessee that she hadn’t already crossed off her list was getting smaller and smaller.

  Okay, she’d been raised to be picky. Even in high school her father had second-guessed her crushes.

  He’d guessed wrong on Trip. Daddy simply couldn’t understand why she’d broken her engagement. If she had her way, he’d never know.

  Actually, losing her job working for Nathan was worse than losing Trip. Maybe she should take up fostering abandoned baby scapegoats. She’d be right at home being the mother of that herd. Accepting blame for something that was her fault was one thing. Being fired because of someone else’s screwup made her angry. She hadn’t even had a chance to plead her case before Nathan fired her.

  She settled Rose next to Sycamore and picked up Peony. She could already tell them apart not by their looks—although their stripes were different—but by their personalities. Sycamore was a bit of a bully and certainly greedy. Rose was gentle and liked to be cuddled. Peony was sweet, but Emma decided she didn’t have a brain in her soft little head. The poor baby tried to figure out the nursing thing, but the practical aspects simply eluded her.

  Eventually Emma managed to get enough milk down Peony’s throat, rather than on her fur, that she felt comfortable returning her to the nest. She put the remaining milk back in the refrigerator and realized she’d have to make a run to the grocery for another gallon or so come morning. She had enough for only one more feeding.

  Seth had left a couple of cans of dog food on the kitchen counter, but she’d better do some internet research on how to feed her charges before she offered them dog food. She’d ask Seth tomorrow, as well. Maybe just a tiny bit mashed up in the milk. But how would she get the solid food into their mouths through that syringe?

  Relishing the still-warm bed, she snuggled down again. This time sleep eluded her. The whole country-life thing had turned into a major fiasco. She ought to pack her duffel bag and go home. What did she know about living in the country? Rehabbing a run-down house? Feeding skunks?

  A niggling voice in the back of her mind whispered, “But Seth knows how to help me.”

  Another niggling voice followed. “Yeah, but I’ll bet he won’t.”

  * * *

  BARBARA CAREW’S MOBILE vet van was already sitting in the parking lot at the Forked Deer Café when Seth pulled in beside it. She was reading the Marquette County Gazette in the back booth of the café and cradling a giant mug of coffee.

  “You ever sleep?” he asked as he slid into the banquette across from her.

  “When the animals let me,” she said. She folded the paper, put it down on the patched leatherette bench and took a swig of her coffee. “This helps. Good morning, Seth.”

  A brawny arm and hand carrying a mug of coffee the size of Barbara’s reached across his shoulder and set the cup on the table in front of him. “Hey, Seth,” a gravelly voice said. “The usual?”

  “Thanks, Velma.”

  “You have bags under your eyes,” Barbara told him.

  “Those bags probably have bags,” Seth muttered.

  “Rough day yesterday?”

  “No worse than usual. At least not until last night. Then things got complicated.” He laid out the entire scenario, from Emma’s knock on his front door until he left her with her black-and-white invaders.

  “Here ya go, sweet thing.” Velma set the plate with sausage, hash browns, eggs and grits on the table, then added a large glass of orange juice.

  “If I ate like that, I’d be even fatter than I am,” Barbara said. “Here I’ve got one country ham biscuit. Life is not fair.”

  “You are not fat,” Seth said. “Just not skeletal.”

  “Way I work, I should be—skeletal, that is.”

  Seth cut into his eggs. “So, what should I do?”

  “About what? The woman or the skunks?”

  “Take your pick. I doubt the woman will stick around for long, but if she does, what should I do about the rules on skunks?”

  Barbara got up, went behind the counter and brought back the coffee carafe. She refilled both their cups, then returned the carafe to the hot plate. “Okay. I’m going to give you a bit of motherly advice.” She scowled at him. “I am a mother, you know, even if mine are both semigrown. This, however, is advice from my mother. When Patrick hit the terrible twos, John and I had just taken over my practice and were trying to keep from throttling him. Seemed he was into something every minute. River otters are said to have two states—asleep or in trouble. I swear that kid has river otter genes instead of human. Anyway, one day when I was absolutely at my wit’s end, and my mother was visiting, she said, ‘Barbara, dear, do not see so much.’”

  “What if he’s hanging off a precipice by his fingernails?” Seth asked.

  “That, of course, you do see. But if it’s nondangerous stuff that you don’t know how to handle, simply don’t see it. In most instances, the problem resolves itself without you or the kid going to jail for first-degree murder. If this Emma is doing something that’s against the rules—rules you say you don’t believe are appropriate in the first place—is she doing it under your nose? Can you see or hear those skunks from inside your house or your car?”

  “No, but I know they’re there.”

  “Can you see them?”

  “Of course not. But I need to check on her, make sure she’s managing.”

  “Can you see the skunks from her living room?”

  “They’re in the pantry.”

  “Stay out of the pantry.”

  “I’m sworn to uphold the regulations.”

  “You are sworn to protect wildlife.” Barbara reached across the table and laid her hand on his. “If you get caught, I had nothing to do with this.”

  “Oh, thanks, I appreciate that.”

  “We need to get those babies up and weaned as quickly and quietly as possible. Return them to the wild far enough away so they can’t show up back on this woman’s doorstep, and in the meantime, you forget they exist.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “The alternative is to come down on her like a ton of bricks, take those babies away from her and abandon them to the coyotes and the foxes before they even have their scent glands functioning. Can you do that?”

  “No, but—”

  “I’ll stop by her place on my way back to the clinic to introduce myself. I’m the only vet in her neighborhood, and she’s a new neighbor. Does she have any pets?”

  He shook his head. “Not as far as I know.”

  “Okay, then I’ll do the neighborly thing. I’ll help her with those babies. First of all, rabies shots all around. It’s early, but not dangerously early to give them the shot. You go on to work and put it all out of your mind.” She shoved her plate away. “I’ll go check on Skunk Lady. Velma, honey, fix me a couple of sausage biscuits and a small orange juice to go, please.” She turned to Seth. “Vets bearing gifts. Good ploy. You pay for breakfast.”

  As h
e watched her van drive out of the parking lot, Seth thought, The skunks are one thing, but no way can I put Emma French out of my mind. I’m already stuck with her. Heck, I may be stuck with her for the rest of my life. I can’t get her out of my head. I don’t even know whether that’s good or bad.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE HOVEL—EMMA’S new nickname for her house—had a good hot water heater and plenty of water pressure from her well, so as soon as she’d finished the eight o’clock feeding, she was able to stay under the shower until she turned pruney. She washed her hair, threw on clean clothes and actually put on some makeup. Once the babies were settled, she picked up her purse and started for the front door, only to see someone looming outside the glass.

  The babies! That man had set the cops on her! She’d never felt like a fugitive before. Should she try to hide them? Would they search?

  “Hey!” called a female voice. “I’m Barbara Carew, the local veterinarian. Seth sent me to give you a hand.”

  Emma didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she let it out in an explosive gasp. She opened the door to her visitor.

  The vet stood only about five feet three, wore bright blue scrubs with a beige hoodie cardigan and had the widest, bluest eyes Emma had ever seen outside of a contact lens store. She swept past Emma and handed her a paper sack in passing.

  “Here. Breakfast. Figured you hadn’t had time to eat or go out for anything. Where are they?”

  “Uh—the pantry. Are you supposed to know about them?”

  “Too late now. Sit.” She pointed to one of the bar stools at the breakfast counter between the kitchen and living room. “Eat. You get any sleep? Food is an excellent alternative to sleep. Trust me. I know.”

  Too stunned to disobey, and suddenly ravenously hungry, Emma sat, opened the sack and inhaled. Then she began to devour.

  Barbara swept past her, opened the door to the pantry, cooed, “Oooooh,” and fell to her knees beside the skunks’ nest. “The precious!”

  “We have to save them,” Emma said around a large bite.

  Barbara picked up Peony, who whimpered before she curled into a ball against Barbara’s chest. “Honey, you have convinced the toughest, by-the-book, hardnosed ranger in the state of Tennessee to break the rules for you and your babies. It’s up to us to protect him from the dire results of his actions. I don’t know what kind of hold you’ve got on him, but unless it’s blackmail material, it has to be pure sex appeal.”

  “I don’t...”

  “He’s my dearest friend. You be good to him, I’ll love you like a sister. You hurt him, honey, and you’re toast.”

  * * *

  SETH SPENT THE morning in his office. For a job that concerned itself with the great outdoors, much of his time was spent staring at a computer screen filling out paperwork. Today he wasn’t paying nearly enough attention to it. Emma French’s face kept intruding. Didn’t matter what program he was officially accessing. He picked up his desk phone a dozen times to call her and see how the babies were doing. Each time he put the phone back in its cradle without dialing. He’d stop by on his way home to see if he could give her a hand moving some of those boxes. He didn’t even have to look at the skunks or mention that they were there.

  Just before noon Earl Matthews stuck his head in the door of Seth’s miniscule office. “Lunch? The café?”

  “I had breakfast there this morning. Oh, shoot, doesn’t mean I’m not hungry. Let me shut this computer down first. How about we pick up some sandwiches and head on over to the lake to check fishing licenses?”

  “You got a deal.”

  Sitting in the official cruiser beside the dock on the oxbow lake that fed into the Tennessee River some five miles to the south, they checked to see how many bass boats were out fishing. This late in the morning, there were none in view, although that didn’t mean there weren’t a few latecomers around the bend, close to the downed trees. Bass, crappie and catfish loved to hide among the branches of trees long submerged.

  Seth let Earl run the launch down to the bend while he leaned back against the leather seats, slid his Smokey hat over his eyes and allowed his mind to drift. Emma French probably wouldn’t stay long enough for him to get to know her. Obviously she was a city slickeress. Way above his pay grade. He’d generally gone for what his father called pocket Venuses. Like Clare. Five foot three and practically boneless.

  Emma’s flesh covered strong bones. She’d fight him over those blasted skunks or anything else she didn’t agree with. If they ever made love—unlikely—it would be like igniting a thermonuclear device.

  “Heads up,” Earl said. “Party boat eleven o’clock.”

  Almost hidden where the high weeds drooped in the water, and under tree leaves that weren’t fully open, a large, fancy pontoon party boat carrying a pair of powerful outboard motors was getting ready to hightail it away from them. There were half a dozen people spooling in fishing lines as fast as they could, and one man hunkered over the two motors attached to the stern. The engines sputtered, then kicked into action.

  “Oh, goodie!” Earl said. “Blow the horn, please, Mr. Policeman. I do believe they plan to evade inspection.”

  “Not if they don’t get their anchor up first,” Seth said. He shouted into the loud hailer, “Cut your engines now before you swamp!” At the moment that appeared to be an immediate threat. The party boat was built to run perilously close to the water on its pontoons with little freeboard. Normally, in calm waters, that was no problem. In wind and waves, however, the big boat was difficult to handle and swamped easily.

  At the moment the two engines were attempting to back the boat against the anchor chain at the bow, but it showed no sign of lifting free of the mud bottom.

  The louder the engines growled, the more the boat buried its engines deeper in the lake, lifting the bow perilously high. The people on board had run toward the stern—the opposite of what they should be doing—and now stood ankle-deep in water. The two women in the group were squealing and jumping around trying to keep their feet dry.

  “Move forward toward the bow!” Seth yelled. “And somebody cut those engines! Earl, get me over there.”

  “Be careful. Don’t get trapped between boats, and do not fall into those propellers. They’ll cut you to pieces.” Earl, calm as always, steered his boat until it gently tapped the left pontoon amidships. Seth said a fast prayer, leaped, slipped, then righted himself safely on the deck.

  He was afraid his weight would sink the boat before he could cut the engines. He moved a woman who outweighed him by a good hundred pounds toward the bow. “Get up there! You, too, ma’am,” he snapped at her companion, as thin as she was fat.

  He reached past one of the men and shut off both engines. Instantly the boat settled back on its pontoons. “The rest of you, go sit down amidships and don’t move until I say so.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do on my own boat!” said a grizzled man close to Seth’s size, but flabby with age and unsteady on what Seth suspected were drunken legs.

  “Yes, sir, I can. Sit down. All of you.” Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the smaller of the two women surreptitiously trying to kick what looked like a bottle of Jack Daniel’s under the edge of her seat.

  “Hey, ma’am, don’t try that,” Earl called from the launch. She froze.

  “Fishing licenses and boat registration,” Seth said. Now that the initial disaster was averted, he was starting to seethe. “Earl, can you tie up to us and come on over here?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Seth stepped back. “So, this is your boat, sir?” he asked the grizzled man who’d gone suddenly silent.

  “Hell, yeah, it’s mine, and you all like to have caused an accident running up on us like that.”

  “Uh-huh. How many passengers do you have on board this morning?”

  “Can’t you coun
t? Five. We got five. We was just taking us a little ride...”

  “Looked to me like you were doing a little fishing along the way,” Seth said.

  “Without fishing licenses,” Earl said. He shrugged. “That’s what he said.” He pointed at a small man huddled in the seat across from the large woman. “More drinking than fishing, I think.”

  “Now, y’all lookee here...” The big man puffed himself up and huffed out what he must’ve felt was an intimidating breath. It didn’t work. And it stank of alcohol.

  “No, sir, you lookee here,” Earl said. “There are signs all over this lake. No fishing without a license.”

  “May I see your current boat registration?” Seth asked. So far he’d managed to sound cool and polite, but underneath, his temper was going from simmer to boil.

  The man deflated slightly. “Uh, musta left it back at the marina.”

  “We’ll check it when we get back to the dock.”

  “Well...could be I left it back at the house.”

  “That’s perfectly all right,” Earl said. “We can check the number and expiration date on our computer over there in our boat. By law you’re supposed to carry it on board at all times...”

  “Lordy, young man,” the giant lady said from her seat, “ain’t nobody does that. This ain’t no big houseboat.”

  “Shut up, Phoebe,” the grizzled man snapped.

  “No one seems to be wearing a life jacket, sir,” Seth said.

  “They in the lockers over there,” the big woman said. “Right close, where we can get ’em if we need ’em.” She sounded satisfied. “But you don’t need life jackets on party boats, do you? Not like they sink or anything. Can’t get drownd-ed off one of these things, now, can you?”

  “Uh-oh,” Earl whispered. “Seth...” He touched Seth’s forearm in warning.

  Seth thought he sounded calm, but when he saw the sudden fear in the woman’s eyes he realized that something in his demeanor had telegraphed his annoyance. He opened the life jacket locker and tossed a jacket to each of the passengers. “Ma’am, you all nearly capsized ten minutes ago. A party boat doesn’t care if it floats on its roof, and it doesn’t turn back over on its own. You could’ve been trapped underneath or caught in the weeds. Please put these on. We are now going to give you a tow back to the marina, at which point we’ll write up the offenses you’re being arrested for...”