Lone Ranger

by VK Powell

  “Number one, the crash you heard was a dead tree limb falling right outside your window. Number two, I’m fine, thank you for asking. Number three, I didn’t find anybody. It was probably a teenager who slipped out after his parents went to sleep. You should be used to prowlers. You live in a city.” Carter placed a pillow under Emma’s swollen appendage and kneaded the tender flesh until she grimaced. “Sit still and I’ll get some ice.”

  “Are the cabins beside me occupied?”

  “Just the one to your left, number nine. He’s from out of town and works construction. Seems nice enough.”

  Carter dumped the old-fashioned ice trays into the kitchen sink, filled a plastic bag and wrapped it in a dishcloth, and then knelt in front of Emma. She gently positioned the pack on Emma’s ankle and gave her a questioning look.

  “What?”

  “Are you always—”

  “Clumsy? Uncoordinated? In a word, yes. And I did warn you.”

  “I was actually going to ask if you’re always so unpleasant when you’re hurt?” Carter grinned.

  “You can stop teasing me now. It’s embarrassing enough that you saw me do the Jack-and-Jill tumble again.” Few things annoyed her more than making a fool of herself in front of others. “And yes, I’m a very bad patient.”

  “Your clumsiness is sort of charming.” Carter wrapped the dishcloth around Emma’s ankle so the ice pack was secured.

  The sight of Carter’s long fingers moving gently over her flesh caused a different kind of pain deep inside Emma. She flinched.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Uh…” It took a second to realize Carter was referring to her ankle. Her face flushed with heat. “Mostly numb.”

  “I was worried when you left the cookout so quickly. I thought maybe I did something wrong, because you seemed to get along great with the kids.”

  “You wanted to talk with them alone. And I was just overcome with the joy and wonder of children that adults seem to lose somewhere along the way.”

  “Tell me about it. We’d all be better off if we could keep that childish curiosity forever.”

  Emma studied Carter as she knelt in front of her, her well-defined legs bulging against the taut fabric of her jeans and her tailored flannel shirt outlining developed chest and arm muscles. She didn’t often feel safe or even necessarily comfortable when other women violated her personal space, like Carter had when she’d carried her.

  Carter glanced up and caught the direction of her gaze, and a tiny smile tweaked the corners of her mouth.

  Emma didn’t want to pretend she hadn’t been looking, and she sucked at subtlety. “You have a very nice body, Carter. So strong and capable.”

  Carter twisted her necklace. Emma’s words warmed her almost as much as touching her had. “Thank you.” She usually paid the compliments, not the other way around. “When I saw your tumble, I turned into Super Ranger, savior of lost children, protector of baby animals, and champion of lame reporters.”

  Emma grinned. “I’m sure there are rewards for saving small children and helpless animals, but not for rescuing a poor struggling reporter who’s fallen and can’t get up.”

  “My reward was holding you.” Did I just say that out loud? Emma’s pupils dilated and she licked her lips. Carter unconsciously mimicked the action. You’ll only be a rebound. Perfect. Short-term is all you want. Her internal argument continued, while her eyes remained locked on the woman lying in front of her. Damn it, even her clumsiness made her seem vulnerable and more endearing.

  Emma reached for her.

  Carter stood quickly. She was attracted, sure, but she didn’t want to take advantage. “Why don’t I start a fire? It feels like it’s going to rain. I’m even getting a little chilly.” Fire was the last thing she needed, but building it provided distance to regain control of her feelings. Why was she resisting the pull toward Emma?

  She worked slowly, creating a base of balled-up paper and twigs and a tepee of loosely placed small limbs. When she was satisfied with the final product and certain she’d harnessed her emotions, she turned back to Emma. “Prepare for the fire-lighting ceremony.” She held a fireplace match in front of her, poised to hit the striker.

  “What? No rubbing of sticks or shaving of flint? You’re actually using a match?”

  “I save my best tricks for the wilderness. Are you ready?”

  Emma sat straighter. “Is there a ceremonial speech at least?”

  “I could bore you with the history of fire or the park, or I could just toss a little foofoo dust and we could make silent wishes.”

  “I vote for the latter.”

  “Me too.” Carter sprinkled imaginary dust on top of the stack and lit the match. Flames hopscotched from one piece of paper to the next until the base and tepee of twigs crackled and blazed. When she turned away from the fire, her eyes met Emma’s again and held for several seconds, a familiar feeling settling deep in her gut.

  “What is it?” Emma asked.

  Carter fumbled with her necklace and scanned the room. For the first time, she actually felt shy with a woman. Something about Emma made her want to share things she’d never told anyone. “It’s just…you…in the firelight. You look so beautiful.”

  Emma crossed her arms as if to protect herself from the feelings Carter’s words evoked and stared into the fire. “I…it’s…”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t usually blurt.” What could she possibly say that would explain the strange blend of feelings Emma stirred? “You just make me want to…”

  “What, Carter?”

  “Never mind. I better take off and let you rest.”

  Emma reached for Carter, but she was too far away. “Don’t.” She had no idea where to start explaining herself, or if she even wanted to try. But she did want this soft-spoken ranger with dark, searching eyes to stay. “Don’t go, Carter.” She owed it to herself to explore the possibilities that life presented. Didn’t she?

  Carter didn’t move.

  “Carter?” Emma reached out again, then stopped. Maybe she’d been reading Carter’s intentions wrong.

  “You really shouldn’t look at me like that. Those blue eyes are saying things to me you might regret.”

  “They speak too loudly sometimes.”

  Carter knelt in front of her. Time shifted to a slow, sensuous crawl as Carter raised her hand and lightly traced the outline of Emma’s mouth with the tip of her index finger. Then Carter leaned close and kissed her so softly Emma would have questioned whether they’d really touched, except her lips tingled and heat flashed through her. She threaded her arms around Carter’s neck. She wanted her. For the first time, she actually hungered for another woman, this woman. She wanted to rip her flannel shirt open and caress flesh she knew would be smooth and hot. This was what she’d missed in previous relationships, this burning need to consume and be consumed.

  Carter’s lips suddenly stilled, and she gently loosened Emma’s arms from her neck. “I think it’s best if I stoke the fire and leave you to rest.”

  “But…” She wanted Carter to stay and make love to her, but God, she didn’t want to sound as desperate as she felt. Every nerve in her body sparked, every hormone raged. She wanted this woman. Now.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Carter said.

  Carter apparently didn’t want her. Emma looked toward the fire and tried to breathe normally before answering. “I’m the one who should apologize. I practically choked you.” Nothing about this situation was humorous, but she needed to get back on stable ground. “Thanks for the cookout and for getting me back to the cabin. You really went beyond the call of duty.”

  “Don’t put much weight on your ankle for a while. Do you need anything before I leave? Would you like something to eat? Can I help you to be…” Carter squeezed Emma’s hand lightly. “Strike that last part.”

  “I’ll be fine. Thanks. I should be comfortable here with the fire.” She pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa and snu
ggled in. The way her body was humming, comfortable was the last thing she’d be tonight.

  “I’ll check on you tomorrow.” Carter waved from the doorway and disappeared in a blast of cold air.

  Emma tried to sleep, but the ibuprofen she’d taken hadn’t eased her ankle pain or the ache of Carter’s abrupt departure. Their kiss had ignited a fire, a passion that wouldn’t be so easy to extinguish.

  Chapter Eight

  Emma woke from a dream of pitchfork-wielding hillbillies to a light tapping on the cabin door. Her aching ankle reminded her of last night’s tumble, and her hand pressed between her thighs reminded her of Carter’s kiss—the sexiest, hottest kiss of her life. Another knock prevented a total free fall into her feelings.

  “Yes, who is it?”

  “Emma, are you all right?” Ann’s voice was laced with concern.

  “Just a minute and I’ll let you in.”

  “Don’t get up. With your permission, I’ll use the pass key.”

  She rolled her legs over the side of the sofa and put a little pressure on her ankle. Not happening. “Please do.” She checked her cell, surprised she’d slept until after noon.

  Ann slowly entered, balancing a pot in one hand, and nudged the door closed with her foot. She wore a bright-green tent dress decorated with tiny red tassels that made her look like a walking Christmas tree. “How you feeling today?”

  “Like I can’t be trusted to walk on my own. My ankle is stiff but not broken.”

  “Carter should’ve called me last night. I gave her hell.” Ann placed the pot she was carrying on the kitchen table, settled at the end of the sofa, and lifted Emma’s foot onto her lap.

  “Don’t be too hard on her. I wouldn’t let her call. I’m not a very good patient.”

  Ann gently probed Emma’s leg from mid-calf to toes, paying special attention to her swollen ankle. “I think you’re right. You probably need to rest at least another day before walking on it, and then be careful. Do you have an anti-inflammatory?”

  Emma pointed to her bag resting at the end of the sofa.

  “And no more tumbling down hills or running on these gravelly roads. Got it?”

  “Yes, Nurse Ann.” Emma nodded toward the kitchen. “So…what you got there?”

  “I thought you might need some food.” Ann stood and headed toward the table.

  “I’m starving. The hot dog I had at the cookout is long gone.”

  “And how was the cookout? Did you enjoy yourself?”

  “Ann, it was so much fun. I haven’t laughed that much in years. Those kids are pretty special, and Carter is absolutely magic with them. It’s like she has a direct line into what they’re going through. Know what I mean?”

  “She’s definitely found her calling, if I can just get her to follow it.”

  “What do you mean?” Emma rose on an elbow and looked toward the kitchen.

  “Nothing. I’m just rambling.” Ann pointed to the pot as she retrieved a bowl from the cabinet. “This is a guaranteed-to-heal-anything concoction—specialty of the late, great Cass Calloway. The woman was nutty as a fruitcake, but she had talents.”

  “So, do I eat it or rub it on my ankle?”

  “Blasphemy!” Ann clasped her hands together and looked toward the ceiling. “Don’t listen, Cass. She didn’t mean it. For your information, Ms. City Slicker, this is the number-one jambalaya recipe in the history of the free world. Cass had a knack for exotic cuisine. It was her attempt to wean me off travel and other foreign delicacies.”

  “I love jambalaya.”

  “A word of caution before you try it. Any failure of the recipe to perform its intended purpose—to take your mind off your ankle while it sets your insides on fire—is entirely my fault. I’m a mediocre cook, nothing like my Cass.”

  “I’m sure it will be delicious. Sit with me while I eat?”

  “Sure. I’m off today, nothing else demanding my attention.” She handed Emma the bowl of jambalaya, the aroma making her mouth water. “Carter will be by later. She was coming this morning but had to go out on something. It’s probably another murder—spider suffocation or fish drowning.”

  Emma eagerly dug into the bowl of steaming goodness, as much to cover her reaction to possibly seeing Carter again as to quench her hunger. She moaned when the blistering spices hit her tongue. “So good. Would you tell me more about Cass?”

  “Glad to. She just happens to be my favorite subject. Let’s see. Where did we leave off last time?” Ann pulled a straight-backed chair from the dining area and propped her high-topped tennis shoes on the corner of the coffee table.

  “You’d come home for a visit, spent the night together, and made love for the first time. She wouldn’t leave with you, so you left town again.”

  “You really were paying attention. When I finished my stint in the national guard, I came back. She was hooked up with fiancé number three. He was meaner than a rattlesnake in a burlap sack. She couldn’t even look at anybody else without him flying hot. He hit her too.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. She was standing on the platform at the train station the day I returned. I walked up to her and said, ‘Ms. Calloway, nice to see you again. You look beautiful as ever.’ With tears in her eyes, she made some remark about no longer being a Calloway. I smiled and said, ‘You’ll always be Cass Calloway to me, and I’ll always love you. I’ll be waiting when you’re ready.’ Then I walked away.”

  “And she followed, right? Or came to you later?” She took another spoonful of the soup, her eyes never leaving Ann’s face.

  “Not exactly.”

  “So you gave her some time to think and then went after her?” This story had to have a happy ending. Emma could see how much Ann loved Cass even after all these years.

  “Couldn’t. I had responsibilities. Besides, she had to come to me. It wouldn’t have worked any other way. I already knew what I wanted.”

  Emma struggled to hold back tears. Clearing her throat, she asked, “How long did it take for her to do that?”

  “About two hours, best of my recollection. Her no-account fiancé gave her a belting when he found out I was back in town and that we’d spoken.”

  “That worthless son-of-a—” Emma muttered.

  “My words exactly. She came to my house that night, and we talked for hours. She needed me to tell her everything would be all right if she married this low-life bastard, that she could change him and make him a better man.”

  “Did you give her the lie she needed to hear, Ann?”

  “I told her to let her heart be her guide, and it would never betray her. I wanted to wrap her in my arms, take care of and protect her, but I couldn’t. She kissed me, told me she loved me, and went back to him. We didn’t speak for two more years.”

  “What?” Emma accidentally stamped her foot in disbelief and flinched.

  “Steady, girl.” Ann eased her leg back onto the sofa. “Stay put and finish your lunch.”

  “But why? She said she loved you, and you let her leave? I don’t get it.”

  “You know how complicated love can be—new feelings, other people, expectations—and two women trying to navigate those waters was unheard of in our day. She was committed to this man, and when Cass gave her word, she stuck to it regardless. She needed the security and status of marriage. Somehow she thought that could right all past wrongs. Anyway, I had obligations I couldn’t ignore and nothing of any substance to offer except my heart.”

  When Emma finished the jambalaya, Ann pulled a deck of cards from the pocket of her Christmas dress and dealt them each a hand on the coffee table. The sun dipped lower in the west as Emma talked about her childhood and her father’s disappearance while they played blackjack for matches.

  “You’re a shark, Ann West.” Emma pushed her final match chips to Ann’s side of the table and dropped her cards.

  “I’ve been accused of that before.” She seemed to study Emma for a second. “What else is on your mind, Emm
a?”

  “I was just wondering. What could possibly have been more important than the woman you love?”

  “Okay, you two, come out in the name of the law.” Carter’s voice accompanied a loud banging on the front door.

  “That child’s timing has always been impeccable or atrocious.” Ann smiled at Emma. “But I love her just the same.”

  Ann rose to answer the door, but Emma grabbed her hand. “You truly are a special woman, Ann West. I can hardly wait for the next installment of your love story. I just hope I don’t have to sprain another ankle to get it.”

  “Any time, Emma.” Their hands slid apart as Ann moved to the door.

  “It’s about time. What have you two been—” Carter stopped as Ann shook her head. “I’m sorry. Should I come back later?”

  “Of course not,” Ann said. “I’ve done my duty here. The woman’s been medically evaluated, fed, and robbed of all her matches. The rest is up to you.” Ann smiled as she grabbed her jacket and started toward the open door, where Carter stood in a pair of blue jeans and a teal turtleneck sweater that hugged her compact breasts like plastic wrap.

  “Thank you so much, Ann, for everything. You did the recipe justice.” Emma flashed Ann a reassuring glance. She’d gotten the message that Ann wasn’t going to share any more in front of Carter.

  *

  Carter headed for the kitchen with the two bags of groceries she’d brought. “Guess it’s my turn to take over the care and feeding of the invalid.” After her lapse last night, Carter had tried to convince herself to stay away for both their sakes. But she couldn’t very well desert Emma when she was injured, could she?

  Emma looked pensive as she stared after Ann.

  “What was that all about?” Carter asked. “I feel like I stepped into the twilight zone.”

  “She was telling me more about Cass and how they got together. I love a good romance. Do you know their story?”

  “I lived their story.” Carter turned back to the kitchen and started unpacking the groceries. She was more comfortable answering difficult questions while doing something with her hands and avoiding eye contact. “Cass moved in when I was still a child.” She placed a carton of milk in the refrigerator. “I’ve always had questions about how she came to us at that particular time.” She stared at the bag of chips in her hand, not really seeing it. “Ann just said we became a three-woman family. That was her only explanation.”