The Calamity Janes

“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.”