Emma had barely walked into the house when her sister-in-law emerged from the kitchen, a defeated expression on her face.
“I’ve had it,” Martha announced. “That brother of yours is driving me flat-out crazy.”
“Matt?” Emma asked incredulously. Then the memory of her conversation with her mother came flooding back. “Does this have something to do with his mood lately?”
“It has everything to do with his mood. The man can’t find anything positive to say about anything. I’m tired of it. The kids are tired of it. If it doesn’t change, I swear to you that I am taking them and moving to…” She threw up her hands. “I don’t know, Florida, maybe. Someplace that’s warm all year round. I’m sick of being frozen—both physically and emotionally.”
Emma was too drained by her meetings with Ford and Sue Ellen to go through yet another emotional meltdown, but she didn’t seem to have any choice. Leaving might be an idle threat, but Martha’s frustration was very real.
“Is Matt here now?” she asked.
“No, he just stormed out the back door because I had the audacity to ask if he wanted to go to Laramie for dinner and a movie tonight with me and the kids. Apparently I don’t understand that he has to get up at the crack of dawn, that he can’t be gallivanting all over the place to see some fool movie, et cetera, et cetera, much less waste money on a fast-food hamburger, when we have a freezer filled with better beef.”
Emma winced. “That’s quite a tirade. Maybe he’s having a bad day.”
“Every day is a bad day,” Martha said wearily. “If I point out what beautiful, sunny weather we’re having, he says if we don’t get rain we’re going to be in the middle of a drought. It’s depressing.”
“I can imagine,” Emma soothed. “Come have a cup of tea with me. Let’s talk about this.”
“Tea? I thought you were a dedicated coffee drinker,” Martha said, trailing her into the kitchen.
Emma grimaced. “I was until I went through six cups at breakfast trying to get over a hangover.”
Martha’s eyes widened. “You had a hangover? I’ve never seen you drink.”
“It was one glass of wine.”
“But—”
“Don’t even ask,” Emma said, as she found some herbal tea in her mother’s cabinet and put the kettle on to boil.
Martha took cups from another cupboard and set them on the table, then sat down, her expression subdued. She and Matt had been in love as far back as Emma could remember. First grade, maybe, when they’d been seated next to each other alphabetically. By junior high they were inseparable. By high school they were a couple. They had married two months after graduation, despite pleas from both sets of parents to wait until after college.
Matt had been a promising student who had earned a scholarship to the University of Wyoming, but Martha had been pregnant by the end of summer, and Matt had dropped his college plans to go to work for his father. They had been in Winding River ever since. At twenty-five, they already had three children. Until this visit, Emma had assumed they were happy.
She poured the tea, then sat opposite her normally exuberant sister-in-law. “Okay, what’s going on with you and Matt? What’s behind this mood of his?”
“He’s miserable,” Martha said, echoing what Emma’s mother had said earlier in her visit. “He just won’t admit it. Instead, he takes it out on everybody else.”
“Mom seems to think he’s unhappy working here at the ranch. Is that your impression, too?”
Martha nodded. “I have begged him to quit and go to college, the way he planned to seven years ago. We could move to Cheyenne for four years. I could work. We could manage, but he won’t hear of it.”
“Why?”
“Pride. Stubbornness. Fear. Who knows? He won’t talk about it. He bites my head off every single time I bring it up.”
Emma resisted the temptation to ask just how often Martha brought it up. Had she been nagging him? Like all males, Matt was resistant to what he viewed as “pestering.” But instead of suggesting that might be the problem, Emma focused on her sister-in-law. “What about you, Martha? Do you regret not going to college?”
Martha shook her head. “No, I have everything I ever dreamed of. I love Matt and our kids and our life. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”
“Maybe that’s what’s holding him back,” Emma speculated thoughtfully. She was a bit uneasy being cast in the role of marital arbitrator, but this was clearly an emergency, and she did know the parties involved as well as anyone. If she could help, she had to try.
“How?” Martha asked.
“Maybe he knows you’re happy and thinks there must be something wrong with him if he’s discontented,” Emma speculated. “Add to that the prospect of making you unhappy by changing the status quo, and he’s in a real quandary.”
“But it would only be for four years,” Martha said. “And if he would be happier getting his degree and doing something else, then that’s what I want for him, for us. Things certainly aren’t working the way they are now.”
“Have you told him that?”
“Over and over.”
“Want me to talk to him?”
Martha’s expression brightened. “Would you? He admires you so much. If you said it was the right thing to do, maybe he’d believe it.”
Emma squeezed her sister-in-law’s hand. “I’ll do my best. Hang in there, sweetie. Matt loves you. That’s the one sure thing in all of this. Don’t lose sight of it.”
“I’m trying not to,” Martha said, then glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to run. My mom has the kids, and I told her I’d be back for them right after their naps. They have so much energy then, they’re too much for her.”
Emma grinned. “I can imagine. Caitlyn has more stamina than I can handle sometimes, and there’s just one of her.”
“Where is Caitlyn? I haven’t seen her today since I got here.”
“Probably with Dad in the barn. She wants to do everything he does.”
“Maybe she’ll grow up to be the rancher and take the pressure off Matt,” Martha said wistfully. “I have a feeling part of his problem is not wanting to let your father down.”
“You could be right,” Emma admitted. Matt had always been sensitive. No doubt he had seen how badly hurt her father had been by her decision to leave. Even though her father had refused to make her feel guilty, Matt had probably picked up on the unspoken disappointment. Add to that Wayne’s decision not to stay on the ranch, and no doubt Matt felt doubly responsible to take over and not let their father down. “Don’t worry. We’ll get this straightened out.”
As soon as Martha had gone, Emma went in search of her brother, but she found Caitlyn instead. Emma’s daughter was sitting astride her pony in the corral, listening intently to her grandfather’s instructions. Her gaze never wavered as Emma approached.
The pony began to canter, and to Emma’s amazement, Caitlyn maintained perfect control of the animal. She looked as poised as if she’d been riding for years. She reined in the pony right in front of Emma, a beaming smile on her face.
“Did you see?” she asked excitedly. “Did you see me ride?”
“You were wonderful,” Emma said as her father scooped Caitlyn out of the saddle.
“Better than wonderful,” he told his granddaughter. “Better even than your mom was at your age.”
“Really?” Caitlyn breathed, wonder in her eyes. “Am I, Mom?”
“You are,” Emma confirmed. “You’re a natural, no question about it.”
Caitlyn threw her arms around her grandfather’s neck and hugged him tightly. “I hope we can stay here forever and ever,” she said fervently.
Emma met her father’s troubled gaze over Caitlyn’s head.
“Sorry,” he mouthed silently.
Emma stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I love you.”
He lowered Caitlyn to the ground. “Go into the house and see if your grandmother’s back from her trip into town. She might have those cookies she promised you from the bakery.”
As Caitlyn scampered away, he looked at Emma. “Any chance of you staying?”
“Not permanently,” she said, knowing that she was disappointing him all over again. “My job’s in Denver, Dad. You know that.”
“Seems to me like you have a job here right now.”
“One case,” she insisted. “That’s not a career.”
“Seth will be retiring one of these days. The town will need a good attorney. In fact, I think the only reason he hasn’t retired already is out of loyalty to the town.”
Emma thought of the challenging cases on her plate in Denver. Drawing up wills, handling misdemeanors and traffic violations couldn’t compare. “I can’t do it,” she said. “The people I work for need me.”
“Do they really?” her father said lightly. “Any more than somebody like Sue Ellen?”
There was no comparison and Emma knew it. But, thankfully, a case like Sue Ellen’s would come along once in a blue moon around here. The rest of the time, she would be practicing the kind of law that any new law school graduate could handle. She’d be bored to tears. And it would be tantamount to an admission that she couldn’t cut it as a big-city lawyer, something her ex-husband had taunted her with on a regular basis.
“It wouldn’t be the same,” she said, even as she fought considering the possibility that her clients in Denver could get along just fine with some other attorney in their corner. She was good, maybe even exceptional, but so were a dozen others, possibly even more, in Denver alone.
“No,” he agreed. “It wouldn’t be the same, but it could be better.”
“Oh, Dad, I wish I could, but I can’t.”
He nodded. “You know best, I’m sure,” he said stiffly.
“Not about everything certainly,” she said, “but about this, yes, I do. Denver is where I need to be.”
But despite her fervent argument on that score, right this second she was having a hard time remembering one single reason why.
* * *
Ford was really pleased with the front-page story he’d written about the death of Donny Carter and the arraignment of his wife on manslaughter charges. With a vision of Emma front and center in his brain, he felt he’d walked a careful tightrope in his description of the crime and the woman who’d committed it.
The article was impartial and fair, just the way good journalism should be. He quoted neighbors and the sheriff, then added several quotations from his interview with Emma. And, as a result of the debate he’d had with Emma, he’d spent most of the afternoon on the phone tracking down experts on abuse for additional insight.
Because he’d gone the extra mile, he was startled when he walked into the diner for lunch a few hours after the paper hit the stands and every single person in the place looked away, either down at their food or toward a booth in the back.
Then he saw the front page of the Cheyenne paper, which was stacked in a rack by the door, with that damning photo splashed across four columns. He already knew that the photo credit had gone to the Winding River News. Nothing he’d said to the editor in Cheyenne had dissuaded the man from using it or giving the credit to Ford’s paper.
Looking from that damning front page to the patrons at Stella’s, he wanted to shout an explanation, to defend himself and the paper, but a part of him believed that the Cheyenne paper had done nothing wrong. If he hadn’t given his word to Ryan, he might have reached a similar decision himself, despite all the arguments he’d recited to Teddy the day before. That picture told a story. The incident had happened and the photographer had witnessed it. It was less suspect, less open to misinterpretation, than any of the words he’d written.
“You going or staying?” Cassie asked, regarding him with a defiant expression.
Ford had never walked away from a fight in his life. He intended to spend the rest of his life in this community. They needed to know he stood behind his actions, even if in this case it had been Teddy who’d sent that picture to Cheyenne.
“Staying,” he said succinctly.
“Well, steer clear of Emma. She’s in the back, and she’s not too happy with you at the moment. I don’t want her any more upset than she is already.”
“Emma’s here?” He searched the diner and spotted her at a booth. No wonder everyone had been looking in that direction when he’d first walked in.
He’d taken a step toward her when Cassie put a restraining hand on his arm. “Didn’t you hear me?” she demanded.
“I heard you, but Emma doesn’t scare me.”
“I’m not worried about you. I’m worried about her.”
He gazed down into concerned eyes. “It will be okay. We need to talk about this.”
Cassie sighed and stepped out of his path. “Don’t blame me if she poisons your coffee.”
“Not law-and-order Emma,” he chided.
“No, probably not, more’s the pity. I’ll bring the coffee. The decision about what to do with it will be up to her.”
As he started to make his way toward the back, he heard a collective intake of breath. Clearly everyone in the place was waiting for an explosion the minute he reached Emma. He fixed his gaze on her and kept on walking, ignoring the fact that she was regarding him as if he were little better than pond scum.
When he reached her booth, he didn’t ask permission. He just slid in opposite her.
“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” she said, though it didn’t much sound like a compliment.
“If you have a problem with me, why not spell it out to my face?”
She tossed the paper across the table. “This is the problem. Why would you give them a picture like that, especially after you promised Ryan you wouldn’t use it? If you think I’m furious, wait till you cross paths with him. He’s bouncing off the walls over at the jail. Ryan’s always been the most mild-mannered guy around, but he’s developed a whole new vocabulary to describe what you’ve done.”
Ford wasn’t going to explain Teddy’s role in what had happened. “Once the shooting took place, that picture became a legitimate news photo. Don’t I get any credit for not running it here?”
“No,” she said flatly. “Not when you gave it to a paper with an even bigger circulation.”
“How about a little credit for the story I wrote in today’s edition of the Winding River News?”
“I haven’t seen it. I doubt anyone else has, either. This is all anybody’s talking about.”
“And by tomorrow they will have forgotten about it,” he insisted.
“You can’t really believe that. A picture is worth a thousand words, and you know it. I can’t understand why you did something so prejudicial. How will I ever get an unbiased jury?”
“Do you honestly think you’ll be able to get one anyway?” he demanded. “Everyone around here knows Sue Ellen. They also know just how bad her marriage to Donny was. If anything, it will be the prosecution that has difficulty finding unbiased jurors.”
“They don’t know Sue Ellen’s history in Cheyenne or the rest of the state that subscribes to this paper, or at least they didn’t until this appeared on the front page so they could look at it while they drank their morning coffee.”
Ford knew she was right. Teddy had captured not just a frozen moment in a marriage but its entire history in that photo. “I’m sorry. I take full responsibility for it.”
“How gallant of you. That and a buck will get me a cup of espresso in that fancy new tourist restaurant up the block. Maybe you should consider having yours up there.”
“I prefer it in here. Stella’s is the heart and soul of Winding River. This is where I find out what people are thinking and talking about.”
“Well, today all they’re talking about is how you betrayed one of their own.” She regarded him with regret. “I can’t believe I had almost started to trust you.”
Ford lost patience. “Stay here,” he muttered grimly. He stalked over to pick up a copy of his latest edition and slapped it on the table in front of her. “Read this and see if you still want to condemn me.”
Her gaze flew to the headline, which was temperate by anyone’s standards: Local Woman Charged In Husband’s Death. She began to read.
Emma had an amazingly revealing face. Ford could tell when something annoyed her, when it angered her, even when she was moderately pleased. In the end, though, she looked up at him, her expression studiously blank. “So?”
“Is there a single fact in there that’s in dispute?”
“No. Your facts are exactly right.”
“And I found not one, but three experts on domestic violence.”
“Bully for you,” she taunted.
“And you’re still not satisfied, are you?” he said, surprisingly hurt by that.
“No, because they’re just dry, perfunctory quotes about abuse statistics. A good reporter looks beyond the facts, don’t you think? A good journalist uses sound judgment and compassion.”
“I spoke to those experts to get some balance into the article, just the way you wanted me to,” he said. “Even they agreed that what Sue Ellen did was probably an extreme reaction to the situation.”
“Of course it was extreme,” she exploded impatiently. “So was the provocation. People don’t just go around shooting their spouses unless they’ve been driven to extremes. She was beaten, Ford. Every week, if not every day, during her marriage. Imagine that. Picture the humiliation. Put yourself in her shoes and imagine the fear she felt every time her husband stepped through the front door of their home.”
She rose to her feet, spine straight, then leaned down to level a look that seared him. “A decent person thinks about the horrible life Sue Ellen lived day in and day out, before they condemn her without a trial.”
“I didn’t condemn her,” he protested. “And how can I understand what she went through when you won’t let me talk to her?”
“That’s your excuse, that I won’t give you access to my client? After this and what you did with that photo, can you blame me?”
She was gone before Ford could think of an adequate response. She was gone before he could grasp the fact that the unfamiliar feeling stealing over him was shame. Maybe he didn’t deserve all the disdain she was heaping on him, but on some level, she was right. Maybe he didn’t get it. Maybe a man who hadn’t lived with abuse never could.
Just as that thought occurred to him, so did another. If it was difficult for a man to understand something he’d never experienced, why not a woman? Was Emma’s understanding and compassion for Sue Ellen born out of her own experience? Dear God in heaven, what if it was?
Before he could grapple with that, he looked up and spotted Ryan stalking toward him with a dire expression.
The sheriff stood beside the table, hands jammed into his pockets, scowling down at Ford. “What the devil were you thinking, Hamilton? I thought you and I had an understanding.”
“We did,” Ford agreed, debating whether to give him an explanation.
“Then why in hell did you betray me?”
Just then Teddy popped up in the next booth, his face pale. Obviously he’d overheard the entire conversation Ford had had with Emma. He apparently didn’t intend to let his boss take all of the heat with Ryan as well.
“It was my fault, Uncle Ryan. I gave the picture to the Cheyenne paper. Ford didn’t have anything to do with it. Once they had it, he tried to stop them from using it, but it was too late.”
Ryan’s gaze shot from his nephew to Ford. “Is that the way it happened?”
Ford nodded. “He didn’t realize what he was doing.”
The wind seemed to go out of Ryan then. He frowned at Teddy, but he didn’t condemn him. Instead, he sat down across from Ford and raked a hand through his hair.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped all over you like that.”
“Not a problem. You’re not the first.”
A faint smile tugged at Ryan’s lips. “Emma? Yes, I imagine she was in fine form. The woman does have a temper.”
“Tell me about it,” Ford said. He eyed Ryan curiously. “Any idea how I can get back in her good graces?”
“So she’ll let you get to Sue Ellen?”
“That’s one reason,” Ford admitted.
“And the other?”
Ford frowned. “I wish to hell I knew. She’s prickly and tough as nails, but she gets to me.”
Ryan grinned. “Nice to know you’re not immune to a challenge.”
“Not a challenge,” Ford insisted. He thought of his earlier suspicion that Emma might have had personal experience with abuse. “A puzzle…I guess that’s it. She’s got more contradictions than any female I’ve ever met. The journalist in me wants to make sense of them.”
“So this is just a professional fascination?” Ryan said, regarding him with amusement.
“Of course.”
“That’s why the two of you were discussing sex at Tony’s the other night? It came up in a professional conversation?”
“Does everybody in this town know about that?” Ford grumbled.
“More than likely,” Ryan said. “Welcome to living in a small town. So, were you or were you not talking about sex?”
“Yes, but it was a casual thing. I just threw the topic on the table to rattle her.” He grinned. “Worked like a charm. If she hadn’t been married, divorced and had a child, I would have said it was the first time she’d ever heard the word.”
“Maybe it was just the first time she’d heard it brought up by a relative stranger in the middle of a business dinner. Frankly, I’m surprised she didn’t douse you with a glass of ice water.”
“She probably would have, if she hadn’t been just the slightest bit tipsy. I think her reflexes were a little slow.”
“Good thing, because Emma always had damned fine aim.”
“I’ll remember that if the situation ever arises again.”
Ryan’s expression suddenly sobered. “Maybe it shouldn’t come up again.”
Ford looked at him quizzically. “I thought you were all for something happening between me and Emma.”
“I was,” Ryan admitted. “But it sounds to me as if you’re treating her like some sort of intellectual puzzle you want to unravel. Seems to me she might mistake your interest for something more. I don’t want Emma getting hurt. She’s been through enough.”
“You mean with that ex-husband of hers?”
“Yep. I don’t know the details, but the divorce was a nasty one, according to her brothers. She had to all but hog-tie them to keep them from beating the man to a pulp. Given how she feels about you already, I don’t think you want to tempt fate by riling her any more. She might not be so eager to tell them to lay off you.”
“I’m sure you told me that to warn me off,” Ford said.
“Of course.”
Once again his suspicions came to mind. “Too bad, because all you’ve really done is whet my appetite for the story behind the divorce.”
“Leave it alone,” Ryan advised. “Emma won’t talk about it. Neither will Wayne or Matt.”
“If it was messy, there are probably public records,” Ford said slowly. Maybe even newspaper reports, which might explain why Emma was so wary of reporters. He never had gotten around to checking that out.
“You’re going to put her life under that kind of a microscope?” Ryan demanded indignantly.
“It’s one way to get answers,” he said defensively.
“A better way would be to ask her whatever you want to know. She might take your head off, but at least it would be the honest way to go about it.”
Ryan was right, Ford conceded reluctantly. Snooping around in Emma’s past would have to be a last resort. But in order to get the story from the horse’s mouth, so to speak, he was going to have to find some way to convince her to start talking to him again. He weighed his charm against her fury and concluded it was going to be a real challenge.
He could hardly wait.