The Calamity Janes. Sherryl Woods

could go for help.”

      “She won’t leave. I’ve tried. Hell, half the town has tried at one time or another, but Sue Ellen believes with everything in her that Donny loves her and that he’ll change. Personally, I don’t see it happening. Their marriage is a tragedy waiting to happen. The one blessing in all of this is that they’ve never had kids, so there are no innocent victims suffering because she refuses to get out.”

      A shadow fell over them. Ford looked up, surprised to see Emma standing there.

      “Are you talking about Sue Ellen?” she asked Ryan, carefully avoiding Ford’s gaze.

      Ryan nodded. “Any ideas on how to get her out of there?”

      “None,” she said.

      Ford was startled by her helpless, frustrated expression. For the first time, he saw a hint of that vulnerability Ryan had been talking about.

      “Maybe you could talk to her,” Ryan suggested. “She always admired you, Emma, and you are an attorney. You could give her some hard truths about the odds of Donny ever changing.”

      Emma shook her head. “I’m sure she’s been told the statistics a hundred times, and just doesn’t want to believe them. She wants to believe that he’s the exception, that if she’s loyal enough and patient enough, he’ll stop hurting her.”

      “That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to get through to her,” Ryan coaxed. “Do it as a favor to me.”

      “Okay, I will. I’ll do it for you. I’ll call her,” Emma promised. “I just hope the fact that she’s even talking to me doesn’t set Donny off. It could, you know.”

      “I think it’s a chance worth taking,” Ryan told her. “Thankfully I don’t run across a lot of domestic violence around here, so I’m no expert, but I think the tensions are escalating dangerously.”

      Emma sighed. “I hope you’re wrong about that.”

      “You really care about Sue Ellen Carter, don’t you?” Ford said, letting his surprise show.

      Emma finally looked at him. “Of course. She’s an old friend,” she said matter-of-factly. “In Winding River, friends stick together.”

      “And in Denver?” he taunted. “What do friends do there?”

      The question seemed to disconcert her. “The same thing, I suppose.”

      Her reply was more telling than she realized. In that instant, Ford realized that despite all of the close friends in evidence at the reunion, Emma Rogers was quite possibly one of the loneliest people he’d ever met. And to his very sincere regret, in some gallant, knight-in-shining-armor fantasy, he wanted to change that.

      

      The news that Cassie’s mother had breast cancer threw Emma’s already shattered timetable into chaos. There was no way she could abandon her childhood friend right now. Thanks to faxes and the availability of overnight couriers, she could stay on the job and remain right here in Winding River for a few more days until they knew how the surgery was going to go.

      Making those arrangements and lending support to Cassie pushed all thoughts of Sue Ellen temporarily out of Emma’s mind. It was several days later when she remembered her promise to Ryan and set aside time to call Sue Ellen. Maybe it was for the best that she’d waited, Emma told herself as she dialed Sue Ellen’s number. Donny would surely be back at work, which would make it easier for them to talk without him influencing what Sue Ellen said or fueling her reluctance to talk at all.

      The phone rang and rang without even an answering machine picking up. Since everyone in town had told her that Sue Ellen rarely left the house anymore, Emma left Caitlyn with her grandfather for another riding lesson and drove into town.

      Sue Ellen and Donny were living in a small apartment in a converted garage just a few blocks from where Cassie had grown up. It wasn’t the best part of town. There had been little effort at upkeep and even less at landscaping. No doubt whatever money Donny earned went for booze, Emma thought, more sadly than cynically.

      Emma knocked on the Carters’ door, waited, then knocked again. She was almost certain that she heard a faint stirring inside, but no one answered the knock.

      “Sue Ellen, are you there? It’s Emma Rogers. I’d love to visit with you, if you have a few minutes.”

      The rustling sound came closer to the door, but it remained tightly shut.

      “I’m…I’m not feeling well,” Sue Ellen whispered, her voice hoarse. “It’s not a good time.”

      “I’m not worried about catching a few germs,” Emma said, deliberately pretending to go along with the excuse but at the same time refusing to leave.

      “Please, Emma, not now.” Sue Ellen sounded near tears.

      Concluding that dancing around the obvious was accomplishing nothing, Emma asked bluntly, “Has Donny hurt you again?”

      The question was greeted by a sharp intake of breath, then a sob.

      “It’s okay, Sue Ellen. I just want to help.”

      “You can’t. Nobody can.”

      “That’s not true. Won’t you at least let me try?”

      “I can’t. It will only make it worse if Donny finds out. Please go away,” she begged. “That’s the best thing you can do for me, Emma.”

      Emma took a card for an abuse hot line from her purse, scribbled her own cell phone number on the back, and slid it under the door. “If you change your mind, call me or call that hot line. There is help, Sue Ellen. All you have to do is ask for it.”

      Only the sound of wrenching sobs answered her.

      “Call,” Emma pleaded one last time, then reluctantly turned and walked away.

      She drove to Main Street, then parked in front of Stella’s. She needed to eat something completely and thoroughly decadent, some confection to remind her that life wasn’t entirely bleak. Bumping into a few of her friends wouldn’t hurt either.

      Unfortunately, the only familiar face besides Stella’s was Ford Hamilton’s. Right this second, she would take whatever company she could get, if only because it would keep her from having to think about Sue Ellen.

      Ford eyed her warily when she slid into the booth opposite him. Wariness quickly shifted to concern. “Everything okay? You look a little pale.”

      “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said grimly, then glanced up at Stella. “I want the biggest hot-fudge sundae you can make, extra hot fudge and extra nuts.”

      “Now I know something’s wrong,” Ford said.

      “Oh, why?”

      “Because you strike me as the type who normally splurges on carrot sticks.”

      “Well, now you know I’m not,” she said testily. “And if you’re just going to take digs at me, I’ll sit someplace else.”

      He held up a placating hand. “Stay. I’ll be good.”

      She wasn’t buying the promise, but she stayed where she was because she was suddenly too exhausted to move.

      “Want to talk about it?” he asked.

      “No.”

      “Want to talk about something else?”

      “Not especially.”

      A smile tugged at his lips. “Then you’re with me just because you prefer anything to your own company?”

      “Pretty much.”

      “Okay. I can relate to that.” He picked up the New York paper he’d been reading. “Want some of this? Hard news? Features? Sports?”

      “Business,”