The calamity Janes (2 page)

F
ord Hamilton stared at the computer screen on which the front page of the weekly
Winding River News
was laid out. There was a big gap where his lead story should be. Because it was the paper’s first edition since he’d taken over ownership, he’d wanted something splashy to fill that space, something to make the locals sit up and take notice.

“So, boss, want me to go out and interview the people planning their class reunion about who’s coming and what will be happening?” Teddy Taylor asked. Teddy was eighteen and intended to major in photojournalism. He was enthusiastically interning with Ford for the summer and itching for a page-one photo or byline. On a paper just starting out on Ford’s shoestring budget he was doing everything. Even an intern’s inexpert help was welcome.

Ford sighed. A class reunion was not the sort of local news he envisioned for his front page. He’d been
trained in hard news in big cities, where the stories competing for page-one headlines were about politics and corruption and crime. There wasn’t much of any of those things in Winding River, Wyoming. It was a sleepy, quiet town where very little happened—which, he reminded himself, was precisely the reason he’d chosen it. He was tired of chasing bad guys all the time, to say nothing of arguing with editors about how a story should be played in the paper. Now he was in charge, and maybe, just maybe, he could put out a paper that would actually make a difference in the community.

Unfortunately, the very things that had drawn him here—the peace and quiet—were thwarting his plans to make a big impression with this first edition. He was just waking up to the true meaning of the term “slow news day.” He had a feeling that he’d just gone through what was destined to be a slow news
week,
if not a slow news
year.

Still, that did not mean he had to resort to filling prime front-page space with puff pieces about a class reunion, even if it was all anyone could talk about around town. He’d list the scheduled events the week before the event, then send a photographer when the time came. A picture spread inside was enough coverage for a non-news event.

That still left an empty hole on page one for this week’s edition, and time was rapidly running out. He couldn’t count on an accident or even a little cattle rustling happening before his deadline. After twenty minutes spent skimming through a half-dozen press releases for community events, Ford resigned himself to going with the most exciting thing he had—that blasted rinky-dink reunion. Maybe there was an angle that
would work, give the story a little substance to justify placing it on the front page.

“Teddy, how about going over and interviewing the sheriff?” he suggested. “Ask him what the plans are for security, especially since I hear that actress is coming in for the weekend. Is the county paying overtime for extra help in case there are any problems with crowd control?”

Teddy’s mouth gaped. “Crowd control? In Winding River?”

“Lauren Winters is pretty hot since she won her Academy Award this spring,” Ford explained, regretting that his predecessor had announced her attendance.
That
could have been his big story. “If word leaks out that she’s going to be here, every tabloid from around the globe will be sending in a photographer. While you’re at it, check to see if all of the hotel rooms are booked. The paparazzi get testy if they can’t stay close by. If nothing’s available, they’ll be sleeping in their cars on her front lawn or wherever it is she’s staying. Ask Ryan if he’s prepared to deal with that.”

Teddy’s expression brightened. “Are you serious? You’ll let me interview the sheriff?”

Ford barely contained a grin at the boy’s eagerness, especially since the sheriff was his uncle. Chances were real good that Ryan Taylor would dictate the story just the way he wanted to see it in the paper. Normally Ford wouldn’t leave the interview to an unseasoned reporter, but Teddy needed to get his feet wet, and this was as good a story as any.

“Go for it. You have two hours to talk to him, write up the article and get it in. I want this edition on the street on time. The old owner tended to play fast and
loose with deadlines and distribution. I’m not going to.”

“Got it,” Teddy said, and raced out, tape recorder in hand.

Ford sighed again. Had he ever been that young, that energetic? Not that he was exactly dragging at thirty-two, but after just a month he was already adapting to the slower pace of Winding River. He no longer got up at dawn, no longer worked twelve-hour days. He lingered over coffee at Stella’s for a chance to chat with the locals.

At first he’d welcomed the change from the lightning-fast speed of things in Atlanta and then Chicago. Slowing down had been one of the reasons he’d sought out a paper to buy and a place to settle and build a life for himself before stress leveled him with a premature heart attack. Eventually he hoped to marry, maybe have a couple of kids. He wanted more than a career. He wanted a life.

He’d spent a couple of years using vacation time to look for a community that was growing, one where a solid newspaper could make a difference, where his editorials and news stories might really have an impact on a way of life. He’d been drawn to Wyoming because of the rugged beauty of the landscape and because of the changes that were happening every single day now that it had been discovered by big name celebrities. Development was bound to follow in their wake, which promised challenges to the environment and to a way of life.

Everything had come together the minute he’d visited Winding River and talked to the paper’s prior owner. They’d made the deal on a handshake over the winter, and now, just a few months later, he was in
business, publishing his own weekly paper, albeit with very limited resources for the moment.

He knew enough about small towns to recognize that he had to move cautiously. Change was always viewed with suspicion. Ironically that had been one of the reasons Ford had left his hometown in Georgia and settled in Atlanta after college. He’d seen how resistant people back home were to change of any kind.

Unfortunately, he’d realized belatedly that things weren’t that much better in a big city, especially when he had to fight his own newspaper bureaucracy before getting some of his tougher pieces in print. Chicago had been more of the same, a constant battle between the pressures of the advertising department and editorial independence. Years ago the separation would have been a given, but these days, with tough economic times for newspapers, the suits were having more of an impact on the journalists.

Ford was still finding his way in Winding River, getting to know the movers and shakers, listening to anyone and everyone who had something to say about the way the town was run or the way it ought to be.

Change was on the horizon. The downtown was testament to that. A chic boutique had moved in just down the block from a western wear store. There were Range Rovers parked alongside pickups hauling horse trailers. High-priced gifts were being sold next door to the feed-and-grain store. And fancy corporate jets sat on the airstrip next to crop dusters.

The previous owner of the paper, Ronald Haggerty, had stayed on long enough to introduce Ford around, give him a slap on the back and a hearty recommendation to the various civic organizations. Then he’d
retired and moved to Arizona. Ford was on his own now.

He was already beginning to formulate some opinions that he was eager to get into print, but it was too soon. He needed to wait for the right opening, the right story to show everyone that the
Winding River News
and its new owner intended to participate in every aspect of life in Winding River. A big, splashy, controversial front-page story, that’s what he needed.

So far in life, Ford Hamilton had found the odds were usually in his favor. And if his luck held, he’d have that front-page story very soon.

“Am I really going to learn to ride a horse?” Caitlyn asked for the tenth time as she and Emma made the drive from Denver on Wednesday.

“Grandpa said he’d teach you, didn’t he?”

Emma nodded, curls bouncing. “I am sooo excited. I never rode a horse before.”

“So you’ve mentioned,” Emma said wryly.

“And how many cousins do I have?”

“Five. You met some of them last time we were here.”

“But I was just a baby then. I was only four,” Caitlyn said. “I forgot.”

“Okay, there’s Jessie—”

“How old is Jessie?”

“She’s six, the same as you.”

“Do you think she can ride a horse already?” Caitlyn asked worriedly. “Will she make fun of me?”

“I don’t know if she can ride, but Grandpa won’t let her make fun of you.”

Caitlyn nodded, evidently satisfied. “Who else?”

“There’s Davey, and Rob, and Jeb and Pete.”

“They’re all boys,” she said, clearly disappointed. “And they’re all littler than me, right?”

“That’s right.”

“But me and Jessie will be friends, right?”

“I’m sure you will be,” Emma reassured her. “You had a wonderful time together the last time you were here for a visit. You had tea parties for your dolls and played games with Grandma and baked cookies.”

Caitlyn’s eyes shone with excitement. “How soon will we be there?”

“A half hour, maybe less.”

“What time is that?”

“Twelve-thirty.”

Caitlyn touched a finger to the clock on the dash. “When the big hand is here and the little hand is down here, right?”

“Exactly.”

A worried frown puckered her brow again. “I thought Grandma said we’d have lunch at twelve. Will they eat without us?”

“No, baby, I don’t think they’ll eat without us. I called to let Grandma know we got a late start, remember?”

“’Cause you had to go to the office,” Caitlyn said. “Even though we’re on vacation.”

“That’s it till Monday,” Emma promised.

“Then how come your phone keeps ringing?”

Emma sighed. It kept ringing because she hadn’t cut it off. Getting away from the office was one thing. Deactivating her cell phone was something else entirely. There could be emergencies, questions from her paralegals…all sorts of crises that simply couldn’t wait.

“Don’t worry,” she told her daughter. “It won’t
ring all that often. I won’t let it interfere with our plans.”

As if to prove her wrong, the cell phone promptly rang. With an apologetic look at Caitlyn, Emma answered. “Rogers.”

“Is this the famous Denver lawyer who only handles the most challenging cases in the universe?”

Emma grinned. “Lauren? Where are you?”

“I’m sitting at a table with your family, waiting for you to get here. We are growing impatient. I, for one, am starved, and they won’t let me eat till you show your face. Where
are
you?”

“Just outside of town, about a mile from the ranch now. Tell Mom to put the food on the table and pour the iced tea.”

“Already done. I helped.”

“Was the family impressed that a glamorous actress was fixing lunch?”

Lauren chuckled. “Not that I noticed. Rob has smeared strained peas all over my designer blouse, but he’s only a baby, so I’ve forgiven him.”

“Good thing. I don’t think Rob’s daddy can afford to pay for a replacement. It probably cost more than he makes in a month.”

“Pretty close,” Lauren agreed. “I told him
you’d
replace it. You can afford it.”

“I guess it’s a good thing that I’m about to turn into the driveway, so I can protect my interests,” Emma said.

Even as she made the turn, she could hear the squeals announcing that the kids had spotted her car. As they neared the house, she glanced over at Caitlyn and saw her eyes widen as all of her cousins except the baby tumbled out of the house, followed by
Emma’s younger brothers and their wives, then Lauren—still holding the portable phone—and then her grandparents.

Suddenly shy, Caitlyn held back when her grandmother opened the car door and reached for her. Not permitting even the tiniest hint of the hurt she must have felt, Emma’s mother gently touched Caitlyn’s cheek.

“I am so glad you’ve come to visit,” she said quietly. “Your grandpa and I have missed you.”

“Really?” Caitlyn said, looking surprised.

“You bet. Would you like to come with me to see the surprise he got you? It’s down at the barn.”

Caitlyn turned to Emma. “Can I, Mommy?”

“I thought everybody was anxious to eat,” Emma said, casting a pointed look at Lauren.

“That’s okay. I’m sure I won’t starve,” her friend said with an exaggerated pout.

Emma grinned at her. “Nice acting.” She released Caitlyn’s hand. “Of course you can go.” She glanced at her mother. “What’s the big surprise?”

“You’ll see,” her mother teased. “I’m not giving away a thing.”

As the two of them went off hand in hand, trailed by the cousins, Emma turned to her brothers, who enveloped her in bear hugs even as they chided her for staying away too long.

“Leave her alone,” her sister-in-law Martha said. “She’s here now. That’s what counts. And we’re going to make the most of every minute of it.”

“That we are,” Lauren said, stepping forward for her own hug. “You look tired.”

“It was a long drive.”

“Not that long,” Lauren chided, leading her inside
where the dining room table had been set for a celebration, complete with her mom’s best dishes. “And dark circles like that don’t happen overnight. I ought to know. I’m an expert on what lack of sleep can do to a person’s face. Lucky for you, I am also an expert on makeup tricks that will disguise it. By the time we go to the reunion dance on Saturday, you’ll look like a million bucks. Men will fall at your feet.”

“I’m here to see my friends, not to nab a man for myself,” Emma scolded. “Besides, with you around, no one will be looking at me.”

“Wait till I get through fixing you up,” Lauren retorted. “You can’t take a chance that you’ll bump into the perfect man. You don’t want to scare him to death.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about that. There are very few perfect men in Winding River.” She glanced at her brothers and grinned. “Present company excluded, of course. That was one of the reasons we left, remember?”