Disclaimers: This is an original work of alternative fiction. It may be considered an uber piece. Actually, it's the continuation and expansion of a dream I had last night. Let's see how it plays. Two women have a romantic relationship here, so if you don't like that sort of thing, don't read this. The main characters do resemble some characters from a popular TV show but how they feel and what they do are my ideas. There will be violence depicted here once in a while.

I wish to thank the wonderful people in the ex-Guards and the Merpups who encouraged me to continue this story.  You were all great!  In particular, I would like to thank LJ Maas for her endless help in advising me and in the editing of this piece, without which, it would be unreadable.

Comments may be directed here: LadySavay@aol.com

 

Beneath The Brambles

By Lady Savay

Chapter1

She didn't think about going fast. She always went fast. She sped through everything and had, since she was a girl. Graduated high school by sixteen and college at Duke before she was twenty. Her first novel hit the best seller's list the year before that. Her sister, the one true friend she had, used to tell her she would burn up from simple energy overload before she could reach middle age, if she didn't learn to slow down and back off a little. She hadn't listened then.

"I'm not doing anything differently than anyone else out there who wants to live life to it's fullest." She took another large bite from her apple, shifted into fourth gear on the brand new candy apple red Jaguar she just bought and took another drag from her cigarette, all within a three-second time frame. "You laid back types" she smiled at her sister Leslie and indicated with the hand still clutching the apple at her casual slouch and the knee resting against the glove compartment. You always seem to want the world to slow down for you. Well, I'm here to tell you that it won't. And I'm glad of it."

"We all know how prone to that dreaded disease 'boredom' you are Shasta. But I'm here to tell you that burning the candle at both ends is the surest way to get there. If you don't stop and de-stress soon something is going to give. And you're gonna look fairly silly trying to reach your agent and your jet set friends from the inside of a psych ward on an imaginary telephone." The pretty brunette affected a cute giggle that had always tickled her older sister, and stretched as much as the confines of the sports car would allow. The loose fit jeans and the old Yale sweatshirt allowed her plenty of room but the comfort of her attire was lost on her high fashion sister.

The blonde woman just stubbed out her sixth cigarette of the twenty minute drive and blew the ashes off her Plum polished nails.

"I'll rest when I retire. Mame Dennis had it right, "Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death." Speaking of which, are you sure I can't talk you into going to Ricky's dinner party with me tonight?"

And so it had gone, as always. But that was two months ago.

Categorized as a Type 'A' personality years ago, she had always been inordinately proud of it. What she could accomplish in one day would make her friends and enemies alike, simmer in their own feelings of inadequacy and complacency. Additionally, the one thing that set her above the crowd a notch was her productivity. She pumped out seven feature novels of her mystery series in three years, all of which reached the bestseller list within weeks of them hitting the shelves. All with the exception of that last one. And, that was the problem.

After the last one received it's, less than stellar, reception she received a visit from her publisher and editor. She was more than forthright and basically told her that Shasta lost her focus. The book wasn’t nearly close to her usual standards and the plot had been, almost, predictable. Stephanie advised her in no uncertain terms that you were "only as good as your last book" and that if she wanted to continue with this house-, and she did, it was the best publishing house around-, that she better take some time off and get her "muse back on track," as Stephanie put it. Then she had handed Shasta a computer printout with a map and written instructions on it, and a key.

”This will take you to a house I own up in the mountains. Go there alone. Take a couple of weeks to walk around and smell the flowers and just think, then start on the next book. I'm going to disregard all the chapters you've submitted so far. We both know you can do better than that." That stung. She knew she lost something where her heroine was concerned and she knew that the last mystery she had her P. I. solve was all but impossible to believe, but she thought that this book was doing better. Evidently, not, by the look on Stephanie's face. So she, in a quite uncustomary show of acquiescence, agreed to go.

"Just you. No good friends. No family. No fuck buddies. Just you, your computer, and your capricious muse. Call me in a month and let me know how you're doing. I don't want to hear from you before then. I don't want any chapters faxed to me and I don't want to hear about you getting into trouble. This is a very small, quiet town and I will NOT be taking my ass up there to make bail for you. Clear?"

Oh, it was clear all right. Crystal. She knew she’d been stepping a toe over the edge lately, but the parties were so much fun and her status as one of the beautiful people kind of propelled her into the spotlight. It had been coming for a while though, she realized. After the arrest for public intoxication and the catfight she got into hit the headlines, she had more or less expected something like this.

Stephanie bailed her out all right, and provided the lawyer to defend her. She only received a warning from the judge and had felt fairly proud of her 'sweet young thing who was taken advantage of while under the influence of demon rum’ in the courtroom and thought she had it all handled. That is until the reviews came out for her last book.

So, here she was on this beautiful autumn day, driving up into the equally beautiful mountains above Santa Barbara looking for a small town called Bramble and a house her publisher owned. And driving way to fast.

Her thoughts, as always, preoccupied her and it must have been a while before she finally heard the siren that, by that time, had pulled along side her. Coming back to herself with a rush, she found a spot to pull over in front of a chain link fence and a house set far back from the road, and waited for the officer to come to her window.

The officer in question stopped the old Chevrolet in front of the suspect and turned off the light and siren. Picking up the radio unit and calling in to let the Sheriff know about the infraction, the deputy gave her current location, and picked up her ticket book, exiting the car.

"Hi, there. I'd like to see your license and registration please."

Having seen the sheriff's car stop, Shasta immediately bent over to retrieve the necessary proofs of insurance and registration from the glove compartment. She was still attempting to find them, and had just located the items, when the voice reached her.

The surprise she felt when she heard those words was complicated. First, she was stunned that a backwater little town like this would have a woman on it's police force, but secondly, and more importantly, was the warm-blanket like feeling that washed over her at the tone of that voice. It caused her shoulders to relax and, for a reason she couldn’t explain, seemed to calm her.

"Here you go officer. What... uhm…"

 She faltered when she couldn't seem to keep from concentrating on that face. Those high cheekbones and bronze skin. The eyes were a mystery as the deputy was wearing mirrored sunglasses, but the lips were full and tinted a deep coral-bronze and the teeth that showed in the small polite smile were perfect. Perfect…that seemed to be all she could think of… how perfect. Realizing she needed to grab the thread of her thoughts back, Shasta cleared her throat and tucked her hair behind her right ear. "Uh, what was I stopped for anyway?"

Continuing with the polite smile the deputy answered, “Speeding."

Here it comes, she thought, they always say the same thing. Can't wait to hear about it this time. Pretty, rich lady, single by the lack of ring on her third finger, left hand. Probably a little more preoccupied with her own thoughts than with driving and heading up here to get away from it all. They always seem to be that way.

 Just a fifteen mile stretch up the road was the Women's' Outdoor Survival School. Every couple of months she'd nail another speeder who didn’t realize she was in a residential area and that she should have paid attention to the twenty mile an hour speed limit sign back the road a ways. And every time they were shocked when she pulled them over. Some sorry, mostly though, they were angry. They usually were heading out to the school after having had another run-in with living and acceding to the wishes of a male dominant society. They seemed to attract the angry ones. The ones fed up with the inequality of pay scales for women and the choices and chances denied them. Modern Amazons. Well, more power to them there. They've got my sympathy. However, they still have to obey the law. Everyone does. THAT'S true equality!

"Speeding? On a highway?" The blonde's eyebrows arched and furrowed as her interest in the face of the deputy started to morph into irritation.

"No Ma'am. Not a highway. You left the highway a while back. This is Bender Road and the posted speed limit here is twenty miles per hour. I clocked you at well over seventy." She finished writing up the ticket and started to tear it off. "You can send the fee in by mail to the address on the back or can stop in the Sheriff's office and pay in person. The choice is yours. Please sign here."

Shasta's irritation flared into white-hot anger as she signed the ticket and took her copy. She had turned it over and was dumbstruck by the amount of the fine.

"Five Hundred dollars? Are you out of your mind? Listen lady, I'm no goddamn tourist. I've lived in California all my life and this is outrageous. Don't think for a minute I'm going to pay this little 'speed-trap' bill without a fight. What possible reason could you have for needing a twenty-mile an hour speed limit on a nearly deserted road except to gouge the 'so-called' speeders coming off the highway for a huge chunk of money?"

Still maintaining her polite smile, the deputy stood from her crouch at Shasta's window and pointed about fifty feet ahead and to her right at what appeared to be just a copse of trees. Just as she did, they heard a bell ring out. "That's the reason."

In seconds, small children filled the road in front of them carrying book bags, sweaters, and lunch boxes, heading up, down and across the street in every direction. The crossing guard tried, but the older woman just couldn't seem to get out in the road with her stop sign fast enough to keep the more energetic of the youngsters from crossing ahead of her. The writer inhaled sharply and had a quick flash of what might have been if the deputy hadn't stopped her. A chill ran down her spine.

"You see, we’re a really small town here and we don't have the resources to make mistakes. You get one of these tickets and pay that fine, and chances are very good you will remember not to speed down Bender again. It only seems to be the people who don't live around here who do it, but we really can't afford for anyone to make that mistake twice."

"Yeah, I can see that now."

She tore her gaze from the rapidly departing children in front of her to the standing deputy and got her first good look at her. She was very tall. Just how tall, she couldn't tell, but well over her own 5'5” height. She wore very tight fitting and well worn jeans, medium brown cowboy boots, and the standard beige short-sleeved shirt she’d seen on every CHP and LA County Sheriff since she was a kid. Only it never fit them like this fit her. Everything she wore appeared tailored to fit her without an inch of slack, hugging well-pronounced curves, and displaying strong developed muscles in her thighs and biceps. But, without that 'distressed merchandise' look that so many woman have when the clothes they wear are tight and form fitting. This just looked ... right. Appropriate somehow. Like a second skin. The hair was a mystery as to length as she was wearing the standard wide brimmed CHP type of hot weather hat. She knew it was dark from what she could see at her neck, but that was all. She didn’t recognize the fact that she was staring until she realized the deputy was speaking to her. Shaking herself a bit to come back to the here and now, she concentrated on what that deep-rich voice was saying.

"...should clear out in another few minutes then you can be on your way. The turn for the Survival school is the third one on your right, once you pass the Burger King. After that you just follow the road for another three miles and then just watch for the signs."

"Yes. Uhm, thank you.” A sudden understanding of what the Deputy said hit her. 

“Wait!"

She took another breath and shook her head again. 'What is going on with me. I can't seem to think straight here. Steph was right; maybe I do need to rest!'

"What I mean is, I don't know anything about a survival school. I'm here to find a... my friend’s house. She said it was on Old Orchard Road just outside of Bramble. Number 16 Old Orchard Road. Can you help me to find it?"

For the first time the polite smile left the officers lips. Replacing it was a small smirk and behind the mirrored glasses, an intense interest in and a mapping of the pretty blonde face before her.

"Sure. Just give me a sec to call in and as soon as the kids are clear, follow me."

Chapter2

This really was a small town. From what the writer could see of it, you could make your way from one end of it to the other in less than ten minutes. She followed the older model police sedan as it wound it's way down what must have been Main Street, Bramble, until they turned left at that same 'third left past the Burger King' the officer had told her about.

What was that anyway? Survival School? Don't tell me we have some kind of Militia group forming out here. That's just what I need Steph, surrounded by right-wing extremists with loaded guns. Real relaxing! I'm sure the crackle of automatic weapons and the smell of gunpowder wafting through the mountain air will entertain my muse.

The cars followed the winding and increasingly more rural road as it curved and dipped for another mile or so, until they turned left again on a dirt road with a weathered sign saying “Old Orchard.” Less than a quarter mile later the officer pulled over in front of a one-story ranch set back from the road by a large yard, filled with trees and flowers.

Shasta began to pull over too until she saw the number 16 on the mailbox and pulled in to the driveway, stopping in front of the garage.

It was not a large house; a standard ranch type tract home was all. Painted a cream white and trimmed in a blue-gray with a minimal amount of ginger bread on the decorative shutters and looping around the porch, the front steps were brick and led to the brick porch three steps up from the yard.

Must have someone keep an eye on the place for her. The yard is well kept and the lawn trimmed. Nice place. Looks quiet and calm. Gods, I hope I don't go nuts here. I don't think I've done ‘calm and quiet’ since Great uncle Toby's funeral when I was nine. Well, I don't have much of a choice here. Steph said do it, so...

She didn't realize that deputy was there until she tapped on the driver’s side window.

She jumped a little at the sharp sound and decided then and there that Steph and her sister were right. She was wound way too tight. Being a writer by nature and habit meant to observe in detail and translate and store that away for later use. Her focus was legendary and her ability to read people and notice details others hadn't seen had accounted for her well written plots and in depth characters, yet here she was fazing in and out like some drunk.

Being here for a while would be a good thing, she decided.

She hurriedly opened the door and got out.

"Are you sure, this is your friend’s house? The person who lives here usually only uses the place for a couple of months each year." The look on the deputy’s face was skeptical, possibly accusatory. Without removing her glasses, she gave the impression of an interrogation, rather than a friendly question.

Bristling a little at the officer's attitude, Shasta quickly replied.

"I know she's not here.  She lent me the use of the place for a while. And her key. " She held up the key in question briefly, turning to the trunk of the car for her luggage.

The officer took one of the heavy bags while Shasta carried a smaller one and her laptop. They walked up to the door and Shasta inserted the key, giving a vague but perceptible little grin at the officer as if to say. "See, it works perfectly because she gave it to me." Grinning back with a small nod of her head, the office apologized and followed her into the room.

Setting the suitcase on the floor of the living room, the officer turned and smiled at the pretty blonde.

"Well, I'll let you get settled then. If you need any help finding your way around, just ask someone. We're a pretty laid back group around here and you won't find many who aren't friendly and helpful. Course that doesn't mean you shouldn't keep the doors and windows locked. Enjoy your stay Ms. Cutter. "

"Thanks, I will."

As she closed the door behind the deputy, it occurred to her that for a writer she did a pretty poor job of making decent, friendly or even informative conversation. She had no idea where anything in town might be and she knew she had to find a grocery store before the end of the day. She should have asked officer ... that's something else she hadn't done. She hadn't asked the officer her name. She knew it hadn't been on a tag on her shirt, because the only things there were insignia, stripes on her arm, and a badge. Shit! She needed to get herself together.  Where was that mile-a-minute curiosity she was so famous for? What happened to that woman who could walk into a room for two minutes and recite what was in it and where. Just when I really need that photographic memory it leaves. 'And why do I need it so badly just now? What is it with this woman that has me so.. unnerved, disconnected, in parts?

She blew out a deep breath and decided to settle herself physically first, before she started working on her mental state.

The room was large and airy with oak hardwood floors and eggshell walls.  The entire wall opposite the front doors was a series of French doors leading onto a deck and showing the woods beyond.  The back yard was rustic to the point of nearly being primitive.  She could see the small stream that meandered at the bottom of the sloping yard and the trees and shrubs that felt as if they'd been there forever.  Maybe they had. Maybe she only landscaped the front yard. It was beautiful here, and cool as the shadows of afternoon started to make pictures on the grasses and flowers in the yard. Turning from the windows, she explored the rest of the house. 

The only furniture in the living room was a large oversized couch in blue denim and a smaller scarlet love seat in thick red corduroy. A square coffee table stood between the couch and the fireplace on the left wall, and the love seat faced the windows near the front door. The only rug on the floor sat under the table in front of the fireplace, and looked to be more of an Indian blanket rather than a rug. But soft and comfortable. She found a few electrical improvements as she looked around as well. An outlet or two imbedded in the floor here and there with a phone jack and the alarm system mounted on the wall next to the door.

The kitchen was fully stocked with everything but perishables and the appliances looked very new. Everything bright, in white and yellow and cobalt blue with a beautiful skylight over the center island, which was just now casting shadows as the sun began to set.

Walking back through the living room to the hall brought her to the three bedrooms. The first and largest was the master suite with a deck that adjoined the one off the living room. Standard walk-in closet and the same scarlet and denim shades as the living room.

A huge quilt covered the bed in all the same colors and ecru covered cotton lace pillows. A cashmere throw was hung over the back of the huge blue-gray velvet wing back chair, which sat at an angle to the fireplace. A real sheepskin rug covered the floor in front and was partially hidden by the matching ottoman in front of the chair. The bathroom, she decided, had once been the fourth bedroom; it had to have been because it was gigantic.  It contained the laundry room area and a folding counter, with drawers at one end. The rest of the room had a double sink and a sit down vanity with a lighted mirror. Opposite that was a Jacuzzi tub with room enough for four. It had a window surrounding the tub that ran up to the ceiling with the same view to the rear as the bedroom and living room. The shower next to it had 6 showerheads and enough room to do her Tai Chi without touching the walls.  Yeah, this was going to be a great place to relax.

The first room across the hall was obviously Steph's study. The books lined every shelf on the wall except for the small window seat that looked out on the front yard.  The desk was old and costly.

The other room was a well-appointed guest room, which shared the second bathroom with the study.

She quickly unpacked in the master suite and ran a quick eye through the kitchen cabinets. Going shopping now was a first priority. The problem was she had no idea where to go. She found the cordless phone on the small table at the side of the couch and dialed Stephanie at work.

"Stephanie Croft here."

"Hi Steph, it's me and I just got to your place. This is really nice, girl. No wonder you kept the secret to yourself. NOW, where can I find a place to buy some food?  I had a nice deputy lead me here after giving me a speeding ticket but I have no idea how to get anywhere else."

"AH! Eek. I forgot to warn you about Bender Road, huh?"

"Eyeah. You did. It's a five hundred dollar fine Stephanie!" she paused. "Did you KNOW that Stephanie? Is getting a speeding ticket that's gonna cost me half a grand before I even get to unpack, conducive to stress-relief and focusing my muse? Huh? Is it Steph?" Her voice had been becoming louder and more sarcastic as she spoke and by the end of the speech it was grating.

"I am really, really sorry. Tell you what. I'll split the cost with you, K?"

"What do you mean; split the cost? If you had warned me about it I would never have gotten it in the first place." Her voice was indignant and she was hoping that Stephanie would simply acquiesce to her indignity. She was very bright however and she knew her author very well, so it came as no real surprise when she heard her answer to that.

"I'll tell you what. You send me a copy of the ticket and if you can prove to me you that you were going 55 or under when you got nailed, I'll pay for it all."

Silence.

"Can't do it, can ya? So,m what was it? Seventy?" A pause. "Ninety?" her voice rose with that last word and realizing that she was caught, the writer finally answered.

"Seventy. OK." she sighed. "Ya got me."

"But of course, my little cabbage.  With you, life in the fast lane is more than an attitude, it's a lifestyle. Which brings me to the reason you're there."  Her voice lost the wry humor and the serious tone she took was a little unexpected. "I know it won't take you long to start fidgeting and looking for some excitement, but you really need to put a sock in it, Shas. You're way too scattered right now. I don't think you really know what you want and I'm fairly certain you have no idea about what you need. As a result, you've been dissipating your energy on everything and everybody, looking for sensation. That has to stop and you have to find that focus again. Walk. Read. Run. Nap. Window shop. Fish. Meditate. Just calm down a little, and then see where you're going. Cause girl, just between you and me, where you've been lately is ugly. "

She wanted to object. She wanted to deny it. She wanted to tell her that it wasn't as bad as all that, but she just couldn't find a plausible argument to back up her statement, so she let it go.

"OK. I'll try. Anyway, I've got to get going and get some food in here. So how do I do that?"

She took down the directions to the nearest market. Get that. A market, not even a grocery store. Someplace called Bender's Food Emporium. If she had to put up with a month of MJB or Yuban because this little place didn't carry her Starbucks, she'd head home tomorrow. Let's not even talk about Ben and Jerry's!

Stephanie had also given her directions to the three 'eating establishments' in town that you couldn't drive through.

By the time she pulled on her leather jacket and figured out the alarm and lights for the place, night had truly fallen.

She found the "emporium" and blithely did her shopping. Happily surprised that they not only had Starbucks and Ben and Jerry's, but Evian, imported Brie, out of season fresh fruits and veggies, and a nice selection of vintage wines in cases that left the temperature perfect, as well. By the time she finished however, it was late and she was too tired to put them away and then cook something in an unfamiliar kitchen. She mused on that for minute. It wasn't yet 9:30 and she was tired. Back in L.A., she would just be starting her evening about now. Putting it down to the whole 'mountain air' thing, she checked out.

Girding her loins for the disappointment she was sure it was going to be, she pulled her Jag into the parking lot of The Raven's Nest.

According to Steph this was the prime local eatery.

'Well, we'll see about that.'

The parking lot was filled with a little of everything from a couple of big rigs in the back on the dirt-flat behind the pavement, to several large motorcycles and everything in between. She found a spot in the nearly full lot near the back and made her way to the door.

As she was walking across the parking lot, she saw a door open in the back of the building as two customers left and started for their car.

Veering away from the street side of the restaurant she entered by the back door and found herself in the bar. The sound of Linda Ronstadt singing "Silver Threads and Golden Needles" made her fear for a moment that she entered a cowboy bar. She wouldn't want to do that. They didn't like her kind in those. She found that out the hard way the night she was arrested.

After a minute more to let her eyes adjust to the dimness of the room, she made her way to the bar and waited for the bartender to notice her. It was just a trifle damaging to her ego that he made no sign of knowing her celebrity.  She was used to the hosts and bartenders at all of the trendiest clubs calling her by name and making way for her or having a seat reserved.

"Ah well, humility is supposed to be good for the soul."

She'd had no idea she actually said the words out loud and was a little surprised to find a meaty hand covering hers where it rested on the bar.

"Ah Honey, you got nothing to humble about. I always say, if you've got it, flaunt it. And you've got it baby." The voice was slightly slurred and a bit hoarse. It belonged to a very large, very drunk, very rotund man in his late forties and it was getting closer to her ear all the time.

Ducking and spinning she neatly evaded the arm that tried to go around her waist and mumbling about how her table was ready now, she deftly moved toward the door she hoped would take her into the dining room.

"Ah, lucked out with one." She mumbled as she saw the man looking for her in the other direction.

She approached the cashier and asked if she could have a table. She was told it would be a couple of minutes and was asked to have a seat. She sat down in what passed for the waiting area and, grabbing a menu started to look it over.

Minutes later she was seated, a waitress was taking her order and serving her a cup of coffee that smelled like Juan Valdez made it himself.

The coffee, and the meal, for that matter, surprised her.  Having decided to try the trout, she resigned herself to tolerate it and found it was just about the best she'd ever eaten. The cream of asparagus soup was divine. The baby carrots, excellent and the blackberry pie was heaven. She paid the check and left a larger than usual tip for the fine service the waitress gave and headed back through the bar toward the door to the parking lot.

She took a deep breath of the clean mountain air and noticed the scent of the nearby trees. It felt good. She was well fed (always a good thing in her book) and the cool air and the quiet of the small town night were calming. She smiled to herself and lit a cigarette as she started walking to her car.

She'd completely forgotten the amorous drunk until she was halfway across the silent parking lot.

Chapter 3

"Two to one, over." The radio clicked and popped and Harley thought for the thousandth time this month how much they needed to replace this antiquated system with a new state of the art PB set. Just like all the other times, however, she realized the town's funds simply weren't there for it, and sighed.

"One here, Roger. Over." The deep voice responding was so familiar to her she didn't have to hear it clearly to know what was said. Which was a good thing because no one else would have been able to decipher the real words amidst all the static hissing and popping her radio gave off.

"Everything is quiet here; I'm going to take a seven at The Nest. You know what to do if you need me, over."

"Roger that. Bring me back the Special and some pie, please. Over."

She had to chuckle at that because she knew she now had leverage.

"Sure thing, IF you make sure to tape the game for me tomorrow. And no commercials this time. Swear it or go hungry, over."

The voice on the other end groaned and Harley knew she had made her point. The muffled curse was expected as well as the resigned answer.

"Deal. But it's gonna be my turn when baseball season starts, over and out!"

She keyed off her radio and smiled to herself. She knew she just ruined his day. He'd be up all night and not get to bed before nine and then he'd have to get up again at one to tape her football game. She hated having to scroll through commercials.

As she turned into the parking lot of the Raven's Nest, she gave a passing thought once again to buying one of the newer VCR's she heard about that you could program to automatically edit out the commercials. She just turned around the building, looking for an empty spot when she saw them.

******

Shasta knew she wasn't completely defenseless here. She had been taking a class in Tae Bo for almost a year now and knew she was holding a lit cigarette that could be used a weapon handily. She knew the lumbering jerk that was coming at her was drunk as a skunk too. That helped.

What didn't help was that she had very little room to maneuver in the packed parking lot and the guy had ten inches on her as well as at least a hundred pounds.

Before she could reason what to do, he made a lunge for her. She fell back against an old Cadillac as he grabbed her upper arms in a tight grip and brought his mouth down toward her face.

"Jus hole still. You'll like it, you'll see, now come..."

Shasta brought her right foot up and then down again, hard, on the drunk's instep. It might have had a greater effect on him had she not been wearing running shoes and had he not been wearing steel toed work boots, but it was just enough to distract him and loosen his grip on one arm. She grabbed her opportunity when it presented itself and shoved the lit end of her cigarette into his neck and screamed "FIRE" at the top of her lungs. She just about broke his hold on her other arm and was leaning away from him when he took her down to the asphalt with a powerful blow to the left the side of face. She hit the ground hard and instinctively brought her right hand down to break her fall.

The pain shooting from her wrist took her breath away and before she could recover again to defend herself he was on top of her. His left arm lay heavily across her throat and his right hand covered her mouth hard enough to split her lip.

"Now you jus shut up. Just shut the fuck up or I'll break your lil neck."

His eyes were squinted and unfocussed but the look of rage on his face was unmistakable.

Quite ridiculously the writer thought to herself, Well, so much for a relaxing month in the mountains. before the fear kicked in big time and she started to sweat and whimper and pray.

His hand left her mouth, grabbed her right breast, and squeezed. Hard. If she had the breath to do it, she would have screamed, but as it was, all she could do was open her mouth and let the tears come silently. He shifted, and as his hand went to his belt buckle, she tried to bring her knee up to his crotch. She only got a few inches when the pain in her head was back with a vengeance as the slap left her ears ringing.

"Try it again and I'll fuck your corpse."

Opening her eyes as the pain receded, she thought she was dreaming.

Suddenly, standing over the man on top of her...straddling them both really, was ... salvation. She looked the same as she had earlier, but the deputy was now holding a gun to the side of the man's neck. She pulled the hammer back and it clicked audibly as it touched his skin. Her voice was amazingly quiet. Calm almost . . . But threaded through it was an undercurrent of something so dangerous, so ... palpably deadly that both Shasta and her attacker froze. The writer could feel the small hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand straight up.

"This is the law. You have only two options here. You let go of her and follow my directions when I tell you to, or I pull this trigger. Are we clear about our choices?"

No vestige of the inebriation he had been under remained as his eyes shot wide open and he tried to speak. He succeeded only in whimpering and as he tried to work his mouth, the deputy pushed the barrel of the gun harder into his neck. At that point, he lost all bladder control.

Hearing the hiss of the urine hit the ground by her feet made the deputy smile. It was a hard small smile, but it was there nonetheless. The blonde hadn't been able to take her eyes off the woman towering over her and even in the frail light of the parking lot lamps she could see the edges of her mouth turn up and the flash of those perfect white teeth. She thought she was imagining it, but it appeared in the half light as though the woman's canines extended slightly more than her other teeth and the look on her face could only be construed as... as what, damn it Emily, you're a writer! What is that look? And why does it scare the shit right outta me?

"I see you've come to the right decision,” she purred. "Good man. Now when I say, I want you to put both arms on the ground with you palms flat on the asphalt. Now do it." The man complied slowly and the shaking in his arms was evident to all of them.

"Turn your head as far to the left as it will go and drop your chin to your shoulder." He did.

"Now. Using your hands and the tips of your toes only, start crawling backwards until I tell you to stop."

How he managed it without collapsing was amazing. His arms were shaking so hard that his body was rocking back and forth.

As soon as he cleared the blonde's torso, she pulled her legs up and rolled over and over until the tire of the truck she was next to, stopped her. Then she just folded into a fetal position and closed her eyes.

Harley made him keep backing up until his toes touched the tires of her car and then had him lie down and turn his head away from her and fold his hands behind his head.

She opened her door and grabbed the radio and her cuffs off the console.

Shoving the radio under her left arm and switching the gun to her left hand she flipped open one cuff and kneeled on the small of the man’s back. He let out a quiet groan, but otherwise lay still. One-handed, she locked the first cuff over the man's right wrist.

"Bring your left arm to the small of your back. Slowly." The ramifications of what would happen if he didn't obey weren't lost on the man. He complied and she finished cuffing him.

"Two to one, come in, over"

Static clipped back at her and she made out, "One here, over."

"J.D., meet me in the parking lot at the Nest. I've got a prisoner for you. Assault and attempted rape. And call Hobie and tell him I'll be bringing the victim by in a few. Over and out."

Replacing the radio and retrieving her keys, she backed to the trunk and opened it. She got out a blanket, her medical kit and a large cable tie and returned to kneel at the suspect’s feet.

She crossed his legs at the ankles and attached the plastic leg restraint. Then she turned him over on his back.

She pointed the gun right between his eyes as she told him he was under arrest and read him his rights. When she asked if he understood them, he nodded. Very fast. Fast enough that she could see the sweat fly from his forehead.

"Now, I'm going over there to see what damage you did to the lady. And, you're going to just lay here. Do we understand each other?"

He nodded again just as vigorously and she rolled him over on to his stomach again.

She gentled the hammer back on the big gun and slipped it into to the back of her waistband. Picking up the blanket and medical kit, she made her way to the blonde on the ground.

She made certain to make plenty of noise as she approached her and kneeled slowly near her head. Reaching out, she put a hand slowly to her shoulder as she called her name.

"Ms. Cutter? It's all right now. He won't hurt you anymore. I've taken care of it." Getting no response, she started to gently rub the young woman's shoulder with her thumb. "I'd like to take a look at your injuries if you'll let me." Still nothing. " If you could just rollover on your back for me?" She could see that her eyes were open and she seemed to be staring at the tire just inches from her face. The deputy saw the small amount of dried blood from her lip in the frail light the parking lamps afforded, and the pronounced swelling around her left eye. She really needed to reach her, somehow.

"Please Ms. Cutter. Let me help you. I promise, you're safe. I won't let him hurt you. I promise."

She was lying there and just concentrating so hard for so long, it took a while to hear the voice. She was simply counting her breaths, and concentrating on anything else but what she felt.

In and out. One, and she smelled the rubber in the tire and the dust in the parking lot. In and out. Two. She noticed the light shining from a bottle cap lying upside down near the other side of the truck. In and out. She heard bits and pieces of noise and words from the deputy while she was talking to him, but she kept trying to filter that out. If she tried hard enough she wouldn't think about it. Or feel the throbbing in her head and face. Or smell the urine on her pants. In and out.

"I promise you're safe. I won't let him hurt you. I promise."

And she knew when she heard it, that it was true. She blinked and came back to the here and now. As she rolled over slowly onto to her back, she kept her arms locked across her chest, left arm over right and tried to find the eyes that belonged to that voice. The one that made her believe she was safe again, but the eyes were lost in the dark shadow of the deputy's hat and the feeble light of the parking lamps couldn't penetrate it.

Soft fingers gently lifted her chin and moved her face from side to side. She knew the officer was saying something to her; she just couldn't make sense of it. That's when she started to shake.

The face under her fingers was swollen and bruised and Harley could see that the dried blood had come from not only the split lip, but the inside of the mouth as well. Probably a cut on the inside of her cheek from the fat bastards fist. The thought made her mad and for just a moment she wasn't focusing on the victim then she felt the shaking begin and looked into those eyes beneath her. Huge, green eyes, filling with tears as they lost their focus and started to see things that were only in her head. She'd seen that look before.

Without even thinking about it, she slipped her arms under the blonde’s shoulder and lifted her up to her chest. Holding her and rocking gently, she began to pet her hair like a child, and almost against her will she murmured over and over, "Shh. You're safe. You're safe. I've got you."

A little voice in the back of her mind kept shouting that this was not the way a professional behaves and that she's a total stranger and what-do-you-think-you're-doing. A voice in the front of her mind just kept saying adamantly, She needs this, and that's all that's important.

The arms around her were strong but held her gently and she felt so, so very safe. It was a warm safe place, a good place. The tears started to slow and her breathing started to even out and finally, she knew she'd be okay.

She took in a deep breath and smelled the faintest trace of perfume and rubbed her non-injured cheek on the soft cotton of the deputy's shirt before she pulled back.

"Thanks. I feel better." She started to bring her arms down from her chest and gasped. "Ahhh."

"Uh oh. I don't like the sound of that. Where does it hurt?"

Biting her lip to stop the moan she knew was aching to get out, Shasta just held her injured wrist in the other hand and brought it up to the deputy's eyes.

"Well, that's gonna take more to fix than I have in my kit. Let me help you up and we'll go see the Doc. Okay?" She pulled the blanket out, wrapped it around the blonde’s shoulders, and then lifted them both to their feet. Putting her arm on the young woman's waist, she started walking them to the car.

Just as they reached it, the Sheriff's car reached them, and a tall dark haired man got out and quickly walked over.

"J.D., this is Ms. Cutter. I think she has a broken wrist among the other injuries that ... perpetrator" the sarcasm and disgust dripping from the voice in that word made both the victim and the Sheriff know that it was not her first choice of nouns, "inflicted on her. I'm taking her to Hobie. I'll call you from there."

"How do you do Ms. Cutter?” He inclined his head slightly and gave a small smile. "I'm so sorry you were hurt. This is not a usual thing to happen here and I'm real sorry it happened to you. Just stick with Harley and she'll take care of you."

"Thanks, Sheriff." She would have liked to say more, but she was beginning to really feel her wrist aching, and she was already being led to the passenger side of the deputy's car and gently lowered to the seat.

The Deputy ran quickly around the hood and got in. She started the powerful engine and made sure to buckle up her guest as well as herself. "Now you just keep a good hold on that arm and I'll get you to the Doc's in no time." She gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile to the woman and was reassured herself when she got a small one in return.

Great gods. Even bloody, swollen, and bruised, that is one very pretty woman. Harley thought, and then concentrated on the three-minute drive to the doctor's office.

She had no idea she was grinning.

 

Chapter 4

The throbbing in her head was receding but the feeling of clarity was diminishing.  She was starting to hear things as if from a great distance and everything had a kind of an aura around it.  She knew it was the drugs. That last wonderful shot Doc Hobie gave her before she left.  He was so sweet, another very tall and very dark man with nice blue eyes.  His wife helped him to set her wrist and she was nice too.  She was small, with short dark red hair and dimples.  He’d called her Kath and she supposed it was for Kathleen or Katherine and thought he probably introduced her, but the pain was so bad then, she didn’t remember.

By the time they had arrived at the house, for that’s what it was, a large older two-story home, converted to an office downstairs, the pain in her arm and head grew to meteoric proportions. 

The worst pain she ever experienced until then was a sprained ankle in college.  That, by comparison, was nothing.  Harley helped her out of the car and nearly carried to the house, where the door was opened before they even hit the porch.  By then she had all she could do to keep from screaming and kept her eyes shut, trusting the deputy and the Dr. to get her where she needed to go.  The examining room was brightly lit and seemed awfully cold.  They laid her down, the Dr.’s wife covered her with a heated blanket as Harley, and the Dr. stepped outside.

It seemed like forever before he returned but when he did he smiled and kept up a running conversation while he examined her, x-rayed her, and even set her wrist.

“Harley mentioned that the animal that did, this to you had rape on his mind.”  His voice was low and mellow and even though the words were abrupt, his manner made her comfortable enough to answer what she knew was a really a question in that statement.

“He never got that far.  He,.. if…” she cleared her throat and swallowed.  “If the Deputy”

“Harley.”

“Yeah, Harley hadn’t been there…”

“Well, that’s good to know.  And she’s real good at being there when you need her.  She’s always been there for me.  Hell, she’s always been there for all of us.”  His smile just seemed to grow over his face and his wife did the same.

They finished with the cleaning up and Kath helped her to the X-ray machine while holding an ice pack on her head.  After the intensely painful first shot of anesthetic to her wrist, things started to get better. even if they did get fuzzier.  With the cast in place and the pain shot behind her, quite literally, she was carefully led out to the waiting room and the waiting arms of Deputy Harley. 

It was the first time since she had met the officer that she had seen her eyes.

Gods, those eyes!

Like ice in a glacier.

Like Curaçao on the rocks.

Like nothing, she’d ever seen before.

And she’d seen beautiful people.  Hell, just last week they surrounded her.  The celebrities, the artists, the designers, the ones everyone wanted to be with, or dress like or look like, but this was a whole other ball game.  She had to drive to this tiny town in the mountains to learn for a fact what, beautiful really was.

She knew she was feeling the effects of the drug and that may have impaired her vision, but she was pretty sure she’d feel the same way tomorrow.

The warm tan and the bone structure, proud and regal, and the lips; full and perfect.  And those eyes.

For just a few seconds she couldn’t breathe and her steps faltered.  Kath and Doc Hobie caught her up thinking she was going to faint and then Harley was there too.  Almost as if she knew, that she would react to her that way.

Maybe she did.  She wouldn’t be surprised to know that everyone had that reaction to Harley at first sight.

She was glad for the excuse of the medication so she wouldn’t have to make conversation.  Harley didn’t seem to mind.  It seemed that ‘quiet’ was the natural state of being for her.

After covertly looking at the driver’s profile for the sixth or seventh time, Shasta pulled her eyes once again to the front and took a deep breath hoping it would pull her together somewhat.

But, that’s not what happened.

For some unknown reason that deep breath of cool mountain air put her firmly and unreservedly in the Happy Zone.

Harley heard the giggles start, but  before she could open her mouth to ask what was so funny, her lips stretched almost of their own volition, and it was all she could do to keep from laughing aloud herself.

“What?  The snicker escaped without her permission. “Wh.. What are you laughing about?”

“Sss.,” she couldn’t help it, she was doubled over now.  On an intellectual level she knew it wasn’t that funny, but the medication had her giddy.  “Soup.”  She giggled again.  Trying to breathe and talk at the same time, she gasped. “I..I wa… was just thinking how good some… ha, ha, ha… some ice cream would taste and…”  she had to stop and try to breathe, “and I was so glad I bought some.”

Still amused, but now very confused, the smiling deputy asked, “And that’s funny, how?”

“It’s…” holding her arm in the sling with one hand against her chest to stop the jiggling, “it’s in muh… my car.  At the restaurant.” She stopped to wipe the tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Another deep breathe and then another guffaw and she expelled the next in a rush.  “I wonder if you serve Cherry Garcia soup with croutons.”

Harley laughed out loud at that.  She too took a breath. “ Well, when Emeril and Wolfgang make it, its those tiny little marshmallows.”

That did it for the writer, she just howled.  She was bent over and her face was turning a brilliant red as she fought to stop laughing long enough to get in some air.

The deputy couldn’t stop grinning at the sounds coming from the blonde.  She waited until she heard that lovely laughter diminish and then offered, “Let me get you home and taken care of, and I’ll get your car and groceries over.”

“Um huh.” Was the only response and within seconds, Shasta was sound asleep, lying with her head on her own knees.

Harley parked the car in the driveway and came around to open the door for her passenger.

“Ms. Cutter?”  The only sound was a very light snoring. She touched hethe young woman’s shoulder and shook it gently. “Ms. Cutter?  We’re home.” Still nothing.

She crouched down and lifted the woman back up to a sitting position.  The watery green eyes opened but didn’t focus.  “Ms. Cutter, we need to get you into the house.  Where are your keys?”   The blonde just fumbled at her jacket pocket.

Taking the hint, the deputy rooted around in one, then the others, until she found the keys, and then unbuckled Shasta from her seat belt.  She lifted the woman under her arms and drew her out.  As soon as Shasta was vertical, she started to sit down again.

“Oh no, not here.  Come on lets get you to bed.”  With that, she bent and lifted the woman into her arms.

“Can’t.  Don’t even know your last name.”  The words were mumbled but discernable.  “Never go to bed if I don’t know their last name. S’a rule.”

The deputy just smiled at that and kept walking.

“But you smell really good,” she let out a tiny sigh, “and you’re all nice and warmish. And you have those eyes.”

“Uh huh.” She answered absently.  “Really good drugs, Hobie,” she observed.

They reached the porch and the deputy unlocked the door and carried her inside, walking immediately to the alarm panel.  Without a word, she punched in a code and the lights changed color.

“Hey,” came the drowsy response. “How’d you …you know…how?”

“Shh, it’s all right.  I’m the Law, remember?”

“Yeah, but…”  Her brows furrowed and she knew something was wrong with this picture; she just couldn’t seem to grasp what it was.

“It’s okay.  Let’s just get you to bed.”

She carried the injured woman into the master bedroom and set her feet on the floor.  Still holding her up, Harley carefully removed the jacket from the one arm that wore it, and then threw back the covers of the bed and sat her down, easing the woman back.  The deputy lifted Shasta’s feet, one at a time, and removed her shoes. 

Then she was stuck.

Her common sense told her just to cover her up and leave her.

Her instincts as a woman told her she should help the injured woman to rest more comfortably.

But that meant undressing her. 

Shit.

“Ms. Cutter?” Nothing

“Ms Cutter,” louder this time.

The pale green eyes opened part way.

“Do you want me to help you get undressed?  I know you won’t be comfortable sleeping in that.” She pointed to her tight button fly jeans.

“Oh.  Yeah.”  The blonde made a vague attempt to unbutton her jeans one handed and the deputy stopped her. 

“Here, I’ll get that.  Is there something you would like to sleep in?” No answer; the eyes were closed again.  “Where can I find it?”  Now the only response was that small snore.

“Ohhhkaaay, I’m on my own here.”

After a quick perusal of the drawers, she found what looked like an oversized cotton T-shirt with long sleeves and decided that would do.  She went back to the bed and started with her socks.  Then her pants.

Goddess, I hope she wears underwear.  Her wish was granted when just below the very tight tummy, she saw the beginnings of a peach silk bikini panty.  She swiftly disposed of the pants and leaned up to remove the short sleeved peach T-shirt.  She got the left arm out and had to sit for a minute to figure out how to get the other arm and her head free.  She bunched up the shirt and carefully lifted it over her head, and then slid it the rest of the way down her other arm until the sling stopped her.

“Well,” she mused  “let’s just have to do this once.”

She rolled the woman onto her left side, unsnapped the sling, and gently removed it.  Her attraction to the woman got the better of her and she sat back on her heels, and for the first time really looked at the body next to her.

The strawberry blonde hair fell in strands across her left cheek and her mouth was slightly open.  The spreading bruise and the swollen tissue around her eye made her wince.  It made her mad too.

Long lashes made shadows on her cheeks and her lips were a pale pink, the lower lip cut and slightly distended.  The muscles in her shoulders and stomach were pronounced.  You don’t get a body like that from good genes.  That takes work. She smiled at that.  Harley always admired people who took care of themselves and this girl surely did that.

The soft, upper swell of her breasts spilled out of the top of the scalloped lace edges of the bra cups. It too, was in a soft peach and the whole effect of the pastel colors against the pale skin was sweet and sensuous at the same time.

Alrighty then! That same voice that annoyed her in the parking lot was back with a vengeance.  This is most assuredly NOT professional behavior.  If she should wake up and find you staring at her, you could be in big trouble!

She knew it was true and beyond that, sitting here admiring this lovely stranger wasn’t going to get her anything but heartache. I have no idea if she even… and most importantly, she’s a “tourist..”  No matter what, in a few weeks she’s outta here and back to her big city life, and I’m not leaving, so…’  She sighed heartily and with determination, she put it out of her mind.

Her resolve strengthened, she took one last lingering appreciative look and leaned over and unsnapped her bra.  Keeping her eyes as far away from those breasts as she could, she slipped it and the T-shirt off her right arm.  She brought up the sleep shirt, rolled up the sleeve, and stretched the cuff as far as it would go.  She slipped it over the cast and started to bring it up her arm when the back of her hand accidentally brushed the blondes nipple.

Shasta jerked and ‘hmmed’ and then a tiny smile slid over her face.  Harley couldn’t help but smile back.  That is until she noticed the bruising on the woman’s breast. “That filthy son of a bitch! You and I are gonna talk.” She mumbled.

She finished with the left arm and then lifted the young woman’s head and right arm, pulling the shirt over and down. She then carefully covered the cast with the sling and snapped it closed.  Harley rolled the girl onto her back and brushed her hair from her face.  Sighing a bit, she lifted the covers over her and turned off the light.  She went to the bathroom and turned on the night light there, not wanting  the woman to wake in the night and fall down, trying to find it in the dark. Closing the door behind her, the deputy made her way to the phone and dialed.

“Hi, ya.

Yeah I’m fine and she’s okay.  Hobie said it was a broken wrist, cuts and bruises.  She’s gonna be hurting tomorrow, big time though. That’s why I’m calling. Could I talk you into coming by in the morning and helping her out a bit? It’s her right arm and she’s going to need help getting dressed and all.  I think she’d feel better about it if it were you, ya know?

Great!  Also, got anyone there who can follow me back in my car from the Nest?  I’ve gotta get her car home and unpack her groceries.”

She smiled a little remembering their conversation in the car.  “Evidently she has some Ben and Jerry’s in there that morphed into soup.

Yeah, that’ll be great.  See ya in a few.”

She grabbed the writer’s key, re-set the alarm, and left.

******

She was thirsty.  …So thirsty.  Her head hurt and Oh my god her arm.  She hadn’t even opened her eyes yet and the throbbing almost made her scream.  She moaned and held her arm as close to her as she could, wishing she wasn’t alone.

Rolling onto her left side, she sat up slowly and moaned again. “Oh god, oh god, oh god. It hurts.  Shit it hurts.”

“I know it does, honey.  Here take this.”

The writer, the professional observer, took over instantly.  The woman looked to be in her early forties.  Taller than Shasta was by a few inches, she had a pile of dark hair done in a beautiful chignon with a few soft tendrils sliding around her face.  The eyes were blue and the smile was warm. Disregarding all she had been taught about taking things from strangers, Shasta found herself swallowing the pill she was given and drinking the juice in the glass.

She handed the empty glass back as the woman continued.

“I’m Twyla.  Harley asked me to come by this morning and help you out a little. Now, do you think you’d like to get dressed first or eat?  I’ve got sausage, hash browns and a Western omelet, all warm for you.” The smile got bigger.

It took less than a nano second for her to decide to let go of that ‘I’ve been on my own since I was fifteen and I can take care of myself’ attitude and agree that breakfast first was a fine idea.  She had no idea why she felt she could trust this woman, this total stranger, as she did.  But, that she did, there was no doubt. 

Maybe it was the fact that Harley trusted her. Then the memory of last night kicked in.

She was suddenly conscious of what she was or rather, of what she was not wearing and a slow blush began to burn its way up her neck.

She cleared her throat self-consciously.  “Yeah, uhm.  Breakfast sounds great.”

She started to rise and Twyla picked up the robe she tossed on the end of the bed earlier, helping her into it.

Staying close enough to catch her if she should start to sway, she walked with the girl into the kitchen.

“Now, I’ll tell you all about Bramble and the varied and sundry wildlife that make up our eclectic little population, and you can tell me all about yourself while we eat.”

The smells from the kitchen were fabulous and the aroma of the excellent Kona blend Starbucks coffee the wonderful woman set down in front of her, nearly made her swoon.

She was sure this wasn’t going to be such a bad morning after all. She sipped her coffee, smiled, and nodded as she began to eat, and the very pretty and funny woman sitting across from her started to expose the inhabitants of the small town, foibles, and all.

Chapter 5

The breakfast was exceptional and the company even more so.  According to Twyla, “Honey, I’ve lived here for over thirty years and I know all there is to know about everyone within a twenty mile radius.  I can even tell you the brand of deodorant they use… or don’t…  and who to avoid on hot days because of it.”

They got to a first name basis very quickly and Shasta had to reveal her real name.

“Now I know about how people give odd names to their kids and all, but I’m willing to bet money that Shasta isn’t the name you were given at birth, am I right?”

Chagrined, the writer nodded and took a breath.  “ I was always kind of hyper active when I was a kid. I was pretty bossy too.  At least I always bossed my sister around. I did everything early.  Talked, walked, whatever.  I was kind of a …” she cleared her throat and looked down at her cup, clearly uncomfortable, “a prodigy, I guess.  Anyway, for reasons only my subconscious understands, I always seemed to talk to my sister in the third person.  As a result, I was forever saying things to her like, ‘She has to play with me, now,’ or ‘She has to take a nap with me’.  Oddly enough, I could usually remember to be polite about it and add Please and Thank You, but I was such a motor mouth, as Leslie calls it, when I was little, that the words kind of ran together and sounded like ‘shehasta’.  The family thought it was cute for some reason and started to refer to me by the phrase and it evolved into Shasta.

When I submitted my first manuscript to Plume Publications, they accepted it right away, but the advertising editor thought my real name..”

“Which is?”

“Oh, yeah.  Emily.  Anyway, he thought it sounded too old fashioned and since they were planning to try to hock me to the public as the modern day Agatha Christie, they wanted something younger and more memorable.  He called my dorm to ask me about it, but I was out and my sister was in.  When he told her what he wanted me for, she gave him the info and he ran with it.  The rest is literary history.”

“Well, at least you weren’t named after a lawn mower.  My..  ” The ringing of the telephone interrupted her.  “Let me get that for you.”

“Hello.”

“Well hello, honey, how are you doing?”

“Yep, it’s me. Your friend is right here. She just had a little accident last night and I’m here to help her out a bit.  Here ya go.”

Handing the phone to the young woman she said, “It’s Stephanie, for you.”

“Steph?  Hi ya.”

“Hi ya, yourself.  I was just calling to see if you got everything settled in and found your way around.”

“Yeah, I did.  Thanks.”

“So what is this that Twyla tells me about an accident?”

“Well, I went out last night and ended up trying that restaurant you recommended..  ”

“The Ravens Nest?”

“Yeah.”

“Great, so how did you like it?”

“Oh wow, the food was just fabulous.  Who would have thought I could find food that good in such a small place.”

“Well, you know the owner is the only woman chef ever to have worked at Maxim’s in Paris.  She was trained and taught at some of the finest culinary arts schools in Milan, Florence, Paris and New York.”

“No kidding!”

“Oh yeah.  As a matter of fact she’s standing there listening to you talk to me right now.”  Even through the phone, Shasta could tell Stephanie was smiling at her.

The writer didn’t know if she should feel embarrassed or stupid as she looked to the woman whose back was to her, busily cleaning up their breakfast dishes.

Clearing her throat, she continued, “Thanks for telling me.  I feel like an idiot now.”

“Don’t.  Twyla is one of the kindest and most unpretentious people you will ever meet.” Before the blonde could break in, she went on.  “Now, tell me about this accident.”

“Ah…” She knew if she told her everything, she’d get one of two reactions.  The first being an I told you so from her publisher who was convinced that she couldn’t go a day without getting herself into the middle of some kind of problem, and the second was an overreaction and the command to get back to L.A., where she could get some help with her injuries. She didn’t want to go. The publishing house was notorious for taking special care and precautions with their best selling authors, and Shasta was their top money producer.  She knew she would have to hedge a little bit with this explanation.

“I… I got mugged in the parking lot.”  She hoped that would be enough.

“You got what?” She could tell that Steph wasn’t buying it all the way by the skepticism in her voice. “Details, please.”

“ I went to the restaurant and passed the bar.  There was a drunk there who tried to pick me up, but I skipped into the dining room and forgot about him.  Evidently, he didn’t like the rejection and saw me coming out later.  I guess his feelings were hurt and he kind of… you know, got mad and hit me.” She was trying really hard to sound calm and believable about it, but she knew it was a lost cause when she heard the woman’s tone.

“Okay, we’ll try this again.  What happened, and what aren’t you telling me, and how are you? All of it.  In detail.  And this time the unvarnished, unsullied, unfabricated truth.” Stephanie let go a long sigh.  “You are now and have been as long as I’ve known you, the WORST liar in the world.  Don’t even attempt it. Even if it isn’t an outright lie, you know I can always tell when you’re trying to not tell me something. I’m a busy woman Em.  Just the facts please.”

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, sucking in along breath.  She knew she’d never get away with it.  She never had.  Everyone knew.  She was never able to get out of date with a simple I’m sorry, I have plans like her friends did.  And, the worst of them all, had been Stephanie.  She was like some godsdamned sort of bloodhound, the way she could just smell it whenever she wasn’t being completely forthright.  In addition, unlike her more polite friends or relatives, she never let it go.  She started to understand that this inability to hide any part of herself, like everyone else, could be part of the reason she turned to writing fiction.  After all, they were just made up stories.  She was, in actuality, telling lies and tall tales about people she never met, doing things she wished she had done. That the stories seemed to sell so well let her know that they were at least believable.  No, the problem lay in her delivery.  Something about her face and tone of voice when she said anything untrue just gave her away.

Knowing it was useless to try to avoid it she summoned all of her sophomore year journalism class know-how and related the ‘who, what, why, where, when and how’ of the incident last night.

“…so I’ve got a few bruises on my face and my …chest, a swollen eye and a broken wrist.  If I were you, I wouldn’t expect me to meet my deadline on time.  Right now just wiggling my fingers hurts like crazy.”

“Oh Honey, I’m so sorry.  You just forget the deadline issue and get well.  Hell, one of the reasons your there is to relax and get a little more focused.  Take some time to heal and unwind.  The area is beautiful.  Take some walks, take some naps, go shopping, and meet the people out there.  A finer and friendlier little town, you’ll never find.  And listen, I’ll be up to see you this weekend to see how you’re doing.  You just let Twyla take care of you for a while and if you need anything before I get up there, you know you can call me.  I’m here for you 24-7, do you understand?”

The smile on her face was evident in her voice when she replied. “Oh Steph, you are such a sweetie.  But really, I’ll be fine.  You don’t have to make a special trip up here.”

“Nonsense, I was going to surprise you any way.  But now, I have an idea and I think you’ll like it.  I can’t tell you about it, I’ll have to show you.  Besides, I love it there.  I’ll bet you didn’t know that I grew up in that house, did you?”

“Wow.  That must have been great.  You can tell me all about it when you get here.”

“I will, I promise.  Now let me speak to A..  Twyla again.”  She held her breath, hoping the very observant writer would let her get away with her inadvertent slip.

“Okaaay.” Steph heard the tone and knew she had a split second to get the writer off the phone before the inquisition began, so she interrupted.

“Listen, I’ve got another call so I’m kind of in a hurry here…”

“All right.  Bye Steph.  Here’s Twyla.”  She handed the phone over to the woman who had just resumed her seat at the table and watched her closely.

“Hi dear.”

The older woman seemed to listen for a few minutes then responded.  “You know I will.  Can’t wait to see you too.  Bye Honey.”

Just as Shasta opened her mouth to speak, Twyla said abruptly. “My, the time goes by so fast when you’re with good company.  We’re expected over at the Sheriff’s station in less than an hour so why don’t I help you get cleaned up and dressed and then we’ll get going.”  She stood and pushed the chair in, then came around to help the writer up. She led the injured woman to the bedroom, all the while keeping up a running stream of conversation, picking up where they left off before the phone call.

“As I was saying, my husband now.  He had the most awful habit of naming our kids after whatever thing in his life was giving him the most joy at the time.  That was his only stipulation, you see.  I wanted a lot of children and he was more than willing to oblige, as long as he got to name them.  As a result I have children named after the darndest things…”

The little blonde was so entranced by the whole conversation, she simply forgot what it was she wanted to ask the charming older lady about, and before she knew it, they were pulling into the lot of the Sheriff’s station.

“…the last one he named after the boat he just bought. To this day, I don’t know how those kids ever got through school without killing one of the kids that teased them about their names.  Oh, they most assuredly had plenty of black eyes and bruises and I was called to come in and get them whenever the teachers witnessed the fight, but I can only be grateful that we never had to pay for any broken bones. Well,” she paused and thought for minute, staring out the windshield, “except for that one time.  Of course, that had nothing to do with name-calling.  Nope, different matter altogether.”

The writer saw the woman’s jaw clench and just a hint of remembered anger in her eyes.  The fierceness of it scared her a little and she was sure, right then and there, she never wanted this woman mad at her.

“Well, here we are young one.  Let me just help you out.”

Matching the deed to the words, Shasta found herself entering the Sheriff’s office.

It wasn’t a large place.  The front counter was waist high and sitting behind it was a tall, dark haired man sitting at a desk, working on a laptop. As the door closed behind them, he looked up. 

“Hi Mom.” He pushed himself away from the desk and using one hand to brace himself, jumped lightly over the counter.  He kissed the smiling older woman on the cheek and then turned to the writer.

“You must be Ms Cutter. I’m Cole and on behalf of the residents of Bramble, I really want to apologize for what happened to you last night.  Why don’t you come on over here and sit down and I’ll let the Sheriff know you’re here.”  He led her around the counter to a chair next to the desk he had been sitting behind and asked her if she wanted anything to drink.

“Well, I’ll leave you in Coleman’s hands and be back by your house later this afternoon to bring you some dinner.  Anything in particular you don’t like or can’t eat?” Twyla had leaned down and had her hand on the woman’s shoulder.  The look on her face was so concerned that Shasta couldn’t help but be touched by it.

“Nope. Not allergic to anything that I know of. I’ve never been partial to lima beans, but that’s about all.  But listen, you don’t have to go out of your way for me like this.  I’m sure I can manage a frozen pizza or a can of soup. Steph told me that it was your restaurant I had that great dinner in last night and I know that must take a lot of time to manage.  I’ll be fine.”

“Uh oh.  You’ve done it now, Ms. Cutter.  We never say the P word around Momma.”

“Listen to the boy Emily, he knows what he’s talking about.  I do NOT allow the people I care about to make do with frozen pizza!  Now you just listen to me.  Your body has experienced a trauma and you need the right foods to heal.  I’ll be back over to your place no later than five and you will eat a decent dinner, understood?”  The look leveled at the younger woman was stern and uncompromising but the underlying current of concern and kindness couldn’t be brushed off by Emily’s need to fend for herself.  Refusing this woman’s hospitality would hurt her, she could tell.  It was the last thing she wanted to do to her new friend.

“Yes ma’am, I understand.  Thank you so much Twyla for everything, and I’ll be looking forward to your company later tonight.”  She smiled her biggest smile and reached her left hand over to pat the one resting on her shoulder.

The older woman gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and smiled back.

“Good enough.” Turning her attention to the deputy, she said. “Now, I’m headed into to the Nest so what do you and the sheriff want for lunch?”

Heading back to the desk from a small side table, he put down a tray with two cups of coffee, sugar and cream next to the little blonde. “I don’t know.  Let me check.”  He picked up the phone and punched a number.

“Hi, Mom and Ms. Cutter are here.  Mom’s headed to the Nest and wants to know what we want for lunch.”  There was a small pause.  “I know, but no matter what I say, the minute you ask for something I’ll just change my mind and order that anyway.”  He laughed a little at the response and then said. “Okay, will do.”

Putting down the receiver he turned back and said, “Make it two Monte Cristo’s with fries and of course whatever Ms. Cutter here will be having and I’ll be by to pick them up at about one, okay?”

“No problem.  I know you just had breakfast a little while ago Emily so you get Coleman here to tell you what’s on the menu around 12:30 and he can just call it in.  Now, I’m out of here.  Have a good day my dear and watch out for Ms. Cutter here.”  She reached into her jacket and handed him a bottle of pills.  “Hobie says she’s to get these every six hours for pain as needed and she should have something to eat with them and lots to drink.”

With that, she turned and left as they all bid each other good byes.

Before the door closed completely and before Shasta could turn back around, she heard the door in front of her open and the Sheriff enter the room.

“Good morning Ms. Cutter.  I hope you’re feeling better today.”

Instead of the tall dark haired J.D. she expected, she turned to the melodious voice and the stunning presence of the beautiful deputy from last night.  Except now she was wearing the Sheriff’s badge.

“Huh?”

Harley smiled and understood instantly why the look on that lovely face was so confused.

“It’s a little complicated.”  She extended her hand and offered it to help her up. “Why don’t you come with me and I’ll explain it in my office.  Then you can make your statement and I’ll tell you what we found out about the man who attacked you. By that time, it should be time for lunch and after that I’ll have Cole here, drive you back to your place.”

That said, she helped her up, picked up the blondes coffee cup and led her into the office with the word Sheriff clearly delineated on the door.

The stunned writer just nodded and followed along at her side.

Chapter 6

The voice was back. Now, remember let’s not get emotional and personal about this.  You’re a professional.  Just do your job. “How are you feeling Ms. Cutter?”  She knew the minute she said the words that the tone in her voice and the look on her face had thrown ‘professional’ right out the window.  Shit. Get a grip here, woman, she thought.

It was bad enough that she spent nearly every moment since she left her, thinking about her. And that had been a lot of moments. Lying down on the couch to sleep here last night was a wasted effort.She just tossed and turned and…thought.About her smile and her laughter, and how lovely she was, and how things might be different if she were to decide to stay. Then she realized that she was wandering into the realm of the absurd and finally got up to check on the trace she put out on the young woman’s attacker.

One James Bell, from Taos, New Mexico who, it turned out, was a suspect in two rapes and another attempted rape.  That made her mad. Seems the slime was a truck driver and traveled for years with his common law wife as he drove his route from Albuquerque to San Francisco, until a few months ago.  Evidently, the lady had enough of the road and him, met someone else, and took off on him in Barstow.  Shortly after that, he was fired for being drunk on the job and getting in fights. The consensus from the Albuquerque police was that after he started drinking heavily, he began to beat up his lady friend.  She took as much as she could and then escaped, more than ran off.  All the crimes committed, were reported on his old truck route.  Since he owned the rig, seeing it in any of the truck stops never made anyone suspicious.  But the description of him, and Harley’s report to them, made it fairly easy to put the puzzle together.  Now she just had to let the blonde know in a way that she could handle.

******

She was halfway down to the seat of the chair when the words came. It stopped her cold and she saw the look of deep concern and empathy, and something else on the beautiful face before her. Followed instantly by a look of almost shock as the new Sheriff realized what she said.  It made her smile.  It warmed her and she wanted to…give back something for it.  Somehow, she knew this slip wasn’t characteristic of the tall woman and felt the need to validate her unguarded moment.

“I’m… I’m doing okay.” She smiled and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Good to hear.”  The smile was returned full bore.

Taking her own seat behind the gray metal desk and stalling while she sipped her coffee, she looked up at the blonde and brought her eyes down to her cast.

“I know that must be hurting.  I’ve had one of those myself, and the day after it happens it seems to hurt worse than the day of the injury.  You are making sure to take the pain med’s Hobie gave you, right?  We don’t need you suffering in silence here.”  Her smile became a grin and the writer chuckled.

“Not to worry.  The last thing I am in this world is a martyr to suffering.  Besides,” she cocked her head and narrowed her eyes a little. “I haven’t had the chance.  Seems someone, who shall remain nameless, phonwd Twyla and I’ve had the benefit of a my own nurse/cook/babysitter since I woke up today.”

The Sheriff was about to apologize, Shasta could see it by the way the woman’s head dropped, and her eyes fell to find the bottom of her mug. “I’m… ”

“No, don’t.  I’m deeply grateful.  The first thing on my mind when I woke up was that I was hurting and wished like anything that I wasn’t alone, and suddenly I wasn’t.  She’s charming and I had a lovely time getting to know her.”  The smile got even bigger and she saw the relief show on the dark haired woman’s face as she returned the smile.  “Thanks so much.  I don’t know how I would have managed alone.”

She cleared her throat.  “No problem. She says being the mother of six and running the restaurant has given her all the qualifications she’ll ever need to be a triage nurse in a M.A.S.H unit.” Her mouth quirked up on the side as she tried valiantly to keep the nearly ever-present grin off her face.  She was glad nonetheless, to hear the tinkling laughter of the pretty lady in front of her.

“Anyway, this shouldn’t take too long.”  Her hand moved to a recorder on the side of her desk.  “If you don’t mind I’ll just record your statement and then I’ll have Cole type it up later and you can sign it.”

“No, that’ll be fine.  Where should I start?”  She took a deep breath and tried to stop the churning in her guts when she remembered last night.

“Just let me get some information down and then you tell me in your own words what happened.  If I need to, I’ll ask a few questions and then it’s over.” She put her finger on the record button and looked into her eyes. “Are you ready?”

Another deep breath. “Yeah, go ahead.”

She punched the record button and began by stating today’s date and where they were. “Interview with the victim of the incident which occurred on September 30^th in the parking lot of the Raven’s Nest restaurant.”  She looked up at Shasta and placed the microphone a little closer to her on the other side of the desk.  “Please state your name and address, for the record.”

“Shasta Cutter, 227 W. Santa Monica Boulevard, number 216, Santa Monica, California 92802.” 

“Is that you’re legal name Ms. Cutter?” the sheriff interrupted.

“Hmmn, ah no.  That would be Emily Anne Cutter.”  She swallowed again and looked a little sheepishly at the smirking woman across from her.

“I see.” She nodded and the smirk got a bit larger as the Sheriff noticed her discomfort. Was it being caught using her pen name or is she really that pretentious.  Nothing wrong with Emily.  It suits her.  She continued, “and is that a house or an apartment?”

“It’s a condominium.”

“Okay.” She knew it had nothing to do with the case and the question was out before she could think about it.  It was purely her own curiosity being fed.  A kind of need to picture the place that held this woman in her own mind.  The place she called her home. Coming back to herself, she continued. “Can you please describe to us the incident that happened last night in the parking lot of the Raven’s Nest.”

Emily began, and putting her best journalism mindset on, she started with the encounter with the drunk in the bar leaving nothing out that she could remember, up to and including the sight of the deputy standing over them, rescuing her.

Her account of the incident was so clear and concise that the Sheriff found she had no questions for her and simply thanked her for her cooperation and ended the tape.

“End interview.” She pushed the stop button and sat back in her chair.

“So, what happens now?”

“Well, the man who attacked you is wanted in several places for,” she paused, “rape and attempted rape, as well as assault and kidnapping. I was contacted this morning by the DA’s office in Albuquerque and they requested extradition to try him there for the first rape.  If it’s all right with you, I think that would be the best way to go.  There is the other assault in Barstow and the last word is that the New Mexico and California DA’s would like a chance to work together on this one.  He’ll be tried for all of his crimes, but since he actually,” she paused again, “succeeded at raping these other women, they were hoping to get him first.  I figure if you have no objection, that is what we would do.”  She stopped and watched the face of the writer carefully for any distress, and was glad to see her look almost relieved.

“I’m sure that would be for the best. I mean, I want to see him pay for his crimes, but, thanks to you, I was saved… the final indignity… and those other women weren’t.  You do whatever you think is right.” she said with finality.  “As long as we can manage to keep this out of the papers and he is kept off the streets, I’m all for it.”

“Good.  You can rest assured that no one here will say a word to the press about this. And, I’ll make the arrangements for him to be picked up by the proper authorities.” She leaned back in her chair and started to relax since the worst part of this was now over.

“Can I get you some more coffee?”

When the blonde nodded, she got up, retrieved both cups, and slid from the room to the outer office almost soundlessly.

Grateful for a moment to compose herself, the writer let her mind wander as her eyes took in the small office.  Behind the desk on the wall was an eight by ten color picture of several people in uniform.  She recognized Harley, Cole. and J.D. standing next to two other men.  The dark haired good looks seemed to be shared by them all, and the one on the end seemed to be older than the rest as his temples showed just the beginning of some gray.  She leaned forward and tried to read the badges, but it was too far away and the picture was too small for clarity of detail.  Besides the wanted posters on a clipboard hanging on the wall next to it and a large calendar with several items penciled onto some dates, the wall was bare.  Under the picture was a long table with a fax machine, a CB radio, a computer printer and scanner, and a sheaf of copy paper.  To her left was a window under which sat a small old couch and a battered coffee table.  Sitting on it was a small TV with… KNOBS!  Gods, when was the last time she saw one of those?  Not a button in sight and to add to that, there was an antenna on top.  ‘Rabbit ears’ she thought they were called.  The wall to her right was filled with three different colored and aged filing cabinets. 

The door opened and Cole stepped in with her cup, and the cream and sugar.  Also on the tray was a plate with several scrumptious looking Danish pastries. 

“Harley will be back in, in a minute.  She had to see to the prisoner.  I thought you’d be ready for a snack by now and since we’re sitting next door to the world’s best bakery, I thought I’d tempt you with a few of their finest creations.” His smile was luminous and she could tell how proud he was of their little town by the tone of his voice.  “You aren’t one of those little bits who never eat anything but rabbit food are you?”  He grinned at her.

“Not a chance! And thanks, these look and smell wonderful.”

“Your welcome, enjoy.”  Then he was gone.

She just took her first bite of what turned out to a blackberry and cream cheese Danish, when the door opened and her gastronomical revelry was interrupted with an, “Oh thank you, I think I will.”   The beautiful Sheriff grabbed a pastry and took a large bite.

“Don’t thank me. Cole brought them in,” she said, smiling at the look of rapture that spread over the face of the officer sitting in front of her.

She finished chewing the overabundant mouthful and said “Oh no, I have to thank you.  If I thank Cole I’ll make him think I’m beholden to him.  He’ll lord it over me to get something out of me and that will never do.”

“Lord it over you?  He seems like such a nice man,” she smiled.

“He’s not.” She took another bite.  “He’s Satan.”

The blonde nearly spewed the coffee she was sipping all over the desk.  Choking it down she said, “are you talking about that genial, smiling man who just brought me coffee and pastries, and jumped up to kiss his mother when she came in?” She smiled at the determined look on the pretty brunette in front of her.

“The very same.” She nodded her head sagely as though imparting some important information to the woman. “You mustn’t let his charming persona confuse you.  He’s manipulative and sneaky and has a memory like an elephant.  Never let him catch you doing something you wouldn’t want anyone to know about.  He is not above blackmail OR extortion.” She nodded her head once with great vigor and pronounced. “Satan.”

That did it, along with the serious expression on the face of the Sheriff.  She broke into hysterical laughter.  That forced a small smile from the officer and she raised her voice to convince the woman she meant it.

“Now, Ms Cutter, don’t you be led astray by that butter-won’t-melt-in-my mouth appearance he uses.  He’s a bulldog.  He’ll get his teeth in you and before you know it you’ve agreed to help him paint his house just to keep his mouth shut.”

Calming only a little, she managed to sputter out, “is that what happened to you?  Did you have to help him paint his house to keep your secret quiet?” She couldn’t help the giggle that came out when she imagined that powerful woman who towered over her last night, being cowed into manual labor by the charming man.

“THAT is only one of the things I’ve had to put up with, Ms. Cutter.”

“Please, Shasta.”

“If you wish.  Shasta.”  Having finished her pastry, she leaned back in her chair with her coffee and smiled with just a hint of seduction.  She knew it was a bad idea, but she was helpless to stop it. She deliberately lowered her voice to a sensuous growl. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I much prefer, Emily.”

Shasta’s response to that tone was immediate and she could feel the snarky little prickle way down in her torso as her hormones reacted to it.  It felt really good.  Lowering her own tone of voice, she replied, “not at all, Sheriff.”  Remembering now, she continued, “Speaking of which, just how did you come about this sudden promotion.  Was the collaring of my attacker the one that put you over the point limit?  Did you get it as some kind of prize for the biggest arrest or did J.D. suddenly retire in a fit of pique?”

“Ahhhh,” She stretched her arms up over her head and leaned back a little more.  “Well, it’s a… kind of complicated story.”

The well fitting shirt pulled even tighter across the nicely endowed front of the raven-haired officer and the sight of it nearly knocked the thoughts out of her head as she watched.  She gathered her scattered meanderings and said, “Not to worry.  Fortunately I’m a writer and those are the kind of stories we like the best, Sheriff.”

“Harley.  Please.”  She smiled brilliantly at the pretty woman and leaned forward to put the cup back on her desk.  She was enjoying this conversation immensely. She also enjoyed the look on the blondes face as she watched her stretching.

Trying her best to assume the same tone she heard from the officer she replied, “If you wish.  Harley.”

Lowering her head and peeking out at her from her lashes, the officer made her decision and said, “All right.  I have to make my rounds just now.  Would you care to take a walk with me.  It’s only a few blocks.  As you know, our town isn’t very big and I can explain it as we walk.  Do you feel up to it?

The tone at the end was at once, both teasing and compassionate.

“I’d love to.” She stood up as the officer did.

Harley placed the hand held CB unit on her belt, ejected the tape from the machine, and grabbed her hat from the top of the filing cabinet as she walked past her and opened the door.

Walking through the outer office, she dropped the tape on the deputy’s desk and said, “Cole, I’m taking Ms. Cutter on rounds with me.  Gonna show her a bit of Bramble.  Call me if you need me.”

He looked up from his computer and said, “Will do.” Then he smiled.  “Say, did you like the pastries?” 

Emily noticed he didn’t address this question to either one of them, however he did seem to be looking at Harley.  As she was preparing to answer him, the Sheriff’s voice cut in.

“Ms. Cutter seemed to enjoy them very much.”

 When she didn’t add anything to that, she thought she could see his face fall just a tad.  Yep there was definite disappointment there. Deciding to jump in and make the save, she replied.  “Oh yes Deputy, they were wonderful, thank you very much.”

He swallowed and mumbled “Eh, your welcome.”  Then as if he just remembered he ought to, he smiled.

As the front door closed behind them, she turned to the Sheriff.  “You know you could have at least told him thank you for his efforts on my behalf.

Shaking her head.  “Oh no.  That would have been incriminating myself.  He might have inferred from that, that I enjoyed them too.  And that would have been the beginning.”  She leaned into the smaller woman conspiratorially and said in a near whisper. “He’s been making noises about needing to re-finish his driveway.”  She shuddered theatrically and the small woman laughed again.

As if a string was attached to her in some way, the small woman’s laugh brought a huge smile to the Sheriff’s face. She knew it was showing and made a great effort to turn her face forward as they made their way down the street, passing the bakery.

Emily noted that the Sheriff placed herself between the street and her companion. ‘Hmn,” she wondered.  Is that chivalry or just the protectiveness that came from the job?  She also noted that the woman changed clothes from last night.  Now she wore beige jeans and a long sleeved pale blue turtleneck under her short-sleeved beige shirt.  The badge, which read Sheriff, was still the lone adornment to the front of her shirt and there was no nametag. As yesterday, her hair was pulled up in back and clipped in so that its length was still indeterminable under her hat, the Ray Bans back, covering those amazing azure eyes. Her posture as she walked was impeccable and Shasta was pleasantly surprised by it.  It had been her experience that very tall women tended to slouch.  It always bothered her, because she always wanted to be tall.  She knew if she were, she wouldn’t be caught dead slumping her shoulders.  This woman walked with pride in her height and power in her step.  She was one of the few people the writer had ever seen who seemed to fit the so often overused French phrase of ‘formidable’.

Realizing that she was starting to stare at the beauty beside her, she cleared her throat and asked. “Okay, so now that we’re here, tell me the story of your astonishing promotion to chief lawman of these parts.”

Taking in a deep breath and puffing her cheeks out as she released it, the officer turned to her shorter companion and decided on the best way to launch into it.  She figured that if she didn’t slip, she could get away with telling her almost all of the truth, without spilling everything.

“I guess the best way to do this is to start by introducing myself. “  She stopped and offered her left hand to the woman. “I’m Harley Ravensdown.  It’s nice to meet you Ms. Cutter.”  Taking the hand offered back and shaking it, she was surprised at the strength she felt from the small woman’s left hand.

“How do you do.  Please call me Emily.” She smiled up at the woman.

“Now, the significance of that introduction will have escaped you due to the fact that you have only met a few people here and since we all seem to be on a first name basis.  However, to clarify.  The Sheriff you met last night?”  She looked at the woman to see if she remembered.  When she shook her head in understanding, she continued.  “To make his proper acquaintance you would have met John D. Ravensdown.” She looked at the blonde and saw her eyebrow rise.  She nearly continued with what she planned to say when she caught the briefest glance from the smaller woman at her left hand. Oh, I see. She smiled at the interest she was being given.  It made her…hopeful. “My brother.” She said in clarification. The small smile she got from that tidbit made her own a little brighter. “The strident but youthful bedtime manner you experienced belongs to my brother, Hobie.  Dr. Ravensdown. The charming nurse and brilliant cook who cared for you this morning would be introduced as Twyla Ravensdown, my mother.” Now the writer had a grin on her face and her eyebrow rose again. “Which makes the ever charming, but highly slippery deputy you met, my brother, Coleman Ravensdown.”

The look on the blonde’s face was nothing less than precious.  As she opened her mouth with the obvious questions Harley knew were coming, she hurriedly continued. “About four years ago our Sheriff, Bob Croft and his deputy, Frank Seltzer were killed in a car crash a few miles up the mountain.” She gestured up towards the right. “As you can see,” sweeping her hand around in front of her, “this is a very small town. We had the option of having our law enforcement needs met by an occasional drive through by the Santa Barbara Sheriff department or holding an election for the new Sheriff and deputy.  No one wanted to run for the job.  Everyone who lives here already has one.  Either they work down below in Santa Barbara or they own their own business here, or work in one of the businesses.  As a result, there was only one name on the ballot and for reasons you don’t need to know, that candidate was unacceptable to the people who live here. 

However there were a number of write in votes and the upshot of that was that there was a five-way tie for the office. To get it all settled out, a town meeting was called and like the good folks that they are, the voters of the town made it known that no one else would do, but the people the vote duly elected.  The upshot of that was that we had five people with equal votes tied to be the Sheriff.  Now, the down side to that could have been a very divisive thing for a small town such as this. If another vote was taken, it would have been identical to the first one, and nothing would have been resolved.  Add to that, none of the elected really wanted the job.  Now the upside to that was that all five of the elected, were members of the same family. Mine.  My four brothers and myself.  Now each of us has lived here for nearly our whole lives and we all had our own jobs to think about as well.  My father and mother got us together and, as is usual when Mom and Dad decide to find a solution, they did.  The solution they came up with was offered to the town at a town meeting and was passed unanimously. It’s been working for four years now and so far everything has gone without a hitch.”

By this time they were down the street and passed several small businesses, and the tall woman pointed toward the diner they were approaching.  She crossed in front of her and opened the door.  “Let’s get something to drink.”  She led the writer to the counter and the waitress came over immediately.  “Hi, Cindy, I’ll have coffee.  What about you, Emily?”

The blonde sat on the stool to her right and said she’d have the same. The waitress smiled and turned to the pot behind her.  She set down two mugs and poured them full.

”I just want you to know, Ben and I are both so very sorry you were hurt last night.  Is there anything we can do for you?” 

Shasta was stunned.  She just shook her head.  The waitress patted her on the hand and said  “Well, if you think of anything, you be sure and let us know, okay?” Then, before the blonde could reply, she answered her bell as the chef placed her order up behind her.

Once again, before the little blonde could open her mouth to say anything, the Sheriff said, “ It’s a really small town.”  Then, “Second door on the left, at the end of the counter.”

The writer blushed and muttered a thank you as she got up and went to the restroom. How the officer knew that was what she was going to ask her, startled and embarrassed her, but she was grateful anyway.

When she returned to the counter, the Sheriff handed her the coffee in a Styrofoam cup and walked her to the door.  As they exited, she finished her explanation, completely dismissing the subject of having noticed her pretty friend’s fidgeting.

“The solution was that we all take the position. Well, not all of us.  Hobie, as the only doctor in town turned down the nomination and the rest of us worked out a schedule whereby we serve one month on as deputy followed by one month on as Sheriff.  Yesterday, September thirteth. I was the Deputy, but today, October first, I’m the Sheriff.  This way, we can all manage our businesses with only a little assistance required and we can still protect the town.  Usually the most illegal thing that happens around here is the occasional…” She suddenly remembered something and looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“What?” the blonde inquired.

“Uhm, the occasional belligerent speeder we run in for trying to take a punch at one of us when they get that ticket on the east end of Bender Road by the school.”

The writer crinkled her nose at that and put a hand up to cover her mouth lightly as she cast her gaze to her feet. “ “Uh, yeah.  I can see that.”  Clearing her throat, she changed the subject back to their earlier topic.

“So, is that all, you know, legal? I mean you guys sharing the position and all?”

“Sure. We had it entered into the town charter and we’ve all had a certain amount of training in law enforcement.  Some more than others, but enough to know what we’re doing and protect the people here.”

They continued to walk, crossing another street and ambling down the sidewalk.  It was only then that Emily began to notice how often the name Ravensdown was listed on the buildings and businesses she passed.  As they turned a corner, a charming old brick building with a beautiful mahogany door disclosed a brass nameplate with the name H. Ravensdown, Attorney At Law.

“That wouldn’t by any chance be another brother would it?” she asked.

“Nope.” Was the single word answer.

Still pondering her new friend’s reticence, she was suddenly reminded of the information she received earlier.  She stopped dead in her tracks and said, “Oh my Gods.  She was talking about you!”  Then, she once again burst into laughter.  Her chest heaved so hard that she had to lean on the brick wall next to her to keep from falling down.

“What?” the bewildered Sheriff asked.  Then, as it had happened before, she too began to laugh.

 

Chapter 7

It took several long moments to get herself back under control, and the minute she opened her mouth she knew it was a wasted effort, for all she had to do was look at the dark haired woman in front of her and say the words, “You’re the motorcycle,” and she was falling down laughing again. 

She huffed in a little air and managed to say, “Then tha… that mean’s Cole is the pup tent.”  She took a few more breaths before she calmed and then she was at it again.  “Oh my gods!  That means J.D. is the lawn mower!”  This time she lost it completely and could do nothing but slide helplessly down the wall, holding her stomach and laughing so hard, she was barely making a sound.

The Sheriff was torn between utter annoyance and abject embarrassment.  It’s a damn good thing I got over that problem I had or she’d be sitting on the sidewalk for a whole other reason.  She was more than a little sensitive about anyone finding out the origin of her name.  Hell, they had all been.  There were a lot of adults, now living in Bramble, who had memories of black eyes and bruises as the result of picking on the Ravensdown kids and their names. The older she got, the more she was inclined to go along with the joke and forgive her parents for the absurd manner in which they were designated, but she had no business telling the whole story to her. Great Goddess, Mom just once, couldn’t you have kept it to yourself?

Of course, she had to admit that she was really enjoying the look of almost painful pleasure on the blonde’s face.  The writer’s face was bright red and small tears were being squeezed out of the corners of her eyes.  She’d seem to get herself together and then, whoosh, it would hit her all over again and then she’d be gasping for air and trying to still her breathing.

She was now rolling over on to her side.

It was at that point the officer decided to act.  Summoning up as much reserve as she could muster, she leaned down to the hysterical writer and said.  “Okay, that’s enough.”

It worked.

Nearly.

Almost.

Emily stopped laughing in mid laughter and sucked in a breath of air for what seemed like the first time in an hour.

Long enough for Harley to help her up to her feet. 

Long enough for her to follow the Sheriff across the street and to the door of the Sheriff’s office. 

And then the door opened and the pup-tent walked out.

Grabbing the once again hysterical woman, she slid past the open-mouthed Coleman and dragged her charge into her office, sitting her on the couch.

“I’ll be right back.  DO try to calm down.”

She wasn’t sure if she was heard until she saw the blonde nod her head up and down as she was leaving the room.

“Ahhhhhhh… That was great.” She exclaimed aloud to the empty room.  “I haven’t laughed that hard in…  ever!” she chuckled again, remembering the reason for it. Twyla had been so eloquent in her telling of it, she knew it must have been a story she repeated often, but her delivery was great.  The deadpan way she just offered it up, kept Emily smiling all the way to the Sheriff’s office.

******

“Our first one was born just before we moved up here and we weren’t doing very well financially.  Josh  just got his real estate license and I started to work at a new little restaurant in Hollywood.  You would have thought the 60’s would have been a time of greater enlightenment, but most of the restaurants in L.A. were owned and run by the good old boys, so the ‘peace and love generation’ notwithstanding, not many people believed I was a five star chef, regardless of my diplomas and the letter from Maxim’s.  Anyway, I’d just started to work when I found out I was pregnant.  About a month before the baby was due, Josh sold his first million dollar property and with the commission he went out and bought a plot of land he’d always wanted up in the mountains above Santa Barbara. He paid off the obstetrician’s bill in advance, bought the first few pieces of stock in a little company called Reebok and with what was left, he went out and bought the first color T.V. he ever owned.  You see his folks were really poor and until he joined the service and moved off the farm, he had never even seen a color TV before.  It was for him, an exceptional trea,t and he went on and on about how wonderful it was for days.

Well a few weeks later, I gave birth and according to our agreement, he named the child.  His thinking was that this baby was giving him so much joy he always wanted to remember it.  As a result, he named him Emerson, after the TV set in our living room.

By the time the next baby came, about a year later, we moved to Bramble and I was working at the diner in town. Josh was spending a good deal of time commuting between here and L.A. and doing fairly well. When he would get to spend a few days up here, he discovered the joy of camping, so when the next one was born he named it after the newest toy he acquired.  A weather resistant tent that slept five people and had a sleeping area separated from the front of the tent.

Josh continued to do well and his unerring sense of what would sell, allowed him to make a veritable killing with the stocks he bought.  By the third child the next year, he sunk a good deal of money into very shrewd real estate deals and started building our home on the land he bought that first year. Thinking ahead as he always does, he decided that the land around the house would have to be tamed to keep the kids safe and he ordered one of the very first ride-along lawn mowers they made.  That became the name of the third child.  I was not a bit happy with it, but a deal is a deal, sooooo...

The next child, the next year, was the first child born in our new home.  By the time it arrived, Josh was doing well enough to have several people working for him.  He also discovered the joy of networking and found that ‘schmoozing’ with the people he wanted to do business with, meant being where they are.  Consequently, he learned the game of golf and found he was, in this, as in many other things, a natural at the game. By the time the fourth child was born, he had lowered his handicap to near professional standing and named his fourth child after his favorite set of clubs.

The next year and next child saw us living well and finally Josh could spend most of his time here and run his business through subordinates for the most part.  With more leisure time on his hands, he found a new hobby and a new love.  His newest acquisition was a beauty.  A bright blue, fully chromed out hog.  He took to riding it every chance he could  and as a result, the fifth was named after the bike. Naturally!

The last one came as before, the following year, and Josh’s business and investments were doing well enough that we took our first family vacation. We spent two weeks on the beautiful island of Maui and Josh fell in deep lust with the first Catamaran he ever saw up close.  After that first ride, there was no stopping it. I went into labor a week after we got back home. The baby and the Catamaran he ordered, arrived the same day. I decided that six children were enough and told him so.  He said whatever I wanted was fine with him, that I was the one in charge, as always, and so, like the others, he named the last after the boat he just bought.”

******

I really must need a rest not to have made the connection.  It was so obvious.  All those dark-haired blue eyed people. I have no idea what has happened to that mind of mine.  Where is the sharp kid who could think her way out of all of those plotlines I made up?

She took a deep breath and realized that all that laughter left her feeling a little drained and, now that it stopped, she was aware of the increasing pain in her wrist.  “Oh well, she said aloud,” it was worth it.  That was just so much fun.” Remembering it again, she began to giggle just as the door opened.

“Oh, come on.  I thought you would be over it by now.” Harley’s tone was only slightly serious and the tiny smile she wore, showed she bore her no ill will.  She came over, sat on the couch next to the writer, and handed her a glass of water. “Here.”

“I am over it. Mostly. Nearly.” She sputtered out one last guffaw and said. “I’m really trying.”  She took the water and sipped as she calmed. “Thanks,” she indicated the glass in her hand and sipped again.

“No problem.  Now take this with it.  I imagine your arm is probably starting to throb a bit.” She handed her the pill and the blonde smiled at her with gratitude.

“Yeah. I only just now noticed it.  Funny what you can forget when your lying on the sidewalk convulsing with laughter.” She swallowed the pill while Harley continued.

“So it’s about lunch time.  How about I bring you the menu and you choose what you’ll have.  I’ll call it in and Cole can go get it.  You need to eat with those pills or you’ll be asleep in no time.”

“Sounds good to me.”

After ruminating over the menu and keeping in mind how difficult it would be to eat some things with only her left hand, she decided on a bowl of chili with cheese and cornbread.  The grin from the Sheriff told her she made a wise decision and the meal itself was wonderful.

Taking another bite of the fabulous chili and trying hard not to let the melted cheddar fall on to her chin, she felt the time was right for a distraction.

“So tell me.  I think I have most of this figured out by now. The oldest is Emerson.  He’s the one named after the television.” The two dark heads she was dining with nodded. “Then came Coleman here.  The tent.” The tent in question nodded and an embarrassed smile lit up his face, as well as a mild blush. “Number three child would be J.D., which if I’m figuring this right has the John Deere riding lawnmower to thank for his name.”  Once again, they both nodded but Harley added, “Which is why we never call him, John.  J.D. is fine and even Johnny D. but not John. Of all of us, I think he’s the most sensitive about his name.  I mean, true it’s a boy toy and all, but the whole idea of being named after lawn care equipment can make a guy kind of…”

“Sensitive.” Cole finished for her.

“Yeah.” She agreed.

“I’ll keep that in mind.  He’s way too big for me to tick off by saying the wrong thing.” She smiled a little and saw the same smile given back by the Sheriff and her deputy.

“Now, here is where I get a little lost.  Having only played Golf once and that with another woman, the only golf clubs I really know have a name are the ones she used and rented for me.  Is it Davis?”

“Nope.” The sheriff finished her sandwich and wiping her hands with her napkin, offered coffee. When the writer nodded, she filled her cup and began. “Davis, just for your information makes women’s clubs.  Nope, Dad’s favorite brand then and now, are… Wilson.”

“So when do I get to meet this member of the Ravensdown clan?” she asked as she popped the last bite of the crumbly buttered cornbread in her mouth.

Harley looked to Cole and he sensed her question by answering, “Not today.  He’s with Dad and they won’t be home till Friday night.” He turned to the writer. ”Sorry.  We’ll make sure you get to meet him and Dad this weekend.”  He caught a look from the Sheriff and quickly added, “That is, if you want to, I mean.”

Emily’s brow furrowed just a tad and Harley knew her scowl had been noticed.  “I’d love to.  I can’t wait to meet him and the man responsible for all of you.” Emily ended with a big smile and Harley took a relieved breath.

“Now, to resume.  The next in line is our Sheriff here.  Tell me you don’t have Davidson as a middle name!”

“Sorry.  Dad was most insistent. But even that’s not as bad as poor Hobie.” That remark got her a mild chuckle from the pup tent.

“Yeah, I mean I may be named for camping gear but at least he had the good sense to stop after Coleman. Try growing up as the youngest child with the handle Hobie Catamaran Ravensdown.  That would put most people into several years of therapy, right there,” he offered, and pushed the chair back to rest on it’s back legs. “How that kid managed to retain enough good sense and empathy to become a doctor is beyond me. Treating the same people who laughed at him when he was a kid… I dunno. Some of those jerks still piss, uh, sorry, tick me off.” He smiled a little shamefacedly and nodded to the writer.

“Don’t worry about it.” She said.

“Well, your problem isn’t that they pi, uh, ticked you off as a kid.  You’re problem is people in general.  You get along much better with your critters, and you always have.”

The sheriff told him.

“Critters?”

“Yeah.  Cole here is the town Vet. He’s not much of a people person. Thankfully he fell in love with a kindred spirit and has two sons who feel the same way.” She took a breath and pushed her own chair back on its hind legs. “Having dinner at their house can leave you with bites, scratches and enough pet hair to weave an afghan.” She smiled affectionately at her brother. “Not to mention the fact that I have now learned more than I ever wanted to know about