“No problem,” Carter said.
Sam considered the ramifications of Carter’s news. “Can you do it again? Watch my back, I mean. When we get back to Sutter Gap, I want you to tell this woman you know someone who can take her to see Sam Morgan.”
“Who? Besides you and me, no one else knows how to get up here. And you know how the folks are in Sutter Gap. They don’t talk to strangers.”
“Just introduce her to me, your cousin. Call me…Charlie Wilbury, your friendly, neighborhood wilderness guide. And give everyone at the Lucky Penny the heads-up. I’ll just tell her I’m going to take her to Sam Morgan and in turn, she’ll tell me what she wants.”
“So you think she’s trouble?”
“I don’t know,” Sam said. “But it won’t take me more than a few minutes to find out.”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I’ve spent ten whole days in this backwater town with nothing to show for it,” Sarah Cantrell muttered. She glanced over her shoulder at the patrons of the Lucky Penny tavern then turned back to the old pay phone, feeling their eyes boring into her back.
The town of Sutter Gap, population two hundred, sat nestled in the mountain country of North Carolina, just a few miles from the Tennessee border. The main street boasted just two businesses—a tiny grocery store which also served as the town gas station, the post office and the bait shop; and the Lucky Penny Tavern. The rest of the town was made up of a hodge-podge of houses, cobbled together without regard for architectural style. Sarah had taken a room at the Gap View Motor Lodge just out of town, a place that usually housed visiting hunters.
“I’m a nice southern girl, but this is not the south,” she continued. “If I’m not careful, one of these good old boys is going to toss me in the back of his pickup, take me to his cabin in the woods and chain me to the bed.”
“You’re a beautiful woman and men are bound to look,” Libby Marbury said, her voice crackling back over the phone line. “They’re probably just lonesome.”
Libby Parrish Marbury had been Sarah’s best friend since they were in seventh grade. Over the years, they’d given each other endless advice on men and romance. But there was no way even Libby could put a positive spin on the social prospects in Sutter Gap, North Carolina.
“They don’t just look,” Sarah complained. “They grunt and leer and a few of them drool. I know I’ve complained about the dating scene in Belfort, but I feel like I’ve landed on another planet here. A planet where ragged flannel and faded denim is the height of fashion and a good catch is a man who can bring down a ten-point buck with his bare hands. The odds are pretty good here, but the goods are definitely odd.”
“You’re not there to find a man,” Libby insisted. “At least, not in the romantic sense, so why let it bother you?”
“It doesn’t bother me,” Sarah said. “I’m just a little frustrated with the waiting.”
For such a long time, she and Libby had been in the same boat—single and searching for love. But since Libby’s wedding, Sarah had become acutely aware of the differences between them. Libby had always taken a very cautious approach to love, waiting patiently for her Prince Charming to sweep her off her feet, knowing that some day he’d come.
Sarah had always preferred a more adventurous attitude toward men, juggling several different boyfriends at once and then discarding them when they became too demanding or too troublesome. In truth, she didn’t want love at all, just fire and heat and passion. Libby had once quipped that Sarah took a “catch and release” approach to the men in her life. Men were like fish, once she’d caught them, it was only a matter of time before she tossed them back.
“I’ve turned down three invitations since I got to town,” Sarah continued. “One guy wanted me to go coon hunting, and one offered an evening of bowling in Asheville. The other cut right to the chase. He wanted to take me home to meet his mama.”
“Do you really expect Sam Morgan to be any different?” Libby asked.
“I sure hope he is. It would take me a whole lot more than I’ve got budgeted to turn any of these guys into a television personality.”
“How long are you going to wait for this guy?” Libby asked.
“I don’t know. This is the biggest get of my career. Sam Morgan has been living in the wilderness for three years, all alone. He survives on nuts and berries. He built a log cabin with his own two hands. He’s PBS gold. Imagine the potential. The program would be part reality television, part adventure and travel and part educational. Plus, we’ve got the whole pioneer history thing going. If he’s halfway presentable, the show could be a huge hit.”
“And if he isn’t?”
“At least his name sounds rugged. I’m hoping he looks like a cross between Robert Redford and the Marlboro man. We need to attract female viewers as well as male. If he’s missing all his teeth I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“What if Mr. Morgan doesn’t want you nosing around his life?”
“Well, he obviously wants some sort of recognition or he wouldn’t have written those articles for Outdoor Adventure. I just hope I can get to him before the network guys do. Those reality show producers are always on the prowl for the next big idea and they can offer him a lot more money than I can. But all they’re interested in is ratings and drama. I’d do this right.”
“You’re a very persuasive woman when you want to be,” Libby said. “I’m sure you’ll be able to get this guy to agree to your idea.”
“I hope so.”
It had been sheer luck that she’d stumbled across Sam Morgan. Two months ago, she’d been in the dentist’s office and had picked up an issue of Outdoor Adventure. After reading Sam Morgan’s article, she’d cancelled her appointment, gone back to the station and had immediately begun preparing a pitch for a new PBS series called Wilderness.
It was the perfect next step in her career. She’d begun work at the PBS affiliate in Charleston eight years earlier, as a twenty-two-year-old production assistant. She’d worked her way up to producer at WCLC, but when she’d first proposed the idea for Libby’s cooking show, of Southern Comforts, it was with the idea of striking out on her own. She’d quit her job and formed her own production company and before long, she and Libby had put together the funding to produce Southern Comforts.
They’d never expected the show to be such a resounding hit. Southern Comforts was now the jewel in WCLC’s programming crown, seen in nearly one hundred PBS markets nationwide. And from the moment she’d finished production on the second season, the station had begun clamoring for another new show.
Wilderness would be that show. And once it was a success, the production company she’d founded three years ago would finally be on firm footing. She could pay back the business loan she’d taken and maybe even give herself a small salary raise as well.
“If I can just find him, I’m sure I can convince him,” Sarah said.
“So what else do you know about Sam Morgan?” Libby asked.
“Nothing. No one in town is talking. This old guy named Carter Wilbury is supposed to be his friend, but he won’t—” Sarah felt a tap on her shoulder. She held up her hand. “I’ll be through in a sec.”
“What?” Libby asked.
“Someone wants to use the phone,” Sarah replied, annoyed with the interruption. “So, tell me, how are you feeling? Has the morning sickness gotten any better?”
“I’m much better. Trey brings me crackers in bed and I’ve found that regular servings of Rocky Road ice cream seem to settle my stomach. And my clothes are starting to get really tight, though I’m not sure if that’s from the baby