The Adventures of Ranger Ramona Ch. 02

She looked toward the back of the small dining area. Sarah Laurent was sitting at the last table. "Come join me," she said with a wave. Ramona went to the table and sat down. Sarah was finishing off a basket of onion rings.

"Want one?" she asked.

"No thanks," Ramona said, "I've got food coming."

Sarah took a sip of her Mountain Dew. "So I am glad I ran into you," she said, "I wanted to talk to you about yesterday. I know my mom can be a bitch but her heart is in the right place. She and the other elders have a lot of responsibility, you know, they look out for the whole community."

"I get that," Ramona said, "but she doesn't like me for some reason. I'm just trying to do my job."

"You've got it wrong. She gives all the new rangers hell. The only negative thing she says about you is that you should have let the forest fire get Wes Bebb."

"She really doesn't like him, huh?"

"You know anyone who does?"

Ramona struggled to find an answer and Sarah laughed heartily.

"So what's going to happen to Jimmy Little?" Ramona asked.

"Oh trust me. Jimmy would rather pay the fines than deal with the elders."

"What will they do to him?"

"Shame him."

"That's it?"

"Oh, white girl, you have no idea how bad that is."

Pascal called out Ramona's order. "I guess not," she said as she got up to retrieve it.

"I was surprised to see you here," Sarah said when she returned.

"Why's that?"

"I don't know, it just...I'm usually pretty good at reading people but I can't get a handle on you."

"You don't know me."

"No, not yet," Sarah said, reaching across the table and snatching one of Ramona's french fries.

"Piney said you'd been away. Were you going to school or..."

"I tried going to college. I didn't much care for it. I just come and go."

"What do you do? Do you have a job?

"Right now, I'm working with my uncle on his woodlot. But I've had a lot of jobs. I don't know though, you might not approve of some of them."

"I'm not very judgmental."

"I've got some friends down in Fryeburg who have a farm, I work for them sometimes. Worked a couple seasons on a fishing boat. Dealt pot for a while. Danced at a place in Bangor called the Cheetah Lounge."

"That's a strip club, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I'll show you my moves sometime."

Ramona raised an eyebrow, and Sarah's grin indicated that she noticed.

"So, is it supposed to be Cheetah like the animal," Ramona asked, "or cheater like guys cheating on their wives, just with a Maine accent?"

Sarah threw up her hands and laughed. "Thank you! I swear, it's a joke that nobody gets."

"So what brings you back here now?"

Sarah looked away for a minute and said "That's a story for when we are closer friends."

"Okay, fair enough."

"I'm going to have to go," Sarah said, "I'm supposed to be helping at the flea market. I had to get out of there. I think I was the only person in the place under the age of fifty. Hey what are you doing later?"

Ramona shrugged. "I don't have any plans."

"I could stand to do some drinking. Want to meet up at the Alibi later?"

Ramona didn't have to think about it for more than a few seconds. "Sure," she said. "I've got tomorrow off."

"Cool." Sarah got up from the table. "About eight?"

"Sounds good."

Ramona watched her as she dropped off her basket and empty bottle. Sarah looked at her, smiled and waved. I really like that smile, she thought.

****

First, there was a moose-car collision on the Jackman Road. Then there was a stack of insurance forms that Martha insisted that she must fill out before she could leave for the day. Finally, Lucinda flagged her down and asked for help with a clogged kitchen sink. It was almost nine when Ramona arrived at the Alibi Saloon.

When she entered, she saw Sarah sitting at the bar, sipping from a bottle of Sam Adams. She climbed on the stool next to her.

"There you are," Sarah said, "I was just thinking, did this bitch stand me up on our first date?"

"This is a date?"

"That was supposed to sound like a joke."

"Was it a joke or was it just supposed to sound like a joke?"

Before Sarah could answer, the bartender came over and asked Ramona if she wanted to order.

"I'll have a Sam Adams, too," she said.

"How about a couple of tequila shots?" Sarah asked.

"Sounds good."

"So, let me ask you. Greentree? You have some native blood?"

Ramona chuckled. "Your mother asked me that. No, not that I know of."

"What then? Hippie parents?"

"Far from it. As far as I know, the name goes back to England or Scotland or somewhere."

"My mom would say that maybe you all ought to think about going back to England or Scotland or wherever. Including me sometimes."

"Why you?"

"Just on general principles, I guess. I mean, my dad was white, but, I'm sort of the black sheep of the family."

"What? Every family doesn't have a pot dealing stripper?"

"Oh, that's just the start of it."

A gangly young man stepped up to them and put his hand on Sarah's shoulder.

"Hey, Jeff," Sarah said. She gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Sarah introduced Jeff to Ramona. "We went to high school together. Jeff was voted least likely to succeed."

"And they were right," he said with a laugh. "Listen, Sarah, I'm supposed to meet Jackson and RJ here, but they ain't showed yet. I thought maybe while I was waiting, you and me might put one of our old songs on the jukebox and have a dance."

He looked sheepishly at Ramona. "That's if your friend don't mind."

Ramona glanced at Sarah and saw her give the slightest nod. "Sure," she told Jeff, "I don't mind at all."

Sarah patted her on the knee as she stood. Then Jeff led her to the jukebox, where they huddled in its glow and conferred on a song. Jeff dropped a coin in the machine and they stepped back, as a steady drumbeat introduced Kacey Musgraves' Dime Store Cowgirl.

Ramona sipped her beer and watched Sarah dance. She moved with a sinuous, rolling motion, that somehow seemed both languid and exuberant. Ramona squeezed her thighs together, imagining her under bright stage lights, twirling on a pole.

Sarah reached up and pulled the band from her pony tail. She shook her head, whipping her long black hair from side to side.

I would look like a fool dancing next to her, Ramona thought, I don't have that sort of grace. But she pictured the two of them in each others arms, embraced in a slow dance.

The song came to an end, as did Ramona's reverie. Jeff and Sarah walked back to the bar.

"Our friends are here now," Jeff told Ramona, "Why don't you come over to their table with us."

She agreed and hopped off her stool.

"I'm going to get a pitcher," Jeff said, "See you guys over there."

"Sure you're okay with this?" Sarah asked as they crossed the floor to the corner table.

"Yeah, it's fine," Ramona assured her.

Sarah introduced Ramona to Jackson and RJ as they sat down across the table from them. Jackson was short and chubby; RJ, slender with long black hair and a wispy beard. Ramona reckoned that he was, like Sarah, part Wabanaki. Both seemed nervous to have a couple of girls sit at their table.

Jeff brought over the pitcher of beer and a bowl of peanuts.

When Sarah informed the others that Ramona was a ranger, RJ exclaimed, "Oh my god, you are that badass chick that was in the forest fire!"

Ramona blushed. "I don't know that I'm such a badass, but yeah, that was me."

They insisted that she tell them all about the fire, and she gave them a short, not very dramatic account. They were, nonetheless, impressed.

She felt comfortable with them. She had not met these guys before, but she had grown up with others just like them. Jackson said that he worked as a flagger for the county road crew in the summer, and plowed driveways in the winter. RJ didn't work, he claimed some sort of ambiguous disability. He lived with his girlfriend and their three year old son. Ramona understood that in reality, he was living off the benefits they got for the child.

She didn't look down at them. Her father had worked at the paper mill in Bucksport until it closed down, and her mother had waited tables at every restaurants from Bucksport to Bar Harbor. The only thing that separated her from the Saw Whet kids was that she had developed an ambition as to what she wanted to do with her life. Like many rural kids, they had grown up short of aspirations.

The old friends soon fell into conversation about past times and mutual acquaintances, but Ramona was content to sit back, drink her beer and cast glances at Sarah.

Halfway through the second pitcher, Sarah got up from the table. "I'm going to the bathroom," she said, "Ramona, come with me."

The Alibi's sole bathroom was small and dingy. Sarah locked the door, then unselfconsciously yanked down her jeans and underpants and sat down on the toilet. Ramona looked in the mirror and brushed her hair with her fingers, making an effort not to watch her.

When Sarah finished, she leaned over Ramona's shoulder and touched up her lipstick.

"I hope you aren't bored to tears," she said, their eyes meeting in the mirror.

"It's a little awkward, but it's alright."

"Yeah, I was hoping that you and I would get to talk, to get to know each other better."

Sarah placed her hands on Ramona's hips. Ramona turned and they looked into each others eyes. Ramona saw Sarah's gaze drop to her lips.

The door handle jiggled, and there was a loud knock. Sarah stepped back, laughing. "Next time," she said, and opened the door.

An old man in an NRA cap squeezed past them as they exited the bathroom. When they sat back down at the table, Ramona saw Jeff drape his arm around Sarah's back. As they chatted, they were increasingly touching each other.

Ramona felt that it might be best if she left. She caught Sarah's eye and leaned across the table. "I think I'm going to call it a night," she said.

Sarah frowned, but nodded and forced a grin. "Alright, but I'll see you soon, okay?"

Ramona put her hand on Sarah's and squeezed. "Definitely."

She stood and said her goodbyes to the others. All the way home, two words kept repeating in her mind.

Next time.

CHAPTER FIVE

Registration for the ranger's training conference opened at eight o'clock and Augusta was a three hour drive. She had to leave so early, she couldn't even get coffee until she reached Dover-Foxcroft a little after six, and even then it was weak brew from the Citgo station.

She enjoyed her ride though, it was a cold clear morning and the sky was sprinkled with stars. She was looking forward to the conference, not so much because she thought she would learn much of value, but because it would give her a chance to meet other rangers.

In particular, she was eager to meet Lieutenant Sandra Bellows, whom everyone referred to as "Lieutenant Sandy." She was the chief at the Fryeburg station, and the state's highest ranking female ranger. Ramona had been thrilled to see that she would be the instructor for one of the sessions.

At Waterville, she got off the interstate and hit the McDonalds drive through for some hash browns and a coffee.

She arrived at the Capitol Hotel in plenty of time to check in at the front desk before registering for the conference, but her room would not be ready until the afternoon. She used the lobby rest room to freshen up, then found the ballroom and signed in.

The room was about half full, perhaps thirty rangers were in attendance. Ramona was reminded of what a small organization they were, and how lucky she was to have gotten in. Looking around, she only spotted two other women.

There was a table to one side with beverages and pastries. She got a bottle of orange juice and a doughnut, then found a seat near the back and checked messages on her phone while she waited for the last dozen or so rangers to arrive and the conference to begin.

At nine o'clock sharp Lt. Rolerson strode into the room, barking a loud "Good morning." Ramona smiled when she saw him, remembered the praise he had given her after the forest fire.

He went to the podium, picked up a stack of papers from beneath it, and handed it to a ranger in the first row, asking him to pass them around.

After introducing himself, he brought up a slide show on a large monitor hanging on the front wall, and began his presentation on updated procedures on interfacing with other law enforcement agencies.

Ramona looked over the materials as he talked, and after just a minute or two, felt she knew what was important enough to remember. She circled a few passages with her pen, then sat back and tried to pay attention.

Everything that came out of Rolerson's mouth sounded like he was giving an order, even when giving the most mundane instructions.

"You WILL fill out the 2-2 forms and include them with your reports. There will be NO exemptions."

Imagine sleeping with this guy, she thought. "You WILL suck my dick. You will NOT come yet."

She almost laughed out loud, but then she began to actually imagine sleeping with him. He was probably pushing fifty, but he looked like he'd been carved from granite. She tried to picture him naked. He's probably got curly gray chest hairs, she thought. And probably, a disappointingly small cock.

He finished his presentation, loudly tapping his notes into alignment on the podium, and announced that there would be a ten minute break before the next section began. Ramona took the opportunity to use the bathroom. When she returned, Rolerson was standing in the ballroom entranceway. He smiled at her approach.

"Ranger Greentree, nice to see you," he said, holding out his hand. As Ramona shook it, he added, "You are looking much nicer than the last time I saw you."

"Well, yes, I'm not covered in soot," she said, smiling, glad he remembered her. He was an important figure in the service and being in his good graces would be helpful to her career. She didn't intend to stay in Saw Whet forever. He would likely be commander at Baxter before long, so with any luck, she hoped to be working under him some day.

He glanced over his shoulder. "It looks like Lieutenant Bellows is about to start," he said, "I'd love to talk to you more. Perhaps we can sit together at lunch."

"I'd like that," she replied. He smiled and squeezed her shoulder. She smiled back and returned to her seat, thinking the squeeze seemed a little too familiar.

Lt. Sandy's presentation on patrol procedures was a complete change from Rolerson. Her tone was bright and casual, and Ramona found it all quite interesting, although she didn't think she was learning anything she didn't already know.

That could be me up there one day, Ramona thought. The differences between them was experience and gravitas. The experience would come with time, but Ramona wondered how one acquired that air of command that was apparent even in a friendly discussion. The silvery hair didn't hurt, Ramona mused with a grin.

At lunchtime the rangers all shuffled into an adjoining conference room where a buffet of sandwiches, salads and potato chips had been laid out for them. Ramona took a turkey sandwich, some pasta salad, chips and a Coke. She looked around the room for the other women rangers, hoping to introduce herself and maybe get to know them. They were already sitting and chatting with friends. She was disappointed, but but she had also told Lieutenant Rolerson she would talk with him at lunch. He was not yet in the room, so she found an empty table and sat down.

When he entered the room a few minutes later he made eye contact with her and waved before going to the buffet line. He loaded his plate, then came and sat across the table from her.

"I'm damn glad Wes decided to send you to the conference," he said, "I've been looking forward to seeing you again."

"Thank you, sir," Ramona replied.

Rolerson chuckled. "When it's just us talking you can drop the sir. Just call me Bill and I hope you don't mind if I call you Ramona."

"That would be fine," she said, catching herself just before adding "sir."

"I hope you found my presentation helpful."

"Yes sir...Bill. But we don't interact much with anyone else, except the sheriff's department, and that's pretty informal."

"Well, I hope one thing you took away from my presentation was that even in informal settings, rank has its privileges and chain of command needs to be respected."

"I get that, sir."

"Now, stop with the sir, Ramona," he said, wagging his finger at her. "It makes me feel like we can't be friendly."

Ramona blushed.

"Saw Whet is not much of a post, is it?" he asked.

"I suppose not but it gives me a good chance to learn. And Piney is a great teacher."

"He's a good ranger, but you're not going to want to stay there long, are you? I took a peek at your records. You did your training at Camden Hills. That's a pretty coveted station."

Ramona nodded. "Yes, but it's a tourist park. It's not the kind of wilderness that Baxter is."

Rolerson's grin widened. "Oh, so you're thinking about joining us at Baxter someday."

Ramona nodded. "That's been my dream."

"We like to think that it's the pinnacle of the park system. The jewel in the crown."

"Well it is, isn't it?" Ramona asked. "It's the largest park in New England. You have the biggest mountain in Maine. The northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail..."

"I've seen the look on your face on a lot of other faces," Rolerson said. "Damn near every new Ranger wants to come to Baxter. Of course they can't all make it."

"I know that, but it's my goal."

Rolerson leaned in closer. "You have all the makings of a great ranger, Ramona. But it takes more than that. You've got to have friends."

She was not sure what he meant by that. "That's why I was eager to come here this weekend. I know that I need to make a good impression on people..."

Rolerson patted her on the hand. "That's not really what I'm getting at. I want to be your friend, Ramona."

He looked at his watch, took the last bite of his sandwich and stood up. "We'll talk more later," he said, "I've got to get ready for the afternoon session. I enjoyed having lunch with you, dear."

When he had left, Ramona pushed her plate away without finishing her salad. She felt uneasy wondering what Lieutenant Rolerson had in mind when he talked about being friends. And calling her dear. That was inappropriate from a superior officer.

The first of the two afternoon sessions was about public interaction protocols and Rolerson was once again the instructor. Ramona sat at the very back of the room, trying to be invisible as she watched him lecture and listened to him bark. She kept losing focus, replaying their conversation in her mind. She tried to tell herself that he was being sincere, it was just his way of being friendly. He'd been there the day of the forest forest fire, he recognized that she was a good ranger, that's all it was. But she knew that was naive. He was a man, she was an attractive young woman, and he had power over her. And who knows, maybe he had heard rumors about her private life. It wasn't exactly a secret.

As Rolerson was finishing his presentation, Ramona slipped out of the room, hoping to avoid him during the break. She went to the hotel lobby and found a chair where she thought she'd be out of sight. She checked her text messages. There was one from her mother, one from Isabel with a link to yet another website about hydrangeas, and there was one from Sarah, a blurry photograph that she couldn't make out. When she looked at it in full screen, she could see a bull moose standing in the middle of a road, illuminated by headlights. Underneath it, Sarah's message read, "there's never a ranger around when you need one."

Ramona tried to think of a reply, something friendly but not too flirty. Finally she texted back "let me know next time you need one," and hit send.