“Shh. It’s all right. I’m here now.”
She looked up at him with eyes full of pain.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his hands doing a quick once-over for some sign of injury.
She slapped at him ineffectually with one hand while holding the torn chiffon against her nakedness with the other. “No. I’m fine. Just…just…”
Her eyes—he couldn’t tell what color they were in the dark—filled with tears and, despite her desperate attempts to blink the moisture away, one sparkling tear-drop spilled onto her cheek. It was then he realized the pain he had seen wasn’t physical, but came from inside.
He understood that kind of pain all too well.
“Hey,” he said gently. “It’s going to be all right.”
“Easy for you to say,” she snapped, rubbing at the tears and swiping them across her cheeks. “I—”
A car engine revved, and they both looked toward the sound in time to see a pair of headlights come on.
“Wait!” the girl cried, surging to her feet.
The dress slipped, and Billy got an unwelcome look at a single, luscious breast. He swore under his breath as his body hardened.
The girl obviously wasn’t used to long dresses, because the length of it caught under her knees and trapped her on the ground. By the time she made it to her feet, the car she had come in, and the boy she had come with, were gone.
He took one look at her face in the moonlight and saw a kind of desolation he hadn’t often seen before.
Except perhaps in his own face in the mirror.
It made his throat ache. It might have brought him to tears, if he had been the kind of man who could cry. He wasn’t. He thought maybe his Comanche heritage had something to do with it. Or maybe it was simply a lack of feeling in him. He didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.
As he watched, the girl sank to the ground and dropped her face into her hands. Her shoulders rocked with soundless, shuddering sobs.
He settled beside her, not speaking, not touching, merely a comforting presence, there if she needed him. Occasionally he heard a sniffling sound, but otherwise he was aware of the silence. And finally, the sounds he had come to hear. The bullfrogs. The crickets. The water lapping in the pond.
He didn’t know how long he had been sitting beside her when she finally spoke.
“Thank you,” she said.
Her voice was husky from crying, and rasped over him, raising the hairs on his neck. He looked at her again and saw liquid, shining eyes in a pretty face. He couldn’t keep his gaze from dropping to the flesh revealed by her tightened grip on the torn fabric. Hell, he was a man, not a saint.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
She shook her head, gave a halfhearted laugh, and said, “Sure.” The sarcasm in her voice made it plain she was anything but.
“Can I help?”
“I’d need a miracle to get me out of the mess I’m in.” She shrugged, a surprisingly sad gesture. “I can’t seem to stay out of trouble.”
He smiled sympathetically. I have the same problem. He thought the words, but he didn’t say them. He didn’t want to frighten her. “Things happen,” he said instead.
She reached out hesitantly to touch a recent cut above his eye. “Did Ray do this?”
He edged back from her touch. It felt too good. “No. That’s from—” Another fight. He didn’t finish that thought aloud, either. “Something else.”
He had gotten a whiff of her perfume. Something light and flowery. Something definitely female. It reminded him he hadn’t been with a woman since Laura’s death. And that he found the young woman sitting beside him infinitely desirable.
He tamped down his raging hormones. She needed his help. She didn’t need another male lusting after her.
She reached for an open can of beer sitting in the grass nearby and lifted it to her lips.
Before it got there, he took it from her. “Aren’t you a little young for this?”
“What difference does it make now? My life is ruined.”
He smiled indulgently. “Just because your boyfriend—”
“Ray’s not my boyfriend. And he’s the least of my problems.”
He raised a questioning brow. “Oh?”
He watched her grasp her full lower lip in her teeth—and wished he were doing it himself. He forced his gaze upward to meet with hers.
“I’m a disappointment to my parents,” she said in a whispery, haunted voice.
How could such a beautiful—he had been looking at her long enough to realize she was more than pretty—young woman be a disappointment to anybody? “Who are your parents?”
“I’m Cherry Whitelaw.”
She said it defiantly, defensively. And he knew why. She had been the talk of the neighborhood—the “juvenile delinquent” the Whitelaws had taken into their home four years ago, the most recently adopted child of their eight adopted children.
“If you’re trying to scare me off, it won’t work.” He grinned and said, “I’m Billy Stonecreek.”
The smile grew slowly on her face. He saw the moment when she relaxed and held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Stonecreek. I used to see you in church with your—” She cut herself off.
“It’s all right to mention my wife,” he said. But he knew why she had hesitated. Penelope’s tongue had been wagging, telling anyone who would listen how he had caused Laura to kill herself. Cherry’s lowered eyes made it obvious she had heard the stories. He didn’t know why he felt the urge to defend himself to her when he hadn’t to anyone else.
“I had nothing to do with Laura’s death. It was simply a tragic accident.” Then, before he could stop himself, “I miss her.”
Cherry laid a hand on his forearm, and he felt the muscles tense beneath her soothing touch. She waited for him to look at her before she spoke. “I’m sorry about your wife, Mr. Stonecreek. It must be awful to lose someone you love.”
“Call me Billy,” he said, unsure how to handle her sympathy.
“Then you have to call me Cherry,” she said with the beginnings of a smile. She held out her hand. “Deal?”
“Deal.” He took her hand and held it a moment too long. Long enough to realize he didn’t want to let go. He forced himself to sit back. He raised the beer can he had taken from her to his lips, but she took it from him before he could tip it up.
“I don’t think this will solve your problems, either,” she said with a cheeky grin.
He laughed. “You’re right.”
They smiled at each other.
Until Billy realized he wanted to kiss her about as bad as he had ever wanted anything in his life. His smile faded. He saw the growing recognition in her eyes and turned away. He was there to rescue the girl, not to ravish her.
He picked a stem of sweet grass and twirled it between his fingertips. “Would you like to talk about what you’ve done that’s going to disappoint your parents?”
She shrugged. “Hell. Why not?”
The profanity surprised him. Until he remembered she hadn’t been a Whitelaw for very long. “I’m listening.”
Her eyes remained focused on her tightly laced fingers. “I got expelled from high school tonight.”
He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “That’s pretty bad, all right. What did you do?”
“Nothing! Not that I’m innocent all that often, but this time I was. Just because I had a whiskey bottle in my hand doesn’t mean I was going to pour it in the punch at the prom.”
He raised a skeptical brow.
“I was keeping a friend of mine from pouring it in the punch,” she explained. “Not that anyone will believe me.”
“As alibis go, I’ve heard better,” he said.
“Anyway, I’ve been expelled and I won’t graduate with my class and I’ll have to go to summer school to finish. I’d rather run away from home than face Zach and Rebecca and tell them what I’ve done. In fact, the more I think about it, the b
etter that idea sounds. I won’t go home. I’ll…I’ll…”
“Go where?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere.”
“Dressed like that?”
She looked down at herself and back up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. “My dress is ruined. Just like my life.”
Billy didn’t resist the urge to lift her into his lap, and for whatever reason, she didn’t resist his efforts to comfort her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him.
“I feel so lost and alone,” she said, her breath moist against his skin. “I don’t belong anywhere.”
Billy tightened his arms around her protectively, wishing there was something more he could do to help. He crooned to her in Comanche, telling her she was safe, that he would find a way to help her, that she wasn’t alone.
“What am I going to do?” she murmured in an anguished voice. “Where can I go?”
Billy swallowed over the knot in his throat. “You’re going to think I’m crazy,” he said. “But I’ve got an idea if you’d like to hear it.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“You could come and live with me.”
CHAPTER TWO
CHERRY HAD FELT SAFE and secure in Billy Stonecreek’s arms, that is, until he made his insane suggestion. She lifted her head from Billy’s shoulder and stared at him wide-eyed. “What did you say?”
“Don’t reject the idea before you hear me out.”
“I’m listening.” In fact, Cherry was fascinated.
He focused his dark-eyed gaze on her, pinning her in place. “The older lady who’s been taking care of my kids is quitting on Monday. How would you like to work for me? The job comes with room and board.” He smiled. “In fact, I’m including room and board because I can’t afford to pay much.”
“You’re offering me a job?”
“And a place to live. I could be at home evenings to watch the girls while you go to night school over the summer and earn your high school diploma. What do you say?”
Cherry edged herself off Billy’s lap, wondering how he had coaxed her into remaining there so long. Perversely, she missed the warmth of his embrace once it was gone. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around the yards of pale green chiffon.
“Cherry?”
Her first reaction was to say yes. His offer was the simple solution to all her problems. She wouldn’t have to go home. She wouldn’t have to face her parents with the truth.
But she hadn’t lived with Zach and Rebecca Whitelaw for four years and not learned how they felt about certain subjects. “My dad would never allow it.”
“A minute ago you were going to run away from home. How is this different?”
“You obviously don’t know Zach Whitelaw very well,” she said with a rueful twist of her lips. “If he knew I was working so close, he’d expect me to live at home.”
“Not if you were indispensible to me.”
“Would I be?” she asked, intrigued.
“I can’t manage the ranch and my six-year-old twin daughters all by myself. I’m up and working before dawn. Somebody has to make sure Annie and Raejean get dressed for school and feed them breakfast and be there when they get off the school bus in the afternoon.” Billy shrugged. “You need a place to stay. I need help in a hurry. It’s a match made in heaven.”
Cherry shook her head. “It wouldn’t work.”
“Why not?”
“Can I be blunt?”
Billy smiled, and her stomach did a queer flip-flop. “By all means,” he said.
“It’s bad enough that you’re single—”
“I wouldn’t need the help if I had a wife,” Billy interrupted.
Cherry frowned him into silence. “You’re a widower. I’m only eighteen. It’s a toss-up which of us has the worse reputation for getting into trouble. Can you imagine what people would say—about us—if I moved in with you?” Cherry’s lips curled in an impish grin. “Eyebrows would hit hairlines all over the county.”
Billy shook his head and laughed. “I hadn’t thought about what people would think. We’re two of a kind, all right.” His features sobered. “Just not the right kind.”
Cherry laid her hand on his arm in comfort. “I know what you’re feeling, Billy.”
“I doubt it.”
Cherry felt bereft as he pulled free. He was wrong. She understood exactly what he was feeling. The words spilled out before she could stop them.
“Nobody wants anything to do with you, because you’re different,” she said in a quiet voice that carried in the dark. “To prove it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, you break their rules. When they look down their noses at you, you spit in their eyes. And all the time, your heart is aching. Because you want them to like you. And respect you. But they don’t.”
Billy eyed her speculatively. “I guess you do understand.”
For a moment Cherry thought he was going to put his arm around her. But he didn’t.
She turned to stare at the pond, so he wouldn’t see how much she regretted his decision to keep his distance. “I’ve always hated being different,” she said. “I was always taller than everyone else, thanks to my giant of a father, Big Mike Murphy.” When she was a child, her father’s size had always made her feel safe. But he hadn’t kept her safe. He had let her be stolen away from him.
“And I don’t know another person with hair as godawful fire-engine red as mine. I have Big Mike to thank for that, too.” Cherry noticed Billy didn’t contradict her evaluation of her hair.
“And your mother?” Billy asked. “What did you get from her?”
“Nothing, so far as I can tell,” Cherry said curtly. “She walked out on Big Mike when I was five. That’s when he started drinking. Eventually someone reported to social services that he was leaving me alone at night. They took me away from him when I was eight. He fell from a high scaffolding at work the next week and was killed. I think he wanted to die. I was in and out of the system for six years before the Whitelaws took me in.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“Doesn’t it?” Billy asked.
Cherry shrugged. “It’s in the past. You learn to protect yourself.”
“Yeah,” Billy said. “You do.”
Billy had inherited his six-foot-four height and dark brown eyes from his Scots father. His straight black hair and burnished skin came from his Comanche mother. They had been killed in a car wreck when he was ten. He had developed his rebellious streak in a series of foster homes that treated him like he was less than human because he wasn’t all white.
He opened his mouth to share his common experiences with Cherry and closed it again. It was really none of her business.
“Too bad you aren’t looking for a wife,” Cherry mused. “That would solve your problem. But I guess after what happened, you don’t want to get married again.”
“No, I don’t,” Billy said flatly.
“I certainly wasn’t volunteering for the job,” Cherry retorted. Everyone knew Billy Stonecreek had made his first wife so unhappy she had killed herself. At least, that was the story Penelope Trask had been spreading. On the other hand, Billy Stonecreek had been nothing but nice to her. She couldn’t help wondering whether Billy was really as villainous as his mother-in-law had painted him.
They sat in silence. Cherry wished there was some way she could have helped Billy. But she knew Zach Whitelaw too well to believe he would allow his daughter to move in with a single man—even if she was his housekeeper. Not that Zach could have stopped her if she wanted to do it. But knowing Zach, he would find a way to make sure Billy changed his mind about needing her. And she didn’t want to cause that kind of trouble for anybody.
“Having you come to work for me wouldn’t really solve my biggest problem, anyway,” Billy said, picking up the beer can again.
Cherry took it out of his hand, set it down, and asked, “What problem is that?”
> He hesitated so long she wasn’t sure he was going to speak. At last he said, “My former mother-in-law is taking me to court to try and get custody of my daughters. Penelope says I’m not a fit parent. She’s determined to take Raejean and Annie away from me.”
“Oh, no!” It was Cherry’s worst nightmare come to life. She had suffered terribly when she had been taken from her father as a child. “You can’t let her do that! Kids belong with their parents.”
Cherry was passionate about the subject. She had often wondered where her birth mother was and why she had walked away and left Cherry and Big Mike behind. Cherry had died inside when the social worker came to take her away, and she realized she was never going to see Big Mike again. It was outrageous to think someone could go to court and wrench two little girls away from their natural father.
“You’ve got to stop Mrs. Trask!” Cherry said. “You can’t let her take your kids!”
“I’m not letting her do anything!” Billy cried in frustration. His hands clenched into fists. “But I’m not sure I can stop her. Over the past year I haven’t exactly been a model citizen. And I haven’t been able to keep a steady housekeeper. Especially once Penelope fills their ears with wild stories about me.”
Billy made an angry sound in his throat. “If Laura hadn’t died… Having a wife would certainly make my case as a responsible parent stronger in court.”
“Isn’t there somebody you could marry?”
“What woman would want a half-breed, with a ready-made family of half-breed kids?” Billy said bitterly.
Cherry gasped. “You talk like there’s something wrong with you because you’re part Comanche. I’m sure you have lots of redeeming qualities.”
Billy eyed her sideways. “Like what?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure there must be some.” She paused and asked, “Aren’t there?”
Billy snorted. “I’ve been in jail for fighting three times over the past year.”
Cherry met his gaze evenly and said, “Nobody says you have to fight.”
“True,” Billy conceded. “But sometimes…”
Hawk's Way: Rebels Page 2