Sam looked at Fritz and Anne again. Anne’s mouth was so tight, her lips had disappeared.
“Are you looking forward to Fritz’s party tomorrow night?” Anne asked as they walked down the gravel path.
Jackson, needing to contact his office, had stayed back at the cabin instead of joining them. And all Sam felt was relief.
“What do you think?” Sam asked snidely.
“Not so much,” Anne replied, “but it might do you good.”
“I’m not going.”
“Dr. Van Horn wants to go.”
“Fine. He can go without me.”
“How are you going to get out of it?”
Sam chortled. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty good at getting out of stuff if I really try.”
“I have noticed,” Anne replied with a grin, “but I still think it would be good if you at least tried.”
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
“I’ll take you shopping tomorrow. There are a couple of shops in Pardo that will have something suitable.”
Sam shuddered. First shopping for groceries, now clothes. “I don’t think so.”
“Oh, come on. It won’t kill you.”
Sam stole a glance her way. “Will you be there?”
Anne gave a snort. “Not likely. In case you haven’t noticed—I’m one of the hired help around here. I don’t get invitations to parties.”
“Well, I’m not going in any case,” Sam said stubbornly, then stopped. “Fritz has never mentioned it, but is there a Mrs. Thorpe?”
“Nope. He’s never been married.” Anne kicked a pebble with the toe of her shoe and sent it flying down the road.
Sam resumed walking. “Girlfriend?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Anne replied, falling in step with Sam.
“As charming as Fritz is, one would think he’d have someone special in his life.”
Anne stopped short and placed a hand on her hip. “Why all the questions about Fritz?”
“I don’t know—habit I guess. I’m accustomed to knowing the details.” Sam shrugged. “I’ve always had a closed circle of friends—people I’ve known since childhood.”
“Okay,” Anne relented, “according to the story, he had an unhappy love affair.”
“Really?” Sam’s thoughts focused on Fritz’s stories about Blanche. “Anyone from around here?”
“I don’t know—if someone mentioned a name, it didn’t stick.” She shook her head. “I’ve got enough going on in my own life without spending time speculating on the lives of others and wondering about what happened in their pasts.”
“Is that why you didn’t tell me that this cabin has a notorious reputation?”
Anne fluttered a hand. “Nothing more than a lot of old rumors.”
“Aren’t you curious?”
“No. Are you?”
Sam stopped walking and thought about it. Yes, she was, she realized with surprise. For so long, her repertoire of emotions had consisted of apathy, fear, anger, self-pity, and panic—there hadn’t been anything else.
“Yeah, I am. I’d like to know if Blanche was as wicked as Fritz suggested.”
Anne shot her a stern look. “Fritz told you about Irene Brighton and how she reacts whenever anyone mentions Blanche. You’ve got to know that she isn’t the only one. People around here still pale at the mention of Blanche’s name. I wouldn’t go around—”
The chirping of her cell phone interrupted her. Taking it out of her pocket, she flipped it open. “Yeah, Caleb.” She listened to his response. “Right now?” She paused, her lips curving into a frown. “Can’t you stay?”
After hearing what Caleb said, she snapped the phone shut. “Damn. The repairman’s here to fix my washer. I’ve been waiting on him for two weeks, and he had to choose this morning to show up.” She looked back toward Sam’s cabin then down the road in the other direction. “I just live a short distance down that trail,” she said as she gestured toward a path leading off the left. “It will only take a few minutes to explain what’s wrong with the washer.” Pointing to a log lying off to the left of the road, she took Sam’s arm and began to lead her toward it. “Why don’t you wait here and I’ll be right back?”
Sam jerked her arm away. “No. You know how I feel about being outside. Let’s walk back to the cabin.”
Anne shoved her hands in her pockets. “Caleb has to leave for his summer job, and I don’t have time to walk you back to the cabin. If I don’t go now, the repairman will leave and it will be another two weeks before my washer’s fixed. Do you know what it’s like having a teenage boy, and no washer?”
The thought of Anne abandoning her terrified Sam. She’d be alone, out in the open. “I’ll walk back by myself.”
“No, not after the fall you took a couple of days ago. Come on,” Anne said, tugging at Sam’s arm again and leading her toward the log. “I’ll be right back.”
Realizing it was pointless to argue, Sam let out a long sigh and eased herself down on the log. She’d wait until Anne was out of sight and walk back to the cabin. Satisfied that her charge was settled, Anne spun on her heel and took off at a run down the path.
Sam watched with envy as Anne’s long legs covered the distance. Would she ever be able to move like that again?
She had begun counting to ten when a sound in the brush startled her. Her attention flew to the nearest pine, and she let out a shaky breath as she watched a squirrel scamper up the tree. He disappeared from sight, and silence fell around her. She glanced over her shoulder while a chill crept up her bare arms as though she felt someone watching her.
Alarmed, Sam decided she’d waited long enough. Pushing to her feet, she took a faltering step in the direction of her cabin.
The howl of an animal in pain suddenly split the silence.
Turning, she hurried as fast as she could toward the sound. As she rounded the bend, she saw two teenage boys—a blond and a redhead—standing by Greg Clemons’s fence, laughing and focused on what lay on the other side of the fence.
Craning her neck, she peered around them, but didn’t see anything.
The red-haired boy nudged the blond with his shoulder as he nonchalantly tossed a small rock in the air. Stopping, he grasped the rock and, cocking his arm, hurled it over the fence to a spot in the corner.
“Missed,” the blond called out.
The redhead lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug and bent to pick up another rock. As he did, Sam noticed Roxy cowering in a corner of the fenced-in area.
The dog had scooted as close to the fence as possible. Her pink tongue lolled out of her mouth as she panted, her thin ribs moving like a bellows. Terrified brown eyes met Sam’s across the distance.
The boy cocked his arm again.
“No!” The word tore out of Sam’s mouth before she could stop it.
Both boys whirled around and two pairs of eyes watched her with speculation. She felt her own breath suddenly come in rapid gasps. Teenagers . . . one holding a rock . . .
Roxy howled again, drawing their attention away from Sam.
Now, said a voice in her head, get away while you can. Go get Jackson.
The redhead laughed and drew back for the pitch. Sensing his intent, Roxy ducked her head and whimpered, waiting for another rock to strike her.
She didn’t have time to hobble back to the cabin. These boys were torturing the dog, and if a rock hit her the wrong way, she could die before Sam returned with Jackson. Sam had no choice . . . she had to act.
“Drop the rock,” she called out, struggling to keep the fear out of her voice.
“Who the hell are you?” the blond boy asked.
“She’s the gimp living at the old Jones place,” replied the redhead sarcastically as he rolled the stone around in his hands.
Sam swallowed hard and took a step back. A triumphant smile lit the red-haired boy’s face.
No—don’t back down now; don’t let these two little jerks scare you.
> Squaring her shoulders, Sam stepped forward. “I’m going to tell you one more time—drop it.”
The redhead cocked his head. “Oh yeah? What are you going to do if I don’t?”
“I’ll march—”
“Limp, don’t ya mean?” the redhead broke in, his lip curling.
“Doesn’t make a difference how I get back to my cabin,” Sam shot back, “but once I’m there, I’ll call the sheriff and report you.”
“Ooo, I’m scared.” The red-haired boy took a half step toward her, still rolling the rock around in his hand, as if he were testing its weight.
My God, he’s going to throw the rock at me! Sam stumbled back. “Run,” cried part of her brain, but she couldn’t, not with her weak leg.
The redhead took another step closer and Sam inched away, her feet sliding on the loose gravel. A desperate bark from the other side of the fence stopped her cold.
Sam knew all about desperation.
Fighting to remember what it felt like to live without desperation, without fear, she pulled around her whatever shreds of courage she had left. She narrowed her eyes and glared at the teenagers. “I’ll also call Greg Clemons. He doesn’t strike me as the type who’d appreciate two punks throwing rocks at his dog.”
The blond’s face lost its grin. He grabbed his friend’s arm. “Come on, Teddy—”
“You dope,” the redhead exclaimed, shaking off the blond boy’s hand. “Now she knows my name.”
“The sheriff would’ve figured it out,” the blond muttered as he turned toward Sam. “Look, lady,” he pleaded, “don’t turn us in, okay? We didn’t hurt the dog—we only scared it.”
Teddy spun to face the blond. “You are such a pussy. Even if she does call the sheriff and Greg, they’re not going to do anything to us,” he scoffed.
The blond scuffed the toe of his dirty tennis shoe across the gravel. “Maybe your folks won’t, but mine will. And if Greg talks to my dad . . .” His voice trailed off as he shoved his hands in the back pockets of his frayed cutoffs. “He’s already told me that if I get into trouble one more time—”
He was interrupted by the door of the cabin slamming open. Greg Clemons stood, framed in the opening with his hands on his hips as he sized up the situation.
The boys froze.
“You little shits,” he yelled, spying the rock in Teddy’s hand. With two long strides, he was off the porch and headed toward the boys.
Teddy dropped the rock and, without a glance toward his friend, took off at a dead run into the woods. The blond sprinted with just as much speed in the opposite direction.
Greg caught Sam as her knees buckled.
Chapter Fourteen
Anne jogged down the trail leading back to where she’d left Sam. The discussion with the plumber had taken longer than she’d expected, and she had a feeling Sam had freaked out while she was gone. She rounded the bend and stopped. There was the log, but no Sam.
Terrific. Now what did she do? Go back to the cabin? What if Sam hadn’t gone back there? She’d have to admit to Jackson—who, after this morning, she confirmed, was a direct pipeline to Daddy Dearest—that she’d lost Sam. She was beginning to think all the remarks Sam had made about her family were true. Dr. Van Horn had appeared so charming during her interview with him, but as he nattered on with Fritz he’d come across as a first-class asshole. He hadn’t even acknowledged the courage it took for Sam to brave going to the grocery store. All he seemed to care about was her new haircut. Brushing a stray hair out of her face, she scanned the road. It was empty. She was getting canned for sure. She had to find Sam.
“Damn it,” she exclaimed, kicking a rock down the road.
With reluctance, she turned and started toward Sam’s cabin. The sound of barking and a woman’s laugh stopped her. Sam? Whirling, she took off at a run toward Greg’s.
The sight she saw in Greg’s small side yard stopped her dead. Sam sat in a lawn chair underneath a shade tree while Greg leaned nonchalantly against its trunk—both of them watching the dogs, Roxy and Molly, cavort around the yard. The expression Greg wore reminded Anne of a proud father witnessing his child’s antics.
Rolling her eyes, Anne walked to the gate and, opening it, entered the yard. “I told you to stay put,” she said, her words echoing her irritation.
“I—” Sam began, but Greg cut her off.
“It’s good that she didn’t, Anne. She rescued Roxy from Teddy Brighton.”
Anne’s eyes flared. “What?”
Sam gave her a shy nod. “I don’t know if I really rescued her—Greg was the one who ran them off.”
Greg laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder, and Anne noticed that she didn’t flinch. “Teddy and Joey Wiggins were throwing rocks at her, but Sam stopped them long enough for me to get out here.”
“Where were you?”
He jerked his head toward the lake. “Down at the dock. I’d gone down to check the moorings on my boat. I only intended to be gone a short time, but then Duane Parker came by with a stringer of fish.” He frowned. “I shouldn’t have left Roxy alone. I got back in time to see Sam squaring off with the two of them.”
“Have you called the Brightons and the Wigginses’?”
His frown deepened. “Not yet, but I will. Joey’s basically a good kid, but Teddy’s a bad influence. And once Joey’s dad finds out about this, I think Teddy’s going to be looking for a new friend.” He gave a derisive snort. “He was the last kid on the lake whose parents would allow him to hang out with Teddy.”
Anne walked to a lawn chair next to Sam’s and sat. “Caleb said Teddy had friends from the Cities with him.”
“Humph, not anymore,” Greg said. “They got caught buzzing the loons’ nesting area with their Jet Skis, and Irene sent his friends packing.” He picked up a ball and tossed it to Molly. “I suppose now he’s bored and looking for trouble.”
Anne thought of her suspicions regarding Teddy. No friends, left to find ways to amuse himself—yup, in that kid’s mind, wandering around the lake at night, stirring up trouble would be a great idea. She decided not to mention her conjectures to Greg. He was pissed, and she knew he’d be giving Irene an earful about her grandson’s behavior. If they were lucky, she’d send Teddy packing, too.
Roxy, tired of no longer being the center of attention, grabbed a ball and shoved it on Sam’s lap. Backing up, she stood perfectly still, waiting. Only her eyes moved—first to the ball, then to Sam’s face.
With a laugh, Sam took the ball and held it high. “Oh, so you want this, do you?”
Excited, Roxy began to dance in circles.
With another laugh, Sam threw the ball, and Roxy flew after it, her back paws throwing grass in the air. Catching it midair, she trotted back to Sam and, with a sigh, plopped down on Sam’s feet. Sam bent and scratched her ears, earning her a look of pure adoration from the dog.
Watching Roxy and Sam play, Greg suddenly gave a wide grin. “I think Sam should adopt Roxy.”
“Huh?” Anne’s head whipped toward him.
From what she’d learned about Samantha Moore, Sam’s life was all about her work. Not the best candidate for a dog owner.
Greg read the disbelief on her face. “Oh, come on, Anne, you’ve used my dogs in your therapy before.”
“Yeah,” she spluttered, “to help with the patient’s exercises. No one has ever adopted one.”
Anne looked over at Sam petting Roxy. Her face held a slight smile as she stroked the dog’s head, and her body, normally tight with tension whenever she was outside the safety of her cabin, was relaxed.
“What do you think, Sam?” Anne asked.
“I’ve never had a pet,” Sam said, straightening. “It might be fun.” She glanced down at Roxy, lying at her feet. “She’s had it tough . . . I think I can give her a good home.”
“What would you do with her once you return to the city? You live in an apartment, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I’ll be moving into Jackson’s family home. It�
�s big and in a wooded area. There’d be plenty of room for her to run around.”
“What about Jackson? How will he feel about you adopting her?”
Sam shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “He likes dogs,” she said, reaching down and patting Roxy’s head. At Sam’s touch, the dog rolled over on her back for a tummy scratch. Laughing, Sam gave her what she wanted.
Dr. Van Horn might be fond of dogs, Anne thought, but he struck her as the type who’d want his pet to have a pedigree dating back to the beginning of time, with at least a few show champions thrown in for good measure.
“When would you adopt her? When you go back to the city?”
Sam looked at Anne with a devilish glint in her eye. “Why not today? I can take her back with me now. Greg told me that the shelter picked up two more dogs that need fostering. If I take Roxy, he’d have room for them.”
Anne held up her hand. “Wait a second—you can’t go ‘poof, I’ve got a dog.’ You need to think about this. They’re a responsibility.” She looked over her shoulder at Greg for help. “They need training, discipline, food, bedding—isn’t that right, Greg?”
“What Roxy needs right now is love and a home.” He placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I think Sam is more than capable of giving her that.”
Sam preened at his words. There wasn’t even a shadow of the cranky, embittered woman Anne had seen over the past weeks.
Greg continued. “I can drop over some dog food and Roxy’s bed later.” His hand fell away from Sam’s shoulder. “They can have the weekend to get better acquainted, then next week I’ll help Sam with Roxy’s training.”
Training? Visions of piles and puddles scattered throughout the cabin and herself armed with a roll of paper towels and a bottle of disinfectant flashed through Anne’s mind. Her eyes narrowed. “She is housebroken, isn’t she?”
Greg’s laugh rang out as he squatted next to the dog and took her head in his hands. “Yes,” he said emphatically. “You’re a proper lady, aren’t you, Roxy?”
Love Lies Bleeding Page 13