Cheryl bit her lip to keep from making a comment. The kids at school had called her that, and worse. “Tell me about your old flame.”
“She’s a friend.”
“‘With all my love?’ That’s more than friendly, Sammy.”
“Okay, we were an item in high school. Now, we’re just—good friends.”
By his hesitation, Cheryl wondered if the fires of this particular high-school flame weren’t entirely dead. “You still see each other?”
“Occasionally. How much shorter do these need to be?”
Cheryl remained curious about the woman who lingered in Sam’s affections, but let the subject drop. After he’d adjusted the crutches, she tried them out again. Swinging herself across the room, she said, “This is much better. Thank you.” Turning around, she headed toward the front door.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.
“To get my purse. I think I left it out in the entryway last night.”
It was still lying on the bench where she had left it, but when she picked it up, she had an unpleasant surprise. It felt too light. A quick check showed her wallet was missing. She was on her knees looking under the bench when Sam came up behind her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“My wallet is gone.”
“Are you sure?”
She rolled her eyes and gave him a don’t-be-stupid look. “Of course, I’m sure. It must have fallen out of my purse during the accident last night.” A sudden thought hit her, and she looked at him sharply. “Unless you have it.”
He helped her to her feet. “Why would I take your wallet?” Clearly, he seemed puzzled by her accusation.
To check up on me? To see if I’m really who I claim to be?
Paranoia seemed to be leaking out her pores. If she wasn’t careful she would give him a reason to do just that. “I meant, maybe you found it and forgot to give it to me,” she finished lamely.
“I haven’t seen it,” he said.
She gave him a bright smile. “Then it’s still in my car.”
“In this weather, it’ll be safe enough.”
“True, but I’d feel better if I had it. My credit cards, checkbook, driver’s license, everything is in it.”
“I have to ride out and check on some cows that are due to calve. I’ll look for it on my way home. Can I bring back anything else from your car?”
She sat down on the bench. “If you think you could manage my suitcase, that would be great. So you really are a cattle rancher, not simply an architect who lives in the country?”
“Yes, ma’am. You’re looking at the breeder of some of the finest Charolais cattle in the Midwest. That’s what I was doing out last night. Moving cattle into the barns. Most of the calves have already been born, but I still have a few cows that are due to calve soon. I didn’t want the little critters to be born out in a snowdrift.”
Cheryl burst out laughing at the image.
“What’s so funny?” he demanded.
“That paints such a great picture. You trying to round up white cows and their little white calves in a snowstorm.” Her laughter died away when she saw the speculative look on his face. Suddenly, she knew she’d made a mistake.
“How does a girl from New York City know what color Charolais cattle are?”
She raised a hand to her temple to ease the sudden pain in her head. How could she answer? She couldn’t lie to him, but she didn’t want Sam to know who she really was. Cheryl Steele from New York was talented, self-assured and witty. Cheryl Thatcher had been a sad, pitiful creature. It would be best if she never came back.
The cat chose that moment to leap into her lap. Cheryl jumped, startled by the animal. “Bonkers, you scared me to death. Don’t you get tired of attacking people?”
“Hardly ever,” Walter supplied as he came in with a steaming mug in each hand. He gave one to Sam.
Cheryl avoided looking at Sam or his grandfather. “I have such a headache this morning. I think I’ll go lie down for a while.”
“Is there anything we can do?” Walter asked, his concern evident.
“No, thank you.” She pushed the cat off her lap and left the room moving slowly on her crutches.
Sam watched her go and realized she hadn’t answered his question. And what had caused the dark pain that filled her eyes so briefly? Maybe it had been her headache, but he had the feeling there was more to it than that. She presented an interesting puzzle. One minute she was smiling and laughing, the next minute she looked like a scared, lost waif.
She’s not your puzzle to solve, Sam reminded himself. Don’t forget that fact.
After discussing his plans for the day with Gramps, Sam headed downstairs to his office, but he couldn’t get his mind off his houseguest. He admitted he was attracted to Cheryl, intrigued by her even, but he wasn’t a fool. For his own peace of mind, it would be best to remember she’d be gone soon.
He busied himself in his office for the remainder of the morning and worked on his latest project. He loved designing homes almost as much as he loved ranching, and he’d missed it since he came back to take over the homestead. In spite of his father’s and grandfather’s experience, years of poor cattle markets, dry weather and bad investments had left the ranch on the verge of ruin.
It’d taken every scrap of Sam’s time and most of his money to get the place back on its feet. This year, with the income from his breeding program, he stood to make a real profit for the first time in years. Enough to let the ranch survive.
That time might have come sooner if he hadn’t spent so much money building this house. He had used the construction to try to keep Natalie happy. And she had used it to dupe him.
Every trip she’d taken to Kansas City for the best glass, the right tile, the most unique rugs, had only been a cover to meet her lover, and Sam had never suspected anything until it was too late. It had been a bitter lesson to learn.
He turned his attention back to his design. Thanks to his former partner in Kansas City, he now had the chance to work for the firm again. The added income would provide a much-needed cushion for the ranch. A lot hinged on the home he was designing here. If all went well, construction would begin on the massive stone house on a hillside outside of Kansas City within the month. The only drawback was that it meant he’d need to travel to Kansas City frequently over the next few weeks.
A little after one o’clock, he put his plans away and headed upstairs. There was no sign of Cheryl, so he fixed a tray of toasted cheese sandwiches and a salad, then knocked on her door.
“Come in,” her groggy voice called.
He opened the door and carried the tray inside. “I thought you might like some lunch.”
“Um, sounds great.” She raised up on one elbow and pushed her hair out of her face. “What time is it?”
“One-thirty. The wind’s died down, and I’m going to ride over and check the cattle. I wanted to let you know I was leaving.”
“Be careful out there.” Worry tinged her voice and put a small frown between her beautiful blue eyes.
“I will. Besides, Dusty always comes straight home after work.”
“Make sure you’re on him.”
She looked adorable with her hair mussed and her eyes still cloudy with sleep. He deposited the tray and quickly turned to leave. Bonkers made a dash inside as Sam started to close the door. The cat jumped on the bed and began to butt his head against her side for attention.
She ran a hand down his back and he purred loudly. “I think your cat is beginning to like me.”
“I think you’re beginning to like my cat.”
“He’s persistent. I admire that.” She picked Bonkers up and rubbed a knuckle under his chin. A look of bliss crossed the big cat’s face.
Sam turned and stomped out of the room feeling ridiculous. He couldn’t be jealous of a cat. What he needed was a long, cold ride in the snow to take his mind off his very charming visitor.
Hours later, Cheryl sat in Sam’s livi
ng room waiting with his grandfather. Both of them anxiously watched the clock. Sam had been gone far longer than he should have been. It was almost dark. At the sound of the door opening, she and Walter hurried out to the entryway. Sam paused inside the doorway and set her suitcase down. He looked cold, tired and worried.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“I’ve got some bad news, New York.”
“Did we lose some calves?” Walter asked.
She crossed her arms over her chest and shivered in the cold draft. She knew the loss of even a few head could spell financial disaster for some ranchers. How many ranchers had been put in financial jeopardy by her family? She hated to think about it.
“The cattle are all okay, but your wallet wasn’t in the car, Cheryl.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Walter said, “You look terrible, Son. Cheryl made hot cocoa earlier. Would you like some? I could make coffee if you’d rather.”
“Cocoa sounds great.”
Cheryl hobbled to the kitchen with them. Sam shed his coat with a weary sigh. Walter filled a thick, white mug with the steaming drink and held it out to Sam. He took the cup and sipped it. “Man, this hits the spot.”
He sank into a chair at the table. “I searched all through your car. There weren’t any tracks in the snow, so no one else had been in it since the snow stopped. Is it possible it fell out on the ride back?”
“I guess it’s possible—my purse was unzipped. Did you look around the outside of the car?”
“I tried, but there’s too much snow yet. Hey, we know we only rode along the highway and down my lane, so it’s out there somewhere. We’ll find it when the snow melts.”
“When the snow melts! When might that be?” Cheryl snapped. She couldn’t wait for the snow to melt. The longer she stayed, the more likely it was that Sam would find out who she really was. The daughter of a felon, one of those “thieving Thatchers,” as people in the community had labeled her family. Someone who had spent time in reform school instead of prison only because of her age.
It wasn’t fair. She wasn’t that person anymore. She was the “Steel Ballerina,” the darling of New York’s young ballet set. How would her fans or the press react when they heard she had been convicted of cattle rustling and assaulting a sheriff’s deputy? At best, she’d become a laughingstock. At worst, her career would suffer. All because she’d taken this stupid side trip.
“I can’t believe my rotten luck!” She shuffled to the far side of the room, narrowly missing the cat’s tail with her crutches when she swung around. Bonkers scrambled out of her way.
“Take it easy,” Sam cautioned. “You’re making me feel like I should take cover with the cat.”
“This is serious, Sam!”
“I know, but don’t worry. We’ll find it. Have a little faith.”
“Don’t worry? I need my driver’s license, my money and my credit cards. I need to catch up with my company before they leave Kansas City. If I’m not dancing by then, I’m out of a job for the entire spring. Don’t worry? I can’t even go back to New York. I sublet my apartment until the end of June because I was going to be on this tour.”
She was tired, her foot ached like a bad tooth and all he could say was, “Don’t worry.”
“What about your sister? Can you stay with her?”
“Yesterday was my sister’s wedding, remember? She’s on her honeymoon in Hawaii. I doubt the happy couple booked an extra room for me.”
“Okay, calm down. Things will work out, you’ll see. The snow can’t last more than a few days.”
“Oh, that’s just like a man. Calm down and wait till the snow melts! I can’t believe this! Nothing has gone right since I set foot in this stupid state!” She hobbled out of the room slamming the bedroom door behind her.
Walter stared after her. “There’s something about that gal that seems familiar.”
“She has a temper like Natalie’s. That’s what makes her seem familiar. Women like her don’t have any understanding or patience for the forces of nature. They want the world to jump for them when they snap their fingers.”
“You’re wrong to judge all women using Natalie as a yardstick, Sam.”
“I know, but I can’t help it. Once burned—twice shy.” What he didn’t admit was how attracted he was to Cheryl and how it scared him. He couldn’t explain it or reason it away. In his head he knew she was a woman every bit as wrong for him as his ex-wife had been. Lord, help me to remember that.
Chapter Five
Cheryl opened the bedroom door early the next morning and peeked out. There was no sign of Sam or Walter. Bonkers came to weave around her legs and meow at her. She picked him up and rubbed her chin on his head. The blinds on the glass wall were open. Now that the driving snow had stopped, early-morning sunshine poured through the tall windows. She put the cat down and crossed the room on her crutches to take a closer look at the spectacular view spread before her.
Sam’s home sat on the very edge of a steep bluff. The balcony that ran the full length of the house outside the windows gave the illusion of a house suspended in midair. In the valley below, frosted trees outlined the winding course of a small creek. Beyond them the prairie rose again to flat-topped, snow-covered bluffs and sparkling rounded hills that rolled away as far as she could see. Overhead, the brilliant blue sky arched like an azure bowl over a dazzling, glittering world. Her mother would have loved this view.
Cheryl laid her forehead against the cool window glass. Her mother had loved every rock and blade of these vast grasslands. Even after her friends and neighbors had turned against her. Cheryl had never understood it. And she’d never understood why her gentle mother had stayed with Hank Thatcher.
A womanizer, a bully and a drunk, her father was always angry. Her earliest memory was of hiding behind the sofa and listening to the sounds of her mother weeping. The only happy times in her childhood had been when her father wasn’t home.
Mira Thatcher had been Hank’s second wife. As she grew older, Cheryl suspected that her mother stayed because of Hank’s son. Jake, Cheryl’s half brother, was eight years her senior, and Mira loved him like one of her own.
Cheryl was nine the first time her father and Jake were arrested and convicted of stealing cattle. The condemnation of the ranching community, the pitying looks, the whispers behind their backs made life hard for Mira and her daughters, but at least Hank had been out of the picture. When Cheryl turned eleven, her father and brother came home, but things only got worse. That summer, her mother died.
Drunk as usual, Cheryl’s father had been driving when the accident happened, yet he survived with barely a scratch. The day after her mother’s funeral, Grandma Doris moved in with them. That year was the worst year of Cheryl’s life.
A hard and bitter woman, Doris Thatcher wielded her strict discipline with a heavy hand. No one was exempt from the sharp edge of her tongue. She harped endlessly at her son to stop drinking, straighten up, get some work done—the list went on and on. Hank ignored her, and Jake had simply moved out, leaving Cheryl and Angie to bear the brunt of her harsh lessons punctuated with blows from a leather strap.
At school, Cheryl had been equally miserable, but she hid her feelings behind a wall of anger. Protective of Angie and sensitive about her family, she made an easy target for the taunts of the other kids. She never backed away from a fight—even the ones she knew she couldn’t win. For that reason, she often wound up in the principal’s office facing Eleanor Hardin.
Eleanor had been one of Mira Thatcher’s few friends. Maybe that was why her disappointment in Cheryl’s behavior had been so blatantly obvious. In the face of it all, Cheryl had remained stubbornly silent about her treatment at home. When pressed, she resorted to belligerence, and that attitude made it easy for people to believe the worst of her later. “Like father, like daughter,” they said. After a while, Cheryl stopped caring about what they thought.
But i
t had all happened so long ago.
Cheryl turned away from the window. She had changed more than her name since then; she had changed who she was inside. At least, she had believed that until she found herself back in Kansas.
She worried her lower lip between her teeth. From the time she had driven away from her grandmother’s ranch, Cheryl had found herself hiding from and skirting around the truth the way she had done as a child.
Determined not to dwell on the uncomfortable thought, she donned her leotard and spent the next hour performing the exercises and stretches that kept her body flexible and graceful for the dance. It was hard work, awkward and painful with her swollen foot, but she welcomed the pain as a distraction from her unsettling thoughts.
Finally, when she finished her morning routine, she flopped down on the sofa and put her aching foot up on a pillow. A moment later she heard the front door open. She looked up and a tingle of anticipation fluttered in the pit of her stomach.
Sam entered the living room and stopped short when he caught sight of Cheryl lying on his sofa. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but a few wisps had escaped and the sweat-dampened curls clung to her sculptured cheeks and the slender column of her neck. She wore a black leotard, hot pink, calf-length Spandex pants and only one shoe with white ribbons that crisscrossed her delicate ankle. Her other foot lay propped on a pillow, and he saw the blue-black bruising and swelling extending above and below the edges of the tape she had wrapped it with.
“You shouldn’t be using that foot.” His admonishment came out sounding gruffer than he intended.
Clearly miffed at his scolding, her lips pressed into a tight line. Would they soften if he kissed her? Where had that thought come from?
“I know what I’m doing,” she said.
He was saved from making a reply by the ringing of the phone. As he answered it, Cheryl picked up her crutches and went to busy herself in the kitchen until he joined her a short while later.
Glancing up from her coffee mug, she saw the worried look on his face. “What’s the matter?”
“That was my mother. My sister was taken to the hospital last night.”
Love Thine Enemy Page 5