Love Thine Enemy

by Patricia Davids

  “It’s from the Bible, silly. Grandma says it’s about God’s plan, how He makes a time for everything.” A second later, Kayla took off in pursuit of her sister.

  Cheryl’s fingers lingered on the worn words that rang so true to her life. “‘A time for everything,’” she whispered.

  Was that true? Had God planned this time for her with Sam and the children? If Sam hadn’t been on the road that night she never would have known him or the twins. If she hadn’t been beside the corral that day would Kayla be alive now? The idea that she might somehow be part of a greater design gave her pause, yet a curiosity grew in her to read more of the sundial passage. Perhaps Walter would let her borrow his copy of the book.

  The twins played until they grew sleepy in the afternoon heat, and Cheryl decided it was time to head up the hill. As they emerged from the stone doorway, Sam sat on his horse waiting for them on the other side. Cheryl’s pulse jumped into double time at the sight of him.

  “Afternoon ladies,” he drawled and tipped his hat. “That’s a mighty tall hill for a gal on crutches. Care for a lift?”

  “Thank you, kind sir,” she drawled in an imitation of him.

  He swung down from the horse, took her crutches and laid them on the ground. She rested her arms on his shoulders as he grasped her waist and lifted her into the saddle.

  His strong fingers gripping her waist sent a tingling straight down her spine. Cheryl glanced at his face as his hands lingered. What was it that she saw in those hazel eyes? She couldn’t be sure because he released her abruptly and turned to swing the twins up, one in front of her and one behind her on the horse.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yup!” the twins said.

  “I think so,” Cheryl answered dubiously as she looked up the steep, narrow path.

  Sam picked up her crutches and handed them to her. “Courage is its own reward, New York.”

  “That’s virtue, cowboy.”

  “What’s virtue?” Kayla asked.

  “You explain that one,” he suggested. He turned and started up the hill leading his horse.

  “Thanks, cowboy. It means being very good, Kayla.”

  Lindy leaned around Cheryl. “God wants us to be good, doesn’t He, Daddy?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I’m good,” Kayla declared.

  “You are not,” her sister stated. “You wanted to turn Jimmy Slader into a frog. That’s not nice.”

  “Oh. I forgot that.”

  “You better tell God you’re sorry.”

  Kayla raised her face to the heavens and called out, “I’m sorry I wanted to turn Jimmy into a frog, God.” After a moment of silence, she said, “Daddy, how do I know if God forgives me?”

  “God forgives everyone when they are truly sorry, Honey. We have His word on that.”

  Would He forgive her omissions and half-truths, Cheryl wondered. Would Sam if he ever found out?

  At the front of the house, Sam stopped the horse and handed the twins down. He took the crutches from Cheryl and gave them to the girls.

  Cheryl wished she could get off by herself, but before she could think of a way, his hands gripped her waist again. When her feet touched the ground, she found she couldn’t move away from his touch. She avoided looking at him, afraid he would read the longing in her eyes.

  He reached up to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face. “I don’t know why I try to resist you,” he whispered.

  Her glance flew to his face. Her breath seemed to stick in her throat. He was going to kiss her. A small sound reminded her of the children staring with rapt curiosity.

  “Ah, Sam,” she said leaning back.

  “Hmm?”

  “We have an audience.”

  He turned his head and leveled a stern look at the twins. “Don’t you two have something to do?”

  Each twin held out a crutch. Cheryl reached over and took them. The girls scooted for the house.

  Sam removed his hands from Cheryl’s waist with reluctance. He hated to let her go. It felt so good when she was close to him. Maybe he was playing the fool, but did he care? Just to touch her made him feel alive in a way he’d never known. He shoved his hands into his pockets. He was letting his heart rule his head. That was a sure ticket to disaster.

  “I need to go to Kansas City tomorrow. Will you be okay with Walter and the girls while I’m gone?”

  “I can manage without you.”

  He sighed and led Dusty toward the barn. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” he told the horse.

  Chapter Ten

  “It’s your move,” Walter said as he sat across from Sam at the chess board several evenings later.

  Sam tried to study the board and plan his next move, but his mind wasn’t on the game. His gaze drifted to where Cheryl and the twins stood by the billiard table. She’d given in to their pleading and agreed to teach them some of the basic moves of ballet. They were using the side of the table like a dancer’s barre.

  “The barre is used to help you keep your balance while you practice, like so.” She touched the pool table rail lightly. She wore a ballet slipper on one foot, and she rose lightly onto her toes as she held her injured foot extended in front of her.

  “It’s your move, Sam,” Walter said again, louder this time.

  “What? Oh, sure.” Sam moved a dark pawn and returned to watching the dancers.

  Walter’s gaze traveled between Sam and Cheryl, then his lips tightened into a thin line. “I know you don’t want an old man sticking his nose in your business, but you’re riding for a fall with that one, Sammy. She’s as out of place here as a hothouse flower.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” He ignored Walter’s snort and moved another pawn, then he glanced at the dancers once more.

  She was a natural with children, Sam thought as he watched her showing them different positions. Each girl had her full attention as she gave them praise and gentle corrections. She seemed to know when they needed encouragement and when to step back and let them try on their own.

  “Sam, since that was my pawn you moved, I’m going to put it back, and we can continue this game when your mind is less occupied.”

  Sam pulled his attention back to Walter. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I said your mind isn’t on the game.” The elder Hardin leaned back in his chair. “We can start burning pasture soon. The snow put us behind, but the grass should be dry enough by the first of next week.”

  Cheryl crossed the room and sat down with the men as the girls continued to practice. “Don’t look at your feet,” she called.

  Walter smiled at her. “You’re in for a treat, Cheryl. You can help us with pasture-burning next week.”

  “Not me!” She held up one hand and shot them both a look of disgust. “You go play with fire if you want to, but I’m staying right here. I have no intention of going back to New York with all the hair singed off my head.”

  “You’ll be perfectly safe with us. Tell her, Sam.”

  “She can make up her own mind. Are you going to make a move or will I have to wait another six months to finish this game?”

  Walter cast a speculative look between the two, then turned his attention back to the game. Cheryl rose and went back to the twins.

  Sam caught a glimpse of the hurt look in her eyes before she turned away and hated himself for causing it. He was acting churlishly, and he knew it. But every time she mentioned going back to New York, he felt as if he’d taken a blow to the midsection.

  He wanted her to love the ranch, to love his kids, to love him. But she already had a life she loved. A life he couldn’t be a part of. She wasn’t going to stay. Why couldn’t he get that through his thick head? The wooden chess piece in his hand snapped in two. Sam stared at the broken queen. He rose from the table and left the room without a word.

  “Where is Daddy going?”

  “Doesn’t he want to watch us dance?”

  Cheryl’s
eyes followed Sam’s retreating form. “I don’t know where he’s going.”

  Walter came up beside them. “I want to see you dance.”

  Cheryl flashed him a grateful look, and he gave her a sympathetic smile in return.

  It was Walter who told Cheryl the next morning that Sam had gone to Kansas City.

  “Did he say when he’d be back?” she asked, biting her lip.

  “No, but he can’t be gone long because there’s a lot to be done here in the next few days. If he thinks I plan to work like a dog while he’s off enjoying the bright lights, he’s got another think coming.”

  Cheryl kept herself occupied and tried not to let her thoughts dwell on Sam as the days dragged by. The one good thing was that no more cryptic letters arrived for her.

  To pass the time, she began helping her first students master the basic ballet positions and steps. The twins were a delight to teach. They were eager and gifted with a desire to learn, and she had discovered something new about herself in the process—she liked teaching.

  “Plié means to bend,” she demonstrated for the girls, “and demi-plié means a half bend, like this. Remember to do it slowly, Lindy. You don’t want to look like a jack-in-the-box popping up.”

  “Why don’t you just say bend if you mean bend?” Walter asked, as he lounged in a leather chair watching them. “Makes more sense. Shouldn’t they be on their toes?”

  “French has been the language of ballet for about four hundred years, and no they shouldn’t be up on their toes. Toe dancing can’t be done until a qualified teacher decides a pupil is ready for it. It’s very hard on young bones.”

  “How old were you when you started?”

  “I was very old, almost fourteen, but it was love at first sight. Once I’d seen a ballet, I never wanted to do anything else. It wasn’t easy to start training at that age, but I was lucky. My cousin knew a wonderful dancing master who took me on as a private pupil. I had a natural flexibility and lots of determination. It’s much better if a child starts learning at age six or seven.”

  “It won’t do Lindy and Kayla any good to start this young,” Walter said, standing up.

  “Why do you say that?” She frowned at him.

  “Who’ll teach them after you’re gone?”

  Cheryl didn’t have an answer, and some of the joy she felt went out of the day. The girls were so eager to learn. Surely they would be able to continue.

  “There must be a dance school in town?”

  “I don’t think so,” Walter scoffed.

  “Maybe not in Council Grove or Strong City, but in Manhattan they must have some.”

  “An hour’s drive from here? I doubt Sam will want to take them that far for dancing lessons.”

  “You think dance lessons would be a waste of time, don’t you?” she asked, amazed at his attitude even though she knew she shouldn’t be.

  He shrugged, but didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. She read the answer on his face, and her temper flared. “If it doesn’t teach them to cook, mend fences or haggle a better price out of some cattle buyer, it’s a waste of time, right?”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “You’ve been past the cattle crossing at Bazaar. You know the world is a lot bigger than this ranch, and these children deserve the chance to discover for themselves where their heart’s desire lies.”

  Walter’s eyes narrowed, and he watched her silently for a long moment. “There’s something about you that doesn’t add up.”

  Taken aback, she stiffened. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “For one thing, you know a lot more about ranching than you let on. And when you’re mad, that New York accent fades faster than the flavor of penny bubble gum. Who are you?”

  Cheryl stared at him, her mind racing. She’d gotten careless again. Her gaze fell before the suspicion in his eyes. “I’m nobody special. But I do care about the twins, and about Sam.”

  “Do you?”

  Her gaze snapped back to his. “Yes,” she answered firmly.

  His gaze grew stern. “Then maybe you shouldn’t tempt them with things they can’t have.”

  They stared at each other silently. He wasn’t talking about dance lessons, and she knew it. Jamming his hat on his head, he left the room, and she chewed her lip as she watched him walk away. Was that what she’d been doing? Tempting Sam, and herself, with something they couldn’t have?

  Maybe Walter was right. She didn’t have a reason to stay now. She had her wallet back, and she could tag along with her company once she caught up with them. Kayla was fully recovered.

  Only, she didn’t want to leave. She wanted to be a part of this family. She’d never felt so torn in her entire life.

  She missed Sam, Cheryl realized as she turned her attention back to the girls and corrected Kayla’s foot position. She missed his boyish grin and hearty laughter. She missed the amused glances they shared when the twins provided some unintentional humor. She missed him a lot. If it was like this after he’d been gone only two days, what would it be like when she left for good?

  Sam showed up in the kitchen for breakfast the next day. He wore an enormous grin on his face. The twins raced to hug him and he scooped them both up before stopping in front of Cheryl. “They bought my design.”

  “For the house in Kansas City?” she asked.

  “Yup.”

  “Oh, Sam, I’m so glad.”

  “You and me both. We start construction in two weeks. And we’re gonna burn pasture today,” he announced, twirling around once with the girls in his arms.

  “Cheryl, you got to—”

  “—come and watch,” the twins told her.

  “I will be able to see it from here. That’s close enough,” she assured them.

  “Girls, leave Cheryl alone. If she’s too chicken to come and set the world on fire, then she should stay home.”

  “Chicken? Who are you calling a chicken, cowboy?” she demanded.

  “Hey, if the feather fits…” He put the girls down, folded his arms and flapped his elbows like wings. “Chicken!”

  “Chicken! Chicken!” The twins took up the chant.

  “Come on, it’ll be fun,” Sam coaxed.

  He grinned when she folded her arms across her chest, raised one eyebrow and looked at him in disbelief.

  “Please come, Cheryl,” the twins begged. “Please.”

  “All right. But only to prove to your father that I’m not a chicken.”

  An hour later, she sat in Sam’s pickup and rested her arms on the open window as she watched the activity going on around her. She’d seen the huge fires when she was a child, but she’d never helped set them. Three trucks lined up along the fence inside an immense pasture. A plump, elderly woman wearing a pink shirt and faded jeans tucked into cowboy boots stood handing out donuts and coffee to the men as they grouped around the tailgate of one truck. Sam took her elbow and separated her from the cowhands. He led her over to the truck where Cheryl sat.

  Cheryl was thankful for the wide round sunglasses that hid her eyes. Sam stopped beside her.

  “Cheryl, this is Mrs. Webster. It’s her pasture we’re burning today.”

  “And I can’t thank you enough for doing this, Sam.” Mrs. Webster said. “With my Simon laid up after his heart surgery I never would have gotten this work done.”

  “It’s my pleasure.”

  “I’d better be getting back to the house. Simon gets fit to be tied if I’m gone long. I wish I could pay you with more than coffee and donuts.”

  Sam slipped an arm around her ample shoulders. “Your donuts are worth their weight in gold, Mrs. Webster, and that’s a fact.”

  “Still, it don’t seem right, you and your crew doing this for nothing.”

  “You would do the same for us if the shoe was on the other foot. In fact, when Dad passed away, you and Simon were the first ones to come with food and offers of help.”

  “I’m blessed to have such good people for friends and neighbors. How i
s your sister doing? I heard your mother went to Denver to stay with her.”

  Sam winked at Cheryl. “It’s hard to keep a secret in a small town, isn’t it?”

  Cheryl swallowed hard and hoped her guilt didn’t show on her face.

  Sam didn’t seem to notice. “Becky has been in and out of the hospital twice with early labor. Mom is staying to help out. We miss her, but we know Becky needs her at a time like this.”

  “I’ll remember you and all your family in my prayers, Samuel. It’s the least I can do to repay all you’ve done for me and mine.” She wiped her eye with her sleeve, then hurried away.

  Cheryl studied Sam’s face. “You like helping people, don’t you?”

  His smile lightened her heart. “Do unto others. That’s the way I was taught to live.”

  Her father would have finished the quote with before they do it to you.

  Sam wasn’t like the ranchers her father had bad-mouthed and stolen from. Only, maybe those ranchers had been good men, too. She once told Angie that she didn’t regret anything she had done in the past. It seemed that was no longer true. Not if she had hurt people like Sam or Walter or Mrs. Webster.

  Shaking off her deep thoughts, she pointed to the men waiting to get started. “Tell me about this job. Why three trucks?”

  He explained, “The first truck lights the grass afire from a torch pulled along behind it. The second truck is equipped with a pressurized water sprayer, and it puts out the blaze as it follows alongside the torch. The third truck follows the others putting out any little fires that are missed. This way we create a burn line that will contain the main fire.”

  “You backfire the whole pasture that way?”

  He gave her a look of surprise. “That’s right. Once we get a strip done around the entire perimeter, we’ll fire the grass inside and let the wind push the blaze across the range. When the fire reaches the strip on the other side that’s already burnt, it dies out from lack of fuel.”

  “You do this every year?”

  “Some ranchers do. I prefer a three-year rotation because it gives the wildlife a break. Prairie chickens, for instance, prefer newly burned pasture for feeding and mating. They like to nest in the two-year-old grass, but they prefer to seek cover in the thicker grass that’s three years old or older.”