“You know I can.”
“Don’t you think you’d better check with Jeff?”
Angie laughed. “He’s still head over heels in love with me. If I say I want you to stay, he’ll pretend he’s thrilled.”
Cheryl had to smile at her sister’s confidence. She sobered as she considered how to ask the next question on her mind. There wasn’t any easy way to bring up the subject. “Angie, did you know that Jake’s out of prison?”
A long silence greeted her question. Finally, Angie said, “Yes, I knew. He was at my wedding.”
Cheryl almost dropped the phone. “What? Are you sure? I didn’t see him. How did he know about it?”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Angie answered calmly. “Jake knew because I invited him, and you didn’t see him because he’s as stubborn as you are.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Let’s face it, Jake’s had the same address for fourteen years. How many letters and visits did he get from you?”
“None,” she whispered, ashamed to admit how totally she had cut herself off from her brother.
“He said he wouldn’t impose himself on you unless you were willing to see him. He made me promise. I tried to talk to you about him—”
“And I refused to discuss anything about our family. I’m sorry we put you in the middle.”
“When I didn’t invite him into the dressing room, he simply stayed out of sight in the choir loft. He was the guitarist.”
Cheryl sank onto a kitchen chair. Such beautiful, haunting music. “I remember he used to play. I didn’t know he was so good.”
“There are a lot of things you don’t know. Like the fact that he pled guilty and waived his right to trial in exchange for the judge going easy on you.”
“What?” Cheryl couldn’t believe her ears.
“He made a deal with the district attorney and took the maximum sentence in order for you to get the minimum time.”
Cheryl rubbed a hand across her stinging eyes. This was like opening a photo album and seeing the faces of strangers on all the familiar family pictures. Her half brother had sacrificed years of his life to help her. Why?
“I didn’t know any of this. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“To be honest, I didn’t know it either until the last time I went to visit Harriet. Beside, I didn’t think you would approve of my staying in contact with Jake. You wanted a clean break with the past. I tried to respect your wishes. Harriet said when you were ready, you’d ask the questions, but until then, you wouldn’t be able to hear the answers.”
“She was such a wise woman. She was right, I wouldn’t have been able to hear anything good about Jake.”
“Cheryl, if you’re thinking about staying, we need to talk.”
“I’m not staying!”
She’d been hiding the truth from Sam for weeks. She couldn’t ask him to understand and forgive that. And even if by some chance he did forgive her, she couldn’t give up her career to live out here. Sam needed someone to be mother to the twins. She loved the girls, but what kind of mother could she be if she were two thousand miles away? It was a no-win situation.
“We’ll talk in person. Not over the phone. Come and get me, Angie.”
When Cheryl hung up the phone, she slowly unfolded her letter. It read,
Leave or I’ll Make You Sorry.
Chapter Thirteen
Sam held the door open for Merci as they left the high-school gym after the meeting. The full moon had disappeared behind thick clouds, and raindrops dashed any hope he still harbored of a moonlit ride with Cheryl.
“How about some coffee at my place?” Merci asked.
“I don’t think so. It’s late, I should be getting home.”
“I haven’t seen much of you lately.” Merci laid a hand on his arm. “I’ve missed you,” she said quietly.
Sam found himself at a loss for words.
“Actually,” she continued, “I need your professional help with something.”
“Are you taking up cattle breeding, Merci?”
She gave a short laugh. “No. I’m going to remodel that dinky house of mine, and I need some advice on which walls I can knock out. I’ve got the original blueprints at home. Whenever you get some time, maybe you could look at them for me.”
The rain began coming down in earnest as Sam gazed at Merci’s hopeful face, and his conscience pricked him. Merci had been a good friend to him after his divorce. If her attentions occasionally made him uncomfortable, that was his fault, not hers. He hadn’t been ready to resume a relationship with anyone and he knew he had sometimes hurt her feelings.
“Never mind, Sam. It can wait.”
“No, I’d be happy to take a look at them for you.”
He drove her to her home at the edge of town and followed her through the front door. A high-school-aged girl came out of the living room as they walked in.
“Thanks for babysitting tonight, Susan. How much do I owe you?” Merci asked, opening her purse.
Susan held out a lock of her waist-length blond hair with a large pink glob in it. “It’s free if you know a way to get this gum out of my hair without cutting it. Your son’s a brat!”
“Oh, Susan, I’m so sorry.” Merci cast Sam an embarrassed look. “He’s not really a brat, he’s just spirited. Come in to the kitchen. Some peanut butter will take care of this.”
“Peanut butter in my hair? How yuck!”
Sam hid a laugh with a cough. “I’ll wait in the living room.”
Sitting on the sofa, he listened to Susan list the abuses she’d endured. Brat sounded like a good description of Jimmy Slader, Jr. The peanut butter worked, but Sam doubted Susan would sit for Jimmy again any time soon.
He picked up the newspaper while he waited for Susan to leave. With a bark of laughter, he held it up as Merci walked into the room. “I hope you’ve read it,” he said with a smile. It was full of holes, and he wiggled a finger through one.
Merci’s eyes widened, and she snatched it away from him. “I can’t believe Susan didn’t watch him any better than this. She knows not to let him play with scissors.”
“I’d say she was lucky to find gum in her hair and not her hair on the floor.”
Merci folded the paper into a tight square and sat down on the sofa beside him. “He does it to annoy me—to get attention. He’s getting to be a handful. His father never has time for him now that he has a new wife and a baby on the way. What Jimmy needs is a full-time father. You know how it is. Your girls are getting to the age when they need a mother full time, too.”
Sam shifted uncomfortably on the sofa. “Mom does a great job with them.”
“Of course she does, but she’s not getting any younger. At her age, she should be enjoying herself, not running after the two of them day in and day out.”
“She’ll let me know when it gets to be too much for her.”
“I’m sure she will.” Merci smoothed the creases in the paper she held. “I ran into Cheryl Steele at the hospital today. Did she tell you?”
“No, she didn’t mention it.”
Merci smiled, “She’s ready to get out of the boonies and back to New York, isn’t she?”
Sam frowned. “Did she say that?”
“You can’t blame her. This is a far cry from what she’s used to.”
“Did she say she wanted to leave?” he insisted.
“Not in those exact words. In fact, she said she was enjoying the diversions ranch life had to offer, but she missed the excitement of the big city and her work.”
“I’m sure she does.” Sam stared down at his boots. A diversion, was that all he was?
“It was the strangest thing,” Merci continued. “Dr. Carter mentioned the Thatcher family, and I swear, she turned as white as a ghost. Why do you suppose that was?”
“I have no idea. Where are those blueprints?” he asked abruptly. He didn’t intend to discuss Cheryl with Merci.
It was late when he finally arrived home
, but he found himself standing outside Cheryl’s room anyway. He raised his fist to knock, but hesitated and lowered his hand.
A diversion. Was he being used to help pass the time and nothing more? He didn’t believe that. Their attraction was mutual, he was sure of it. He raised his fist again, but still he hesitated.
An attraction wasn’t the same as love. She’d never said anything about love. And neither had he.
Could he risk telling her that he loved her, then watch her walk away as Natalie had done? Could he face that? He stuffed his hands in his pockets.
He’d never considered himself a coward, but this scared him to death. Feeling more confused than ever, he turned away from her door and headed down the stairs.
He was surprised to see Walter lining up a shot at the billiard table when he walked down into the rec room. Sam glanced at his watch. “What are you doing home? I thought you and Fred Barns were on for a game of checkers at the café.”
Walter took his shot and sent the cue ball flying down the length of the table. It bounced off the cushion, rolled back and gently kissed the eight ball into the corner pocket.
He picked up his glass of iced tea from the rail and took a drink. “Fred had to leave early. After that, the company went downhill. Jake Thatcher was there.”
“That’s funny. Someone else mentioned the Thatchers tonight. Was he making trouble?”
“Not by the time I left. But he rode in on a shiny, new motorcycle. Makes a man wonder where a jailbird gets that kind of money?”
“I hear he’s been doing a good job on his grandmother’s spread. Cattle prices are up. Maybe he sold some steers.”
“Yeah. I wonder who they belonged to? Maybe I should’ve asked him.”
“Don’t go looking for trouble, Gramps. A man your age should have more sense.”
“Speaking of looking for trouble, isn’t that what you’re doing?”
“What’s that mean?”
Walter walked around the table and began pulling the balls out of the pockets and rolling them to one end. “It means, one day I see you making eyes at a certain blonde, and tonight I see your truck parked outside the house of a certain redhead.”
Sam walked to the table and caught the balls Walter rolled his way and placed them in the rack. He picked up a stick. “I wasn’t making eyes at anyone. Merci and I are friends. I don’t need to defend myself if I want to see her.”
Walter lined up the cue ball and made the break. Colored balls careened madly around the table, but none of them dropped into a pocket. “Funny choice of words, defend.”
Sam took his time as he searched the table for the best shot. He picked a striped ball near the side pocket and sank it with a quick stroke. “Merci wanted me to look at some house plans, that’s all.” The next ball he tried for stalled at the edge of the pocket. He straightened and watched his grandfather study the table.
Walter missed his next shot. “So which one are you in love with, the blonde or the redhead?”
“Who says I’m in love?”
“That dopey smile you have on your face morning, noon and night. I sure hope it’s the redhead.”
“Why do you say that?”
Walter straightened and gave Sam a level look. “Because Cheryl doesn’t belong here, and you know it.”
Sam concentrated on the table for a long moment. “She could learn to like it. She’s great with the girls.” He took his turn and missed.
“Sure, she’s great with kids, and maybe she even likes it here, but she loves it there.” Walter gestured toward the barre and mirror with his chin. “There, she lights up like a hundred-watt bulb.”
“She does, doesn’t she?” Sam stared at the mirror, picturing Cheryl’s smile when she talked about dancing and the graceful bend and sway of her body as she practiced. If he asked her to stay, he’d be asking her to give up something as essential to her as air. How could he ask her to choose?
Walter sank the rest of the balls on the table, put his stick down, then laid a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I wish she’d leave and get it over with. The longer she hangs around, the harder it’s going to be on everyone. I saw you and the kids go through that once, Sam. I’d do anything in my power to keep it from happening again.”
“Thanks, Gramps, but I can take care of myself.”
“I hope so.”
Sam didn’t answer him.
Walter turned toward the stairs, then stopped. “Oh, by the way, I was over by the Hazy Creek pasture, and I didn’t see hide nor hair of Harvey.”
“He was probably hiding, ashamed to be seen with his pedicure.”
Walter chuckled. “Maybe. I’ll check the water gap tomorrow and make sure the fence isn’t down. It wouldn’t hurt to call the Double R boys and see if he’s slipped over in with their bunch.”
“Okay, I’ll take care of it in the morning.”
“I put Flying Lady in the box stall next to Bambi. I think she’ll foal tonight. Want me to check on her before I turn in?”
“If you don’t mind.”
Walter shook his head. “No trouble.”
Sam watched his grandfather disappear up the stairs, then turned his attention to the ballet barre on the wall. Walking up to it, he gripped the smooth wood in his hands and leaned his forehead against the cool mirror.
In his mind’s eye he could see how Cheryl looked when she stood poised in the light. It was, he realized, the only time that she let people really see her.
The rest of the time she kept some part of herself hidden. Someone or something must have caused her great pain. He wanted to know what it was. He wanted her to share her burdens as well as her joys with him. She might love dancing, but he knew she cared about him and his girls. He would tell her how he felt—tell her that he loved her—that she made his heart whole again. God had brought her into his life for that reason. He didn’t doubt it. Tomorrow. He would tell her tomorrow.
With his mind made up, he crossed to his bedroom and softly closed the door.
Sam wasn’t in the house when Cheryl rose the next morning. She knocked on his door but there was no reply. The twins lay curled up in their beds still fast asleep. Cheryl closed the door without waking them. After that, she made her way down to the barn.
As she stepped through the barn door, she heard Sam speaking softly from a nearby stall. She walked toward him. He didn’t hear her approach. She leaned on the stall door and watched him coax a brown, spindly-legged foal to its feet.
His hands and his voice were so gentle, so at odds with his big size and rugged appearance. He glanced up and saw her. A smile lit his face. “’Morning, New York.”
“’Morning, cowboy.” Her heart contracted and pushed a lump into her throat. She was in love with this man. She opened her mouth to tell him so, but the sound of Walter’s voice stopped her.
“What’d she have?” Walter asked as he came to stand beside Cheryl and look over the stall door.
“A nice filly,” Sam said, giving her a little help to her feet. “Did you find Harvey?”
“Harvey’s missing?” Cheryl asked in surprise.
Walter nodded. “The fences are all good, and I covered that pasture from one end to the other. There’s no sign of him and four of our cows are missing, too. I did meet two of the Double R cowboys checking the same fence. It seems they’ve lost five steers sometime in the past two days.”
A deep frown creased Sam’s brow. “We’d better notify the sheriff.”
“You think he’s been stolen?” Cheryl asked. An icy feeling crept into her veins.
Walter slapped his gloves against his thigh. “Looks like it to me. I’ll call the sheriff. Then I’m going to pay that thievin’ Thatcher a visit to find out what he knows about this.”
Cheryl steadied herself against the stall door as the edges of her vision darkened. This couldn’t be happening. Not now.
Sam grabbed Walter’s elbow. “Don’t do anything rash. Let the law handle it.”
“It’s your best bu
ll, Sam. He’s a Grand Champion three times over, and four of your best cows gone with him. Years of breeding work down the drain, not to mention that he’s worth thousands of dollars.”
“Don’t you think I know that? By now they’re probably out of the state. If you warn Thatcher that you suspect him, he’ll cover his tracks or skip out before the authorities have a chance to investigate.”
Walter took a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right. What I’d like to know is how he knew where the bull was? Harvey was in that pasture less than twenty-four hours before he was taken.”
“Whoever took him must have been watching the place. If I know Sheriff Manning he’ll want to check out everyone who’s done work for us in the last few months. I’ve got a list of employees in my office.”
Cheryl listened to Sam and Walter in growing horror. Her brother was the first person they suspected. And why not? He’d gone to prison twice for the same crime. It didn’t take much of a stretch to think he’d try it a third time. She could find herself tarred with the same brush. She’d be investigated. No one would believe she hadn’t been involved, not after she’d kept the truth from them.
She knew how easy it was to look guilty when everyone believed you were. The memory of those long, dark days in the juvenile detention center sent a shiver of fear crawling down her spine.
As much as she loved Sam, she couldn’t bear to think of the look on his face when he found out who she was—what she’d been. She couldn’t bear it if he thought she was guilty. Angie would arrive this afternoon unless Cheryl left a message for her at the airport. Sam didn’t know she had talked to her sister. It would come as a shock, but maybe it was better this way. Better to make a quick, clean break with no time for a lingering goodbye. No time to watch her dreams fade as she tried to hide how much her heart was breaking.
Sam ran a hand over the stubble of his chin. “Look, I’ll go into town and file a report, but I’ve got a buyer coming in to pick up some yearlings this morning. Can you take care of that for me, Gramps?”
“Are you trying to keep me away from Thatcher?”
“Yes, but more than that, I need your help now.”
Love Thine Enemy Page 16