Love Thine Enemy (5 page)

“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 living 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.

C
heryl 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 ig
nored 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 it 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.”

“Oh, Sam, I’m so sorry. Is it serious?”

“Becky is pregnant, but she’s not due for another ten weeks. She started into early labor. The doctors were able to stop it, but she has to stay on strict bed rest.”

“Can you get to the hospital? Are the roads open?”

“Becky and Michael live in Colorado.”

“I see.” Cheryl poured him a cup of coffee. “Is it her first baby?”

“No, they have three. That’s part of the reason Mom called. She’ll be on her way to Denver as soon as the roads are open to help Michael take care of the kids.” He sipped the coffee she’d given him.

“Three kids would be a handful for a man with his wife in the hospital.”

“Yeah, well, two kids will be a handful for me with the ranch work and a house going up in Kansas City. Mom takes care of the twins while I’m working.”

“What will you do?” she asked in concern.

“I guess I’ll have to start looking for a temporary nanny. I hope, for Becky’s sake as well as my own, that she gets out of the hospital soon.” He lifted his mug in a small salute. “You make a good cup of coffee, New York.”

“Thanks, cowboy.” She stared into the dark liquid of her own cup. “Sam, I want to apologize for taking my foul temper out on you last night. You’ve been more than kind to me, and I’m sorry I repaid you by acting like a spoiled child.”

“Apology accepted. As much as I like that outfit, I think you should change into something warmer.”

She frowned at him. “Why?”

“The snow’s melting fast. I think I can get you into Council Grove and have a doctor look at that foot.”

Cheryl bit her lip in indecision. She needed to see a
doctor, she suspected there was more wrong with her foot than a sprain, but could she risk running into someone in Council Grove who might recognize her?

“Can’t you get me to Manhattan or Kansas City?” she asked hopefully. “I could see a doctor there.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. They had more snow north of here. The roads aren’t open in that direction yet.”

“I hate to put you to more trouble, Sam. I’ll be fine for another day.”

“No, you won’t. You need to get that foot looked at. I’m taking you and that’s final.”

She couldn’t think of a good reason to argue with him.

Thirty minutes later, they were bumping along the lane and out onto the highway. The ride was rough, but Sam handled the truck with a skill she had to admire. They arrived in Council Grove a little battered but none the worse for the trip.

She reluctantly agreed to let Sam cover the cost of the ER visit until she found her wallet and could send the hospital a copy of her insurance card. It was not an arrangement she liked, but she couldn’t see any alternative.

Through her wide, round sunglasses, she studied the occupants of the small hospital’s waiting room as she waited for her turn to see the doctor, noting thankfully that none of the faces looked familiar. Cowboys, farmers and housewives discussed cattle, crop losses and sick kids. The weather dominated the conversations going on around her. Nothing had changed much in the years she’d been gone.

She studied the worn linoleum on the floor and tried to decide what she would do if her foot were broken. She reviewed the list of friends she could stay with
until her apartment was available again, but it was a pretty short list. Even getting back to New York would be difficult without money or credit cards. Her sister would be home in a few weeks. Cheryl didn’t want to impose on the newlyweds, but her savings wouldn’t pay the bills and the cost of a motel for a month or more. All in all, things looked pretty bleak.

“Why, Sam! What are you doing here? You’re not sick, I hope? Is something wrong with the girls?”

Cheryl looked up to see a tall redhead eyeing Sam as if he was a free lunch and she hadn’t had a bite all week. The woman sauntered across the room and stopped in front of him, but her gaze pinned Cheryl like a hawk.

Cheryl knew the look—she’d been subjected to it more than once. She was being assessed as a potential rival. The redhead definitely had her sights set on Sam.

“The girls are fine,” Sam said. “I’m here with a friend. You’re looking well, Merci. How’s the new job going?”

“Good, thanks. We’re busier today than usual.” The woman turned her gaze on Cheryl. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Merci Slader. I’m a unit clerk here at the hospital.”

So this was Merci, Sam’s old flame. “Cheryl Steele,” she offered her hand.

Merci took it in a limp grip. Her smile was definitely frosty. “I don’t recall Sam mentioning you before.”

“We’ve only just met. I’m sure he’ll have a lot to say about me later. Won’t you, cowboy?” Cheryl patted his knee.

“What happened to your leg, dear? Did you trip and fall?” Merci’s voice was more than a little catty.

Cheryl laughed, “No, I had a car accident in the
storm. Fortunately, Sam came along in time to rescue me, and we got—stuck together!”

“Miss Steele, the doctor can see you now,” a plump gray-haired nurse called from the doorway.

Cheryl rose gracefully and leaned on her crutches. “It was so nice talking to you. Do keep Sam company while the doctor looks at my foot, won’t you? I know how he likes to visit with
old
friends.” She cast Sam an innocent smile and swung across the room.

Half an hour later, Cheryl had lost her cheeky attitude. She sat on the exam table while Dr. Carlton pointed out the two fractured bones that put an end to her income and plans for the entire spring.

“I’ve spoken to your physician in New York. He has made a few recommendations, but I’m not sure I can carry them out.” The middle-aged doctor was a comical figure, short, bald and rotund, but he spoke with professional politeness.

Cheryl chewed her lip a moment. “What did Dr. Fuller have to say?”

“He recommended I put you in an extra-heavy cast, then add a ball and chain to see if that’d slow you down.” He peered at her from over the edge of his reading glasses. “Seems he’s had a mite of trouble keeping you off an injury in the past.”

Cheryl had the grace to look shamefaced.

“I see evidence of an old fracture here, but it’s healed well.” He pointed it out on the black-and-white X-ray film as he held it up to the light.

“Isn’t there something else we can do besides cast it, Dr. Carlton? I’ve got to be able to work again soon.”

He lowered the film and faced her. “I think you know the answer to that. Do you want to continue to dance?”

“More than I want to breathe.”

“I believe that. Now, if you want to dance the way Dr. Fuller tells me you can, you will let me set these bones, cast your foot and you’ll keep off it for six to eight weeks.”

“But—”

“No, don’t interrupt me, young lady. You have had a crushing injury. Your tendons and muscles, as well as your bones, need time to heal. Your other choice is surgery to pin the bones. I’d send you back to Dr. Fuller for that, but you would still be off that foot for at least six weeks.”

“Those are my choices?”

“If you want this foot to heal well enough to continue your career, yes.”

She nodded in resignation.

“Good. By the way, Dr. Fuller is having his office fax over your insurance information. At least that will be one less worry for you.” He stood and opened the door of the small room, then paused. “Have we met before? You look familiar somehow.”

She glanced up in surprise. Why would he think that? She was sure she’d never met him. Her infrequent visits to the doctor as a child had been to an elderly physician in the neighboring town of Herington more than thirty miles away.

“No, I don’t believe we have,” she said. “Unless you’ve been to New York lately.”

He shook his head. “It’ll come to me. I never forget a face. I’ll have the nurse give you a sedative before I set that foot. I’m afraid this won’t be fun.”

Dr. Carlton was a master at understatements. It was not fun.

An hour later, Sam half carried her to his truck and settled her with care on the seat. “Are you all right?”

“Everything’s spinning like a top. My foot’s throbbing like a wild thing. This cast weighs a ton, and whatever medicine they gave me is making me sick. Other than that, cowboy, I’m peachy.”

She sat up straight, determined to prove she was all right. She noticed Merci Slader watching them from the front of the hospital. The woman didn’t look happy. Merci shouldn’t worry. Cheryl had no designs on Sam.