Love Thine Enemy (8 page)

“Maybe I will. Someday. Who knows?”

Sam’s hope rose. It wasn’t a flat no. If only they had more time.

She smiled at him brightly. “I’d just have to meet the right man first.”

“And what would the right man be like?”

“Oh, someone who loves ballet and hot pretzels with mustard and New York City even in the summer when it’s muggy and clogged with smog.”

“I thought maybe it would be a guy who brought you chocolate and roses?”

She looked away and didn’t answer. Sam rose to his feet. He had to stop kidding himself, she’d never be happy here.

“I’ve got a council member meeting at church tonight and Walter has his weekly checkers game with one of our neighbors. Do you think you can handle the terrible twosome by yourself for an evening?”

She smiled and nodded. “No problem, cowboy. Just leave me the phone number where you’ll be, the hospital’s number…” she began to count off on her fingers, “…the sheriff’s number, poison control, the fire department, ah, your insurance agent’s number, the number for your next of kin, the vet’s number…”

“The vet?”

“In case anything happens to Bonkers.”

“Aren’t we being a little paranoid?”

“Good idea. Leave me your therapist’s number.”

“I don’t have a therapist. But I’m beginning to think I may need one. Oh, I almost forgot. This letter came for you today.” He pulled a folded white envelope from his shirt pocket and handed it to her.

“That must be my last paycheck.” Cheryl took it and tucked it in her shirt pocket. She would look at it later. That way if she burst into tears at the tiny amount no one would see her.

Later that day, as she watched Sam let his daughters help with the housework, she realized that he loved being a father. He was endlessly patient with the girls’ less-than-perfect efforts, and Cheryl found herself admiring his kindness and the gentle way he helped tiny hands perform eager tasks.

For ten years Cheryl had been consumed by her work. Now, everything she’d denied she needed was suddenly spread out before her, and she was disturbed to feel she’d been missing out on something equally as important as her dancing.

Her evening alone with the twins went smoothly. Later that night, she remembered her paycheck and pulled it out of her pocket. When she opened the envelope there wasn’t a check. There was only a single sheet of paper without a signature. On it in bold block print was written,

Go away. You aren’t wanted here. Go away.

The terse missive made Cheryl’s skin crawl. Who had sent it? Who wanted her gone? She picked up the envelope, but there was no return address. It seemed that she had made someone angry. Merci perhaps? Who else could it be?

The troubling letter kept her awake long after she lay in bed. Sleep eluded her as she listened for the sound of Sam coming home and wondered what she should do about the note. There really was nothing to do, she realized. She would be leaving soon. Only she didn’t like the idea that someone would think she had turned tail and run away after a sick prank like this.

It was after midnight when she finally heard Sam’s truck in the driveway, followed by his quiet footsteps across the hardwood floor in the living room. She turned over and settled his pillow under her face, but sleep was a long time in coming.

The following day, between the insistent twins and the lure of the warm sunshine, Cheryl decided to
venture out and explore some of the ranch. Once outside, the twins headed for the large red barn and white painted corrals across the gravel yard. A windmill twirled gaily beside the barn. The breeze that spun it brought the loamy scent of spring to her, and Cheryl was surprised to discover how much she’d missed the enticing freshness and smells of a Kansas spring.

Sam stood saddling a tall, roan horse beside the barn. He wore a light blue denim shirt, jeans and leather chaps. His high-heeled boots sported blunt silver spurs. The fringe of his chaps fluttered softly as he moved. The man was a cowgirl’s dream come to life, she thought, as she watched him lift the heavy saddle with ease. He spoke softly to the big roan as he bent to reach under the horse’s belly for the girth. Too bad she wasn’t a cowgirl.

Sam lowered the stirrup after he’d finished tightening the cinch and patted the roan’s shoulder. The horse, meanwhile, had his head down allowing the twins to scratch enthusiastically behind his ears.

“Come on, Cheryl, come see our new baby calf,” Kayla insisted. The girls took off toward a second, smaller corral.

Cheryl smiled at Sam and willed her heart to stop its wild fluttering as she followed the pair to where a little Charolais was busy suckling lunch from his patient mother. His stubby tail was twirling nearly as fast as the windmill. Every now and then, he gave his mother’s udder an impatient butt with his snowy head.

“Wait a minute,” Sam called. He mounted and rode up beside them. “Grandpa Walter has gone into town for feed, so you girls will be on your own while I’m gone. It’s okay if you want to pet Henrietta’s new calf, she
won’t mind, but don’t go into the other corral. I opened the barn door so Harvey can come out now that the weather’s getting warmer. You stay out of his corral. Is that understood?” His tone was stern.

“Yes, sir!” rang out from all three of them.

“Good.” He grinned at Cheryl’s mock salute.

“Who’s Harvey?” she asked.

“Possibly the salvation of this ranch.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He’s one of those pedigreed cattle I was talking about. Harvey is our three-time-grand-champion Charolais show bull and the backbone of our advanced breeding program. There are cows lined up as far away as Canada who are just waiting to have one of his calves.”

Cheryl wrinkled her nose. “He’s going to be busy, isn’t he?”

“Very busy, I hope.” Sam grinned at her, touched the brim of his hat, then whirled his horse and rode away.

She watched him ride out of the yard. It wasn’t fair. The man looked even better on horseback.

The twins leaned through the fence and began petting the calf’s wooly head when he paused in his eating to investigate these potential new playmates. He frisked away from the twins, and the girls slipped through the fence to follow him in an impromptu game of tag.

Cheryl glanced toward the barn. A small white cat, followed by a trio of black-and-white kittens intent on catching their mother’s twitching tail, emerged to sit in a patch of sunshine. Cheryl looked for a bull but didn’t see him.

It was foolish to worry about a cat that obviously lived in the barn, but she didn’t want the kittens playing in harm’s way.

“Here kitty, kitty,” she called, extending her hand. The next instant, the bull’s massive head appeared in the doorway. He dwarfed the kittens clustered beneath him. Cheryl held her breath, certain she was about to see them trampled.

She checked quickly for the twins. They were still in the adjacent pen. They stood looking into a large round stock tank. It extended under both sides of the corral fence so animals in both enclosures could drink from it. Cheryl didn’t think they could see the kittens.

She looked back at the gigantic white bull. He snorted once over the kittens, but the silly things didn’t have the sense to run. Then, he put his muzzle down and snorted again. One kitten merely arched its back and rubbed against the giant’s nose. With a gentle push Cheryl wouldn’t have believed if she hadn’t seen it, the bull moved the kittens out of his way, stepped out into the sunshine and lumbered across the corral.

He was a magnificent animal. Dense white ringlets covered his head and thick neck, and his snowy coat gleamed in the sunlight. Powerful muscles moved smoothly as he trotted around the perimeter of the corral.

“Cheryl, look what we can do,” Lindy called.

The twins had climbed to the top of the fence and begun to walk along it with their arms outstretched like tightrope walkers. It was a game Cheryl and her sister had played often as children. The object was to see who could walk the thick wooden rail the farthest without falling.

The bull took an interest in their activity and moved to stand beside the tank as the girls walked over the top of it. With the huge animal standing so close, suddenly,
the children’s game didn’t look so safe. Cheryl moved down the fence toward them. She wanted to call out, but she was afraid to startle the girls.

Lindy reached the far side of the tank and jumped down with a laugh. Cheryl let out a sigh of relief, then everything happened at once.

Lindy’s jump startled the bull. He swung his head against the boards with a blow that shook the entire fence. Kayla lost her balance, uttering a short, bitten-off scream as she fell. Her head struck the steel rim of the tank as her body disappeared with a splash.

Cheryl screamed Kayla’s name and lunged to grip the fence in front of her. Lindy’s scream echoed her own.

Sam was headed down the lane when he heard the screams. He turned in the saddle in time to see Cheryl throw her crutch over the corral fence and vault over after it.

He couldn’t believe his eyes. She fell once, came up with her crutch and continued to charge across the muddy pen sending the cow and calf bolting out of her way. Sam searched for the twins, but he saw only one child standing beside the stock tank screaming.

He ruthlessly hauled his horse’s head around and spurred for the corrals.

C
heryl reached the stock tank and gripped the cold metal rim. There was no sign of Kayla. Quickly, she stepped into the icy, hip-deep water and began searching by feel under the murky surface.

“Kayla, where are you, baby? Please, God, help me find her!” Cheryl heard the panic in her own voice. After years of ignoring God why would He answer her? She had stopped praying, stopped believing, yet her heart cried out to Him now.
Save this child.

Unable to locate Kayla on the side where she had fallen, Cheryl took a deep breath and ducked under the fence that divided the tank. Her fingers touched a small hand. Quickly, she pulled the child to her and stood. Water streamed down her face as she gasped for air, but she cradled Kayla’s limp body against her chest.

Sam galloped into the yard and reined his horse to a sliding stop beside the corral. He kicked free of the stirrups, vaulted out of the saddle and over the fence in a single movement and hit the ground running.

Cheryl slogged through the water and handed Kayla
into his reaching arms. He took the child and gently laid her on the ground.

“She was on the fence,” Cheryl panted. “She fell and hit her head.”

Stepping out of the water, she knelt beside him. “I couldn’t find her, Sam. It took so long.”

Kayla’s lips were blue, her skin translucent and pale as marble.

Cheryl felt for a pulse in the child’s neck.
Please, God, let her be okay.
To her relief, she found one, strong and steady beneath her fingers. The faint rise and fall of her little chest confirmed she was breathing. “She has a good pulse.”

Sam’s own heart began to beat again. “Thank You, Dear God, thank You,” he uttered weakly. “Kayla, wake up, kitten. Can you hear me?”

Kayla’s eyelids fluttered open, and she slowly focused on his face. “Daddy?” she whispered.

It was the sweetest sound he’d ever heard. He lifted her small body and cradled her close. “Yes, baby, Daddy’s here.” His voice broke, and he rocked her gently.

Wiping the tears from his face, he looked at Cheryl. “Thank you.” He stretched out his hand. She grasped it firmly.

“Daddy, is Kayla okay?”

Sam took one look at Lindy’s frightened face and pulled her close to her sister in his arms.

Cheryl said, “She hit her head pretty hard when she fell, Sam. I think we should get her to the hospital.”

She was right. Reluctantly, he handed his daughter to her and stood. He was surprised to find his knees wouldn’t hold him, and he staggered slightly as his head spun. Bending over, he braced his hands on his
thighs and took several deep breaths. When his head stopped spinning, he tried to marshal his thoughts. “I’ll go get the truck.”

“Get a blanket first. She’s freezing.”

“So are you.” He turned and hurried toward the house. As he set one boot on the fence, he paused and looked back. Cheryl knelt on the muddy ground with Kayla cradled across her lap, her soft voice reassuring both girls.

The cow and its calf had came up behind her and watched the proceedings with bovine inquisitiveness. Lowering her head, the cow sniffed at Kayla’s face. Cheryl pushed the animal aside with an indifferent shove, as if she’d handled cattle all her life. Sam wasn’t sure why, but the sight triggered a touch of unease in his mind. There was more to Cheryl Steele than she let on.

Sitting wrapped in a blanket in Sam’s pickup, Cheryl held Kayla on her lap as they sped toward the hospital. Kayla lay pale and quiet, but her breathing was regular. Cheryl kept one hand inside the blanket just to make sure. She’d known these children only a few days, but already they’d wormed their way firmly into her heart.

Lindy sat between the adults on the seat. “I think God got me and Kayla mixed up,” she said in a faltering voice.

Puzzled, Cheryl glanced at Sam, but he seemed bewildered as well. Cheryl slipped an arm around Lindy’s shoulders and drew her close. “What do you mean, honey?”

“When you do something bad, God punishes you. But I think he got me and Kayla mixed up.”

“Sweetheart,” Sam said. “God is the one fellow who
can never get you mixed up. He isn’t punishing you or Kayla. It was an accident.”

“Even if we did something bad?”

“Your daddy is right, Lindy. It was a scary accident, that’s all. Will it make you feel better to tell us what you think you did?”

Lindy nodded. “We found your wallet, and we hid it so you couldn’t go away,” her voice tapered off into a little whisper.

Cheryl was speechless.

Sam shook his head. “I should have known you two were up to something.

Wiggling free of Cheryl’s hold, Lindy snuggled up against him. “Are you mad? It was my idea,” she confessed with more resolve.

Draping an arm over her shoulder, he pulled her against him. “I’m disappointed that you thought you could make Cheryl stay by keeping something that belonged to her, but I’m not angry with you. I love you. Do you understand?”

Lindy nodded, “Cheryl told us you can love somebody even if they do bad things.”

Sam met Cheryl’s gaze over his daughter’s head. “Did she?”

“Yup,” Lindy answered.

“She’s a smart lady.”

Cheryl basked in the glow of his praise for only a moment. Then the reality of what had happened sank in. She should have been watching the girls more closely. She should have made them get down the second she saw what they were doing. This was her fault. At least God had answered her prayers.

Why hadn’t He saved her mother the way He’d saved
Kayla? Was one life less valuable than the other? She had no answers for the questions that spun through her mind. She rode the rest of the way in silence.

In the ER, Sam stayed with Kayla while Cheryl was taken to have her foot looked at. Her cast was a water-logged mass of plaster. Dr. Carlton proceeded to scold her for using her foot, X-rayed it and applied a new cast. When he was finished, he held open the door of the exam room, and Cheryl maneuvered herself out on her crutches.

“There doesn’t seem to be any damage to the healing bones,” he informed her. “This is a walking cast I’ve put on. It is not a running, jumping or dancing cast, understood? I don’t want you putting your full weight on that foot yet. Use the crutches for another two weeks, then a cane if it’s comfortable.”

She listened with only half an ear as he gave instructions to a petite, dark-haired nurse. When he turned back, he said, “I wish I could place where I know you from, young lady.”

“Maybe she just looks like someone you know,” his nurse suggested.

Cheryl tensed. She’d been told she looked like her mother. Could he have known Mira?

“Maybe. It’ll come to me,” he said.

“Where’s Kayla now?” Cheryl asked, eager to see her.

“I’ll find out for you,” the nurse answered.

Cheryl was given the room number, then made her way down the hospital corridor. At Kayla’s door, she paused. A sign said visitors were limited to family only. Should she go in?

Family or not, she needed to know for herself that Kayla was okay. She put her hand on the door.

“You can’t go in there.”

Cheryl turned to see Merci Slader coming down the hall.

“Hospital policy—family only,” Merci said, stopping beside Cheryl. “Kayla is fine. I just checked with her nurse. Actually, I’m a bit surprised that you’re still here. I thought you’d be on your way by now.”

“I’ll leave when I’m ready, Merci.” She considered confronting the woman about the letter, but decided against it. There were more important things to think about. Like Kayla.

“I think the sooner you move on the better it will be for everyone. I know Sam thought you could help watch the girls, but obviously you can’t do that in your condition. Isn’t this terrible accident proof of that?” With a smug parting smile, she left.

Cheryl watched Merci go, then squared her shoulders. She needed to see Kayla, and she wasn’t about to let Merci Slader or a few puny hospital rules stop her. She pushed open the door.

Inside, she found Sam seated beside Kayla’s bed with Lindy curled up in his lap. He had one arm stretched over the metal rail, and he stroked Kayla’s dark curls as she lay on the pristine sheets. She looked terribly small and helpless.

Sam spoke as Cheryl came and stood beside him. “Kayla, baby. Cheryl’s here.”

Kayla opened sleepy eyes and smiled up at Cheryl. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself, Tweedledee. How are you feeling?”

“Okay.”

Lindy leaned toward the bed and touched her sister’s face. “I told them,” she whispered.

Kayla’s lip quivered and tears filled her eyes as she
focused on Cheryl. “Are you gonna leave now? Please, don’t go. We want you to take care of us!”

Sam tried to comfort her, but she continued to cry and plead. He sent Cheryl an imploring look and she understood. Kayla needed to stay calm and to rest.

“I’ll stay as long as you need me.” Planting a kiss on Kayla’s brow, she added, “Why don’t you try and sleep now?”

Kayla sniffled. “You won’t leave until I’m asleep, will you?”

“No. I promise.”

“Okay. Daddy, can Lindy sleep with me?”

“Sure.” Sam settled Lindy in the bed with her sister. They snuggled together and Kayla slept at last.

Cheryl moved away from the bed and spoke in a low voice. “I’m so sorry, Sam. I should have been keeping a better eye on them.”

“Hush. It wasn’t your fault. I’ve told them a dozen times not to walk on the top of the fences. Besides, you saved her life.” Sam drew her into his arms and settled his chin on top of her head as he held her close.

She relished the strength and the feeling of safety his embrace gave her. She rested against his tall, strong body, gathering comfort from his arms around her. It felt so right. She had promised to stay as long as Kayla needed her, but what on earth was she getting herself into?

Sam held her away and looked into her eyes. “Have I said thank-you?”

“You’re welcome,” she whispered, gazing at him. He was everything her heart needed. His touch sent her senses singing with happiness. Before she knew what to expect, he bent his head and kissed her. The warmth
of his lips spread to the center of her chest and sent her heart racing with delight.

A knock on the door brought her back to earth, and she quickly stepped away as Walter poked his head in.

Sam let Cheryl go reluctantly. He wanted her back in his arms, but instead, he spoke to his obviously worried grandfather. “Come in, Gramps.”

“I got your message and came as quick as I could. How is she?” He moved to the bedside and reached a trembling hand down to caress Kayla’s hair.

“The doctor wants to keep her overnight for observation. Her lungs are clear. She’s got a goose-egg-size lump on the back of her head, but nothing’s broken.”

“The Lord be praised.”

“Amen to that. It could have been so much worse.”

“I’ve outlived my wife and my son. I sure don’t want to outlive my great-granddaughter.”

Cheryl laid a comforting hand on the old man’s arm. He squeezed it in return, then wiped at his eyes. “What do you need me to do, Sammy?”

Sam rubbed a weary hand over his face. “I’ll spend the night here. Could you drive Cheryl back to the ranch?”

“No. Let me stay,” Cheryl pleaded.

“Look, why don’t we do this,” Walter suggested. “I’ll stay with the girls while you take Cheryl home, and you can change.” He gave Sam a wry smile as he looked him up and down. “I hate to bring it up, but you smell a bit ripe.”

Sam looked down at his boots and jeans. Gramps was right. He hadn’t paid the least bit of attention to what he knelt in when he’d laid Kayla down in the corral. He grimaced and said, “You always said it’s the smell of money.”

Walter gave him a little push to get him started toward the door. “Every rancher says that. Go home and come back when you smell broke. I’ll be here if the girls need anything.”

“Okay, you win. Thanks.” With a glance at the sleeping twins, he allowed Cheryl and himself to be herded out the door.

Cheryl paused as she entered the quiet house. It echoed with emptiness. The children added the life that made it home. The thought brought her up short. When had she started thinking of this place as home? It wasn’t. It could never be. Not for her.

She changed while Sam went to shower, then she retrieved her wallet from under Lindy’s pillow. Slowly, she made her way upstairs, sat on the sofa and laid her head back with a weary sigh. She had been a fool to promise Kayla she would stay longer. Every day she remained here she risked being exposed. She didn’t want her past laid bare before Sam and his family. She cared about them. She wasn’t the same angry, foolhardy girl who had caused so much harm all those years ago.

Raising her fingertips to her temples, she tried to massage away her dull headache. What was she doing getting more involved with this family? It didn’t take a genius to see that Sam and the children were growing fond of her. That she returned their regard didn’t change things. She wasn’t being fair to them by building up their hopes that she would stay.

Her conscience nagged her. God had answered her prayers today and spared Kayla’s life. What did He want from her in return?

Feeling tired but restless, she rose and opened the
sliding glass door to the balcony and took a deep breath of fresh air. The soft evening breeze toyed with her hair as she stepped out and sat on the glider. Quietly, she rocked and watched as the sunset colored the timeless hills in shades of rose, lavender and gold.

She wasn’t given much to introspection, Cheryl realized. She looked forward—never back. The past was too painful. She’d spent her whole life being ashamed of what her father and her half brother had done, what they’d made her a part of. She came to hate this land—the treeless, windswept hills where her mother and her childhood had both died painful deaths.

Gazing out at hills rolling away to the horizon, Cheryl slowly understood it had been the events that she hated, not this place.

These hills were a part of her. She knew the call of the meadowlark and the cry of the hawk that rode the wind in lazy circles across a flawless blue sky. She knew the ceaseless wind that sent the long grasses bowing before it in undulating waves. Her soul heard the music the wind played in the grass just as surely as she heard it when she danced.