Sitting at the table in the evenings, she listened to Sam and Walter discuss the ranch work and their breeding programs. It was strange and yet wonderful to feel so included in the lives of the people she’d grown to love. Was this what belonging to a family was supposed to feel like?
The next afternoon, the twins persuaded her to help them fly their kites, and she followed them across to the hillside opposite the house. As they passed the old oak tree, she saw that someone had nailed wooden strips to its slanted trunk, and a few planks were visible in its leafy branches.
“Is this your tree house?” Cheryl asked as she sat down in the shade. Bonkers climbed into her lap for attention.
“It was Daddy’s and Aunt Becky’s.”
“When they were little like us.”
“I see.” Cheryl smiled as she imagined a young Sam, the budding architect, constructing it.
The twins ran to launch their kites, and the western breeze carried them quickly out over the valley below the hillside. Cheryl leaned back against the trunk of the tree and watched as the red-and-yellow kites dipped and soared in the wind silhouetted against the blue sky and the fluffy white clouds that drifted by. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath of fresh air on a glorious spring day.
A meadowlark sang somewhere in the tall grass, and the wind stirred the branches overhead and set them to whispering. The children laughed and shouted, and on her lap Bonkers purred in contentment.
“A penny for your thoughts,” a voice spoke above her.
She opened one eye and squinted up at Sam as he towered over her. He tipped the brim of his hat up and leaned his broad shoulder against the tree trunk. “Or aren’t they worth that much?”
“I was just thinking how brave your parents were.”
His brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
“To spend all that money to send you to college to study architecture after they saw your early work.” She pointed above them.
He glanced up at the haphazard tree house. “You might not believe it, but I had a beautiful set of blueprints to follow. That was when I discovered an architect is only as good as his builder. I also discovered I was much better with paper than with a hammer and nails.” He sat down beside her. “Mind if I share your tree?”
“Not at all, just promise me you won’t haul me up to see your tree house first-hand.” Cheryl could have bitten her wayward tongue as a speculative gleam leapt into Sam’s eyes. He studied the boards above them but slowly shook his head.
“It’s an idea, but I don’t think those old timbers could take the stress,” he said as he grinned at her.
She shot him a look of disgust. “Don’t you have some ranch work to do?”
He leaned close and whispered in her ear, “I do, but I’d rather spend the time with you. Unfortunately, I’m needed in one of the pastures. I just stopped to tell you that Gramps and I’ll be in late for supper.” He rose and tipped his hat in her direction, then strode away.
She sat up straight and gave her attention to the children while trying to ignore the happy hum of her pulse.
As much as Cheryl liked the girls, watching two active and imaginative kids turned out to be harder than she believed possible.
Sam came into the house the next afternoon as she was cleaning up, followed by two contrite-looking children. Cheryl stared at them in surprise. She’d thought they were downstairs watching TV. In fact, she could still hear the sounds of cartoons coming up the stairwell.
His tone was stern as he crossed his arms and said, “Show Cheryl what you did.”
Lindy glanced once at his set face then held out her hands. Messy globs of vibrant pink covered her fingertips as she held out an empty bottle of nail polish. Cheryl took the vial and looked to Sam for an explanation. She’d used her favorite shade of Rose Petal Pink just that morning, and she was sure she’d left the bottle on the dresser in her room.
“Apologize for taking something that didn’t belong to you,” Sam said.
Kayla’s face was downcast. “We’re sorry.”
“We just wanted to—”
“—look as pretty—”
“—as you do.” They fell silent and stared at their feet.
“Tell her the rest,” Sam said sternly.
“Let me guess,” Cheryl said, looking at Sam. “Bonkers is now pink?”
“No, but not because they didn’t try.”
“He wouldn’t hold still,” Lindy said, looking contrite.
“Harvey held still,” Sam told her. “My prize breeding bull has hot pink hooves.”
While Cheryl had learned that Harvey really was a gentle giant, she blanched at the thought of these two crawling into his pen and painting his feet. He could have trampled them without even trying. “Sam, I’m so sorry. I thought they were downstairs, honest.”
“They’re going to be—in their room until supper time and no TV tonight. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Daddy,” they agreed together, and left the room.
When they were out of earshot, Cheryl burst into laughter. “A bull with pink toenails. This I’ve got to go see.”
Sam shook his head, but he was grinning, too. “I plan on moving him into the Hazy Creek pasture with four new cows on Saturday. I just hope the heifers don’t get jealous. Buying nail polish for the entire herd could bankrupt me.”
“I’m out of pink, but I’ve got some red you can borrow if that will help keep the peace.”
Sam chuckled. “No, thanks. I came in to tell you that Walter’s going into Council Grove tomorrow. If you want, you and the twins can ride along. Kayla says her boots are pinching her toes. Do you think you can help her find some new ones? I would take her, but I’ve got another meeting with my firm.”
Cheryl hesitated. Each time she went to town, she was courting disaster. What if someone recognized her?
Sam noticed her hesitation. “Forget I mentioned it. I can’t keep adding more and more to your duties.”
How could she deny him anything? In truth, she didn’t want to. “I think a temporary ninny should be able to manage a new pair of shoes.”
“Thanks. And I mean for everything you do.”
Cheryl held the memory of his warm gaze close to her heart all day long.
Finding a new pair of boots in town Friday afternoon turned out to be easy enough. Cheryl and the girls finished their shopping a full half hour before the time Walter had agreed to pick them up.
“What shall we do now?” Cheryl asked.
“We could get some ice cream,” Lindy suggested.
“That sounds good,” Cheryl agreed.
She began walking toward the river that divided the town. The girls skipped along beside her, chattering happily. They crossed the bridge, and Cheryl saw the town had added a new statue on the east bank as she passed a larger-than-life bronze figure of a Kaw Indian warrior. Across the street stood the monument of the Madonna of the Plains, a pioneer woman looking westward with her children at her side. The small Kansas town was fiercely proud of its place in the history of the West.
The bright red ice-cream shop stood sandwiched between the street and the sloping bank of the river. Once they had their cones, the girls ran back to play around the Indian statue, and Cheryl followed along behind them. She was admiring the artist’s work when the sound of squealing tires pierced the stillness. She looked up to see a battered green-and-white pickup swerving to miss a car that had stopped to turn. The pickup accelerated and sped out of town.
Cheryl watched with a sense of unease as the weaving green-and-white truck disappeared down the highway. She turned to the girls. “We told Walter we’d meet him in front of the shoe store. We’d better hurry.”
The twins eagerly displayed their new boots for Walter, but Cheryl herded the girls into his truck and quickly climbed in after them, happy to be heading back to the seclusion of the ranch.
Monday morning Kayla came into the kitchen and laid several envelopes on the counter. “Is there anything f
or us? Grandma said she’d write to us.”
“Let me see.” Cheryl picked up the mail and sorted through it until she discovered a white envelope with her name on it. It didn’t have a return address or a postmark, she noted. Someone must have left it in the mailbox.
“Nothing for you,” she told the girls. When they left the room, she tore open the letter, pulled out a single sheet of paper, and stared at the message. In block letters in the middle of the page were the words,
LEAVE NOW!
Chapter Twelve
Who could have written the ominous note and why? Cheryl continued to puzzle over the question two days later while she waited for Dr. Carlton to finish examining her foot. Merci Slader was the obvious choice, but she didn’t seem to have trouble voicing her sentiments in person, so why the cryptic nature of the note? The other possibility was that someone had recognized her. Someone who didn’t want to confront her face-to-face.
“Your fractures are healing well,” Dr. Carlton’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “I think we can trade in this cast for a heavy splint if you promise to take it easy.”
Cheryl agreed and waited impatiently as he cut through the thick plaster. The footgear he replaced it with reminded her of a cumbersome ski boot.
When he was finished, the doctor scribbled a note on her chart, then paused and peered at her over the edge of his glasses. “How’s Sam feeling?” he asked.
“Fine.” She couldn’t help the foolish grin that spread across her face.
“That’s good,” Dr. Carlton muttered absently.
A light tap sounded on the door, and Merci opened it. “Doctor, you have a call holding.” She ignored Cheryl completely.
Cheryl stood and tested her balance on the new splint.
“Thank you, Merci,” he said. “If you’ll wait a second, I’ll be done with this chart. Ms. Steele, these are your instructions for care of this splint. Oh, by the way,” he said, glancing at Cheryl, “I solved the mystery of why I thought I’d met you before.”
“You did?” Cold prickles of fear crept down Cheryl’s spine.
“Yes, you bear a striking resemblance to a patient I had—oh—it must have been about fifteen years ago.” He continued writing on her chart. “Such a beautiful, sad woman. I only saw her once.”
“And you remember her after all this time?” Merci asked.
“Yes. She came in with a broken wrist. From the type of fracture and other bruises, and after meeting her husband, I suspected that he might have done it. I never found out for sure. She died tragically in a car accident right after she left my office.”
Cheryl felt the blood drain from her face, and she groped behind her for the exam table.
“Her name was Mira Thatcher,” he added, snapping the chart shut. “I don’t suppose you could be related? The resemblance is remarkable.”
Cheryl gripped the edge of the table. He’d known her mother. He must have been one of the last people to see her alive. Dozens of questions poured through her mind. She wanted to ask him about everything that had happened that day. She looked up and met Merci’s speculative stare across the room.
“You mean that thieving Thatcher bunch?” Merci asked with a sneer, taking the chart he handed her.
Cheryl turned and reached, with a hand that wasn’t quite steady, for her purse on the chair against the wall.
Dr. Carlton said, “They’re not exactly the sort of relatives one would want to claim. They’re rather infamous, locally. Doris Thatcher still lives on the family ranch.”
“And you know she isn’t playing with a full deck,” Merci said. “She’s in this office every other week with some new complaint. The woman is a hypochondriac.”
“Merci,” the doctor chided. “We can’t talk about our patients in front of others. You know that.”
“Well, the whole family is a bunch of no-good thieves.”
The doctor scowled at her over the rim of his glasses. “They aren’t exactly the James Gang.”
“Close enough. Even the kids helped the old man steal cattle. My dad’s cousin was one of the deputies that arrested them. He said Hank and his son gave up easy enough, but the older girl lit out of the barn on a big, black horse before anyone could stop her. She ran down one of the deputies and nearly killed him. They chased her across country for more than five miles before her horse gave out.”
“What happened to them?” Cheryl asked, desperate to know if her whereabouts was common knowledge.
Dr. Carlton stroked his chin with one hand. “The father and son went to prison. I believe Hank died there. Liver cancer, if I remember right. The son got out about a year ago.”
Merci nodded. “He lives out with the old woman. Cattle still disappear around here. We know who’s responsible, but the sheriff says he can’t prove it. One of these days, Thatcher will slip up and go straight back to prison where he belongs.”
The doctor stuffed his pen in his pocket. “I don’t know what happened to the girls. Doris never mentions them.”
Merci’s eyes narrowed. “Are you okay, Ms. Steele? You look a bit pale.”
Cheryl forced a smile to her stiff lips. “I’m fine. At least you didn’t hang them. Isn’t that what they do to—what’s the term?”
“Rustlers,” Dr. Carlton supplied.
“Ah, yes.” Cheryl nodded.
He chuckled. “We don’t hang horse thieves or rustlers anymore, Miss Steele. Kansas has modern law enforcement, just like they do in New York.”
“Of course. I guess I’ve seen one too many movies.” Cheryl felt tiny droplets of sweat forming on her forehead. The air seemed thick and heavy, making it hard to breathe. She fought to remain calm. No one had forgotten or forgiven her and her family. She had been so foolish to stay.
She left the doctor’s office and crossed the parking lot to the pickup Sam had loaned her for the day just as Merci Slader caught up with her. “Ms. Steele, you forgot your instructions.”
Cheryl took the paper Merci held out. “Thank you.”
“I thought you’d be gone long before now.”
“Did you?” Cheryl struggled to keep her composure as she opened the truck door.
Merci’s hand shot out and grabbed the door. “I think we both know it’s time for you to move on. Sam and the girls don’t need the help of an outsider.”
Cheryl looked the woman in the eye. “I think that’s for Sam to decide, not you. I don’t like threats—of any kind. That includes the notes you’ve been sending me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to get back to the ranch.” She jerked the door out of Merci’s hand,
“You don’t belong here. I won’t stand by and watch Sam be hurt again.” With that, Merci spun on her heels and walked away.
Cheryl sank onto the truck seat, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. Merci was right. It was past time for her to leave. If Dr. Carlton had recognized her resemblance to her mother, then others could, too. She was risking everything she had worked for by staying.
In her head, she knew she should go, but in her heart, she longed to find a way to hold on to the first true taste of happiness she had ever known.
Sam and Walter stood in the barn, watching as Doc Wilson carried the tiny, spotted fawn in from his van. The vet settled the baby on a bed of thick straw and began showing the twins how to bottle-feed him. Sam and Walter stood outside the stall and watched as the girls made over their new pet.
Lindy grinned. “He’s so cute.”
“We’ll call him Bambi,” Kayla stated.
“Why does he have spots?”
“Won’t Bonkers love him?”
“Can he sleep in our room?”
“Please!” they pleaded together.
Bonkers stalked up to his competition with his tail stiff in the air. He stretched out his neck and sniffed at the fawn with obvious suspicion. The deer sneezed, and Bonkers jumped in fright. Everyone burst out laughing a
s the cat took off.
Doc slapped Sam’s shoulder. “He’s your problem now, Sam. If you need me for anything else, just call.”
The twins sat cross-legged in the straw and took turns holding the bottle as the fawn nursed eagerly.
“Can Bambi come in the house?” Lindy asked.
“No,” Sam stressed. “You aren’t to take him outside of this stall. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Lindy’s lips tightened briefly in a pout.
“What are you going to do with him when he gets too big for the stall?” Cheryl asked from behind them.
“I don’t have a clue.” Sam smiled at her, feeling foolishly happy. Whenever she was out of his sight, he worried that he’d seen the last of her. Whenever she was near him, he felt as happy and carefree as a kid again.
“If we bottle-raise him, he’ll be too tame to turn loose,” Walter said.
“Why don’t you see if the zoo in Wichita or Kansas City will take him?” she suggested.
“That’s a good idea,” Walter admitted.
She stepped inside the stall and knelt down. “He is an adorable baby, isn’t he?” she said, stroking his sleek head. “Won’t he be lonesome out here in the barn?”
The men glanced at each other and rolled their eyes.
“Speaking of babies,” Walter said. “What’s the latest on Becky?”
“Mom called today,” Sam said. “Becky is still on strict bed rest at home. Mom couldn’t give me any idea when she’ll be able to come home. It looks like she’ll be there until the baby’s born. It could be another month.”
“Poor Becky,” Walter said. “I’ll bet she’s ready to go nuts staying in bed while Eleanor runs her house.”
“I’ll bet she is, too,” Sam agreed. “Doc, I’ve got a mare who’s overdue. Can you take a look at her for me before you go?”
“Sure.”
“It’s Flying Lady’s first foal, and I’m a little worried.” Sam and Walter walked out of the barn with the young vet, and Cheryl stayed behind with the twins.
“What happened to Bambi’s mommy?” Kayla asked.
“She ran to safety when the pasture was burned,” Cheryl replied, petting the fawn’s head.
Balancing Act Page 14
