Love Thine Enemy

by Patricia Davids

  “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 any more, 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. With a weary sigh, she bowed her head and sought help. God, if You’re listening to me, please show me what to do.

  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 as 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.

  “Why did she leave her baby behind?”

  “I think he was too little to run away, and she knew that we would take care of him.”

  “Will he miss her?” Lindy asked.

  Cheryl stroked his slender neck and watched him guzzle his milk as she pondered her answer. “He will, but not very much if you give him lots of love and attention.”

  Lindy smiled at Cheryl. “Like you give us?”

  “What?” Cheryl’s heart stumbled a beat as her glance flew to Lindy’s face.

  Kayla slipped her arms around Cheryl and laid her head against her side. “You give us lots of love—”

  “—like a real mommy does,” Lindy added.

  Kayla sighed wistfully, “I wish you could be our mommy.”

  “For real,” Lindy said.

  A lump rose in Cheryl’s throat. A longing she’d been unable to put into words swept over her. She stroked Kayla’s soft curls and bent to kiss the top of her head. “Darlings, that’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  The fawn finished his bottle, and Lindy turned to Cheryl.

  “So, why can’t you—”

  “—stay and be our mother?”

  Cheryl stared at their upturned, trusting face. “It’s so complicated.”

  “Don’t you like us?”

  Cheryl reached out and drew Lindy close. “Of course I do, it isn’t that.”

  “Is it ’cause you have to be a ballerina?” Kayla asked.

  “That’s part of the reason.”

  “Don’t ballerinas have kids?” Lindy looked at Cheryl with a puzzled frown.

  “Some of them do,” Cheryl admitted.

  “Then why can’t you be our mommy and a ballerina?” Kayla insisted. “You could go to work like Daddy does. Grandma would take care of us while you’re gone.”

  “Honey, it isn’t that easy.” She gazed at their eager faces. Their world was still so simple and so innocent. They would never know a brutal and unkind father because they had Sam. She had no way to make them understand what her life had been like—the shame and humiliation she had known for simply being who she was. The same shame and humiliation that waited for her now if her identity were discovered.

  She pulled the girls into a tight embrace. “I can’t stay. I wish I could, but I can’t. I love both of you very much. Always remember that. Promise me you’ll always remember that, no matter what anyone tells you.”

  “We promise,” Kayla said, and Lindy nodded.

  Sam watched Cheryl toy with her food at the supper table while the twins talked nonstop about their new pet. They finished the meal quickly and begged to be allowed to go back to the barn. A nod from him sent them running out the door.

  “You’re quiet tonight, New York. Is your foot bothering you? I noticed you got rid of your cast.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “It aches a little. This splint is lighter, and I can walk better, but it still leaves something to be desired as far as footwear goes.”

  “Oh, before I forget, you got a letter today.” He rose and searched through the stack of mail by the phone. “Here it is.”

  She stared at the long, white envelope for a moment, then took it and stuffed it in the pocket of her jeans.

  “Do you think you can ride in that splint?” Sam asked.

  “Ride?” She shot him a puzzled look.

  “I thought we might go for a ride tonight. The moon will be full. It might be fun to try it without the snow. What do you say?”

  Her eyes brightened and a smile curved her beautiful mouth. He’d never get tired of seeing her smile, he realized. The phone rang before she could answer him.

  “Hold that thought,” Sam said and answered the phone.

  “Hi, Sam.” The sound of Merci’s low voice purred in his ear.

  “Hi, Merci. What can I do for you?”

  “I was wondering if I could catch a ride to the school board meeting with you tonight? My car’s in the shop.”

  “Merci, I don’t think I can make it tonight.”

  “The bond issue is being voted on, Sam. You have to come. We need your support on this.”

  She was right. He couldn’t let his responsibility to the community slide because he wanted to go for a moonlight ride. “Okay, sure, I can give you a lift.”

  “If it’s not too much trouble, that would be wonderful.”

  Sam glanced at Cheryl. He’d much rather spend the evening with her, but he said, “It’s no trouble. I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”

  He hung up the phone and turned to Cheryl. “I’m sorry. I completely forgot about the school board meeting tonight. Maybe we can work in that ride after I get home?”

  “Sure.”

  The brightness left her eyes. She looked down and began to toy with her food again. For a minute, he was tempted to skip his meeting, but his sense of duty got the better of him. The bond issue was important to his children’s future.

  Cheryl watched Sam leave, then pulled her letter from her pocket and stared at it with dread. The phone rang again, but she let the machine pick up until the sound of a familiar voice made her grab the receiver.

  “Angie?” she asked in delight. “Oh, Angie, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

  “I just got your message, Cheryl. What’s going on? What are you doing in Council Grove? How bad are you hurt?”

  “One question at a time, sis. Where are you?”

  “San Francisco. We wanted to spend a few days here before we came back. If Jeff hadn’t called home to pick up his messages, I’d still be thinking you were dancing your way across the country. Why didn’t you call me? I left you the number of the hotel in Hawaii.”

  “And ruin your honeymoon? No
way.”

  “Well, thanks for that. But I can’t believe you stayed in Council Grove all this time. The sister I know would have crawled on her bloody hands and knees all the way to New York rather than spend one night in Morris County.”

  “Believe me, I wanted to, but twelve inches of snow nixed that idea. It’s a long story, but I ended up staying and playing nanny here on the Hardin ranch.”

  “Hardin? You don’t mean Ol’ Hard-as-Nails Hardin from school, do you?”

  Cheryl smiled at the once-popular nickname for Sam’s stern, no-nonsense mother. “Her son, actually.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding! And you as a nanny? I can’t believe that.”

  Cheryl couldn’t stop the wistful note in her voice. “It’s been wonderful.”

  “Wonderful?”

  “Yeah, wonderful.”

  “Oh, honey. You’ve got it bad.”

  Cheryl didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “I’ve got it bad. For a cowboy with a pair of five-year-old twin girls,” she admitted.

  “My big sister’s in love. It’s about time. And what does the cowboy think about it?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Doesn’t matter?” Angie exclaimed. “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? Oh, don’t tell me he’s married!”

  “No, of course not.”

  “So what’s the problem? There’s nothing wrong with cowboys or ready-made families.”

  “You know I can’t stay here.” Cheryl’s voice quivered. “I can’t face it all again. And besides, I have my career to think about.”

  “He doesn’t know who you are, does he?”

  “Does he know he’s been sheltering one of the ‘thieving Thatchers’? That he’s letting a reform-school grad babysit his kids? No, I haven’t told him. I’ve tried, but I can’t. I’m such a coward.”

  “No, you’re not. You are the bravest and best sister in the world.”

  “When will you be home?” Cheryl asked, determined to change the subject.

  “Early tomorrow afternoon.”

  Tomorrow. It would be her last day with Sam and the children. How would she bear it? Sighing, she asked, “Can you put me up for a few weeks?”