Love Thine Enemy. Patricia Davids

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СКАЧАТЬ the thought. Seconds later, the gray shape of a rural mailbox loomed out of the snowy night.

      She braked, feeling the car slide on the slick road as she turned into the barely discernable country lane and stopped.

      At least the snow and the darkness hid the desolate landscape of the rolling Flint Hills from her sight. Only a dim gleam, from a porch light or perhaps a window, showed her where the old ranch house stood out on the prairie. She was home.

      No sense of nostalgia filled her—only bitterness—a bitterness buried so deep she hadn’t realized she still carried it until this moment. Staring at the flickering light in the distance, she suddenly understood why she had come.

      She hadn’t come because of Angie’s pleadings. She had come to prove that nothing remained of the frightened girl who had left so many years ago.

      “You can’t hurt me anymore!” She wanted to shout those words in the old woman’s face, but she didn’t move. Her fingers grew ice-cold where she gripped the wheel as the old shame and fears crawled back to replace her bravado.

      Coming here had been a mistake. She shifted the car into Reverse. She couldn’t change the past. No one could. Cheryl Thatcher had effectively buried that past. Cheryl Steele didn’t intend to resurrect it. Angie might believe in forgiveness, in healing old wounds, but Cheryl didn’t. There was no forgiveness in this bleak land.

      The tires whined as they spun in the snow, then suddenly they caught and the car lurched out of the lane and onto the pavement. Cheryl shifted into Drive, then stepped on the gas and didn’t look back as she headed down the winding two-lane highway that would take her away. This time, forever.

      Half an hour later, she raged at her own stupidity and bad luck. The snow came down faster and thicker with every mile. Her side trip had turned into a major mistake. A glance at the clock on her dash showed it was already half-past six. It would be close, but she could still make it. She had to. Her position was too important to risk by missing a performance. She would have to let Damon know she was running late. She dreaded placing the call. He wasn’t an easy man to deal with at the best of times. Reaching down, she fumbled in her purse for her cell phone.

      “Dumb cow,” Sam Hardin muttered under his breath. “I try to do you a favor and this is the thanks I get. You make me ride home in the dark.”

      He glanced across the corral to the long, low shed where his cattle huddled together out of the wind. One stubborn heifer had refused to join the herd and had kept Sam searching for her long after the others were rounded up. He swung the metal gate shut with a clang after she ambled through. Now all his expectant cows and those with newborn calves at their sides were safe from the approaching storm. He dismounted to make sure the gate was secure, then leaned his arms on the top panel.

      The truth was he didn’t mind the ride or the time alone. He didn’t have a reason to hurry home tonight. No one would be missing him. His grandfather might be up pretending to watch television while he dozed in his chair, but the twins were spending the night with Sam’s mother, and without the girls’ constant activity and chattering voices, the big house felt empty and lonely. As empty as his heart had felt since Natalie left him.

      Beside him, his bay gelding snorted and shook his head. Drops of melting snow flew from his long mane, and his bridle jingled faintly in the cold air. Sam left off his somber musing and gathered the reins as he cast a worried look at the sky.

      “I guess that stockman’s advisory is going to be right on the money, tonight, Dusty,” he said in disgust. “When was the last time it snowed like this in April?”

      Mounting, Sam turned his horse for home. It was dark and snowing heavily by the time he reached the main pasture gate. He dismounted, opened it and led Dusty out, then he stretched the barbed wire strands taut and lowered the wire hoop over the gatepost. He turned his coat collar up against the rising wind and settled his hat more firmly on his head.

      Remounting, he patted Dusty’s neck and spoke to the patient cow pony. “Only a little longer, fella. Then you can bed down in a warm stall with an extra ration of oats—you’ve earned it.”

      Dusty’s ears perked at the mention of oats, and Sam laughed softly as he set his horse into a trot along the wide shoulder of the highway and headed for the ranch house. Suddenly, the glare of headlights blinded him as a car sped out of the snowy night and came straight at him.

      At the last second, the car swerved, then pitched into a skid on the icy roadway. From the corner of his eye, Sam saw the vehicle fly past as his horse leapt sideways. It missed them by inches as it spun off the road, plunged down an embankment and slammed to a stop in a small group of trees.

      Sam reined in his terrified horse. It had been a close call—too close. The thought of his daughters losing another parent sent a chill up his spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. Thank You, dear Lord, for sparing me.

      With his heart still hammering wildly, Sam dismounted and stared at the car in the ditch. Please, let everyone be okay.

      He left his horse at the edge of the road and made his way down the steep slope to the wrecked car. His boots slipped in the wet snow, and he skidded the last few feet to the bottom. He saw the driver’s door was crushed against a cedar tree, so Sam made his way to the opposite side. What kind of idiot drove at such breakneck speed in this weather, anyway? He yanked open the passenger door and the dome light came on.

      The idiot was a woman. Her blond head rested against the high seat back with her pale face half turned toward him. A thin line of blood trickled from her left temple, slipped down the slender column of her throat and disappeared beneath the scooped neckline of her red sweater.

      Was she dead? The grim thought sent a curl of dread through him. He jerked off his gloves and leaned in to check for a pulse. He found one, strong and steady beneath his fingers. Relieved, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Her eyes fluttered opened, and she blinked in the light.

      “Lady, are you okay?” he asked, trying to sound calm.

      She lifted a shaky hand to her head. “I don’t think so.”

      Bitter-cold air swept around Sam and into the car as he held the door open. Her trembling was probably due to shock and not the freezing temperature, but he wasn’t helping. Easing onto the slanting front seat, he closed the door. The interior light shut off, and the only illumination came from the headlights reflecting off the snow outside. He began to unknot the bandanna at his throat. “Where are you hurt?”

      “I’m going to be so late,” she muttered and closed her eyes.

      Fright and cold made his fingers clumsy. With a jerk, the bandanna finally came loose. He pressed it to her bleeding temple. “Late for your own funeral, maybe. You’re crazy to be driving so fast in this weather.”

      She pushed his hand away and turned a fierce scowl in his direction. “I’m not the crazy one here! You were riding a horse in the middle of a highway—at night—in a snowstorm! Do you have a death wish?” she shouted, then winced.

      “Lady, I wasn’t in the middle of the highway. I was on the shoulder when you came barreling at me. The road curves here, but I guess you didn’t notice. You were over the center line and speeding toward the ditch. I just happened to be in your way.”

      She stared at him a long moment. “Oh.”

      “Yeah, oh!”

      “Well, СКАЧАТЬ