LITMIR.BIZ

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bad—feels the same.” She set her toast and knife down on the counter. “Your mother called this morning. Early.”

      “So?” Now he was confused.

      She arched an eyebrow. “Do strange women often answer your phone at 7:00 a.m. and tell your mother they’re still groggy from the drugs you gave them?”

      “You didn’t.”

      “I did. You have some explaining to do. She wants you to call her.”

      “I’m sorry if she embarrassed you. I’ll explain, don’t worry. She always calls to check on Gramps before we go out to do morning chores. Oh, I found these for you. They may be too tall. If they are, I can shorten them.” He handed her the crutches and started for the stairs

      When he came up half an hour later, she saw he wasn’t alone. An elderly man with snow-white hair and piercing dark eyes behind thick glasses accompanied him. His slightly stooped frame was clad in blue jeans, a plaid shirt and worn cowboy boots.

      She watched the older Hardin’s expression intently as Sam introduced them, expecting to be denounced on the spot.

      “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Walter Hardin said as he sank down on the sofa beside her. “Sam tells me you’re from New York City.”

      “I am.” Her knees went weak as she sensed a reprieve.

      “I took a trip to New York once. It was crowded, but folks were a lot nicer than I’d been led to expect.”

      She smiled, almost giddy with relief. She didn’t recognize Walter Hardin and saw little to indicate that he might recognize her. Maybe the trial of her father and brother hadn’t attracted as much attention as she imagined. Or maybe it had simply been so long ago that people had forgotten it.

      She said, “I called the Highway Patrol this morning. Everything south of I-70 and east of US 77 is closed.”

      “I figured as much,” Walter said. “Hope you don’t mind spending a little time with us.”

      “You and your grandson have been very kind, but I really need to get to Kansas City.”

      Sam took a seat across from them. “The snow has stopped, but until this wind lets up, the roads will drift shut as fast as the crews can open them. The forecast is calling for warmer temperatures tomorrow. It’ll melt fast once that happens.”

      She finally asked the question that had been burning on the tip of her tongue. “Will your mother be bringing your children home soon?” She had to be gone before Eleanor Hardin showed up.

      Sam shook his head. “No, they’re snowed in, too. The girls want to stay a few days, and Mom doesn’t mind. I’ll pick them up after we find a way to get you to Kansas City.”

      Cheryl relaxed. It seemed a little good luck had finally come her way.

      Walter pushed himself up from the sofa. “That coffee smells good. I think I’ll fix myself a cup. You want one, Sammy?”

      “Sure, Gramps.”

      As the elder Hardin made his way to the kitchen, Sam turned to Cheryl. “Do the crutches fit you?”

      “They’re too tall, Sammy. But the autograph is priceless.”

      “What?”

      “They’re signed, To Sammy, with all my love, Merci.”

      He chuckled and took the crutch from her to read the faded writing along the edge. “I’d forgotten about that. She said she didn’t want to sign my cast, she wanted to sign my crutches because then her name would be closer to my heart.”

      “How romantic.”

      He shook his head. “We were in high school.”

      “That must have been hard. With your mother as a teacher, I mean.”

      “Mom taught over in the next school district. Believe me, I think I would have transferred schools before I became one of her pupils. She was strict as they come. I hear they called her Hard-as-Nails Hardin over in Herington.”

      Cheryl bit her lip to keep from making a comment. The kids at school had called her that, and worse. “Tell me about your old flame.”

      “She’s a friend.”

      “‘With all my love?’ That’s more than friendly, Sammy.”

      “Okay, we were an item in high school. Now, we’re just—good friends.”

      By his hesitation, Cheryl wondered if the fires of this particular high-school flame weren’t entirely dead. “You still see each other?”

      “Occasionally. How much shorter do these need to be?”

      Cheryl remained curious about the woman who lingered in Sam’s affections, but let the subject drop. After he’d adjusted the crutches, she tried them out again. Swinging herself across the room, she said, “This is much better. Thank you.” Turning around, she headed toward the front door.

      “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.

      “To get my purse. I think I left it out in the entryway last night.”

      It was still lying on the bench where she had left it, but when she picked it up, she had an unpleasant surprise. It felt too light. A quick check showed her wallet was missing. She was on her knees looking under the bench when Sam came up behind her.

      “What’s wrong?” he asked.

      “My wallet is gone.”

      “Are you sure?”

      She rolled her eyes and gave him a don’t-be-stupid look. “Of course, I’m sure. It must have fallen out of my purse during the accident last night.” A sudden thought hit her, and she looked at him sharply. “Unless you have it.”

      He helped her to her feet. “Why would I take your wallet?” Clearly, he seemed puzzled by her accusation.

      To check up on me? To see if I’m really who I claim to be?

      Paranoia seemed to be leaking out her pores. If she wasn’t careful she would give him a reason to do just that. “I meant, maybe you found it and forgot to give it to me,” she finished lamely.

      “I haven’t seen it,” he said.

      She gave him a bright smile. “Then it’s still in my car.”

      “In this weather, it’ll be safe enough.”

      “True, but I’d feel better if I had it. My credit cards, checkbook, driver’s license, everything is in it.”

      “I have to ride out and check on some cows that are due to calve. I’ll look for it on my way home. Can I bring back anything else from your car?”

      She sat down on the bench. “If you think you could manage my suitcase, that would be great. So you really are a cattle rancher, not simply an architect who lives in the country?”

      “Yes, ma’am. You’re looking at the breeder of some of the finest Charolais cattle in the Midwest. That’s what I was doing out last night. Moving cattle into the barns. Most of the calves have already been born, but I still have a few cows that are due to calve soon. I didn’t want the little critters to be born out in a snowdrift.”

      Cheryl burst out laughing at the image.

      “What’s so funny?” he demanded.

      “That paints such a great picture. You trying to round up white cows and their little white calves in a snowstorm.” Her laughter died away when she saw the speculative look on his face. Suddenly, she knew she’d made a mistake.

      “How does a girl from New York City know what color Charolais cattle are?”

      She raised a hand to her temple to ease the sudden pain in her head. How could

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