Part 15 (1/2)

My G.o.d, he's going to throw the rock at me! Sam stumbled back. ”Run,” cried part of her brain, but she couldn't, not with her weak leg.

The redhead took another step closer and Sam inched away, her feet sliding on the loose gravel. A desperate bark from the other side of the fence stopped her cold.

Sam knew all about desperation.

Fighting to remember what it felt like to live without desperation, without fear, she pulled around her whatever shreds of courage she had left. She narrowed her eyes and glared at the teenagers. ”I'll also call Greg Clemons. He doesn't strike me as the type who'd appreciate two punks throwing rocks at his dog.”

The blond's face lost its grin. He grabbed his friend's arm. ”Come on, Teddy-”

”You dope,” the redhead exclaimed, shaking off the blond boy's hand. ”Now she knows my name.”

”The sheriff would've figured it out,” the blond muttered as he turned toward Sam. ”Look, lady,” he pleaded, ”don't turn us in, okay? We didn't hurt the dog-we only scared it.”

Teddy spun to face the blond. ”You are such a p.u.s.s.y. Even if she does call the sheriff and Greg, they're not going to do anything to us,” he scoffed.

The blond scuffed the toe of his dirty tennis shoe across the gravel. ”Maybe your folks won't, but mine will. And if Greg talks to my dad . . .” His voice trailed off as he shoved his hands in the back pockets of his frayed cutoffs. ”He's already told me that if I get into trouble one more time-”

He was interrupted by the door of the cabin slamming open. Greg Clemons stood, framed in the opening with his hands on his hips as he sized up the situation.

The boys froze.

”You little s.h.i.+ts,” he yelled, spying the rock in Teddy's hand. With two long strides, he was off the porch and headed toward the boys.

Teddy dropped the rock and, without a glance toward his friend, took off at a dead run into the woods. The blond sprinted with just as much speed in the opposite direction.

Greg caught Sam as her knees buckled.

Chapter Fourteen.

Anne jogged down the trail leading back to where she'd left Sam. The discussion with the plumber had taken longer than she'd expected, and she had a feeling Sam had freaked out while she was gone. She rounded the bend and stopped. There was the log, but no Sam.

Terrific. Now what did she do? Go back to the cabin? What if Sam hadn't gone back there? She'd have to admit to Jackson-who, after this morning, she confirmed, was a direct pipeline to Daddy Dearest-that she'd lost Sam. She was beginning to think all the remarks Sam had made about her family were true. Dr. Van Horn had appeared so charming during her interview with him, but as he nattered on with Fritz he'd come across as a first-cla.s.s a.s.shole. He hadn't even acknowledged the courage it took for Sam to brave going to the grocery store. All he seemed to care about was her new haircut. Brus.h.i.+ng a stray hair out of her face, she scanned the road. It was empty. She was getting canned for sure. She had to find Sam.

”d.a.m.n it,” she exclaimed, kicking a rock down the road.

With reluctance, she turned and started toward Sam's cabin. The sound of barking and a woman's laugh stopped her. Sam? Whirling, she took off at a run toward Greg's.

The sight she saw in Greg's small side yard stopped her dead. Sam sat in a lawn chair underneath a shade tree while Greg leaned nonchalantly against its trunk-both of them watching the dogs, Roxy and Molly, cavort around the yard. The expression Greg wore reminded Anne of a proud father witnessing his child's antics.

Rolling her eyes, Anne walked to the gate and, opening it, entered the yard. ”I told you to stay put,” she said, her words echoing her irritation.

”I-” Sam began, but Greg cut her off.

”It's good that she didn't, Anne. She rescued Roxy from Teddy Brighton.”

Anne's eyes flared. ”What?”

Sam gave her a shy nod. ”I don't know if I really rescued her-Greg was the one who ran them off.”

Greg laid a hand on Sam's shoulder, and Anne noticed that she didn't flinch. ”Teddy and Joey Wiggins were throwing rocks at her, but Sam stopped them long enough for me to get out here.”

”Where were you?”

He jerked his head toward the lake. ”Down at the dock. I'd gone down to check the moorings on my boat. I only intended to be gone a short time, but then Duane Parker came by with a stringer of fish.” He frowned. ”I shouldn't have left Roxy alone. I got back in time to see Sam squaring off with the two of them.”

”Have you called the Brightons and the Wigginses'?”

His frown deepened. ”Not yet, but I will. Joey's basically a good kid, but Teddy's a bad influence. And once Joey's dad finds out about this, I think Teddy's going to be looking for a new friend.” He gave a derisive snort. ”He was the last kid on the lake whose parents would allow him to hang out with Teddy.”

Anne walked to a lawn chair next to Sam's and sat. ”Caleb said Teddy had friends from the Cities with him.”

”Humph, not anymore,” Greg said. ”They got caught buzzing the loons' nesting area with their Jet Skis, and Irene sent his friends packing.” He picked up a ball and tossed it to Molly. ”I suppose now he's bored and looking for trouble.”

Anne thought of her suspicions regarding Teddy. No friends, left to find ways to amuse himself-yup, in that kid's mind, wandering around the lake at night, stirring up trouble would be a great idea. She decided not to mention her conjectures to Greg. He was p.i.s.sed, and she knew he'd be giving Irene an earful about her grandson's behavior. If they were lucky, she'd send Teddy packing, too.

Roxy, tired of no longer being the center of attention, grabbed a ball and shoved it on Sam's lap. Backing up, she stood perfectly still, waiting. Only her eyes moved-first to the ball, then to Sam's face.

With a laugh, Sam took the ball and held it high. ”Oh, so you want this, do you?”

Excited, Roxy began to dance in circles.

With another laugh, Sam threw the ball, and Roxy flew after it, her back paws throwing gra.s.s in the air. Catching it midair, she trotted back to Sam and, with a sigh, plopped down on Sam's feet. Sam bent and scratched her ears, earning her a look of pure adoration from the dog.

Watching Roxy and Sam play, Greg suddenly gave a wide grin. ”I think Sam should adopt Roxy.”

”Huh?” Anne's head whipped toward him.

From what she'd learned about Samantha Moore, Sam's life was all about her work. Not the best candidate for a dog owner.

Greg read the disbelief on her face. ”Oh, come on, Anne, you've used my dogs in your therapy before.”

”Yeah,” she spluttered, ”to help with the patient's exercises. No one has ever adopted one.”

Anne looked over at Sam petting Roxy. Her face held a slight smile as she stroked the dog's head, and her body, normally tight with tension whenever she was outside the safety of her cabin, was relaxed.

”What do you think, Sam?” Anne asked.

”I've never had a pet,” Sam said, straightening. ”It might be fun.” She glanced down at Roxy, lying at her feet. ”She's had it tough . . . I think I can give her a good home.”

”What would you do with her once you return to the city? You live in an apartment, don't you?”

”Yes, but I'll be moving into Jackson's family home. It's big and in a wooded area. There'd be plenty of room for her to run around.”

”What about Jackson? How will he feel about you adopting her?”

Sam shrugged as if it didn't matter. ”He likes dogs,” she said, reaching down and patting Roxy's head. At Sam's touch, the dog rolled over on her back for a tummy scratch. Laughing, Sam gave her what she wanted.