The Rancher's Secret Wife

One of the cars, a long sedan, pulled in behind hers. Reese’s grandmother stepped out of the car. She pulled on lace gloves and situated a white hat on her gray hair. She appeared to be a woman on a mission. And Cheyenne had a pretty good feeling that she was the mission.

Mrs. Cooper walked down the sidewalk and stopped when she reached Cheyenne.

“What in the name of all that is lovely are you doing sitting in front of this old shop?” Reese’s grandmother dusted off the bench and sat down.

Cheyenne shrugged a little and blinked fast, trying hard not to cry. “Coming up with a plan.”

“Well, if the bench works, so be it.”

Cheyenne glanced at the woman next to her. “How did you know where to find me?”

“I prayed and asked God to lead me. He said to try the old barbershop. Here I am.”

“God told you to find me here?” Cheyenne reached into her purse for a little package of crackers. She opened it and threw crumbs to the birds. “Really?”

The lady sitting next to her laughed...and laughed. Finally she wiped her eyes with a tissue she pulled from her pocket. “Land sakes, no. Before you start thinking I’m addled, I’ll tell you. I asked Trish at the convenience store. Trish is nosier than me, and she watched you head this way.”

Cheyenne smiled and shook her head. “I don’t think you’re addled.”

“Most folks do wonder.”

“Mrs. Cooper, I’m really very sorry about barging in and about Reese.”

“Call me Myrna. Everyone does. Or Miss Myrna if you insist. But that does make me feel like I’m still teaching school. And you didn’t do a thing wrong, coming to see Reese.”

“I should have waited—or called him.”

“Do you want to tell me what the story is between the two of you?”

“No, I’d rather not. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t mind. Young folks have a right to a few secrets. I’m guessing that isn’t his baby you’re carrying.”

“No, ma’am, it isn’t.”

They sat for a few minutes. Myrna reached for the package of crackers and broke off a piece. She tossed it. The birds flew at each other, fighting over the little piece of cracker.

“Well, is there a father?” Myrna pulled off her gloves and pushed them into her little purse.

“Not to speak of.” She shivered and looked away, at the golden sun peeking through dark green leaves of the trees in the lawn across from the shop. “Dawson seems like a good place to live.”

“It is. I think everyone should live in Dawson. But then, I guess it wouldn’t be Dawson if they did.” Myrna twisted to look at the building behind them. “What is it about this shop that interests you?”

Cheyenne looked back at the shop. “I’m a beautician. I thought that someday I might rent a place like this and open a salon.”

“In Dawson?” Myrna Cooper hummed for a minute. “Well, that’s something we could use. So why don’t you rent this building?”

Cheyenne stood because it was time to go. “I don’t have the money. If I leave my number with you, could you pass it on to Reese?”

“First, let’s take a look at this old barbershop. It was my uncle’s, you know.” Myrna reached in her purse and pulled out a key. “I happen to own it now.”

Myrna stuck the key in the door, jiggled the handle and then pushed it open. “It’s a mite musty after being closed up for the past couple of years.”

“I like the smell.” Cheyenne walked around the little rectangle building. It still had sinks, chairs—even a little room in the back and a bathroom. “But I can’t afford it.”

Myrna ignored her. She sat down in one of the plastic chairs near the window and smiled big. “I used to come in here with my daddy when I was a little girl. Back then Dawson had more to offer. We had a grocery store, a bank and a post office.”

“I bet it was a wonderful place to grow up.” Cheyenne smiled, but she had to sit down. Pain wrapped around her belly, and she breathed deep to get through it.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just a cramp.”

“You’re sure?”

She nodded and sat down in a chair near Myrna’s. “I’m sure. I have a couple of months to go before I’m due. These are just Braxton Hicks contractions.”

Myrna patted her leg. “Take the shop, Cheyenne. It’s yours. I’ll get the water turned on and the electricity.”

“I can’t. Myrna, I’m broke. Really, I can’t.”

Myrna Cooper stood and beckoned for Cheyenne to join her. “I’m going to help you do this. Young women should have dreams. They should have options. I don’t know your relationship with my grandson, but I know if he could, he’d be the one here helping you. Until he can, you’ve got me.”

“Oh, Myrna.” Cheyenne closed her eyes for a brief “pull it together” moment.

Myrna touched her arm. “Let’s go home. You can get a good night’s rest, and tomorrow I think things will look better.”

“‘Home’?”

Myrna pursed her lips and widened her eyes. “My house, young lady. That’s what I mean by home. Stay the night or a few nights with me. And then we’ll see what we can do with this old barbershop.”

Cheyenne considered saying no but her body ached. She was hungry and tired. To top it off, her car hadn’t been running right. For the last few hundred miles she’d worried she wouldn’t make it to Dawson. And where else could she go? Myrna Cooper seemed to be an answer to prayer.

After a few days of rest, things would look different. Maybe she could take Myrna up on her offer. This shop could be the place to start her new life. But how would Reese feel about her settling in his hometown? That hadn’t been part of their bargain. He had never counted on her in his life for good—not even as a neighbor.

* * *

Reese sat on the front steps of his parents’ home, letting Adam MacKenzie tell him what a great opportunity it would be for him to work at Camp Hope and how great it would be for the kids who attended. Reese held out his hand to the dog that brushed against him, licking his arm.

“Adam, I can barely help myself right now. I’m not sure how I could help kids who have been dealing with disabilities their entire lives. There are days that I’m pretty angry. I’m trying to be independent, but man, there are days. Try asking for help finding a pair of shoes. That’ll teach you what humility is. I’m a grown man, and I have to ask what shirt to wear.”

“Reese, you’re honest. That’s what these kids need, not someone who puts on a smile and pretends every day is perfect but someone genuine who can admit he gets angry.”

“I’m not sure. Not yet. When I can make it through a day on my own steam, maybe then. Right now I’m afraid the kids would be helping me more than I could help them.” He took the stick the dog pushed into his hand and gave it a fling.

“Reese, these kids are always teaching me something. That’s part of the joy in this camp—what it does not just for them, but for us.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Adam stood, touched his shoulder and walked away. “Pray about it.”

“Will do.”

Reese sat on the steps until he heard the car door close and the engine start. He waved and Adam honked. He stood and turned to go back inside the house. The dog returned with the stick. Reese took it one last time and gave it a toss.

“Hey, watch it.” His sister Heather let out a shriek. “I’m down here, you know.”

He laughed a little and stopped on the top step. “Sorry. And no, I didn’t know. Are you going to town by any chance?”

Heather joined him on the steps. “Yeah, actually. I had to drop some artwork off with Jackson, and now I’m heading back to town.”

Their older brother had gotten married while Reese was gone, and his new wife was redecorating.

“Yeah, but that would make more driving. You’d have to go in to Dawson, back out here and then home.”

“Yeah, horrible, it might add six miles to my trip. Reese, I can drive you to town. Where do you want to go?”

“Rumor has it that Gran has moved Cheyenne into the barbershop.”

“Not a rumor.”

He unfolded the white cane that hung from his wrist. “I need to find out what’s going on.”

“Okay, let’s go.” She touched his arm. “How do you know her?”

He walked next to her across the yard. “I met her in Vegas.”

The answer bugged him. She was more than someone he’d met. She deserved better than that. Unfortunately he didn’t quite know how to give her better. He was still working on that. The situation between them would have been easy if he hadn’t been injured, if she hadn’t shown up in Dawson. The arrangement they’d made had seemed pretty cut and dried, until now.

“She’s pretty.” Heather spoke softly.

“Yeah, she is.”

“She wears a wedding ring on a chain around her neck. Do you know her husband?”

The question dug for more answers. Rather than giving them, he opened the passenger door of Heather’s sedan. “I used to.”

The answer seemed to satisfy some of her curiosity. She got behind the wheel of the car, and they headed to town. Within feet of the driveway he was sorry he’d asked Heather for a ride. She was a challenge to ride with on a good day. When a guy couldn’t see what was coming at him, she was treacherous.

“Maybe slow down for the curves.” He reached for the handle above the door.

“I’m not that bad.”

Not bad, his foot. Heather’s driving encouraged quite a few “get me there safe” prayers.

She cleared her throat. “How’d rehab go yesterday?”

“I’m going to move back into the guesthouse.” He said it in an easy tone and then waited for his sister’s reaction.

It took a few minutes. “You what?”

“I’m moving back into the guesthouse.” A few years ago he’d moved into the apartment over the unattached garage next to the main house. Since he’d come home, he’d stayed with his parents. “I need my own space.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, I think it is. I can’t see, but I can still live my life. I’m going to start doing rehab and physical therapy here. They’ll help me organize, label everything and even teach me how to keep my clothes together so I know what I’m putting on.”

It didn’t come easy, listing everything he needed help with, everything he’d always taken for granted. Walk to the closet, pull out clothes. Walk to the kitchen, pour a glass of... He no longer knew what he was pouring in his glass, and he’d never been fond of surprises.

“The clothing part is good. I’m not sure who dressed you today but...”

She laughed and he smiled.

“Thanks, sis, you’re a help.”

“I aim to please.”

There were a few more minutes of silence and another sharp curve. “Do you mind stopping at the store? I’ve been given strict orders to get out more. Something about proving to myself that I can do these things on my own.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Heather said it as if there hadn’t been doubts. He’d had plenty.

“A few.” He leaned back and relaxed.

The car slowed, eased into a parking space, bumped the curb and stopped. He laughed because some things never changed. Their dad had been getting on her for that since she’d turned sixteen.

Heather’s hand touched his arm. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” He reached, found the door handle and pushed.

When he stepped out of the car, he breathed in familiar scents. Molasses-coated grain from the feed mill, Vera’s fried chicken at the Mad Cow Café and fertilizer on a nearby field. He stepped forward, white cane swinging and then hitting the curb. He stepped up, wondering where Heather had gone to.

He could hear hammering down the block and a truck leaving the feed store across the street. He turned, took a step and waited.

“You coming with me?” Heather finally spoke.

“Of course.” A grown man shouldn’t have so many hang-ups. He could walk into the convenience store and get something. Even if it was just a pack of gum, he could do this.

His therapist had told him he had to take these steps because the longer he hid at the ranch, the harder it would be to leave. So he walked down the sidewalk, his hand resting lightly on Heather’s arm for guidance.

“We’re at the door.” Heather had stopped.

“Okay. So the next step is in.” He wondered if she was as nervous as he was. He drifted back on the memory of Cheyenne in Vegas and standing next to her at the altar. They’d both had sweaty palms, and he’d felt her tremble.

He hadn’t thought about it much, but it took a lot of desperation for a person to hitch themself to another person that way. Maybe they’d both been a little desperate.

“Here we go.” Heather stepped away from him and pushed the door open.

“Right. Here we go.” Before stepping through the door, he had another question. “Is Trish in there?”

“Staring. About to head this way.”

“Point me in the right direction.”

She did, and he walked away from his sister because she would run interference with Trish. The cane swung, hit metal. He reached and touched the end of the rack. Candy. Mints. Gum. He’d been here enough times in his life that he knew what each aisle held—unless Trish had remodeled, and she never had before.

“Reese Cooper, how are you?” Trish called out from behind him, loud, as if it was his hearing that had been lost.

He considered shouting back. Instead he smiled, picked up a plastic container of mints and turned toward the counter. “I’m great, Trish. How are you?”

“Really good. And it is so good to see you out and about.” She continued to talk loud and clear.

“It’s good to be out.”

Trish pushed buttons on the cash register. “That’ll be a dollar.”

He pulled his wallet out of his pocket, felt the bills and handed the appropriate one to Trish. “One dollar.”

“Well, now that’s pretty amazing.” Trish spoke with such admiration he couldn’t be mad. “How’d you know this is a dollar?”

“It’s a new skill I’ve learned. Thanks, Trish.” He pocketed the mints and walked out of the store. Heather followed.

“Do you want to walk across the street or drive?” She pulled him to a stop. “We’re at the edge of the sidewalk.”

Reese nodded. “We can walk.”

He had to stop stalling and face Cheyenne.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

A car honked. He stepped back. Heather reached for his arm. She took a step forward, and he followed her lead.

“Okay, we’re across.” Heather stopped, and he stopped with her when the cane hit the curb.

“What’s all the hammering?”

“Roofers. Gran said this old building needed some help.”

“This has been going on for the past few days, and you all thought I wouldn’t find out? Because secrets are so easy to keep in Dawson.”

“A woman we don’t know, a pregnant woman, showed up in Dawson looking for you. That kind of puts us all on the defensive.”

“The baby isn’t mine, and she isn’t after anything.”

He loved it when the Coopers circled the wagons. But now wasn’t the time for wagons to be circled. True, he didn’t know Cheyenne much better than the rest of them, but he knew she wasn’t there to use him. He knew because he had come to know her through the letters she’d sent while he was in Afghanistan. He knew.

Heather sighed and stepped forward. “One step up and we’re on the sidewalk.”

“Trust me.” He leaned close to her. “I’m a big boy.”

“I know you are. But who is she to you? That’s all we really want to know.”

If he knew, he’d probably tell her. At the moment, he didn’t know who Cheyenne was to him. He knew what the paper said. He knew the plan, but somehow it had changed.

Reese reached, touched the door and turned toward his sister. “I can take it from here.”

“Reese, we’re trying to...”

“I’m good.” He pushed the door open and stepped inside. Heather didn’t follow him. He smiled, because he knew he could count on her. She’d give him time. She’d wait for him. He took cautious steps forward, the cane swinging right to left. It hit a chair. He stopped to listen.

Then he heard a thump against the back wall.

“Cheyenne?” He took more careful steps.

Silence—and then the hammering he’d heard from across the street. It echoed inside the building. At the back of the room he heard footsteps. He smiled and laughed a little.

“I know it’s you.”

“Okay, it’s me.” The voice, soft and tremulous, drew closer. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question. Funny thing, my family all seemed to know you were here. I’m the only one in the dark, so to speak.” He smiled and reached, finding a chair. He sat down. “I hope you don’t mind if I sit.”

“Go right ahead.”

“You’re still in town.” He folded the cane. “I thought you left.”

“I thought I would leave, but I didn’t have anywhere to go. I was sitting on the bench out front when your grandmother found me.”

“Be very careful of my grandmother. She loves matchmaking. It’s her gift.” He smiled and turned, trying to find her. She had moved. He heard soft footsteps getting closer.

“I’m not here to be matched to anyone. I’m here because I needed to know that you’re okay.”

“There’s more. I can hear it in your voice.”

“That’s your imagination.” She sat down next to him, lavender and vanilla. He leaned a little toward her because he couldn’t see her and he wanted some connection with her, some way to know she was there.

“No, it isn’t my imagination. I’m very good at voices. It’s because I can’t see. They say it enhances the other senses.”

“Really, and what does my voice tell you?”

“I hear strain. And you hesitate each time you tell me you’re fine. See. I’m very perceptive.”

“I’m not trying to hide anything from you. I just don’t want you to think that I came here expecting more from you than you’ve already given me.”

“I want to help if I can.” He reached for her hand.

“You’ve helped so much, Reese.” She squeezed his hand. “You don’t owe me anything else.”

He stood because she had. “I have to disagree, Cheyenne. I think I owe you for better or worse, in sickness and in health.”

“Those are vows for real couples who have real weddings. That isn’t your promise to me. Your promise to me was your last name and life insurance if something happened to you. Because of you I have insurance and I had money for school.”

“What do you know? Something did happen to me.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked, and he felt like the creep Heather sometimes said he’d become. “I’m sorry that something horrible happened to you. But I’m going to have a baby. I don’t have a family I can turn to. And I want to stay here.”

“Cheyenne, you don’t have to leave.” He reached, found her hand and pulled her close, but she wouldn’t step into his arms.

“I have to make a life for myself and my son. I want to be somewhere safe. I want a community. A neighborhood where kids play and ride bikes.”

“You’ll do great here.” He backed up a step and put the distance between them she seemed to want—

distance he probably needed. “Do you need anything?”

“No, nothing. I’m good.”

“If you do need help, let me know.”

“I’ll let you know.” She walked him to the door. “Reese, I can be here for you, too. If you need anything at all. Even if it’s just a friend.”

“Thank you.” He shrugged as he reached for the door. “I’m still trying to figure out how to take care of myself.”

“You’re doing better than you think.”

He smiled at her optimism. “That’s good to know.”

“Reese, about the annulment. We should get that taken care of.”

“Soon.”

As he walked out the door, Heather waited for him. He heard her move, felt her hand on his arm. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, thanks for waiting.”

“Watch out. This sidewalk is pretty broken up in places.” She placed his hand on her arm, and they walked in the direction of the main road. “Step down, and we’ll cross the street.”

“Gotcha.”

“Reese, do you want to talk?”

“Not yet, but thanks. I’ve got to figure this one out on my own.”

It wasn’t simple because he wasn’t the man he used to be. He definitely wasn’t the man Cheyenne needed in her life. Cheyenne needed and deserved a man who could take care of her. She deserved a real marriage.

The plan to dissolve their marriage had seemed easy back in Vegas. Now that he knew her, knew the food she loved most, the colors that made her happy, the music she listened to when she was down—all of the things she’d shared in her letters—it didn’t feel like an easy in-and-out plan.

Chapter Three

A few days after Reese’s visit, Cheyenne sat down in the barber chair and looked at the shop, at her dream. She smiled and rested her hands on her belly. She’d cleaned and polished, and the only thing left to do was paint. She would wait until she talked to a doctor before she undertook that task. She wanted to make sure it would be safe for the baby.

She eased out of the chair and headed for the back room. What had once been a storeroom was now her little apartment. It held a bed, a chair, dorm-sized fridge and microwave. She even had a tiny bathroom and a closet. It wasn’t much, but at least she had a place to stay, a place of her own.

The bell over the door jangled. Cheyenne stepped around the corner and peeked out. Heather Cooper stood at the front of the shop looking at the pictures on the wall. Cheyenne wiped her hands on her jeans and straightened her top. Those adjustments didn’t make her feel any more confident, not with Heather standing in the front of the little shop, looking completely together in linen capris and a pretty top of soft fabric in summery blues and greens.

Years ago Cheyenne had been a lot like Heather, before mistakes that turned her into a different person, someone she didn’t recognize. Living in Dawson, she thought maybe she’d find the old Cheyenne. The old Cheyenne knew how to smile and greet Heather.

“Heather, it’s good to see you.”

Heather turned from the photographs in black and white of customers who used to patronize the Dawson Barber Shop.

“The pictures bring back a lot of memories. I know most of those men.” Heather smiled and walked across the room. “How are you?”

“I’m good. Getting settled and trying to get work done so I can open soon.”

“What else do you have planned?”

Cheyenne looked around the barbershop, and she shrugged. The room was long and narrow. There were molded plastic chairs at the front of the building, midway back a counter with a couple of bar stools. The old barber chair sat between that and the back wall. Opposite the barber chair there were a couple of sinks for washing hair.

“Not much really. Maybe paint the walls.”

“What colors?” Heather walked around the room, as if it was a normal day, normal conversation.

Cheyenne stood in the center of the room and watched the other woman. It wasn’t a normal day. They weren’t friends, although Cheyenne wondered what that would be like, to have someone like Heather to talk to, to have coffee with.

Cheyenne shrugged in answer to the paint color question. “I don’t have a clue.”

“I’ll help if you’d like. And if you want my opinion, I think decorate with the photographs and the past in mind.”

“That’s a great idea. But I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Consider it my ‘welcome to Dawson’ gift.” Heather took a seat on one of the stools behind the counter, and Cheyenne knew this had nothing to do with the shop or welcoming her to Dawson.

“That would be a wonderful gift, but you don’t have to.” Cheyenne stood for an awkward moment, and then she sat next to Heather.

After a few minutes of silence Cheyenne shifted to face her guest. “Why are you really here?”

“Cheyenne, I want to know about you and my brother.”

Cheyenne breathed through a pain that wrapped around her middle, and she wanted so badly to tell Heather to leave, to let it go.

“I’m not going to give you information that Reese hasn’t given. This is between the two of us.”

And what would people think of her if they knew the deal she’d made with Reese Cooper? Would they be as welcoming as they’d been? Would Vera at the Mad Cow still welcome her with pie? Would Myrna Cooper ask her to leave?