Tumbleweed Weddings

by Donna Robinson

  “That’s the problem. I talked to my dad this morning, and Derek is sick, too. It was those cannoli. They must have been spoiled.”

  “Oh no.” Cheyenne sank down to her bed, and Marshal laid his head in her lap. She stroked his tan fur. “What can I do to help?”

  “Lane could use some ginger ale, but your dad’s store is closed today. Could you possibly go over and get me a can? I’ll pay him tomorrow.”

  “Don’t worry about paying. I’ll get a two-liter bottle for you.” Cheyenne stood and grabbed her purse. “In fact, I’ll give one to your dad for Derek.”

  “That would be great. Thanks, Chey.”

  They said their good-byes, and Cheyenne locked up the house, leaving Marshal inside. She walked back to the detached one-car garage. Dad let her park in the garage since her car, an olive-green Dodge Dart, needed to be babied. It broke down at least once every six months, but she’d bought it secondhand in high school and couldn’t imagine getting rid of her classic antique.

  After picking up two bottles of ginger ale at Wilkins Grocery and dropping off one at Callie’s house, Cheyenne drove to the Brandt home and knocked on the back door.

  Jake opened it. “Hi, Cheyenne.” He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses as he stepped back. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.” With a smile, she followed him through the mudroom. He was tall but not big like her dad, and he looked dignified in his Sunday suit.

  Cheyenne stepped into the kitchen. “I got a call from Callie this morning. She said Lane and Derek are both sick.” She held up the bottle of ginger ale. “I thought this might help Derek.”

  “Callie called me, too.” Jake lifted a large black Bible from the kitchen table. “Derek wants me to teach his Sunday school class. Since Yvette’s in Casper this week, I’m glad you came by.” He took a set of keys from his pocket. “Would you mind staying? I really don’t want to leave Derek alone all morning.”

  Cheyenne’s lips parted before a thrill buzzed through her. “Sure! I’d love to stay and help Derek out if he needs anything.”

  “That’s great!” Jake motioned toward the living room. “He’s out there on the sofa. Don’t know if he’ll want any ginger ale, but you can ask.” He walked to the door. “I appreciate it, Cheyenne. See you later.” He entered the mudroom, closing the door firmly behind him.

  She grinned, reveling in the turn of events. Thank You, Lord! Maybe God let Derek get sick so they could spend another day together. Perhaps she could meet the conditions of Grandmother’s will sooner than she thought.

  Opening the ginger ale bottle, she poured some into a glass and added ice from the freezer. Then she walked through the dining room and into the living room. Derek lay on the sofa, dressed in sweatpants and a blue T-shirt. Dark circles rested under his closed eyes, and his face looked pale—except for the dark stubble on his jaw.

  “Derek?”

  His eyes opened and focused on her face. Her heart fluttered.

  “Oh, Cheyenne,” he murmured. “Why are you over here?”

  “Callie told me you were sick.” She held up the glass. “I brought you some ginger ale.”

  He moaned. “No thanks.” Closing his eyes, he tightened his arms around his stomach. “I’ll be okay.”

  Cheyenne set the glass on the end table. “Your dad asked me to stay with you this morning. I hope you don’t mind.” She held her breath, hoping he wouldn’t tell her to leave.

  “Yeah, whatever.” He shivered.

  “Are you cold?” Leaning over him, she placed her palm on his forehead. His skin wasn’t burning, but it was warm. “You might have a fever. I’ll get you a blanket.”

  She ran upstairs to the second floor, knowing she’d find extra bedding stashed in the hall linen closet. Pulling out a soft yellow blanket, she headed back downstairs. She covered Derek with the blanket and tucked it around his shoulders.

  “That’s better,” he murmured. “Thanks.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want some ginger ale?”

  He screwed up his face. “Won’t be able to keep it down. I found out at breakfast this morning—must have thrown up the last three days’ worth of food in ten minutes.”

  “Oh.” His words made Cheyenne a bit queasy herself. “I’m sorry those cannoli were spoiled.”

  “Yeah. They tasted a little strange, so I only ate one.” Derek closed his eyes. “Good thing.”

  “Why don’t you rest, Derek? I’ll be out in the kitchen if you need me.”

  “Okay, thanks.” He closed his eyes, his dark eyelashes lowering on his pale cheeks.

  Cheyenne gazed at his handsome face. The day’s growth of beard made him look like a pirate. With a wistful sigh, she turned toward the kitchen.

  “Cheyenne?”

  At Derek’s voice, she jumped up from the kitchen table. She had spent the past hour looking through Yvette’s cookbooks and had decided to test a soup recipe. Turning to the stove, she lowered the burner before walking into the living room. Derek still lay on the sofa, but the color had returned to his face. “Do you need something?”

  “Since we’re missing church today, I wondered if you could read some scripture to me.”

  “I’d love to, but I left my Bible in the car.” She glanced around. “Where’s yours, Derek?”

  “Upstairs. Next to my bed.”

  Again she climbed the stairway to the second floor, puffing a little as she reached the top. I’m going to get rid of these extra twenty pounds!

  She walked down the hallway, knowing exactly where Derek’s room was. He used to share it with his older brother until Ryan got married and moved to Denver. Both single beds were neatly made with navy comforters. A brown leather Bible sat on the nightstand. She picked it up, then took a moment to breathe in his scent. This was Derek’s domain—a masculine room with a braided gray rug on the polished wood floor and an oak dresser between the windows. She glanced outside, catching a glimpse of the backyard that ended at the white barn. Beyond that was nothing but open fields. In the distance, a flock of sheep dotted the hillside.

  Walking downstairs, she mentally compared all the acreage the Brandt family owned with the small parcel of land her dad had in town. Hundreds of houses like theirs could fit on the Brandts’ property. But if she inherited Grandmother’s money, she would share it with Dad. He had always wanted to have a bigger house on a couple acres of land.

  She pulled a dining room chair near the sofa, sat down, and opened the Bible. “What do you want me to read?”

  Derek’s eyes opened to slits. “Psalm 23. ‘The Lord is my shepherd.’ Isn’t that what you read when someone is dying?”

  Cheyenne raised her eyebrows. “You’re not that bad, are you?”

  He rewarded her with a lazy grin. “Just kidding.”

  With a smile, she shook her head. Leave it to Derek to tease her, even when he was sick. “So do you want me to read the twenty-third Psalm, or do you have something else in mind?”

  “Read John chapter 10.”

  Cheyenne turned the thin pages to the New Testament. “This is a shepherd passage, too.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a shepherd.” He cracked another smile.

  Cheyenne’s heart swelled. She loved being with Derek, talking to him, getting teased by him. “You must be feeling better.”

  He nodded. “I feel a lot better than I did this morning.”

  “Good.” Looking down, she began reading. When she finished, she and Derek discussed the chapter for a few minutes.

  He motioned toward the Bible. “Read verse 10 again.”

  She found the place. “ ‘The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.’ ”

  He gave her a weak smile. “Love that verse—my favorite in the whole book.” He stared at the ceiling. “The abundant life. That’s a great concept—what Jesus wants to give Christians in this life, but so many want to go their own way.”

  “T
hat’s true.” Cheyenne chewed on her lower lip. He’s so godly, Lord!

  “The Bible says if we abide in Christ and keep God’s commandments, He’ll bless us. He’ll give us exceeding abundantly above all we can ask or think.” He grinned. “That was your Sunday-morning sermon, Miss Wilkins, and I’m sure it blessed your heart beyond measure.”

  She laughed. “It certainly did.”

  “Kind of basic, actually.” Derek sat up and sniffed. “What’s that wonderful smell?”

  “I made you some soup. It’s simmering on the stove right now.” She raised her eyebrows. “Are you ready to eat? It might make you feel better.”

  Derek’s stomach felt empty. “That would be great, Cheyenne.” Throwing the blanket aside, he stood and wobbled a moment. He rubbed his chin, hoping she wouldn’t notice how weak he was. “I should make a pit stop in the bathroom first. I probably look like three-day pond scum.”

  She laughed. “No you don’t. You look … good.”

  “Only good?” He grinned at her.

  “Well … I was going to say ‘handsome,’ but you always look handsome.”

  He folded his arms. “Are you trying to flirt with me?”

  “Maybe.” Giving him a wink, she turned toward the kitchen.

  Derek watched her go. For the first time, he noticed that she was dressed for church, and her black skirt swished as she walked away. He’d always liked hanging around with Cheyenne, and he loved to tease her, but he had to be careful. There was a fine line between teasing and flirting, and she seemed to want to cross it. He couldn’t do that. He had to remain single—single for the Lord’s work. Wasn’t that God’s will for him?

  When he emerged from the bathroom, the smell of the soup drew him into the kitchen. He took a seat at the table.

  Cheyenne turned from the stove. “How do you feel—now that you’re up?” “Hungry.” He smiled at her. “What’s for lunch?”

  “Chicken noodle soup.” Picking up a large spoon, she stirred it around in a pan. “I found some carrots and celery in the fridge, a package of egg noodles, and some chicken in the freezer.” She turned to him. “I hope your mom doesn’t mind if I used the chicken. She might have been saving it for something.”

  “She won’t care.” Cheyenne was making homemade soup? For him? He would have just opened a can and heated it up. As Derek watched her ladle the soup into two bowls, it struck him that Cheyenne had a servant’s heart. “Hey, um, thanks for coming over and taking care of me. I really appreciate it.”

  “It was your dad’s idea, but I didn’t mind helping out.” Setting the bowls and two spoons on the table, she took a seat across from him. “I didn’t have anything to do at church this morning besides warm the pew. Sometimes I work in the nursery, but I wasn’t on the schedule today.”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You ended up taking care of a big baby anyway.”

  She laughed, a musical sound he enjoyed hearing. “Oh Derek, you’re not hard to care for at all.” Folding her hands, she raised her eyebrows at him. “Would you ask the blessing?”

  “Sure.” He bowed his head. “Father in heaven, thank You for providing all our needs, especially for healing me. Thank You for this good soup Cheyenne made. Bless her for coming over to help me. In Jesus’ name. Amen.”

  Cheyenne tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear as she took a napkin from the holder on the table. Derek watched her. He had always liked that little trait she had—tucking her hair behind her ear. He lifted a spoonful of soup to his lips. The warm liquid felt good as he swallowed. “Hmm, this is great.”

  “Glad you like it.” She took a sip.

  “I hate missing church.” Derek stirred his soup then lifted the spoon for another bite. “It doesn’t seem like Sunday morning if I’m not teaching Sunday school.”

  “I’m sure your dad’s doing a fine job.” Cheyenne glanced at her watch. “Of course Sunday school’s been over for an hour or so.”

  “True.” Derek swallowed another spoonful before he spoke. “I hope Dad didn’t forget to announce our bowling activity in two weeks, although he must not have had many students. Tonya and Murray are out of the picture now.”

  Cheyenne smiled, creasing her dimples. “And you and I weren’t there either.”

  He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Makes me wonder what people thought. They might start a rumor that we ran away together.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Derek frowned. Why did I say that? He didn’t want to give her any ideas.

  But it was too late.

  Cheyenne laughed. “Yeah! Let’s run away! We’ll give the ladies in this town some fuel for their gossip.”

  Derek didn’t share her smile. “I was just kidding.” He took another bite.

  “I’m sorry.” Cheyenne’s smile lingered as she stirred her soup. “I guess we shouldn’t give people things to gossip about. That’s just wrong.”

  Despite his concern about her flirting, Derek grinned. Some girls were hard to talk to, but not Cheyenne.

  Being with her was like putting on a pair of comfortable old shoes.

  Chapter 4

  Almost two weeks later, Cheyenne drove up Highway 270 on her way back from Lusk. She had just finished her Thursday class, and tomorrow evening would be the last one. For the past week and a half, she had attended a class on the art of applying makeup, something she had always wanted to learn. Tomorrow evening was her test—applying makeup to another person’s face.

  The engine of her Dodge gave a sudden cough, and the front end rattled and shook violently.

  “Oh no!” Cheyenne let up on the gas. With a wheeze, the engine died. Her shoulders slumped as she pulled over, letting the car roll to the side of the road. Getting out, she lifted the hood. Steam poured from the engine, and she jumped back.

  “Oh great!” She really should invest in a new car, but her Dart was a familiar old friend. Emphasis on old.

  Leaning against the side of the car, she folded her arms. The sun had already set over the Laramie Mountains, and her cell phone was useless out here in the boonies. The highway stretched out on either side of her, deserted, not a vehicle in sight.

  Maybe Murray Twichell would drive by in his patrol car. This road was part of his section for the Wyoming Highway Patrol, and he and Tonya were back from their honeymoon in Hawaii. In fact Cheyenne had asked Tonya to come to her class tomorrow night for the makeup demonstration. The new bride had agreed to be her model, and Cheyenne couldn’t have asked for a prettier face.

  She glanced up and down the road again. Nothing. She looked up to the darkening sky. “Lord, help!”

  Maybe she should try to start the car. The steam was gone, so perhaps the engine would start up. She got in and turned the key.

  The engine started then sputtered and died.

  Cheyenne dropped her head on the steering wheel. Would she be here all night? Lord, please send someone!

  A few minutes later, she heard the hum of a vehicle approaching. Praise God! She jumped out of the car and waved her arms at the two headlights, hoping it wasn’t a serial killer.

  A red pickup truck slowed down, pulled behind her car, and stopped.

  The headlights glared in her eyes as she ran back to the truck. Myriads of people in Wyoming drove pickup trucks. Hopefully this person lived in Fort Lob, someone she knew.

  The driver’s door opened, and Derek Brandt stepped down from the cab. Wearing a Western shirt, jeans, and a white cowboy hat, he looked like an authentic cowboy. “Hi, Cheyenne. Need help?”

  Relief poured through her, and she hadn’t realized until that moment how tense she was. “Oh Derek, am I glad to see you!” She laughed. If she had to be stranded, at least she was rescued by the most handsome man in the West. “My car died. Could you give me a lift into town?”

  “Sure.” He pulled a flashlight from under his front seat, then walked around to the front of her car. “What’s wrong with it?” He leaned over to peer down, shining the light on different parts of the engine.
>
  “A lot of steam poured out when I opened the hood.” Standing beside him, a quiet peace filled her. Thank You, Lord, for sending Derek!

  “Must be the radiator.” He straightened and snapped off the light. “Guess you’ll need to be towed.”

  “Could you tow my car, Derek?”

  He tapped the flashlight in his palm. “I would, but I lent my chains to Miguel, one of our hired hands. Call Tom Shoemacher when you get home. He’ll tow it to his garage.” Derek walked back to his truck and motioned for her to follow. “Hop in.”

  Cheyenne grabbed her purse and notebook from her car, then got in on the passenger side of his pickup. “Thanks for the lift.” She closed the door.

  “Not a problem. Why were you way out here tonight?”

  She settled on the seat as he pulled around her car and headed down the road. “I’m taking a class in Lusk.”

  Derek frowned. “What for?”

  “Well …” How could she tell Derek she was trying to learn beauty tips to go along with her weight-loss program? “I’m learning the art of applying makeup.” Stopping, she pressed her lips together. I’m doing this for you, mister!

  His eyes roved her face before his gaze caught hers. For a brief moment, a sudden chemistry arced between them.

  Clearing his throat, Derek looked back at the road. “Your makeup looks good enough to me.”

  “See? I’m doing it right.”

  He chuckled.

  She sank back against the seat. What did that look mean? A touch of nerves hit her stomach. Here they were, alone in Derek’s truck, but he didn’t seem to want to deepen their friendship. A tiny sigh escaped her lips. “Tomorrow evening is my makeup test, and Tonya agreed to be my model, although she said she might be late.”

  “How are you gonna get there? I doubt if Tom will have your car fixed by tomorrow night.”

  “Oh.” Cheyenne bit her lower lip. She hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe I can borrow my dad’s car if he doesn’t mind being stranded at the store all evening.”

  “Hey, no worries. I’ll drive you to Lusk.”