Cheyenne smiled at the elderly woman on the other side of the post office counter. “Here’s your change, Mrs. Hochstetler.” She dropped a few coins into the outstretched hand.
“Thank you, dear.” The thin lips curved into a smile, revealing straight dentures. Mrs. Hochstetler slowly turned, and the bell over the door jangled as she walked outside.
Glancing out into the customer area, Cheyenne noticed some crooked mailing boxes in the display. She walked around the counter, and the bell over the door rang again. A tall, middle-aged woman dressed in a yellow pantsuit walked in. Her short brown hair was smoothly styled, and Cheyenne gazed at her pretty face, thinking she looked familiar.
The woman stopped and put her hands on her hips. “Why, Cheyenne Wilkins!”
Cheyenne gasped. “Mrs. Oliver!” She reached out to give the woman a hug. “I almost didn’t recognize you with that different hairstyle.” Janet Oliver and her husband had been members of their church since Cheyenne was a little girl, and Janet had been a close friend with Cheyenne’s mom. But the couple moved away several years ago.
Janet hugged her then gripped Cheyenne’s forearms so she could look at her. “It is awesome to see you again! You look absolutely wonderful.” She shook her head. “I can see your mother in your face. You look just like her, and she was such a beautiful woman.”
“Thanks.” Cheyenne smiled. “It’s great to see you again, Mrs. Oliver.”
The bell jingled, and they both turned in time to see Agatha Collingsworth walk in.
“Why, Aggie!” Janet left Cheyenne to give her a hug. “Don’t you look good!”
“Oh my word!” Aggie hugged her back. “Janet Oliver! It’s been so long.”
Janet stood back. “It’s only been four years since we moved away. You’re still doing business at the Beauty Spot, I presume?”
Aggie nodded. “Yep, still at it. Why are you in town, Janet?”
“I’m moving back to Fort Lob.” Her light-brown eyes flitted over to Cheyenne, and she touched her arm. “Remember when you took piano lessons from me? Do you still play the piano?”
“Never.” Cheyenne laughed. “We still have the piano at our house, but no one has touched it for years.”
“That’s a shame.” Janet’s thin eyebrows dipped into a frown. “I’ll have to come by and tickle those ivories.”
Aggie perused Janet’s hairstyle. “Why are you moving back?”
“You probably heard that Fred died last year. My cousin, Adelaide, lives in Fort Lob, and we only have each other now. No one else in the whole world. So I thought I might as well move back.”
“Adelaide is your only relative?” Cheyenne couldn’t imagine that.
“The only one. Fred and I never had any children, and Adelaide’s husband and son died years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
Janet’s voice softened. “Thank you, dear.”
She turned back to talk to Aggie, and Cheyenne studied the woman. She was almost as tall as Cheyenne, but she certainly had a better figure. I am going to firm up this flab! Maybe a new wardrobe would be good, too.
If Janet Oliver could look like a million bucks, so could she.
Cheyenne glanced at the clock. Almost five. Janet and Aggie had stayed for an hour, but fortunately the post office had not had any customers while they were shooting the breeze. And we probably won’t have any more. She entered the back room and took the door key from the hook on the wall. Might as well lock up for the day.
The bell rang as the door opened.
Then again, maybe not.
She walked out from the back room. Carrying a medium-sized Priority mailing box, Derek Brandt approached the counter.
His eyes met hers, and her pulse quickened.
“Hi, Cheyenne.” He set the box on the counter. “Mom wants to mail this box to Grandma in Casper.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket.
“Do you need any insurance or delivery confirmation?” She lifted the box to the scale.
“Nah, just send it.”
She glanced at the readout. “That will be four dollars and eighty-three cents.”
Derek handed her a five-dollar bill. “Glad I made it to the post office. Wasn’t sure if you would still be open.”
She dropped the change in his hand. “I was just about to lock up when you—”
The bell jangled again. Cheyenne glanced at the door, and Derek turned his head. Rex Pierson walked inside. Cheyenne frowned. He had already come in this morning to check his post office box and stayed to talk to her between customers.
“Hey, neighbor!” Derek stuck out his hand as Rex strode to the counter.
Rex shook it. “Howdy, Brandt,” he drawled. “Good to see you.”
Cheyenne eyed the two men. They were the same height, so Rex must be six three, although Rex was thinner than Derek. And he looked a lot older. She listened as they talked for five minutes about a cattle auction next week. Finally she moved to the door, key in hand, and waited.
Derek glanced at her. “Guess it’s time to leave, Rex.” He winked at her as he walked to the door. “I think Cheyenne is giving us a subtle hint.”
Her heart fluttered at his wink. “Well … it is past five o’clock.”
Rex stepped toward the wall of post office boxes. “I need to check on my mail. See you around, Brandt.” He thrust a key in one of the boxes.
“Later, Rex.” Derek moved past Cheyenne as he exited. “Bye, Cheyenne.” He didn’t look back as he walked outside.
A cloud of disappointment hung over her as she turned and waited for Rex. Derek wasn’t paying her much attention. He must be serious about Kandi MacKinnon. Or maybe he was going back to his no-marriage-until-forty policy.
Well, no matter. She would move to Loveland and find someone else.
“No more mail.” Rex closed his box and turned the key.
Cheyenne grinned. “I could have told you that. Bernie and I fill the post office boxes every morning before we open. Once you get your mail for the day, that’s it. No more until tomorrow.”
Rex turned to her, and that slow smile curved his lips. “I knew that. Just waiting for Brandt to leave.” He frowned. “What’s his first name?”
“Derek.” Cheyenne bit her lower lip. Why was Rex hanging around?
“Oh yeah—Derek. And his dad’s name?”
“Jake.”
Rex nodded. “Derek and Jake. Good family. Mrs. Brandt made me a pie when I first moved in. Apple.”
Cheyenne smiled. “That was nice of her.”
“Yeah. I’m not much of a baker, so it was appreciated.” Rex cleared his throat. “Uh, Cheyenne, I was wondering … uh, if you’d like to go to supper with me tonight.”
Her lips parted. He’s asking me out?
She met his brown eyes and saw uncertainty there. It made her heart melt. She’d heard through the grapevine that Rex was a widower, and he must be lonely. “I’d love to eat with you.”
He visibly relaxed. “Great! Um, the Cattlemen’s Diner?”
The pros and cons of that eating establishment sprinted through her mind. It was close—a walk across the street—so she wouldn’t have to ride with him to a restaurant, but their dining experience would fuel local gossip. Certain people in Fort Lob would have her married to Rex Pierson by sunset.
But who cared what other people thought? She and Rex were just friends.
“The Cattlemen’s Diner is fine.” She turned and locked the door. “You can go out the back way with me.”
Together they walked outside and crossed the street. Rex held the door for her as they entered the restaurant. Within ten minutes they were seated across from each other in a booth by the front window, and Sara Stine, a high school senior, took their orders. Rex requested a steak with mashed potatoes. Cheyenne ordered fish with rice pilaf.
As Sara left, Cheyenne glanced around the busy restaurant. “I haven’t been to the Cattlemen’s Diner for years, but not much has changed.” In the corner, the jukebox crooned a
n oldie, and the sounds of clashing silverware and loud conversation filled the room.
Rex’s brown eyes met hers. “I’m starting to recognize a few faces. Seems like the same people eat in here every night.”
Cheyenne raised her eyebrows. “You eat here every evening?”
He nodded. “So far.”
Opening her mouth, she was about to issue him an invitation to eat at her house tomorrow night. But the way his eyes stared at her clamped her lips shut. For more than a week, he had talked to her every day at the post office, and now he had asked her out.
Most likely, Rex Pierson’s end goal was matrimony.
Cheyenne’s stomach clenched. She studied his tan, weathered face with new eyes, remembering that she had asked the Lord to send her a man. If she was going to inherit Grandmother’s fortune, she needed to get married—and soon.
Was Rex the one?
Obviously Derek was not interested in a relationship with her, especially with Kandi MacKinnon hanging around.
But did Cheyenne want to marry this old rancher?
I don’t have to decide that tonight. She would be a good friend to Rex—and see where their relationship led.
She took a deep breath. “Why did you move to Wyoming, Rex?”
“Always wanted to own a ranch.” He steepled his work-worn, knobby fingers in front of his face. “For years I worked for my brother on his ranch ’cause my wife wanted to live in town.” His eyes darted around the restaurant before reconnecting with hers. “When she passed on a couple years ago, I thought I’d see what ranches were for sale.” He shrugged. “Looked at ranches in four different states, finally settlin’ on the one here.”
With a smile, she nodded. “The old Dudley place. My mom and I visited Mr. and Mrs. Dudley several times when I was a girl. The house is quite small, as I remember.”
Folding his arms on the table, he leaned forward. “Just a little one-floor bungalow. I’d like to expand it after I get married. Might even have some kids someday. That’s why I’m looking to marry a younger woman. A good Christian woman.”
His eyes held hers, and his left eyebrow hiked up slightly, as if asking what she thought about that.
Cheyenne drew in a quick breath. Forget the local gossip! In Rex’s mind, they were already destined for the altar.
“This is our house right here.” Cheyenne pointed to the right, and Rex pulled his rattling truck into the driveway.
He glanced at the house. “Looks dark, except for the porch light.”
“Dad left that on for me. He’s probably in bed.”
It was Saturday night, and Rex had taken her to a movie in Lusk. Now it was after midnight, and Cheyenne felt a twinge of nerves clench her stomach. Would Rex kiss her good night?
Did she want him to?
On Thursday evening, after they’d eaten at the Cattlemen’s Diner, he had walked her back across the street to the post office parking lot, opened her car door for her, and wished her a pleasant evening. She thanked him for the dinner and drove away. But now …
Rex shifted the gears into PARK and switched off the key. With a shudder, the engine gave up the ghost. “I’ll get your door.” He exited the truck and walked around it.
As she waited, her mind replayed the evening. She could barely recall what the movie was about after Rex put his arm around her in the darkened theater. With slight pressure from his fingers, she moved closer to him until her head rested on his shoulder. After the movie, they got ice cream at the local Dairy Queen, sitting across from each other at a tiny two-person table. Rex leaned in as they ate, his eyes gazing into hers, his attention never waning. She gazed back, but nothing stirred inside her.
The truck door creaked open. “Let me help you down, Cheyenne.”
“Thanks.” She took his rough hand to climb out of the cab, and a soft breeze lifted her hair. “It’s a warm night.”
“Sure thing.” Rex didn’t let go, and they walked hand in hand toward the house.
Cheyenne felt the need to keep talking. “This is late for you, isn’t it? I’m sure you get up early every morning to take care of your animals.”
“Yeah.” His calloused fingers squeezed hers. “But I don’t need much sleep. Four or five hours will do me.”
“Really?” They crossed the porch to the front door. “I need at least seven.”
Rex dropped her hand and faced her. “Guess I’d better let you go then.” He smiled, and his eyes gleamed in the porch light.
Cheyenne’s stomach clenched a little tighter, and she took a small step back. “Thanks so much for taking me out, Rex. I had a nice time.”
“Me, too.” He opened his arms. “Let me hug you ‘fore I go.”
A hug. Okay, she could handle that.
Stepping into his embrace, she draped her arms around his thin frame. It wasn’t like hugging her dad, who was hefty, but Rex was closer to her dad’s age than he was to hers. Dad had just turned fifty-two. How old was Rex? Was he old enough to be her father?
After a prolonged squeeze, he stepped back. “ ‘Night, Cheyenne.”
“Good night.”
Opening the door of the house, she stepped inside and softly closed the door behind her. In the dark she waited until she heard Rex’s truck wheeze to life. He revved the engine a couple times, and she could just imagine how those fumes permeated the air. Then the gears shifted, and the vehicle rattled down the road, the sound becoming fainter until it was gone.
Cheyenne closed her eyes and leaned against the door. Lord, is Rex really the man You sent me?
With a sigh, she walked through the darkened living room and sank down to the sofa, not bothering to turn on the light. Her attraction to Rex Pierson was just as dark as the room. When he gazed into her eyes, there was no electric spark, no tingle, no jolt of awareness.
Nothing like the chemistry she had with Derek.
Why don’t I have any passion for Rex, Lord? Certainly the God who made her could change her desires so she would swoon in Rex Pierson’s presence.
But maybe this would be a different kind of romantic relationship—the kind where love sneaks in silently, after years of marriage, and one day she would wake up to discover that she loved her husband.
With a groan, she laid her head back on the sofa. “I don’t want that kind of marriage, Lord!” She had felt more passion for some of the boys she dated in college, even the ones she knew she would never marry.
Enough of this! Standing, she walked to her bedroom. She passed Dad’s bedroom and heard soft snoring. At least she hadn’t awoken him.
Closing her bedroom door, she flipped on the light switch, blinking in the brightness. Then she dropped to her knees beside her bed.
“Heavenly Father, all I can do is put this relationship in Your hands. I don’t know if Rex is the one for me or not, but he’s a good Christian man, and I’m willing to give him a chance.”
She still wanted Grandmother’s millions, but money was a poor substitute for love. The important thing was to marry the right man.
As soon as possible.
Chapter 9
On Sunday morning, Derek walked into the church auditorium after his Sunday school class. He couldn’t believe it was the third week of July already. It seemed the summer had just started, and now it was half-finished.
Time flies when you’re getting old.
As he ambled down the center aisle toward his usual spot, he glanced ahead and saw Cheyenne sitting with Rex Pierson in the third row. Rex had his arm draped on the pew behind her.
Derek stopped. What in the world?
Kandi MacKinnon stepped in front of him. “Hi, Derek.” She smiled.
It took him a moment to focus on her. “Oh hi, Kandi. We missed you in the Single Servings this morning. I’m glad you made it to church.”
She moved closer. “Grandpa wasn’t feeling well this morning so he decided to skip Sunday school. But after a while he felt better, and we decided to come. Can you sit with us?”
Amazi
ng—three sentences! “Uh …” He hesitated as musical laughter reached his ears, and he glanced toward Cheyenne. She was looking at Rex, an angelic smile on her pretty face. If he sat in his usual spot, he would be sitting right behind them. He turned to Kandi. “Sure, I’ll sit with you.” He followed her to a pew down front on the right—the opposite side from where Cheyenne and Rex were sitting.
Bruce MacKinnon stood to let them slide into the pew. He shook hands with Derek then sat down beside him.
Kandi smiled up at him. “I haven’t seen you since last Sunday. What have you been doing all week?”
“Just working on the ranch.” He leaned back in the pew. “Dad and I had to fix the fence. It took us two days to find the spot where wolves broke in. They killed fourteen sheep last Monday.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh?”
“It was just senseless killing.” He grit his teeth. “It still wrenches my heart out to think about those wolves killing poor defenseless ewes and lambs.”
Frowning, she looked down. “Oh.”
She must be all talked out. Derek turned to Bruce. “I hear you’re not feeling well.”
“It’s just my arthritis. Some days are—”
“Why, Bruce MacKinnon!”
The female voice caused both men to look up. A tall woman in a light-blue suit, whom Derek recognized as Janet Oliver, stood beside the pew and beamed down at Bruce.
“Well, my goodness!” Bruce jumped up and pumped her hand. He didn’t seem to have any trouble with his arthritis now. “So good to see you, Janet. Welcome back to Fort Lob.”
She laughed. “Thank you, Bruce. I feel like I’ve come home.”
Kandi leaned toward Derek. “Who’s that?”
“Janet Oliver—my sister’s piano teacher. She and her husband moved away a few years ago.”
“Oh.” Kandi gazed at her grandfather and Janet as they continued their animated conversation.
Derek lowered his voice. “She has an outgoing personality, as you can see, and she was always quite a showman on the piano.”
He turned back to watch, and Janet caught his eye. She leaned into the pew. “Now you look familiar.”
He stood and held out his hand. “Derek Brandt, Mrs. Oliver.”
Tumbleweed Weddings Page 37
