The Rancher's Secret Wife

by Brenda Minton

“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 m
yself.”

  “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?

  Sometimes she didn’t know what to think of herself.

  “I’m sure it is between the two of you.” Heather shook her head. “He’s my brother, and I don’t want him hurt.”

  “He isn’t going to be hurt.”

  Heather gave her a careful look and then she nodded.

  “When he’s around you, I see pieces of the old Reese. No matter what the situation is between the two of you, I think you’re good for him.”

  “I’m the last thing Reese needs in his life. He has a wonderful family, and he’s going to get through this.” Cheyenne rested her hand on her belly. “I’m here to start a life for my baby and myself. I’m here because Reese told me stories about this town, the people. That’s all, Heather. There’s nothing more between us.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” Heather hopped down from the stool. She grabbed her purse, and she smiled an easy smile. “I’m busy the next two days, but I’ll be back Thursday to help you. And if you’re interested in church, Dawson Community Church is at the edge of town.”

  “I’d love to go to church. But about the decorating—I really can’t afford to pay you.”

  “I’m not asking you to pay me.” Heather stopped at the door. “And if you need anything, let me know.”

  Cheyenne nodded and managed a smile. After watching Heather drive away, she went back to her room and sat on the edge of the bed. Another pain wrapped around her belly. She’d been having them all day, these pains. She’d timed them. They weren’t regular, but she still didn’t think it should happen this way, not this often or this soon.

  She should find an emergency room—alone. She closed her eyes and leaned back, giving herself a pep talk. She could do this. She didn’t have to call someone. She didn’t need anyone to hold her hand. In two months she would be a single mom with no one to call or lean on. She’d made the decision to have this baby, and she could do this.

  Alone.

  She closed her eyes and let one tear trickle down her cheek—only one. She wouldn’t let the rest squeeze out. She was done crying. She had a life to get hold of, a baby counting on her. She picked up her purse and left, locking the door of the shop behind her.

  Fifteen minutes later she pulled into the parking lot at the emergency room for the Grove hospital. She sat for a second, telling herself she’d been imagining the pains. But another hit as she sat there. She breathed through it and then got out of her car and headed toward the entrance of the E.R. As she walked through the double doors, a receptionist smiled a greeting. The woman, gray-haired and kind, told Cheyenne to take a seat and she’d get her information.

  Cheyenne pulled out her insurance card and driver’s license. She handed both through the window to the woman who took them, then looked at Cheyenne over wire-framed glasses.

  “You just moved to town?” The woman, her name tag said Alma Standish, asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You’ll need to find an obstetrician very soon. We have a couple here in town.” She peered at the insurance card and shook her head be
fore handing it back. “I’ll have our nurse get your vitals, and then we’ll get you right back to the E.R.”

  “Thank you.”

  As if on cue the door to the E.R. opened and a nurse peeked out. “I can take you back. We’ll get your blood pressure and temp.”

  Cheyenne picked up her purse, thanked Mrs. Standish and followed the nurse back to the E.R. The nurse, wearing blue scrubs with teddy bears, pulled a curtain and motioned Cheyenne into the small cubicle.

  “You can sit up here.” The nurse helped Cheyenne onto the exam table. “How many weeks?”

  “Thirty-two.”

  “Okay, has everything been normal up to this point?”

  Cheyenne nodded and held out her arm for the blood pressure cuff. The nurse listened, wrote down information and started to walk out of the room. The curtain slid back, and the doctor walked in, staring at the chart in his hands. He looked up, black wire-framed glasses on a straight nose. His dark hair was a little long.

  “Cheyenne Jones Cooper?” He read the name from the chart and then looked at her, clearly puzzled.

  The nurse shrugged when he looked at her.

  “Yes.” She cleared her throat at the weak answer and tried again. “Yes.”

  “You didn’t list a spouse. Is there someone we can call in case of emergency?”

  She shook her head. “No, not really. I’m fine, though.”

  “I’m the doctor. I’ll decide that.” He helped her lay back on the exam table. “Cheyenne, I think you should know that I’m Jesse Cooper.”

  She moved to sit back up. “I should go.”

  “Not so quick. We have an obstetrician who happens to be in the hospital. I’ve called her down to examine you. And now is there someone I should call?”

  “No, there’s no one.”

  “But you’re married to a Cooper?”

  “It isn’t...” She shook her head and blinked back tears.

  Jesse Alvarez Cooper pulled tissues from a box and handed them to her. “It’s okay.”

  But he didn’t sound as if it was okay. She remembered back all those months ago when Reese had told her about his family. Jesse had been adopted from South America. Reese called him overly serious and said he had no sense of humor.