The Rancher's Secret Wife

by Brenda Minton

  That came out of left field. “Mom, it’s a marriage in name only.”

  “Is it, Reese? Because I think you took vows even if you didn’t mean them. Even if you were thinking temporary, maybe God had another plan in mind.”

  “I can barely take care of myself. I’m pretty sure I can’t take care of a wife and child.”

  “Now what?” His dad approached, leaning against the counter next to him.

  “I’m not really sure. I didn’t have this part planned out. There were no contingency plans. It was either I don’t come home and she gets the life insurance or I come home and we get an annulment. End of story.”

  “Nothing is ever as simple as we think it will be.” His dad patted him on the back. “I know you’ll do the right thing.”

  He nodded and left the room. For now the only right thing he knew was that Cheyenne needed time and he needed space. He walked out the back door and across the yard to the garage and his apartment.

  Chapter Six

  What in the world? Cheyenne ran to the window of her shop and looked out. It had been a peaceful Tuesday morning in Dawson when out of the blue she’d heard screeching tires and honking from several directions. Glancing toward the intersection, she saw the problem. A car in the middle of the road turned cockeyed like the driver had decided at the last minute to make a turn.

  Cheyenne shook her head when she recognized the car. She grabbed her phone and her purse and hurried out the door and down the sidewalk. Myrna, tall and elegant, stood next to her car giving the other driver a tongue-lashing. When she saw Cheyenne, she smiled a little and leaned against the car as if the fight had suddenly gone out of her.

  “Myrna, are you okay?” Cheyenne took hold of the older woman’s arm and eased her into the car. “Here, sit down.”

  “I’m fine, really.” She leaned a little and put her hand up to whisper, “Always play on their sympathy.”

  “I see.” Cheyenne managed to not smile as she stood and turned toward the man walking toward them, weaving between the cars. His eyes had narrowed and he studied Myrna.

  “Is she okay?” He shot a look from Cheyenne back to Myrna. “Myrna, you all right?”

  “I do feel a little faint, Larry.”

  “You almost sent us both to the hospital.” He shook his head and exhaled loud and long. “What were you thinking?”

  “Well, Larry, I guess I wasn’t. I’m old, you know.”

  Larry laughed a loud, barking laugh. “Myrna, that ain’t gonna work with me.”

  “Was there any damage?” Cheyenne asked the other driver, a farmer in work jeans and a faded button-up shirt.

  “No, but someone needs to call Tim Cooper and tell him to get that woman off the road.”

  “I’m not that woman, Larry. You know my name. I ran you out of my garden when you were knee high to a grasshopper. I’ll take a switch to your backside right now if you don’t run too fast.”

  Larry grinned a little and shifted the toothpick sticking out of the corner of his mouth. “She decided to turn at the last minute. I didn’t hit her, but I came pretty d—”

  “Don’t you use that language around a young lady!” Myrna shouted. “That’s my granddaughter you’re talking to.”

  Larry gave Cheyenne a careful look, and Cheyenne shot a look in Myrna’s direction. “I’m not her granddaughter.”

  “Close enough.” Myrna sighed and settled herself back into the driver’s seat. “Let me get this car out of the road before people start talking and saying I’ve lost my mind.”

  Larry shook his head and backed up a few steps. “Take it home and park it, Myrna.”

  “I’ll do what I please, Larry.”

  “I’ll drive you, Myrna.” Cheyenne waited, and Myrna slid to the passenger side, allowing Cheyenne to get behind the wheel.

  She glanced in each direction and pulled across the street and down the road to the barbershop, now the Dawson Barber Shop and Salon. She pulled next to the curb, the passenger side close to the door.

  “I love the new sign.” Myrna nodded in the direction of the window. “Dawson Barber Shop and Salon. Very nice way to keep tradition. Thank you for that.”

  “Myrna, I owe you the thanks, not the other way around.”

  “Well—” Myrna shook her head and sighed heavily “—I owe you for getting me out of that jam. I don’t know what came over me. I just decided at the last minute that I didn’t know which way I wanted to go.”

  “You forgot?” Cheyenne’s heart thudded hard against her chest. Myrna cackled and patted her arm.

  “Don’t look at me like that. No, I didn’t forget. I just wasn’t sure where I wanted to go, and at the last minute I decided to come here and check on you. Jesse stopped by my place the other day after dropping Reese off here.”

  “Oh, I see. And he told you?”

  “Not a word, but Jesse isn’t the cool character he sometimes thinks he is. He purposely closes himself off, but I know he’s worried about his brother and he’s concerned about you.”

  “I’m not your granddaughter.”

  Myrna opened her car door. “Honey, we both know that isn’t true. Just give Reese time to come around. He always does the right thing.”

  “Myrna, this isn’t his baby.”

  “That doesn’t matter to a Cooper.” Myrna stepped out of the car, and Cheyenne followed her to the shop that she, of course, hadn’t locked. She was starting to believe no one ever locked a door in Dawson.

  “Do you want tea?” she offered as she and Myrna stepped into the cool interior of the building.

  “My goodness, that paint smell could curl a gal’s hair without a perm. No, I don’t want tea. I want to know if you’ve got family you need to call. There might be people wondering where you’re at.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Why, honey, if you were my girl, I’d want to know that you were safe.”

  “Myrna, that’s because you’re a Cooper. I haven’t talked to my parents in ten years.”

  “Then I think it is high time you did.” Myrna walked around the salon, touching the high counter, the plastic chairs, the pictures on the walls. “So many memories. Some are nearly as faded as these pictures and the plastic of the chairs.”

  “But they’re good memories.”

  “Yes, mostly good.” Myrna turned to face Cheyenne, her smile a little less vibrant, her hazel eyes soft with tears. “You need to call your parents. I promise you that holding on to bitterness won’t make you any happier. It’ll just break your heart and theirs. Take it from an old lady who knows.”

  Cheyenne sat down and Myrna sat next to her.

  “What happened, Myrna?”

  Myrna stared toward the front windows, but Cheyenne thought the older woman wasn’t seeing the glass, the street, the dog walking behind a little boy. She didn’t see a summer day in Dawson. After a minute, she smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

  “I had a daughter, years ago.” Myrna’s soft voice wobbled a little. “She left home when she was eighteen because she didn’t want this silly old town or this small-town life. We thought she was making a mistake, but she wanted to be an actress.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “So am I.” Myrna looked away but not before Cheyenne saw tears fill her eyes. “She never came back. We talked a few times on the phone, and we tried to tell her we loved her and understood that not everyone stays in the town they were raised in.”

  “What happened?”

  Myrna patted Cheyenne’s arm. “She got killed in a car accident in Los Angeles.”

  Cheyenne wrapped her arms around Myrna. “I’m so sorry.”

  Myrna nodded and wiped at her tears with a tissue she pulled from her purse. “It’s in the past, but it still hurts like crazy. You think about calling your parents. It’s real easy to say you’ll do it tomorrow. And then tomorrow becomes next week, next month, next year. Don’t put off making amends with people who love you.”

  Cheyenne nodded, and at tha
t moment, hearing Myrna’s pain, she couldn’t delve into the reality that she didn’t know if her parents loved her, not the way Myrna had loved her daughter. She didn’t know if they missed her or even cared that she’d left. She hugged Myrna again, and Myrna sniffed a few times and stood.

  “I have to get home to my doggies.” Myrna patted Cheyenne’s cheek. “You take care of yourself. Rest like the doctor said. And do what I tell you, because I’m old and smart.”

  “I will.” Tomorrow.

  Myrna smiled as if she knew. “Today.”

  As she started for the door, Myrna wobbled a little. Cheyenne reached for her but didn’t make contact. She knew her friend well enough to know she wouldn’t want assistance.

  “Myrna, why don’t you stay and we’ll have an early lunch together?”

  Myrna reached for the door and turned to smile at Cheyenne. “I’m fine, honey. You’ll see, by this afternoon I’ll be right as rain. Right now I just need a little time to myself.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Myrna patted Cheyenne’s cheek with a cool hand. “I’m positive. It wasn’t anything. I just decided to turn at the last minute, and I didn’t pay attention to that truck coming from the other direction. Not only that, but knowing Larry, he was probably speeding and it served him right.”

  “If you’re sure. But I could call someone.”

  “Not on your life do I want to call someone. I’m good.”

  Cheyenne stood at the window and watched Myrna drive away. The big car eased onto the road, a little slower, a little more cautious than usual. After a few minutes Cheyenne pulled the cell phone out of her pocket and searched a contact she hadn’t called since that first time ten years ago.

  This time she pushed the button and dialed. The phone rang several times, and an answering machine picked up. She started to end the call, but instead she left a message.

  “Mom, it’s me. I’m in Dawson, Oklahoma. This is my new number.” She gave the number and ended the call. She could have given more information. She could have told them about Mark walking out on her, about the baby, about Reese. But all of the details of her life seemed too much for an answering machine. They only needed to know where she’d moved to and her number. If they wanted to call, they would.

  After ending the call, she walked to the front window of her shop. There were no customers today. She didn’t mind because she did need to rest. Her baby deserved a chance to make it to term. And if she slept, she might escape the worries that plagued her almost constantly.

  The one thing she couldn’t escape in her dreams happened to be her husband, Reese Cooper. If Myrna knew their secret, the rest of the family probably knew as well. So much for the plan to end things quietly.

  * * *

  Reese held the arm of the rehab specialist as Anna led him around the apartment, getting him acquainted with the way everything had been laid out. The furniture had been moved from the walking areas. The kitchen was set up for the easiest use.

  He’d moved in Sunday evening, and he’d done a lot of creeping, trying not to fall over furniture or trip on obstacles he couldn’t see.

  “The kitchen is pretty basic, Reese. The problem you’re going to have is the gas burners on the stove. Be very careful not to leave things too close.”

  “Like my arm.”

  “Well, a sleeve could be a danger.” She laughed a little. “I’ve marked the knobs. Touch and get acquainted with where the dial turns and how the numbers line up.”

  “There’s always the microwave.”

  “Very true but it will be good if you can use the stove. We’ll work on basic cooking skills. Now let’s walk to the bathroom. I have everything organized and labeled.”

  “Wouldn’t want me to try shaving with bathroom tile cleaner,” he teased, because teasing made it a lot easier to be guided from room to room, having his life explained to him this way.

  “No, I wouldn’t recommend that.”

  “Or using drain cleaner for mouthwash.”

  “Likewise, not a reasonable option.” She touched his arm. “Lead the way to the bathroom. I’m right behind you.”

  With a curt nod, he unfolded his cane. It was kitchen to dining area, left turn through the living room. He walked twenty steps to the small hallway where there were two doors. The bedroom door was on the right. The bathroom door was on the left. He smiled as he walked through the door of the bathroom.

  “I rock.” He turned to where he knew Anna stood.

  “You do.” She touched his back and moved him to the cabinet. “You’re doing great, Reese.”

  “Thanks.”

  “On a serious note, how are you sleeping?”

  He sighed and reached to open the cabinet door. Braille was a foreign language at this point, but he was learning the raised bumps. And he knew how Anna had organized for him. There were three shelves. Toiletries were on the top; towels, washcloths and linens were in the middle; and cleaners were on the bottom.

  “Reese, are you managing to sleep?”

  “I’m okay, Anna. There are times when I have to get out of bed and do something to get it out of my mind, but it’s getting better.”

  “You’re still going to therapy?”

  “Twice a month now.”

  “Good.” She touched his arm. “I organized just the way I told you I would. Toiletries, towels, cleaners. The bottles are marked, but until you are positive, I have shampoo in square-shaped containers. Shaving cream is in the original can, of course and there are bars of soap.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “Have you seen any old friends? You know, life still has to be lived, Reese. Dates? Dinner with friends?”

  “No.” He laughed a little and didn’t tell her he was a married man. “But I am working again.”

  “Working?”

  “Around here. I’m a decent hand at feeding time. I can still put a horse on a long line.” He touched the shelves of the cabinet. “I’m considering helping at a local youth camp.”

  “That’s great to hear. Don’t forget a social life.”

  “And now we should go make sure I know where my food is.”

  She laughed as he deflected. “Lead the way.”

  He did as she asked, leading her back to the kitchen, showing her his awesome coffee-making skills and how he could heat soup in the microwave. After another hour of “Reese Cooper, this is your life,” Anna left.

  Reese walked through the apartment by himself, touching the sofa, turning on the TV and then making his way to the kitchen. He stood in the center of the room, thinking about the way he remembered it—white cabinets, black granite countertops, stainless appliances. He poured himself a glass of water, drank it and then set the glass on the counter. He’d do himself a lot more good working than he would standing there wondering how to feel like a whole man, how to feel normal in his own skin.

  He opened the door and walked down the narrow steps and out the garage into the hot July sun. When he reached the yard, he stood for a long moment getting his bearings. A lifetime of knowing which direction to turn and now he had to think about how to get to the stable. He pushed the hat back on his head and let it all settle. He had to do this on his own, not on someone’s arm, not every day for the rest of his life.

  He took a deep breath past the anger, the resentment. He faced the sun, letting the heat hit him full in the face. It was afternoon and the sun was west. The driveway was north, straight out from the garage. He crossed the driveway and found the fence. He heard a horse snort and then stomp, probably at flies or bees. In the distance a cow bellowed for her calf. He kept walking, occasionally touching his cane to the fence to make sure he still had it as a guide. When the cane hit wood, he knew he’d made it to the corral.

  The barn was next. He slid his hand down the wall to the door, opened it and stepped inside. The aisle between the stalls was about fifteen feet wide. There were a dozen stalls, a tack room, a feed room and an office. Another aisle, midway down on the right, led to th
e indoor arena.

  Reese stayed close to the stalls on the right, swinging the cane because when it hit open space, he knew to turn. He pulled back when something nipped at his leg. He reached down, and the scruffy pup licked his hand.

  “Buddy, you’d better learn to either be a guide dog or stay back.” He petted the dog on the neck, letting his fingers settle in thick fur. “You going with me?”

  The dog barked a sharp woof and then stood on hind legs and rested his paws on Reese’s leg.

  Anna would be proud. He had a social life, a friend to hang out with. He had the six-month-old blue heeler Travis had named Skipper. He thought back to old episodes of Lassie and chuckled. If he had a Lassie, he wouldn’t have to worry about falling over a cliff or down the well. Lassie would have blocked him from danger. He felt pretty sure this pup would lead him off a cliff given half a chance.

  “Come on, then.” He swung the cane back and forth, every now and then feeling a tug and knowing the pup had it in his mouth.

  He got to the aisle that led to the arena. He could hear Jackson shouting out orders to run a bull through to the chute. For a minute Reese paused, listening to life going on. He stood there, unsure of a place he’d been in a thousand times in his life.

  He had to trust the dark. He swallowed and kept walking. It would have been easy to stay in the house, to let his mom fix his meals, pick his clothes and lead him around by the arm. That wasn’t who he was. He heard the clang of metal, and Travis shouted for someone to keep his hand in the rope. Reese smiled because this was his life and he didn’t plan on letting go.

  This ranch had always been his world. It would continue to be just that. The horses, the cattle, the bulls were what he knew, and he’d make it happen. If he kept working at it, he’d be able to live here and ranch the way he’d always planned—with adjustments.

  He stopped when he hit the metal of the arena fence. If he turned left, there would be a narrow gap between the fence and the wall. He could follow that to the chutes and the pens where his brothers were working. Dust rolled around him. He could smell the cattle, hear them move and bump against the metal cattle panels.

  This place hadn’t changed. He had. Six months ago he’d been a lot younger, a lot more carefree.