Cheyenne's Lady

by Mindy Neff

  He pulled the sheet over them when he felt her shiver. “She started drinking, and their relationship went downhill from there. She didn’t dance anymore, or laugh. She just drank, let herself fall apart, sank into a depression that sucked the beauty out of her face and heart. And he left her.”

  “And took Jimmy with him?”

  “Yes. She drove her car off a bridge a couple years after the divorce. They said it was an accident. There weren’t any skid marks, though.”

  Emily tightened her arms around him.

  “Her sister, Uncle John’s first wife, was with her.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “It was a while before I could face him. I felt responsible, like I should have been a better son or something, that somehow I could have pulled her out of her depression, out of the downward spiral I could see happening.”

  “It wasn’t your fault!”

  He nearly smiled. Her voice was so adamant. His Emily. Siding with the underdog.

  “Uncle John said the same thing. He came to me, said it was our people’s way to forgive and forget, that Ma’heo’o forgives all.” His gut twisted as his mind fast-forwarded to another relationship. “That’s what I tried to convey to Jimmy the last time I called him. I couldn’t make him listen and it tore me up. My uncle said to be patient and wait it out. I waited too long.”

  “Jimmy had some responsibility in that, Cheyenne.”

  “Yeah. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

  She pressed her lips to his side, slid over on top of him, tenderly settled her mouth against his. It was a kiss of forgiveness, as though she could give him Jimmy’s apology through the sip of her lips, the breath of her soul.

  Just like she’d brought the babies to him, giving him the lives of the children of his brother.

  He wondered if she knew how much she had indeed healed him.

  “If I could take the hurt away, I would,” she whispered against his lips.

  She was amazing. She humbled him, made him feel so much.

  “You have, baby. More than you know.” And because he didn’t have the words, he rolled with her, used his body as tenderly as he could to convey how special she was, the sunshine she’d brought into his life, the miracles. Softly, silently, he let his body speak, and gave her his soul.

  CHEYENNE WASN’T IN BED when Emily awoke. They’d been up twice last night to feed the twins and made love again each time. She hated to admit it, but she was wrecked. She’d been a zombie before with just the middle-of-the-night feedings. Add great sex, and she was nearly in a class with the walking dead.

  But oh, it was worth it. Her body hummed. The spray of the shower felt sensual against her skin, the fresh highlights in her hair looked brighter.

  She checked on the babies, sent up a silent prayer of thanks that they were asleep once again and made her way to the kitchen for coffee. She really shouldn’t wish their little lives away in slumber, but they were truly a handful when they were awake.

  Still, she wouldn’t trade a moment of their precious lives. Three months ago she’d never have imagined how drastically her world would turn, how full her heart would be.

  She stepped out onto the porch and saw Cheyenne sitting on the wicker bench, steam rising from the mug in his hand.

  She lowered herself beside him as though they met this way every morning of their lives. Just like a truly married couple.

  “Hi,” she said softly.

  “Hi, yourself.” He glanced at her as though not quite sure how to act and waiting to take his cue from her.

  She didn’t want him to be sorry. And she didn’t want to go backward. She wanted to go forward. They had until the end of January before her maternity leave was up.

  Why not enjoy what they had together? Why deny themselves that incredible pleasure?

  She put her hand on his thigh and heard him let out a breath. He covered her hand and they sat in silence, enjoying the brisk morning air.

  The horses were out in the coral, gathered in a little knot like ladies at a morning coffee klatch exchanging juicy gossip.

  “Are you going in to work today?”

  “No. My uncle is bringing some of the children from the reservation later today to ride horses.”

  “Oh. I guess I didn’t realize your stock was the gentle type that children would ride.”

  “Stony trains them. When he’s finished with them, they’ll stand docile as a lamb or run like the wind, depending on which signal you give.”

  “That’s nice. I imagine it’s a treat for the kids. Do they come often?”

  “Usually once a month. I postponed last month’s visit because of the babies.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “It’s better this way. That’s why I put the lights up. Figured it’d be more festive. I meant to warn you yesterday, but something sidetracked me.”

  She gave him an intimate smile. “I enjoyed that sidetrack. And I’m a pretty spontaneous sort. What can I do to help?”

  “Nothing. Uncle John’s got it covered. He’ll bring meat and barbecue some burgers and hot dogs. He’s the biggest kid in the bunch. He looks so serious half the time, but he’s really a softy.”

  “I like him.”

  “And he likes you.”

  “I could tell that family’s important to him.”

  Cheyenne nodded. “He has deep roots in the people of our tribe, though he straddles both worlds. He’s a deeply traditional, yet forward-thinking man, does big business with the oil and gas companies and has a portfolio that would make your eyes pop.”

  “You’re kidding. Will he give me stock tips?”

  He smiled. “I imagine he would if you asked. He gives them to me.”

  She sighed. “Your uncle startled me the other day when he showed up in the doorway. He didn’t say a lot, but I could tell he was pleased with the babies.”

  “He has a soft heart for children. He doesn’t have children of his own, but with the Cheyenne, there are no orphans.”

  “That’s beautiful. You’re lucky to have him.”

  “Took me a while to realize that.”

  “You’re referring to your cocky youth again?”

  “I suppose. Can’t go back and change the past, though.” He took a sip of coffee, watched the horses nuzzling each other. “Looks like the weather’ll hold out, so I’ve retrofitted the wagon and we’ll take the children on a sleigh ride, then come back and roast some marshmallows.”

  Her eyes were wide and her insides felt giddy. “A sleigh ride?”

  He grinned down at her. “Yeah. Wanna go?”

  “Will there be room?”

  “It’s a big wagon. I’ll load it with bales of hay I’ve got warming in the barn. If you wrap the twins up real good and sit between a couple of the bales, they should be warm enough.”

  “I’d love to go. We’ll sing Christmas carols. Oh, I just adore this season.”

  This would be her first Christmas without her sister. They usually had a simple day—a gift exchange, Debbie busy in the kitchen, Emily’s contribution snitching bites of this and that or getting in the way.

  But here in Shotgun Ridge, there was so much going on. The love and community spirit was palpable.

  And now a sleigh ride. She hopped up, nearly spilling Cheyenne’s coffee.

  “Hey, where are you going?”

  “I’ve got to get me and the kids ready for company.”

  FROM THE WARMTH of the kitchen, Emily watched Cheyenne with the children his uncle had brought out in a minivan. When they were mounted on horses, he led them around the corral, stopping to answer questions, tie a shoe, dry a tear when one of the boys got too exuberant and fell in the dirt. He was such a kind man. So good with children.

  The Christmas lights strung on the barn were lit. Icicles hung from the eaves, dripping color. John White Cloud was flipping burgers on a grill atop an old barrel filled with charcoal.

  The yard rang with laughter and love and a
peace that made her sigh. So different from her life in the city, with its bustle, shrill phones and nonstop pace.

  So much had changed in her life in so short a time.

  She looked down at her own babies, cradled close to her chest in the papoose John and his wife, Jenny White Cloud, had given her. In her wildest dreams, she never knew she could love something so much as these babies. They were her heart.

  But they were Cheyenne’s heart, too. She could see that clearly—in the middle of the night when he sat half-asleep feeding them, in the morning when he smiled and cooed and played with them before he left for work, in all the little glances and touches, it radiated from him.

  They’d taken their relationship to a new level, but that didn’t solve their problems. It only complicated issues. Or did it?

  He was a man with a man’s urges. She was here, a woman and available.

  He gave her compliments and pretty words, but he never indicated his heart was involved, never mentioned her staying past her maternity leave.

  And when that time came, what then? She would be taking the babies with her. Unless he surprised her, insisted she honor the marriage. What if he blocked her from taking the kids out of the state?

  In her heart of hearts, she knew he would never do such a thing.

  The problem was, she would still be breaking his heart by separating him from the kids. And that was the last thing she wanted to do.

  She’d never intended to hurt anybody, but she was terribly afraid someone was going to get hurt, anyway.

  If he asked her to stay, would she?

  She closed her eyes, pictured her corner office with its bank of windows, pictured her art deco condo, tickets to the theater, Jonathan’s Hair Salon where she had a standing appointment every four weeks for her hair and every two weeks for her nails.

  It made her head hurt.

  When the time came, would he ask her to stay for the children? Could she give up a life she loved if the man in question hadn’t asked for her heart?

  Hadn’t given her his?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “We need a Christmas tree,” Emily said as they drove to church the next morning. Now that they’d started taking the babies out, Pastor Dan had told them there was no excuse for sleeping in on the Lord’s day.

  As if anyone could sleep with twin infants in the house. Cheyenne wondered if he’d ever get over feeling tired.

  He glanced at Emily who was still glowing like an excited kid over the sleigh ride he’d taken her and the kids on last night. She was in the Christmas spirit now.

  “I usually don’t get one.”

  “Why not?”

  He shrugged, wishing her wool skirt hadn’t ridden up so high on her thigh. The sight was playing havoc with his concentration. “It’s just me. Seemed a waste.”

  “It’s not just you this year.”

  True, he thought, but if he bought a tree, built memories, how would he feel next year when he was alone again? “I’ll bring one home later. Unless you want to go with me and pick it out.” Another memory. Maybe she’d say no.

  “We could go after church.”

  “We could.” Damn it.

  “Do you have ornaments or will we need to buy those, too?”

  He sighed, responding to the excitement in her voice. She really did come alive with all the hoopla of the season. He wanted to give her everything her heart desired.

  “I have some in the shed.” Leftover frills from the one year his house had been decorated, decked out with the best ornaments money could buy.

  The year Linda had been there.

  Too bad it had been wasted. She’d left two days before he’d given her the diamond ring that rested in the jeweler’s box beneath the tree, leaving the lavishly festive house looking gaudy and cluttered and sad.

  He hadn’t put up a tree since. The most he did was string lights on the house and the barn for the kids who came out to ride.

  “We’ll take a picture of the twins under the tree.”

  She was so excited, as though the season itself flowed in her veins. He felt like a killjoy with his depressing thoughts.

  He glanced over at her and smiled. “No bare-bottom shots. Hunter’ll never forgive you.”

  She laughed. “Okay, okay. Suppose he’ll object to that little elf suit I picked up at Carly McCall’s shop?”

  “Elf suit? Looked like a red snowsuit to me.” The town was really growing, Cheyenne thought as they traveled down Main Street. Carly McCall’s boutique was one of the newest additions. She’d come to town a while back with her little girl, Jewel, and fallen in love with the contractor hired to build houses and the new hotel. They’d already built a fancy home out on a piece of property Jake McCall had bought from the Malones.

  Cheyenne suspected Ozzie Peyton and his cohorts had had a hand in the romance. Those old men were a menace. Hell, hadn’t they done the same thing with him and Emily? Given her the wrong address and maneuvered them to be right under the same roof?

  He didn’t know whether to curse them or thank them.

  He had an idea a couple of months from now he’d be cursing.

  He pulled into the church parking lot, which was already filled with pickups, and got out to unbuckle the twins.

  “Want the seats?”

  “No. Let’s just hold them.”

  He nodded and passed Hunter to her, then gathered Alicia, making sure the blanket covered her face from the chill wind and bright sun.

  If somebody had told him months ago that he’d be attending church services as a family man, he’d have locked them up and called a psychiatrist to make an evaluation.

  Friends and neighbors swarmed around them, swallowing Emily in the crowd, separating them. Ladies sighed over the babies and wanted to relieve him of his burden.

  His reluctance to relinquish the baby was keen. She felt so warm and right cuddled in his arms. Iris Brewer’s will was stronger than his own, because she whisked the baby right off. The woman had grandchildren of her own, he grumbled to himself—Hannah’s little ones—yet she seemed to want to adopt his, as well.

  He couldn’t get too worked up. This was his town. These were his people. He loved them all as though they were blood. And they cared about him and his own.

  They made it through the church service—Dan Lucas was in fine form, telling jokes from the pulpit. Cheyenne would say one thing about the preacher, he definitely kept his parishioners entertained. Nobody even thought to nod off. But there was a spiritual element, too, something that touched the soul.

  The potluck after the services was a weekly standard that felt familiar and comfortable. He looked around for Emily, saw her in the middle of a clutch of women, arranging pies and cakes, ham and fried chicken and salads.

  A single man in town would never go hungry. All he had to do was come to church and he could eat enough to last him the week.

  Wyatt Malone stood next to him. “Looks like your wife’s found a project she can sink her teeth into.”

  His wife. The two words gave him a punch in the heart.

  Cheyenne raised a brow, watching as Opal and Mildred pouted because Ozzie and Lloyd were holding the twins. “What project is that?”

  “The Christmas play Dan’s organizing. Emily decided it needed an advertising touch and claimed she was just the woman to get the project off the ground.”

  He felt a smile pulling his lips. She was all but in a huddle with the other women, the preacher at the center of the discussion. “Don’t recall us needing to advertise it in years past.”

  “I mentioned that,” Ethan Callahan said as he and Stony joined the circle of men. “Eden told me to hush up—” he shot a glance at Stony as though the man should speak to his wife about her bossiness “—and Dora said since she knows church business, seeing as she’s a preacher’s daughter, and Emily’s the top of her field in advertising and should certainly know a thing or two, that I should go off and find guy stuff to do.”

  “You’ll notic
e my wife wasn’t mentioned in the dressing-down,” Wyatt commented smugly.

  “Pretty cocky for being so henpecked,” Ethan challenged.

  “I’m not henpecked.”

  “Yeah? It was your wife who seconded the girls’ suggestion, told me to come on over here because you know your place.”

  Wyatt grinned. “Hell of a woman.”

  Love, Cheyenne thought. It was all around him. In the eyes of his best friends as they exaggerated their wives’ transgressions.

  Jake McCall, the town’s building contractor, came over to join them, rubbing his forehead as though a headache brewed. “I’ve been banished to the rooster section.”

  “Now who’s calling us roosters?” Stony wanted to know.

  “That would be my wife.” Carly. “They’re talking about building a stage set. Before long they’ll be drawing up plans for a full-scale theater. Man alive, I’ve got more work than my crew can keep up with as it is.”

  Cheyenne glanced over at the women, his own Emily right in the middle of them all. She’d always known how to stir things up in this town. Instead of meeting with censure, though, as she’d feared, it was obvious that she was met with love and respect and admiration.

  Oh, God, when she left, there would be a hole in his life. Much bigger, deeper, wider, than the one she’d left when they were kids.

  He should be stepping back from her. Damned if he didn’t want to move closer.

  EMILY DROVE HOME from town, pleased with the plans she’d set in motion last Sunday after church. The play was coming along nicely, every child in the Sunday-school class cast in a part, no matter how small. Her own twins were on standby to play the part of baby Jesus in the manger. They figured they could decide at the last minute between Hunter, Alicia, Sarah Stratton and Ryan Callahan. As they were all under five months, they wouldn’t be aware enough to have their feelings hurt if they failed to snag the starring role. The toss of the dice would depend on which one had the most pleasant disposition on opening night.

  But for the rest of the little ones, who were so excited and practicing their lines diligently, Emily wanted them to have their five minutes of fame. And the more people who came, the more donations the church would get.