The Rancher's Secret Wife

by Brenda Minton

  Her hands stopped trembling. His eyes remained closed. Her heart took up trembling where her hands left off. And finally she finished, wiping away the last traces of shaving cream.

  “All done.”

  “Thank you.” He pushed himself up from the chair and then turned, reaching for her, finding her arm. “Come here.”

  Stop, the little voice in her head warned. Instead she flicked away the voice of reason and stepped close because her heart cried for him, for someone to hold, to hold her back. She’d been alone for so long. She’d been afraid for herself, for him.

  His last letter to her had warned that he might be needing some extra prayers as he went into a dangerous situation. She’d never been so afraid in her life. But now, looking back, by the time she got that letter, he’d probably already been injured.

  “I’m here,” she whispered, eyes closed, inhaling the scent of him as he moved to draw her closer.

  He reached, touching her face, her cheek. He traced his fingers along her jaw to her lips and then he leaned and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop the inevitable from happening. His lips touched hers, and she moved farther into his arms.

  He kissed her slow and easy and then he paused in his exploration of her lips, her cheek, the spot close to her ear. He whispered that she tasted like cinnamon. He kissed her again, taking his time, his fingers resting lightly on her cheek.

  “You’re beautiful.” His freshly shaved cheek brushed hers.

  She couldn’t respond. She leaned, resting her forehead on his shoulder. He wrapped strong arms around her and held her close to him.

  “Reese, we shouldn’t do this.”

  He released a shaky breath that she felt as he held her. “I’m not sorry.”

  “I’m...” She didn’t know what to say. What did she tell him about her feelings and her doubts about the future? How did she explain that her whole life she’d felt rejected, like the person easiest to part with. And the marriage certificate meant nothing, nothing more than a good deed. When it was over, they would part ways and she’d be the forgotten woman he’d once married.

  “Cheyenne. I’m sorry.” He reached, touching her cheek and brushing at the tears she couldn’t stop.

  For what? The kiss? Marrying her? Or for not loving her? And she really didn’t expect him to. This had all turned into a big mess, and she needed to do something to fix it. If she hadn’t come here...

  “You don’t need to be sorry.” She blinked away the last of her tears and managed to smile. “This is going to pass, and we’ll get back to normal.”

  “Will we?” He said it with a soft voice that brushed against her heart.

  “I don’t know. Maybe not. The whole town is going to know you married a pregnant showgirl from Vegas.” She laughed a little through her tears. “That would be a great line on the wedding announcement. Mr. and Mrs. Tim Cooper announce the marriage of their son, Reese, to a dancer from Vegas.”

  He didn’t smile. “I’m not ashamed of you, and my parents aren’t ashamed of you if that’s what you think.”

  It was, but she didn’t comment.

  Reese moved to a chair and sat down. He pulled her with him, his hand still holding hers tight. “I want you to move out to the ranch.”

  “Move out to the ranch? With you?”

  “We have an apartment in the stable. I know that sounds kind of bleak, but it’s actually pretty nice. It was a bunkhouse at one time, and Travis remodeled it.”

  “Why would I move out there?”

  “Because we have plenty of room, and it’s a lot better than living in the storeroom of a barbershop. And because if you don’t, people are really going to talk.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “When word spreads that we’re married, they’re going to wonder why you’re living here.”

  She reached for the broom and started to clean up. “You’re worried about what people will think.”

  “That isn’t what I mean.” But the look on his face, the frown, convinced her otherwise.

  She glanced to the front of the shop when a shadow flashed across the room. A truck parked. His brother got out, stood on the sidewalk a minute talking on the phone and then walked up to the front door.

  “Travis is here. You should go.”

  “We need to finish this discussion.”

  She knew it wasn’t fair to walk away, but she needed space. She needed to breathe deep and not get caught up in wishing her temporary marriage could be something more.

  From the books, she’d learned that pregnancy made a woman more emotional. They had strange cravings. They wanted to nest and make a place for their unborn child. She had to separate emotions from this relationship because wanting him in her life had a lot to do with the need for stability. She was sure of it. She didn’t crave eggs, pickles or ice cream. She craved stability and love. And she knew better than to transfer that craving to the man standing in the center of her salon.

  She turned when she reached her tiny room. “Let’s just get the annulment. I don’t need the protection of your last name. It was sweet, what you did, but it’s time to bring this to an end. No one in town will ever know that we were married.”

  “Cheyenne, running away from me isn’t fair.”

  “No, it isn’t, but it’s all I’ve got.” She glanced to the front of the store and breathed a sigh of relief when Travis opened the door. “Travis is coming in.”

  “Great.”

  The door opened, the bell chimed and Travis smiled a big cowboy smile that quickly faded when he looked from one of them to the other.

  “All finished?” Travis asked as he walked up to Reese. He grabbed the black hat from the counter and dropped it on his brother’s head. “You look pretty.”

  “Yep, all finished and he’s ready to go home,” she answered.

  Reese turned, not smiling. “I can answer for myself. And I’ll see you at six.”

  “Six?”

  “Dinner at the ranch.”

  She didn’t answer. Reese left with his brother, and Cheyenne sank into one of the chairs at the front of the store, breathing through another contraction. In the middle of it all, her phone rang. The Kansas number flashed across the caller ID. Fear tangled with dread and hope. She answered it, a little breathless, and waited for the person on the other end.

  “Hello?”

  “Mom?” Cheyenne whispered, unsure.

  “It’s me. I got your message. Cheyenne, we’ve been praying you’d call us. We’ve—” her mother cried “—I’m so glad you’re safe.”

  “I’m safe.” She watched the truck out front pull away, and then she smiled and continued the conversation with her mother. And it didn’t hurt as bad as she always thought it would.

  * * *

  Travis didn’t say much on the way home. Not until they were going up the drive did he finally turn the radio off and clear his throat.

  “What did you do to her?”

  Reese shrugged and nearly told his brother it wasn’t any of his business. But Travis had a way of getting things from a person that they never planned on sharing. If he had to, Reese knew his brother would drive this truck until it ran out of gas.

  “Not that it is any of your business, but she believes I’m worried about what people will say when they hear that I married a Vegas showgirl.”

  In answer, Travis laughed. “I’d say that most of them will congratulate you.”

  “Talk like that again and you’ll find out that I can still take you, Travis.”

  “Calm down. I’m just saying people around here aren’t going to be sorry for you. She’s a pretty girl and sweet. Everyone in town seems to like her.”

  “She thinks they’ll look down on her. Or that I’ll be embarrassed.”

  “Guess you’ll have to show her she’s wrong.”

  Reese rubbed the back of his neck and leaned back in the seat. “I’m just so stinking tired, Travis. I’m tired of trying to figure out which foot to put first, which
direction to go.”

  “I guess you know what Mom would say.”

  “Pray.” Reese sighed. “Yeah, sometimes it’s not easy, is it? It’s like knowing how to swim but you get panicked and you can’t make it out of three feet of water.”

  Travis cleared his throat, downshifted and eased up the driveway. “I’ll be praying for you.”

  “I know you will.” Reese nodded and then switched topics. “Drop me off at the barn.”

  “Need anything before I head home to Elizabeth?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  The truck stopped. “Here you go. Need...”

  Reese turned and shook his head. “I can get it from here.”

  “I know.”

  Reese opened the door and stepped out of the truck. He could get there from here. He unfolded the cane and walked forward, stopping when the cane hit a solid obstacle. He moved a few feet to the right, found the corral fence and went back to the left, running his hand down the side of the barn until he got to the door.

  As he walked through the barn, he thought back to what he would have done a year ago if he’d been this overwhelmed, this tied up in knots. He moved to the side of the aisle and touched a stall door. A year ago he would have saddled his horse and went for a ride. That’s what he’d been doing his whole life.

  “What’s stopping me?” Two stalls away from the front entrance, he reached and a big head pushed at his hand. “Charlie, I’ve missed you.”

  He felt along the wall and found a lead rope. Easing the door open, he stepped inside and grabbed Charlie by the halter. He snapped the lead in place and led the big horse out of the stall.

  “What are you going to do now?” The voice came from behind him.

  He stopped and Charlie stopped next to him. “Me and Charlie are going for a ride.”

  “You can’t—” Gage cleared his throat. “I meant to say, let me get his saddle.”

  “I’d appreciate that.” He hadn’t given it a thought, how he’d manage to throw a saddle on the back of a sixteen-hand quarter horse.

  He led Charlie down the aisle to the tack room. “Hey, get me a brush, too.”

  A brush pressed into his hands—no words. Reese cross-tied the horse in the center of the aisle. Charlie tried to push at him, but the horse’s head wouldn’t turn that far.

  “What’s up with you lately?” He ran the brush down Charlie’s muscled-up neck and then across his back. Charlie twitched, but he didn’t move. He brushed the horse out and then tossed the brush toward the tack room.

  Gage nudged him to the side. “Let me get him saddled for you. If you insist on breaking your neck, the least I can do is save your back.”

  “Thanks.” Reese patted the horse’s neck and then ran a hand along his face. He heard the creak of leather as Gage slid the saddle in place. “Got the bridle?”

  “In a sec.”

  “Gage, I’m a pretty good listener.”

  “I know you are.” Gage grunted, probably pulling the girth strap.

  “Girl problems?”

  “Nope.”

  “Fear?”

  “Nope.”

  Reese slid a hand down his horse’s neck, touched the saddle, found the saddle horn and gave it a good yank. It stayed put.

  “Anything I can do to help?” He gave it one more shot, and then he knew to leave it be.

  “Thanks, but no.”

  “Let me know...”

  “I will.” Gage pushed a bridle into his hand. “So you’re putting the bridle on him?”

  “Yep.” He had the bit in his left hand and the headstall in his right. Charlie didn’t fight him, never had. He’d taken the bit like a pro from the beginning.

  “He’s ready to go.”

  “I’m just going to ride in the arena.”

  “Smart thinking.” Gage touched his elbow. “Let’s go.”

  “You can go back to doing whatever you were doing.” Reese led the horse through the gate and into the arena.

  “Right, and if Mom happens to walk out here, I’m in big, big trouble. I’ll leave trouble up to you. It’s nice having a break and letting you be the brother pulling the stunt of a lifetime.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not a kid and I guess it isn’t really a stunt.”

  Gage laughed. “You married someone you’d known for a couple of hours. That pretty much gets the trophy for stunts pulled.”

  “Yeah, true that.” He pulled the reins back and found the stirrup. “Here we go.”

  “Reese, be careful.” Gage’s voice got a little quieter. “Seriously, this is a little crazy.”

  “I’m good.”

  “I know.”

  Reese put his left foot in the stirrup and found that swinging his right leg over wasn’t as easy as it used to be. But he managed. Holding the saddle horn, he pushed past the pain that sliced through his back and he settled into the seat. And it felt like coming home. He had both feet in the stirrups, the reins easy in his hand and Charlie whinnied a soft “welcome back.”

  He loosened up on the reins, and the gelding broke into an easy walk. It took Reese a minute to get his balance, to figure out his seat and how to ride without sight. He had to trust Charlie—completely. He’d always trusted the big gelding, but this went beyond that old trust that had relied on his own senses, most of all his eyesight.

  With complete trust, he let out a pent-up breath and relaxed a little as Charlie rounded the arena without hesitation. With complete faith, he held the reins loose, gave Charlie the okay and the horse broke into an easy trot. He was completely humbled.

  This was the place in his life where he accepted what he couldn’t change. But he had faith to stand on something stronger, more reliable than himself. He had a God who had never left him, never forsaken him. I was blind, but now I see. Amazing Grace.

  He pulled back on the reins and eased Charlie back to a walk. They circled the arena a few times, and then he gave the horse his head and Charlie broke into an easy lope. He steadied himself, waiting for the turns as the horse rounded the arena. Finally he pulled back and Charlie slowed to a stop. He rested the reins on the horse’s neck, turning him to the right. But then he had to get his bearings. He’d been around the arena several times. The gate would be in the back corner.

  “Gage?”

  “Here. You’re heading in the right direction.”

  Reese eased the gelding forward, following his brother’s voice.

  “You can take the cowboy out of the saddle...”

  Gage laughed. “I’m pretty sure there’s no saying for that.”

  “Yeah, probably not, but it feels pretty good to be on old Charlie.”

  “I have to bring in some steers tomorrow for vaccinations. You want to come with me?”

  Reese tightened his legs. Charlie stopped, shifting beneath him, the saddle giving a little heave as the horse released a breath. “If it’s before or after physical therapy I’m in.”

  “You’re good with this?”

  “As long as you realize you’re going to have to give me some cues.”

  “I can do that, Reese.” And then a short pause. “It’s about time for supper.”

  “Thanks.” Reese eased his right foot from the stirrup, swung it over the saddle and dropped to the ground. “Thanks, Charlie, old guy.”

  The horse pushed against his arm. Reese rubbed the sleek neck and then slipped the reins over his head to lead him back to the stable. He’d invited Cheyenne for supper with the family. As crazy as it seemed, he wanted her on the ranch. At least here she’d be taken care of. If something happened, she’d have people with her.

  He figured he had other reasons for wanting her close, but they were his and pretty selfish, like the one where he didn’t want to let her go.

  And she seemed pretty determined to end this marriage as soon as possible.

  Chapter Eight

  Cheyenne pulled up to the big Georgian-style home and sat in her old car. A moment of déjà vu hit. Just over a couple of weeks
ago she’d sat in her car staring up at that house, afraid to face the man she’d married, worried about his health. Today she had fewer questions about her future but more questions about the man she’d married.

  They seemed to be in a careful game of cat and mouse, moving close, backing away. But she knew, and she thought Reese knew it, too, that they couldn’t be a real couple. They weren’t a couple. Period. This family wasn’t hers. She didn’t belong to any of them—not even to Reese.

  She actually had a family. She thought through the conversation with her mother. They hadn’t really said much that counted, hadn’t admitted to the pain they’d caused each other, but they’d talked. It had been easy talk about life, about being pregnant, about her sister’s marriage. They had talked like it hadn’t been ten years.

  A dog barked. She looked and saw the dog. She saw Reese. He walked next to a younger man who looked a lot like him. And if she didn’t know about his accident, she wouldn’t have guessed that he couldn’t see. The two men walked side by side and both wore jeans, boots and button-up shirts. Reese wore his black cowboy hat. The other, younger version of Reese wore a white hat. They walked with matching, casual strolls, an easy gait, loose-limbed and confident.

  The only thing that gave Reese away was the white cane he swung in front of him, the occasional pause in his step as he adjusted. She stepped out of her car. The dog ran to greet her, barking sharply and then wagging its stubby tail and licking the palm of her hand when she reached to pet him.

  “Cheyenne?” Reese called out, turning in her direction.

  “Yes.” She’d come for dinner. She didn’t need to tell him. He had invited her. Actually, it had been more of an order than an invitation.

  His brother said something, touched Reese’s arm and then walked across the driveway to get in a big four-wheel drive truck. She watched him back out and leave. Reese walked toward her.

  “You’re here.” He stopped just a few feet away.