Brenda Minton - The Rancher's Secret Wife

“Will do.”

Reese sat on the steps until he heard the car door close and the engine start. He waved and Adam honked. He stood and turned to go back inside the house. The dog returned with the stick. Reese took it one last time and gave it a toss.

“Hey, watch it.” His sister Heather let out a shriek. “I’m down here, you know.”

He laughed a little and stopped on the top step. “Sorry. And no, I didn’t know. Are you going to town by any chance?”

Heather joined him on the steps. “Yeah, actually. I had to drop some artwork off with Jackson, and now I’m heading back to town.”

Their older brother had gotten married while Reese was gone, and his new wife was redecorating.

“Yeah, but that would make more driving. You’d have to go in to Dawson, back out here and then home.”

“Yeah, horrible, it might add six miles to my trip. Reese, I can drive you to town. Where do you want to go?”

“Rumor has it that Gran has moved Cheyenne into the barbershop.”

“Not a rumor.”

He unfolded the white cane that hung from his wrist. “I need to find out what’s going on.”

“Okay, let’s go.” She touched his arm. “How do you know her?”

He walked next to her across the yard. “I met her in Vegas.”

The answer bugged him. She was more than someone he’d met. She deserved better than that. Unfortunately he didn’t quite know how to give her better. He was still working on that. The situation between them would have been easy if he hadn’t been injured, if she hadn’t shown up in Dawson. The arrangement they’d made had seemed pretty cut and dried, until now.

“She’s pretty.” Heather spoke softly.

“Yeah, she is.”

“She wears a wedding ring on a chain around her neck. Do you know her husband?”

The question dug for more answers. Rather than giving them, he opened the passenger door of Heather’s sedan. “I used to.”

The answer seemed to satisfy some of her curiosity. She got behind the wheel of the car, and they headed to town. Within feet of the driveway he was sorry he’d asked Heather for a ride. She was a challenge to ride with on a good day. When a guy couldn’t see what was coming at him, she was treacherous.

“Maybe slow down for the curves.” He reached for the handle above the door.

“I’m not that bad.”

Not bad, his foot. Heather’s driving encouraged quite a few “get me there safe” prayers.

She cleared her throat. “How’d rehab go yesterday?”

“I’m going to move back into the guesthouse.” He said it in an easy tone and then waited for his sister’s reaction.

It took a few minutes. “You what?”

“I’m moving back into the guesthouse.” A few years ago he’d moved into the apartment over the unattached garage next to the main house. Since he’d come home, he’d stayed with his parents. “I need my own space.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yeah, I think it is. I can’t see, but I can still live my life. I’m going to start doing rehab and physical therapy here. They’ll help me organize, label everything and even teach me how to keep my clothes together so I know what I’m putting on.”

It didn’t come easy, listing everything he needed help with, everything he’d always taken for granted. Walk to the closet, pull out clothes. Walk to the kitchen, pour a glass of... He no longer knew what he was pouring in his glass, and he’d never been fond of surprises.

“The clothing part is good. I’m not sure who dressed you today but...”

She laughed and he smiled.

“Thanks, sis, you’re a help.”

“I aim to please.”

There were a few more minutes of silence and another sharp curve. “Do you mind stopping at the store? I’ve been given strict orders to get out more. Something about proving to myself that I can do these things on my own.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Heather said it as if there hadn’t been doubts. He’d had plenty.

“A few.” He leaned back and relaxed.

The car slowed, eased into a parking space, bumped the curb and stopped. He laughed because some things never changed. Their dad had been getting on her for that since she’d turned sixteen.

Heather’s hand touched his arm. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” He reached, found the door handle and pushed.

When he stepped out of the car, he breathed in familiar scents. Molasses-coated grain from the feed mill, Vera’s fried chicken at the Mad Cow Café and fertilizer on a nearby field. He stepped forward, white cane swinging and then hitting the curb. He stepped up, wondering where Heather had gone to.

He could hear hammering down the block and a truck leaving the feed store across the street. He turned, took a step and waited.

“You coming with me?” Heather finally spoke.

“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.”