The Rancher's Secret Wife

“Turning now.” Jesse cleared his throat. “Don’t worry. She’s going to be okay. So is the baby.”

“Thanks.” Reese reached to unclick his seat belt.

The truck slowed to a stop. “Do you want help getting in there?”

“No, I think I can handle it if you can give me a few directions.” He reached for the handle and pushed the door open just a little. “And keep this between us for now. I don’t care about myself. I don’t want her to be hurt.”

“I understand.” Jesse touched his arm. “I parked right in front of the door, parallel to the curb. Get out, take three steps forward and you’re going to step up. Ten steps and you’re at the door.”

“Is she here?”

Jesse laughed a little. “Yeah, she’s here.”

“What’s so funny?”

“She looked out the window, and I think she’s madder than Mia the day we sold her dolls at a yard sale.”

Reese had pushed the door open. Now he hesitated. “That wasn’t a fun day.” A day they pranked their little sister and ended up grounded.

“You’ve got that right. I have to go, so see you later, little brother.”

Reese stepped out of the car, closed the door behind him and took three steps. He touched the curb with his cane, stepped up and walked to the front of the building. Jesse had given perfect directions. He found the door and pushed. It didn’t budge. He could hear Jesse’s truck pulling out on the road.

He knocked on the glass of the door. No one answered. Great. He knocked again and pushed. It was still locked. He touched his pocket to make sure he had his cell phone. If she wasn’t in there, he was going to hurt Jesse.

After a few minutes of knocking and getting no response, he eased down the sidewalk to the bench he knew used to be there. He couldn’t stand up much longer. The bench was still there. He touched it and then sat, stretching his legs in front of him.

It turned out that in July heat sitting on that bench, even in late afternoon, felt pretty uncomfortable. Even in athletic shorts and a T-shirt, he was roasting. He would knock one more time, and if she didn’t come out, he’d call someone to come and get him. Before he could move, he heard the door click and then open. He remained in one place, waiting, wondering if she’d try to play a game and slip past him. As she walked out the door, he spoke.

“Marco.”

She didn’t say anything. He tried again. “Marco.”

There was no answer, so he smiled and tried charm as he stood to face the direction where he knew she had stopped. “You know, when I say ‘Marco,’ you’re supposed to say ‘Polo.’ I’m not sure why it’s Marco Polo but you get the rules of the game, right? I’m blindfolded and I say ‘Marco.’ You say ‘Polo,’ and maybe I can find you.”

“I don’t think those are the rules.” Her voice reached him from a few feet away—soft, sweet, maybe a little teary.

“Why did you lock me out?”

“Why are you still here?”

“Because I’m nothing if not gallant. I’ve been told all my life that I’m a real Sir Gala. What was his name?”

“Sir Galahad? I’m not sure that fits.”

“I could be Marc Anthony, and you could be... Isn’t his wife a famous singer?”

She laughed a little. “I think they broke up, and I think that you definitely won’t win points for pop culture or history. Marc Antony and Cleopatra would be the couple you’re thinking of, and I’ve always thought she was tragic and vain.”

He took a few steps and reached for her. Her hand touched his. “I think you’re not vain. Actually, you don’t realize just how beautiful you are.”

“Neither of us is tragic, so we can’t be Cleopatra and Marc Antony. Or the other two.”

“Could we be Desi and Lucy?”

She laughed at that. “That’s more like it. Why are you here?”

“Because you need me.” He stepped close, feeling her breath, hearing her sigh. Her hand touched his cheek. It seemed like an invitation, so he leaned, touching his forehead to hers in an easy gesture. “Because I love being needed.”

“I don’t need anyone. I can do this. My needing you wasn’t part of the bargain. I’m supposed to have this baby and then we get an annulment. End of story.”

“I know it wasn’t part of the bargain, Cheyenne, but if you haven’t noticed, things have gone south in a big way. I don’t think this was part of the bargain, either.” He pulled off the sunglasses he wore and shoved them in his pocket.

“You have beautiful eyes.” She sniffed a little, and he wished those eyes worked so he could see her.

“I’d say, ‘the better to see you with, my dear.’ But that line is so cliché.”

She sobbed a little and then her fingers touched his hair. “You need to shave. And your hair is too long.”

“Are you going to stand here and point out all of my physical faults?” He reached, found the door and pulled it open. “I’m here to rescue you, and all you have are complaints. Wife, enter this building at once.”

“Please stop.”

He took hold of her hand, and he led her into the building. “Don’t cry, Cheyenne.”

“I’m so afraid.”

Once they were inside the building, he pulled her into his arms and held her, the way he’d wanted to hold her a few days ago. They were strangers, friends, husband and wife. He’d make sense of it all later. The one thing they had in common was they were both afraid. “I know. And I’m here.”

She nodded against his shoulder and repeated what he recognized to be her mantra. “I can do this on my own.”

“I know you can. And I’m here to tell you that I can help. I want to help. You need to sit down, and I’m going to make sure you’re okay.”

“Your brother told?”

She led him to chairs at the side of the room, and they sat down side by side. “He didn’t tell me. He just hinted that my wife might need me.”

“I’m sorry he found out. I didn’t realize he would be at the hospital when I went.”

“I’m glad you went. I’m glad he was there. But he didn’t tell me anything. It’s up to you to do that.”

“It’s nothing really.” She released his hand. “I’ve had contractions. I thought at first it might be Braxton Hicks.”

“Braxton who? Is he another Shakespearean hero? Competition for my affections?”

“False labor.”

“Oh, that’s a word I understand.”