The Rancher's Secret Wife. Brenda Minton

Adam MacKenzie tell him what a great opportunity it would be for him to work at Camp Hope and how great it would be for the kids who attended. Reese held out his hand to the dog that brushed against him, licking his arm.

      “Adam, I can barely help myself right now. I’m not sure how I could help kids who have been dealing with disabilities their entire lives. There are days that I’m pretty angry. I’m trying to be independent, but man, there are days. Try asking for help finding a pair of shoes. That’ll teach you what humility is. I’m a grown man, and I have to ask what shirt to wear.”

      “Reese, you’re honest. That’s what these kids need, not someone who puts on a smile and pretends every day is perfect but someone genuine who can admit he gets angry.”

      “I’m not sure. Not yet. When I can make it through a day on my own steam, maybe then. Right now I’m afraid the kids would be helping me more than I could help them.” He took the stick the dog pushed into his hand and gave it a fling.

      “Reese, these kids are always teaching me something. That’s part of the joy in this camp—what it does not just for them, but for us.”

      “I’ll think about it.”

      Adam stood, touched his shoulder and walked away. “Pray about it.”

      “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.