wondered if he would ever get used to voices slipping through the dark. It reminded him of a cartoon, a black screen and animals—maybe cats—popping into the dark and then fading again; laughing cats. That’s how he imagined sounds, words. Nothing connected anymore. Everything was separate. There were sounds, words, touch, taste but nothing cohesive. Nothing made sense.
He raked his hand through his hair and wondered how bad he looked. He hated to shave, hadn’t shaved in days. He knew his hair had grown out from the military cut he’d had two months ago. He wondered if he looked as angry as he sometimes felt.
“Reese?” Heather stepped close, touched his arm.
“I’m going for a walk.” He took a few cautious steps and made it out of the kitchen. With the cane as a guide, he made it through the house and out the front door. And then what? He couldn’t get in his car and go after her. He couldn’t call her.
He couldn’t see anything but black, and Cheyenne had left. The man he used to be was somewhere inside him, and even though he wanted to hide from this life, he couldn’t.
Cowboy up, Reese. He could hear his grandmother’s words, sharp, lecturing. How did a cowboy do that when he couldn’t even get on a horse?
Chapter Two
Cheyenne left the Convenience Counts convenience store and turned right on a little side street with pretty turn-of-the-century homes and big lawns. She took a bite of the corn dog she’d bought and washed it down with a long drink of chocolate milk. She’d planned on going to the park that the owner of the convenience store had given her directions to. Instead she pulled her car up to the curb in front of a stucco building with a For Rent sign in the window. Across the big front window were faded red letters spelling out Dawson
Barber Shop.
For a few minutes she sat in her car, staring at the building and daring to dream. She told herself to drive on, to forget this dream, to forget Dawson and Reese Cooper. In the end she opened the creaking door of her car and left it open as she walked up to the building and peeked in the window.
She barely had enough money for a hotel and a few meals. She needed a plan. She needed to decide where she would go and what she would do. The last thing she needed to be doing was looking at a building for a beauty shop.
An old bench had been left behind. It sat under a small awning. Weeds were growing up around it, sprouting from cracks in the sidewalk. Cheyenne sat down, scooting to the end of the bench, out of the hot July sun. She couldn’t stay in Dawson. She had no one here, nowhere to go.
She could go home to Kansas. But then again, she couldn’t. She couldn’t face her parents now, not with all of the mistakes she’d made in her life. She couldn’t face them because she’d been their problem, their mistake, too. Her birth mother had given her up. Her adoptive parents had given up on her.
But the biggest betrayal had been Mark’s. Because after he learned she was pregnant he revealed that their marriage license wasn’t real. He had no plans to be a husband and father. He’d laughed at her naiveté.
A little sparrow hopped around on the sidewalk, chasing bugs and dandelion seeds. She caught herself smiling as she watched him.
“Where do I go?” When she spoke, the little bird hopped back and looked at her. After his curiosity was satisfied, he plucked a dry bit of grass from the sidewalk and flew away.
She remembered a sermon from the church she’d started attending back in Vegas. That had been Reese’s advice before he’d left that day. He’d promised to love, honor and cherish her. Then he’d kissed her, told her he had to go, but she needed to find a church. So she had.
One of the sermons had been about God’s ability to care for people. If He provides for the birds who neither sow nor reap, how much more does He care for us?
She wondered if He knew that she was really at the end of her rope—hopeless. How had she come to this place in her life? She’d always had hope. She’d been the person in school who’d studied, thought about a future and how to be her best—until Mark and Vegas.
That showed how a couple of bad decisions could derail everything.
A car drove down the narrow road. It met another and had to pull off the pavement to let the other car pass. She smiled, remembering the town she’d grown up in. It had been larger than Dawson but had its share of narrow roads and pretty homes. A long time ago she had lived in one of those homes.
One of the cars, a long sedan, pulled in behind hers. Reese’s grandmother stepped out of the car. She pulled on lace gloves and situated a white hat on her gray hair. She appeared to be a woman on a mission. And Cheyenne had a pretty good feeling that she was the mission.
Mrs. Cooper walked down the sidewalk and stopped when she reached Cheyenne.
“What in the name of all that is lovely are you doing sitting in front of this old shop?” Reese’s grandmother dusted off the bench and sat down.
Cheyenne shrugged a little and blinked fast, trying hard not to cry. “Coming up with a plan.”
“Well, if the bench works, so be it.”
Cheyenne glanced at the woman next to her. “How did you know where to find me?”
“I prayed and asked God to lead me. He said to try the old barbershop. Here I am.”
“God told you to find me here?” Cheyenne reached into her purse for a little package of crackers. She opened it and threw crumbs to the birds. “Really?”
The lady sitting next to her laughed...and laughed. Finally she wiped her eyes with a tissue she pulled from her pocket. “Land sakes, no. Before you start thinking I’m addled, I’ll tell you. I asked Trish at the convenience store. Trish is nosier than me, and she watched you head this way.”
Cheyenne smiled and shook her head. “I don’t think you’re addled.”
“Most folks do wonder.”
“Mrs. Cooper, I’m really very sorry about barging in and about Reese.”
“Call me Myrna. Everyone does. Or Miss Myrna if you insist. But that does make me feel like I’m still teaching school. And you didn’t do a thing wrong, coming to see Reese.”
“I should have waited—or called him.”
“Do you want to tell me what the story is between the two of you?”
“No, I’d rather not. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No, I don’t mind. Young folks have a right to a few secrets. I’m guessing that isn’t his baby you’re carrying.”
“No, ma’am, it isn’t.”
They sat for a few minutes. Myrna reached for the package of crackers and broke off a piece. She tossed it. The birds flew at each other, fighting over the little piece of cracker.
“Well, is there a father?” Myrna pulled off her gloves and pushed them into her little purse.
“Not to speak of.” She shivered and looked away, at the
