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CHAPTER TWO

She raced.

She soared.

She flew.

And to hell with who lay in her dust.

Her eyes were alive and her body melted to the creature below her. The white mare’s muscles contracted, then smoothed, and leapt higher than before. And in the midst of it all, Cheyenne’s eyes glowed.

She was alive.

Ethereal’s hooves stomped, stampeded, and raced against the crashing trees before, beside, and behind them.

With the crisp mountain air, her lungs contracting, she wasn’t human. She hadn’t a soul. She hadn’t meaning. She only knew one thing and that was to go harder, go faster, and kick down the next boulder before them.

Cheyenne loved every minute, every gasp of time.

That was what she lived for.

She needed no other. Ethereal was her family, her companion, and hers since she was born a foal to a lifeless mother.

The heart pounded in her ears as the trees brushed a grass’s graze to the naked leg.

Ahead of them, Cheyenne heard where Ethereal was taking her. They were joining the herd and the stallion had worked his mares into a frenzy. He felt the storm coming and the mountain would feel their power.

And then, with another leap over a bush and fallen log, Ethereal broke through the last camouflage and reared up on her hindlegs as the herd was there, in front of her face. Ethereal’s nose bumped against another racing Mustang and she reared further back, now straight in the air.

Cheyenne tucked her head and clung around Ethereal’s neck, until finally, after a second snort, the mare calmed enough to set back onto her front legs.

But she hadn’t hit the ground for a mere blink of an eye before she whinnied loudly and kicked her hooves to catch up with the rest.

It was racing time. It was being there. It was a blur, but it stood still in time.

Cheyenne opened her eyes, still tucked into Ethereal’s neck, and she saw the rest of the Mustangs beside her, brushing against her legs.

All of them were in perfect accord. They went where their leader led them and each breathed wildly. The excitement was contagious with their ears flat and their nostrils enlarged. They breathed big gulping breaths with wild eyes.

And they raced as they were Mustangs, free to the land. They were a herd known to be sturdy and tough. They were free. They weren’t the beautiful Arabians. They weren’t the fast Thoroughbreds or the majestic Morgans.

They were Mustangs. Wild. Free. And just tough.

And she was one of them.

The stallion stood on his hind legs. He wasn’t the black stallion or the white stallion. He bore two black marks on his white body. One covered his entire face and the other was a star on his hind leg. It was as if he had been marked specially by a god and he was born to lead his herd, this herd.

Some were Appaloosas. Some were chestnut, sorrel, black, paint. All colors and different colored manes with different birthmarks. They were the melting pot to breed the Mustangs.

Cheyenne closed her eyes once more, breathed in their musk, and softly smiled as Ethereal took her with the rest of them.

It was more than belonging. It was something special. She was something special. She had a secret that no one could understand even if they knew. She was given a window into another world, a world that might’ve seemed blah to some and breathless to others, but she reigned supreme because it was her secret.

In the old days, legends would be told about this stallion, about the Two Mark stallion that Cheyenne had secretly named him. Men would travel in the hopes to tame this stallion, ensuring wealth and reputations.

That was the old days.

They were protected now and they’d been forgotten.

She was among with, with them, and they were not forgotten. Not to her.

They breathed life to her. She’d been a mere human before she met them, living an ordinary world, but they were a time capsule.

They were nature in the flesh and they connected her to nature. They connected her to life—to a 3D animated picture that was just reality.

So many others were asleep. They went through their days, worrying about bank accounts, chocolate milk, if the oil had been changed.

They worried about being kissed on the first date, if a handshake was better, or maybe—better yet—a flirtatious tease would seal the deal.

Cheyenne walked beyond that. Her hand trailed down Ethereal’s neck, curled into the mane, and Ethereal swung her head around—just briefly—to answer her companion’s urgency.

Cheyenne needed to forget that kiss. She needed to forget a different human emotion that transpired life..

Cody had taught her what she hadn’t naturally known.

She knew how to mount with no rope or saddle. She knew how to approach, from the side and not to startle from the back. She knew what direction the ears meant, if they were interested, glum, or angry. She knew how their hooves pointed forward, but the slightest indentation told her their mood.

She knew if the most intelligent horse was tense or just waiting.

But she didn’t know their names. The Arabians were skittish. Or the Thoroughbreds were hotbloods. She didn’t know the Quarter Horse was known as an American breed or that most of the Mustangs had domesticated ancestors.

Cody taught her how to tie the right knots. He taught her the world of training and he had sensed a magic inside of her.

Cody knew the horses reacted to Cheyenne. They calmed when she entered the stables and they stomped nervously when she left.

She had a smell that they all wanted to be with, but Cody had never known that it was an actual odor of freedom.

In some ways, Cheyenne was free. She lived without the same rules of others. She could’ve lived out there, indefinitely, if need be. She’d spent days, sometimes a week or more at a time. She laid in the grass and sometimes Ethereal stood above her as a mother waits for a foal to wake.

Sometimes Cheyenne slept on Ethereal’s back. Other times, Cheyenne ate berries beside them, but they always had to eat slightly apart from the herd. Ethereal could eat with the, but Cheyenne was still only tolerated to ride among them.

There was a hierarchy in the herd.

Ethereal wasn’t the top, but she held her own.

Therefore, Cheyenne was accepted, but with constraints.

No matter the time or distance covered, Cheyenne always needed to return. And it was those times that brought her to a breaking point. She must remember again and now live with different rules.

Humans held ideas, games, languages, and the hardest of them all were those that couldn’t be seen.

But one of them that she could see and she could feel was human frailty. She was cold. She’d escaped in only her dress with her now-muddy sandals and she needed to warm again.

The herd was too avid. They wouldn’t pause to give her warmth. Ethereal couldn’t be taken away from them, just to allow body heat to her fragile companion.

With a slight tensing of her calves, Cheyenne told her mare where she needed to go.

With a trek across the mountain, with the last of the wedding guests long tucked in bed, Cheyenne slipped off the white mare and begin the long trek by foot towards Jordan’s stables.

Jordan owned his own ranch, but it stood empty.

Cheyenne lived in the modernized loft above the stables with a narrow stairways that led off to the side.

As she walked upstairs, she saw Jordan’s truck was parked outside his home.

None of his lights were on, so assuming that he had gotten a ride to the Dancing StillLeg, Cheyenne didn’t hesitate as she walked into her loft, the darkness welcomed, and lifted her dress over her head to let it fall gracefully to the floor.

She left the bedroom door open as she walked into the bedroom, stood beside the queen-sized bed, and took a deep breath. Her ribs were visible as her toned body stood in front of the window. She lifted a finger to open a slot in her blinds. Her hair fell loose and she leaned closer to peer beyond the windows, wondering where Ethereal was, but then the light switched on and she gasped.

Cheyenne whirled around, in her bra and underwear, as Jordan watched her intently from the doorway.

Jordan’s gaze was steady as he perused her body.

And Cheyenne scowled. “Turn it off.”

With a smirk, he asked, “Why don’t you cover yourself?”

“Because this is my room. Turn it off.” She defied.

Jordan laughed, “You know, you’re the only female I know that’s not a blushing virgin.”

“Was Caitlyn?” Cheyenne asked, her eyes narrowed. “Turn the light off.”

“I’ll still be able to see you, Chey. The moonlight’s real nice and pretty tonight.” He smiled. “And I didn’t know Caitlyn when she was a virgin, so I’ve no idea if she blushed or not. She blushes now, though, right when you slide inside.” A devilish wink. “And it’s quite the come-on. Makes me come.”

Cheyenne stood straight, taller, and stared him down. “Why do girls like you so much?”

“Are we talking before or after I screw ‘em?” His grin was cocksure, “Because I guarantee they don’t like me that much after I cut ‘em off. They want me even more, but they sure don’t like me.”

She’d had enough.

She knew who he was. And who he wasn’t.

She let him stare, knowing that he’d gotten confounded by her that night, and he needed to play his game.

“You like what you see, Jordan?” Cheyenne asked silkily. She slid a hand down her stomach and let it rest on the inside of her thigh. “You like this?”

His eyes went flat and he snarled, “Don’t do that.”

“Then don’t come in and treat me like one of them.” She snarled back. “Turn the light off.”

And the light went off.

“Good.”

“Doesn’t help. The moon’s right behind you, Chey. You’re still plain as day.”

“And you can turn around.”

“Not likely.” He returned smoothly, off the cusp of his lip. “I’d like to know more where you been. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d gotten yourself laid or been exercising real hard. You walk all straggly, sister.”

“Maybe I did get laid. Is it any of your business?” She sighed and reached inside her closet for a t-shirt. As she pulled it on, it rested just above the curves of her thighs.

“It’s my business when my stepsister takes off and I see her riding some horse I’ve never seen before. That’s my business.” Jordan stepped back as Cheyenne breezed past and into her kitchen.

The moonlight highlighted the island counter where it was bare except for a journal, a pen, and two cooking pots.

Cheyenne put the pots away, kneeling down, and then pulled out a cutting board. She produced a loaf of bread and stepped aside for a jar of jelly.

Jordan moved alongside and slid a knife from it’s holding cell. He cut and handed one slice after a second to Cheyenne where she waited with the jelly already on a dull knife.

He took one as Cheyenne hopped onto the counter and ate her slice.

And then he asked, “Where that horse come from?”

“You fuck Caitlyn?” Cheyenne threw back and paused, mid-bite, and her heels touching the counter behind them.

Jordan flashed his contempt and pushed away from the counter. “Thanks for the breakfast, Chey.”

He walked to the door.

Cheyenne watched him go, her eyes knowing, as he left.

His truck started again and he tore down the road.

Cheyenne checked the clock. It was after closing time for the Dancing StillLeg, but that didn’t mean Jordan couldn’t talk himself into a drink with the employees. He was real tight with the manager and even tighter with some of the servers.

They loved Jordan. Everyone either loved Jordan or abhorred Jordan and yet, both groups respected him.

Except the guys like Timothy Rankins.

They just despised quietly.

And Cheyenne partly hated her stepbrother for the same reason, but there was a whole host of other emotions that she’d never acknowledged. It didn’t take a genius to realize that it was something about his stepsister that unbalanced Jordan.

Neither approached the other unless necessary, but neither could move away at the same time.

And then a polite knock sounded at her door. Timothy poked his head inside and smiled, drowsily, “Hey?” The tie on his tuxedo was gone with his shirttails pulled free from his pants. And he’d changed shoes into basic black sneakers. The coat had been shed, probably in between his dancing songs.

Startled, Cheyenne asked, “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged and walked inside to close the door. He was unsettled and he was cautious at the same time.

Cheyenne knew why, but only asked instead, “Aren’t you supposed to becoming a man tonight?”

“Jordan was just in here.” It sounded like a question, but it wasn’t one.

Cheyenne closed her eyes and breathed for a breath. She could handle Jordan, but barely and everyone considered her the only one who could handle Jordan.

“Yeah?” She asked.

Timothy looked away. Cheyenne caught the movement, caught the flash of fury, and knew that he knew.

But that wasn’t why he had come.

“How’d you know when I got here?”

“I didn’t.” Timothy confessed, clenched knuckles on the countertop as he continued to look away.

Cheyenne saw the tight jaw, but waited.

“What do you mean?”

“I got here a little bit ago, but I saw Jordan going inside. I figured I’d just wait until he left…took awhile.”

“Timothy…”

“Don’t!” He rasped sharply. “Just…don’t, okay? My eyes are wide open, believe me.”

“He’ll stay away from her. I promise.”

“It’s supposed to be the other way around, Chey.”

Both men called her the same.

Timothy smiled sadly and finally met her gaze, “It’s supposed to be my wife who stays away from him. Not the other way around and it’s not supposed to be through you.”

Newlyweds are supposed to believe in blind love. That was how it was supposed to be, but those that didn’t—who were all to aware of the truth to their mortality were perhaps better off or perhaps the most damned.

Cheyenne bent her head and whispered, stricken, “I don’t know why he does that—”

“—Yes, you do.” Timothy interrupted her, harshly, but immediately softened his voice. “Yes, you do because you know him and no one else does. Caitlyn doesn’t. I know that. I’m not a fool, Cheyenne. I know that my wife is trying to forget who she used to be. She’s really trying to be a good wife. She just…it doesn’t help when he comes around just because he can.”

And yet, Caitlyn had said no to Cody, but not to Jordan.

Timothy cleared his throat and asked, “I heard that Cody left town?” His eyes searched her closed ones. “He wasn’t at the wedding. And then you disappeared—I was worried.”

Timothy knew about her feelings, about how she thought it was ‘her and Cody.’

“I’ve been a bit confounded.” Cheyenne whispered. “I’ll admit that.”

“Because he left…?”

Timothy was trying to be the best friend. That was why he’d come.

“Timothy.” Cheyenne turned to face him. “You got married tonight. You should be with your wife tonight, not with me, making sure I’m alright. It’s not your job anymore. You take care of Caitlyn. That’s your job now.”

Fondly, he whispered, “I used to have such a crush on you when we were kids. You know? You just weren’t ever there, not in some way that the other girls were. And then came Cody and he…I don’t know how it was between the two of you, but he did something to you and it’s gone again. I wish it weren’t.”

She didn’t know if she wished that. She didn’t know which world she loved more—well—she did know that, but what was right wasn’t the easiest. Slipping away to Ethereal, living among the herd, that was easy. Living with them, with Jordan, with Timothy, and now without Cody—that was the hard to do.

“I’m sorry for what he’s done to you.” Cheyenne said. “I’m sorry for Jordan.”

“He ain’t yours to apologize for.”

“But I know him how others don’t.” She used his words. “I’m the one that knows him. No one else, right? That gives me responsibility for him.”

“None can take responsibility for Jordan. Even his folks and your momma. They can’t steer him clear, they never could. I might have been a lowly geek back then, but I was your best friend. I sat right beside you when we heard some of those god-awful rows back then. Your folks knew the right thing to do. They got out of dodge and let us all to deal with Jordan.”

She turned to brew some coffee.

“Truth be told,” Timothy continued, resigned and saddened. “I’m just like all the others. Jordan Emerson runs straight through whoever’s in his way. He’s ruthless and I’m just another guy that’s been burned by him. Sad, though, because most of those guys think it’s almost an honor. Makes me sick, it does. It’s wrong.”

“There ain’t nothing right by being burned.”

“At least not by him.” Timothy nodded, sagely. “I just wish I knew what it was—about him, you know? Why do the girls do what they do? Why do the guys…they have him on a pedestal.”

Ruthlessness. Loyalty. And strength to withstand anything. That’s what Jordan had, but it was a dangerous mix.

In some ways, Cheyenne really did know Jordan how others didn’t. And she knew that there were very few who Jordan was loyal to, but when a person got into that circle—they never got out. It was a surprising quality in him that not many realized, but Cheyenne always thought that others felt, instinctively.

She knew it, deep down, and Cheyenne thought that most humans had the same emotions. They just didn’t know it and that’s why they flocked to him.

“Anyway,” Timothy sighed, regretful. “You’re right. I best be getting back to Caitlyn. She might’ve passed out by now, though, but I just wanted to…”

The coffee spat and sputtered.

Cheyenne smiled, with the moonlight on her face, “I’m not yours to worry about.”

He nodded and turned for the door. With a hand on the handle, he turned back and said, “But you are, Chey.”

“You’re going to have enough on your plate with Caitlyn.”

Timothy knew that Cheyenne didn’t care for Caitlyn. That she had never warmed to the idea of them together, but it was Cheyenne. She never told him her thoughts because they weren’t hers to give. It wasn’t her life and yet, irrevocably, she’d been pulled into the middle.

It wasn’t how Jordan was. Or actually, it wasn’t how Cheyenne was. Jordan went after what he decided to go after, but Cheyenne rarely was involved, but this time it involved her best friend. So she was there, not in the middle, and yet—in the middle.

“Does he know about Cody?” Timothy asked with his golden blonde hair messy and frizzy from dried sweat.

“What do you mean?” Cheyenne asked, tongue in cheek. Did Jordan know about her and Cody? Or did Jordan know that Cody had left?

Two distinct questions, but with the same answer.

Timothy acknowledged the unspoken and reminded himself that Cheyenne did what she wanted for reasons of her own.

It was a different best friendship than he ever envisioned for himself. He always thought he’d have the guy buds. He always wanted the macho friends, who’d come over to play football, watch wrestling with beer and pizza, maybe get a phone number from the cute delivery girl.

Instead, he’d been passive and in the back corner. He’d been bullied, but as soon as Cheyenne would appear, the bullies left.

It wasn’t that she defended him or that they were scared of her. It was just that they left and she was there.

Jordan Emerson didn’t become her stepbrother until much later, at the end of high school. So it wasn’t the threat of messing with Cheyenne Scott would result in messing with Jordan Emerson. That connection hadn’t been there, but Timothy knew that it was something about Cheyenne that just worked on a magical level.

He was smart enough to not acknowledge the eerie circumstances at times.

He’d given up his daydreams of having the rough and tumble friends long ago, but Cheyenne wasn’t even a normal girl.

She left, disappeared for moments in time, and Timothy always knew not to ask where she went. It was something in the air, he just knew not to ever ask because it’d never get answered. And if he pushed it, not that he ever would, but if he did—it’d result in Cheyenne’s permanent disappearance from his life.

She’d go off and do her own thing, but with no friend.

And she’d never care that she stood alone.

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