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CHAPTER SIX

Eric slapped Jordan on the back and remarked, “Heard you had some good fun during the storm.”

Jordan cast a hard look and asked, “What are you talking about?”

Laila joined the duo and slid Jordan’s beer across the counter, “He’s talking about Kindley Montague, right?”

Eric nodded, confused, “What else would I be talking about?”

Jordan met Laila’s eyes and knew that she knew. Kindley Montague was a server at the Dancing StillLeg.

Jordan drank some of his beer and sat back on his stool.

Eric settled in next to him.

The door opened and a group of strangers walked inside.

“Oh my word!” Eric straightened abruptly.

“What?” Jordan was bored.

“Do you know who that is?”

Jordan arched an eyebrow. The better question would be to ask if he cared.

“That’s Meloday Mulright.” Eric was all smiles. “My baby brother had such a crush on her in school, you know—before they moved.”

“Tony noticed girls back then?”

“Shut up.” Eric said shortly. “Man, he’d just keel over right now if he was here. I should call him.”

“Eric, Tony’s gay. I don’t think he’ll care.”

“Oh no. You don’t understand. Meloday Mulright was pre-gayness. He was fascinated with her. Just talked and talked about her and this weird little book that she was always doodling in.” Eric whistled. “I have to call him. I can’t not call him.”

As Eric left, Laila moved back to the counter and slipped a shot in front of Jordan.

“What’s this?”

Laila gestured behind him, to a booth where Tony’s old crush was smiling back, with a blush to her cheeks. “Says it’s because you showed up at the Mulright farm to save her. Wanted to say ‘thanks.’”

Jordan straightened and murmured, “Another truck had gotten there and I didn’t go there for her.”

“I know that, but she don’t know that.” Laila cursed and leaned over the counter. “Look, between you and me—Kindley told me what happened. Cheyenne burst inside and you went running to help her. Something about a horse. I don’t know what goes on between you and that sister of yours—”

“She’s my stepsister.”

“—and I don’t right care if you’re half in love with the girl. Folks around here…they’re old-fashioned, Jordan. And you’re not the one who’s going to get the bad end of the deal.”

Jordan shoved down his anger, but asked, through gritted teeth, “Why you talking like this?”

“Because I’ve seen that girl of yours. She is beautiful, with grace, with kindness. I’ve seen how she handles horses. I’ve got a few of mine boarded at the Powers’ Ranch. I was out there when one of the studs was acting his name. I saw what your girl did. She settled him down, right snappy.” Laila rolled her eyes and hushed, “She’s something special, that one is. And I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“You’re telling me this…why?” Jordan demanded, darkly.

“Because everyone knows that you’re prickly about her. It don’t take a wise man to figure out why. I just hope that you think twice before doing what you’ve been itching to do for years now.” Laila rapped her knuckles on the counter and moved away.

“Hi.”

Jordan whirled around and saw Tony’s crush at his elbow.

“Hi.” He murmured, taken aback.

“You got my shot.” She gestured to the drink. “You didn’t like it?”

“Uh…haven’t had time to enjoy it, yet.” Jordan grinned and held out his hand, “I’m Jordan—”

“Emerson.” She said quickly. “I know. I’m Meloday Mulright.”

“Nice to meet you, Meloday.” Jordan said politely.

Meloday took Eric’s seat and exclaimed, nervous, “I saw your truck the other day, you know—during the storm, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. I almost told the driver to let me off and you could drive me back to town. It was such a sweet thing for you to do, to come and save us.”

“Well…” Jordan met Laila’s gaze and said instead, “You never know what idiots are staying at the Mulrights’ old farm. Thought I’d check and be safe.”

Her smile dimmed at the backward insult, but it came back again. Meloday said brightly, “We were idiots. And I even know what it was like in those storms, but I had hoped to be along before a storm happened. Guess I forgot how to feel when they approach.” She met his eyes, hopeful, and said proudly, “It’s all my time in the studio. I’m a painter. Kind of successful, actually, but I’m not as in tune with the natural elements. Not like you have to be, when you’re living here.”

Jordan smiled, politely, took the shot, and stood up. “Well…”

“Oh.” Meloday blushed. “You have to go, huh?”

Eric arrived, smiling widely, and threw an arm around Meloday. “Meloday Mulright!” He exclaimed, smugly. “Guess who I am? Or guess who my baby brother is.”

Her blush went flat and Meloday said, dumbly, “You’re Tony Bellfellow’s brother, Eric.”

“That’s right.” He said, excited, and nodded to Jordan, “You see, Jordan! She knows. She knows who I am and who my baby brother is, like, instantly. Almost like it’s fate.”

“Or it’s because it’s a small town and your brother’s not exactly camouflage.” Jordan said dryly. “Laila, I’ll see you later. Thanks for the beer.”

Laila lifted a lazy hand, pouring a pitcher at the tap.

“Hey. Where you going?” Eric hopped to the side. “I thought Kindley was on tonight. I’d figured you’d want to stick around.”

Meloday stood back.

Jordan skimmed her face, noted Eric’s smirk, and knew that Laila watched him with knowing eyes. He said, “I should get back, make sure Cheyenne ain’t sick or anything.”

“Oh.” Eric’s smirk vanished. He asked, somber, “Was she out in the storm?”

“Yeah.” Jordan nodded and pushed through the small group. “She was.” He said faintly, to himself, as he pushed open the door and strode to his truck. He glanced in the alley. No Bella waiting tonight, but Kindley was just approaching the door, a black Dancing StillLeg shirt on. She was dressed for work with her blonde hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail.

“Hey.” She murmured, quiet.

Jordan took a step back. “Hey.”

“Uh…” Kindley laughed and rubbed her ear. “So…is…everything okay with Cheyenne?”

“Yeah.” Jordan looked at his truck.

“Is she…you know…a girl might start thinking about a fella who jumps out of his bed when some other girl bursts in.” She laughed again, hoarsely. “Makes the first girl start wondering what the other girl has on the boy.”

Jordan met her eyes swiftly and said flatly, “Or maybe it’s because the ‘other’ girl never asks for help so the ‘boy’ knew it was something life or death. Maybe that was part of it.”

Kindley acknowledged his bite, but said, softly, “I know a lot of girls that would come screaming for your help, but you wouldn’t lift a finger to help them. You helped her.”

Jordan looked back to his truck.

“And the two of you had your own language.” Kindley bit out. “I was naked, Jordan.”

“What do you want from me?” He asked and shifted away from her.

“What do you think?” Kindley smiled sadly, bitterly. “It was you and me and she bursts in. And then it was just me, naked and alone. You even know what that feels like? Look, nevermind, but if you have a torch for your sister—”

“Stepsister.” Jordan said automatically. “And it ain’t even like that.”

“Well, it’s something like that.” Kindley pointed out. “I’ve got to get to work. I just think…” She sighed. “I don’t know Cheyenne all that well. No one does, but…don’t hurt her, okay? I’m woman enough to know where your heart ain’t and it ain’t with me. If it’s with her, go gentle, okay?”

“It’s really a beautiful thing when two women who never gave a damn about Cheyenne are pleading for her heart.” Jordan taunted, cruelly. “You didn’t even know who Cheyenne was before that day so don’t come up to me and start telling me not to hurt her. It ain’t your place, Kindley.”

“I knew who she was.” Kindley said swiftly, resigned in defeat. “I just never realized who she was until that day.”

“I look out for her, okay? That’s all there is.”

“No.” Kindley said faintly as she moved around and reached for the doorhandle. She waited, her jeweled purse hung off her arm, “I think you’d love to look out for her, though. Way I hear it, Cheyenne Emerson is usually pretty good about keeping to herself, wherever she heads off to.”

“Why do you even care? Why does Laila even care?”

“Because…” Kindley smiled ruefully. “I hate to say this, but…she’s got something over you that the rest of us are just yearning to have. No one’s going to tame you, but I think she’s got you dancing in place for her. I had hoped that woman might be me, but it ain’t and I’m not going to waste my time with you, telling me something that my heart won’t agree with. And because I’ve gotta look out for the sisterhood. You tell Cheyenne, that if she ever wants a shoulder, she’s got a few friends that she might not know about.”

Jordan rolled his eyes. “You trying to tell me that this is about ‘looking out for the sistas’ or some crap like that?”

“Yeah, Jordan.” Kindley said quietly. “It is.”

“Cheyenne doesn’t give a shit about that stuff. She’s got who she needs.” He bit out.

Kindley smiled, seeing what he didn’t want her to see, “And it ain’t you, is it? Is that where the problem is?”

“Fuck you, Kindley.” Jordan retorted with an ugly grin.

Kindley laughed and went into work.

Jordan cursed again and moved to his truck.

As he reversed and put his truck into drive, he caught a car’s approach from the corner of his eye and looked up.

Caitlyn had just arrived outside the hair salon and she turned, met his eyes, with a purse on her arm as Timothy rounding the car to take her other arm.

Timothy followed her eyes and met Jordan’s through the truck’s window.

Caitlyn paled and ducked, hurrying into the salon.

Timothy glanced behind to his wife, but swung back to meet Jordan’s gaze once more.

Jordan waited, his car in the middle of the highway.

Timothy must’ve decided something because he approached after a deep breath.

Jordan didn’t move. He didn’t even roll down the window. Timothy had to knock, politely, on the window before it rolled down.

“Yeah?” Jordan asked, closed off.

Timothy swallowed. His eyes shifted away and he said tightly, “I was wondering how Cheyenne is doing. The storm was pretty bad and she…sometimes goes out in those.”

“I know what she ‘sometimes’ does.” Jordan said, hardened.

Timothy ignored the bait and asked, “Is she okay?”

Jordan looked away. “She was drinking coffee and wrapped in a bunch of blankets when I saw her last.”

“Storm was a few days ago.”

“What are you asking, Rankins?” Jordan asked, steel in his voice.

“I’m asking…if she’s alright.”

“Why don’t you stop by and see for yourself.” Jordan taunted.

Timothy swallowed and met his eyes, angrily.

Jordan added, “Why don’t you bring along your wife, why you’re at it?”

Timothy glared and said shortly, tensely, “Why don’t you keep at it and we’ll see how this ends.”

“Maybe we should.”

“Look.” Timothy bit out. “You and I both know this isn’t even about Caitlyn.”

“It’s not?”

“Is this about Cheyenne?” Timothy asked, holding his breath.

“Maybe I’m goddamn sick and tired of people coming up to me and talking to me about Cheyenne, as if it’s any of their business.”

“Cheyenne is my best friend.”

“Was, buddy.” Jordan smiled rakishly. “She ain’t anymore. Your best friend just went in to get her hair all nice and pretty. That’s your best friend now.”

“Stay the hell away from my wife.” Timothy warned.

“Stay the hell away from my property.” Jordan threw back, smiled, and gunned his engine. The truck shot off as Timothy barely had time to move away.

Jordan left and when he returned home, he saw Cheyenne standing at the post, gazing out to the mountain terrain.

He walked up behind her and waited, for what—he couldn’t know.

Cheyenne smiled, softly, and said, “I’ve been back for a few days.”

“Yeah.” Jordan sighed.

“Tomorrow’s Matt’s party.”

“The family’s coming home.” Jordan nodded.

“I’m not going.” She said faintly, wistfully.

Jordan didn’t say anything.

“You know my secret.” Cheyenne told him.

“I do.”

“I can’t breathe here, Jordan. I can’t…,” She turned around. “not when they’re here.”

Jordan let out a deep breath, ragged, and said quietly, “You can’t seem to breathe when they’re not here, Cheyenne.”

“I’ll wait till the morning and then I’m leaving again.”

“Your mom’s arriving in the morning.”

“I know.” She turned around again.

Jordan watched her as she watched beyond them. That’s when he admitted, in clear thought, that if he could keep her, he would, but he knew he couldn’t. It was almost as if she belonged out there, among them, among what he couldn’t understand or comprehend.

“What do you want me to tell them?” Jordan asked.

Cheyenne smiled, hollow, and turned around to meet his gaze. She let him see the emptiness in hers and said simply, “You really think they’re going to ask?”

“Mattie will.”

“Mattie will know.”

“And your mom?”

Cheyenne shook her head, “She hasn’t been my mom since that fire.”

“Chey, that’s not true.”

“It is and you know it.” Cheyenne said numbly. She was empty on the inside. She was empty, cast out by the family that should’ve held her, comforted her, and loved her. They hadn’t. And because of it, something broke off inside of her, and that was how she could be with the herd, with creatures who didn’t speak the human’s language.

“I’m not sick.” Cheyenne murmured and bent her head.

Jordan closed his eyes and bent his own head. He stood behind her.

“I just…I’m not a part of here anymore.”

“Cheyenne.” Jordan whispered. “You can’t just go off and live with those horses.”

“Why not?” Cheyenne asked, stricken.

“Because it’s not right. You’re not a horse. You’re…here. You’re supposed to be here.” Jordan was at a loss of what to say. It was so simple, so black and white, and yet—when he remembered watching Cheyenne climb onto that Mustang and just ride her out of the waters, there was something else there. Something that wasn’t simple and that he knew he would never understand.

A part of her did belong with them. Jordan felt that, but a part of her belonged at home.

Cheyenne smiled and asked, “Who was that girl?”

“What girl?” Jordan frowned.

“That one in your bed.”

“No one.”

Cheyenne laughed, briefly, and turned to study him. Sincerely, she asked, “You often call girls that you make love to ‘no one’?”

“There was no love about it. I fucked her.”

Cheyenne turned back away. “You’re cheating yourself.”

“What?”

“You’re beneath who you could be. You’re lessening yourself when you ‘fuck’ ‘no ones’. That’s what your life becomes, then, and making love becomes just a fairytale to you.” She reached out and grasped his hand. “Don’t think of love as a fairytale, Jordan. You’re better than that.”

Jordan held her gaze, held her hand, and pulled her close. “What if the girl that I want to make love to is beyond my reach? What if she’s taboo?” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Cheyenne looked towards the hills. She whispered, softly, “Who defines ‘taboo’?”

“Everyone. Them.”

“Am I the taboo girl?” She asked and tilted her head backwards, to meet his eyes. His smoldered while hers were serene. And she smiled, beautifully, “Because I’m your stepsister? Is that what this is about?”

“It’s been between us for how many years, Cheyenne?”

“What’s between us is what we choose is between us.”

“Then I choose this.” Jordan murmured and rested his forehead against hers. He tucked her close. “I want this, Cheyenne.”

Cheyenne breathed in and out. She rested a hand against his cheek and sighed, “Maybe. Someday.” Breaking free, she added, “I’m leaving in the morning.”

Jordan stayed behind and watched as she went to her loft.

Any other girl, he knew that she would’ve been leading the way to her bedroom. But this was Cheyenne and he knew that she wasn’t. And she really was leaving, no matter what he asked or said.

Jordan didn’t know what had happened, why he’d said what he’d said. Maybe the currents had always been there. Maybe it was time. He didn’t give a damn about the ‘taboo’ of their situation and he knew that Cheyenne didn’t care either. Hell, Cheyenne barely remembered that she lived in Mountain Creig half the time. And maybe, it really ate at him, figuring what hold Phillips must’ve had on her to bring about this threshold.

Cheyenne had always been one to go off, but since the wedding—it’d been worse. She’d been out there, with the herd when that storm came, and he knew that she had just stuck around the last few days for him.

He’d been worried about her, worried enough for him to make her promise not to leave, until he knew that she wasn’t sick.

And, true to her word, Cheyenne hadn’t gotten sick. She’d been in those storms before and she’d endured them all.

Jordan remembered one time when she’d been taken to the hospital. He asked about it then, that afternoon after he’d brought her back from saving Ethereal. Cheyenne had said that she’d been out for two weeks straight. The storms had shut down their school.

No one had realized that she’d been gone. Everyone just thought she left in the morning and got back late.

Jordan thought about it and realized that Grace Scott Emerson had been the one who insisted that was the reason for Cheyenne’s absence. And everyone had believed her. Who wouldn’t believe the mother?

And in the distance, he heard a whinny.

Something more powerful than he had just called for her.

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