Cheyenne (A Timeless Series Novel)

by Wiedmeier, Lisa

  I marched out to the Jeep and tried the handle. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. Peering through the tinted glass in the back, I saw the computer, still in its case on the floor. Great, now what was I going to do? I was sure they hadn’t left the key lying around for me to casually pick up, and I was one hundred percent positive Callon had it in his front pocket. Thinking about how I’d acquired it last time brought a blush to my cheeks. No, I wasn’t going to try that stunt again, at least not this soon. I also wasn’t in the mood to wait for them to return and then kindly ask for it, especially Callon. More than likely he’d refuse just to rile me. I’d have to break in.

  I ran inside and grabbed a wire hanger from the closet. How hard could it be? I just had to slide it between the glass and the door. I bent the hanger and worked it down in the crack. It was harder than it seemed. Nothing was catching or moving. Did this only work on older cars? I jigged the hanger back and forth and suddenly, it broke through. My hand slid down, and scratched against the wire.

  “Ouch!” I cried. I lifted it to find that I was bleeding from a thin scratch across my palm.

  This definitely wasn’t going to work.

  I searched the area for a stone. I found a decent sized rock, one I could easily handle, and wound up like a pitcher getting a better aim. I felt fairly confident; I didn’t have too bad of an arm for a girl. Launching the rock with everything I had, it hit the back window. Success!

  However, my triumph was short-lived, as a split second later the rock bounced off the window and ricocheted into my lower lip. Pain tore through my face, and I moaned. I had forgotten the back windows were made from polycarbonate, not glass. I fell to my knees and grabbed the right side of my face. What the heck was the matter with me? Was I trying to kill myself?

  I forced myself up off the gravel driveway, feeling both stunned and embarrassed. The safest thing for me to do right now was not to throw any more missiles. So what could I use instead?

  I scanned the wooded area for a fallen branch I could use to smash the front window. A hefty one was sitting by the road, so I grabbed it and dragged it over to the car. It was heavier than I thought. I wrapped both hands around it, twisting my body so I could get some good momentum into the swing, then let it fly.

  It was more difficult to control than I imagined. Instead of breaking the glass, it bounced off the bumper, returning to hit me in my right eye. I fell to the ground. Crap!

  Clutching my eye in my hands, I tried to work through the pain. So what if the branch was a little unwieldy? I was on a mission. I needed my computer.

  I got back up, and pulled my hand away from my face. There was blood on it. Ouch. I came to the conclusion it would be safer if I took my rings off and placed them in my shorts pocket.

  Perhaps another approach would be more prudent.

  As I looked around the driveway again, my eyes came to rest on the outbuilding. Racing toward it, I flung the doors open. It was more of a horse tack barn, but in the far corner sat a workbench with some tools hanging above it. I glanced through the selection until I came across what I was looking for—a sledgehammer! If this didn’t work, nothing would.

  Running back to the Jeep, my eyes narrowed in determination. I was going to have the last laugh with this pile of scrap metal and wheels. I planted my feet firmly and placed both of my hands on the long narrow handle of the sledgehammer. I pulled my arms back, then swung with all my might. The window shattered as the hammer fell to the ground.

  Precisely on the top of my right foot.

  Swearing, I fell to the ground for the third time, grasping my leg. My right foot was throbbing; actually my entire right side was reeling in pain. Rage burned through my veins. I was not going down without a fight! I pushed through the hurt and picked the sledgehammer up. With a yell I swung it repeatedly, beating the window into a glassy pulp.

  The car alarm went off, screeching in my ears. That was the last straw. I wasn’t as careful as I could have been as I leaned into the broken window to unlock the door. I scratched my forearms. I unlocked the doors and reached across the seat to get the laptop case only to drop it. A piece of glass ripped through my shorts. Pain blazed up my leg, and I looked down to see a deep gash across my upper thigh that was oozing blood. Could this get any worse?

  Crawling out, I ran around the front of the Jeep to release the hood latches to stop the auto alarm screaming. Stepping up on the front bumper, I found the electrical box and pulled the lid off. It took a few minutes, but I found the fuse for the alarm and pulled it out. The squealing ceased, replaced by blissful silence.

  But the Jeep hadn’t finished its fun with me yet. As I was about to climb back down, I banged my head against the hood. On instinct I flinched, only to lose my balance and fall to the gravel on my hands.

  For a long while I sat on the ground, my head between my knees. For all that is holy! How did car thieves make it look so easy?

  I wrenched myself up, walked to the driver’s door and unlocked it. I headed to the back hatch, pulled it open, grabbed my laptop in its case and put it under my arm. I turned, bloody and battered, then staggered up the stairs to the porch.

  I let myself fall into the seat. Everything hurt, and I was probably still bleeding, but all my struggles had only made my desire for answers stronger. I put my laptop case on the small table in front of me, my arm caked with dried blood. I’d clean it off later.

  I unzipped the bag, pulled out the laptop, and turned it on. Nothing happened. I wanted to scream to the sky. The battery was dead! I dug into the bottom of my case and found the power cord. I took the laptop and the power cord with me as I entered the cabin, and proceeded to the kitchen table where I could let it charge while I was using it. I then realized that I had left the journal out on the porch.

  I stumbled back out the door to grab it. As I entered the doorway, I heard Daniel’s voice.

  “What the heck happened to the Jeep?”

  He was coming up the drive, inspecting the damage as he approached.

  Callon and Colt were right behind him, staring at the log, stone, and sledgehammer. Blood coated all three items from where they’d hit me or where I’d grabbed them. The side window was smeared with it, as well as the backseat, driver’s door, and grille.

  In an instant both of them were sprinting towards the cabin. They stopped dead in their tracks when they saw me. I must’ve been quite a sight. I was covered in blood from head to toe, my right eye was swollen shut, and my lower lip was turning into a balloon. My arms were scratched, my right thigh was bleeding, and my shorts were torn. To top it all off, my head began throbbing.

  Looking at all three of them for a brief moment, I hobbled to the loveseat on the porch to grab the journal. Their eyes were glued to me as I picked up the journal and slowly retreated into the cabin.

  Colt burst out laughing, Daniel following with a mixture of snorting and hooting. Even Callon was laughing. Ha, maybe he who must be obeyed does have a sense of humor, after all.

  I sat down at the kitchen table and turned my laptop on. It was pointless to wash up now; they’d already seen me and most of the scratches and bumps looked worse than they were. It probably would have done little good to prevent the harassing I was about to endure. Did they have wireless internet this far out of town?

  The laughing trio walked into the cabin and came towards me. I couldn’t look at them; I was far too embarrassed. Colt stepped forward and gently turned my chin toward them. I winced; my jaw and lower lip were throbbing with pain. I peered into his smiling eyes and knew exactly what was coming.

  “I guess we know the answer to who won the fight with the Jeep.”

  They all burst into laughter with Daniel doubled up holding his side. I got up and started to limp out of the room. Both Callon and Colt came to my side and redirected me to the couch in the great room, the laugher momentarily dying down.

  They sat me down to assess the damage, but they just couldn’t remove the grins from their faces. Colt spoke again, but thi
s time with more sincerity, “So what was in the Jeep you couldn’t wait for?”

  I tried to answer, but my mouth didn’t move quite right since it was so swollen. “Waptop.”

  The snorting started again from behind the couch; Daniel was having a hard time controlling himself.

  “Oh I see,” Colt said. “Do you think you could tell us exactly what happened? Since we already know the extent of your injuries.”

  Colt was trying to keep a straight face, though his mouth continued to twitch into a mocking smile. Callon, however, seemed more concerned. My face flushed. What did it matter? They were never going to let me live this down. If they got it out of their system now, maybe it would be better later. Dream on, Cheyenne, like that’s going to happen…

  I looked at them with my one good eye, and started to explain. The only problem was that while I was trying to talk most of my words came out slurred. This made it even more amusing to them. Eventually, though, they got the majority of their laugher out of their system, and started to tend my wounds. They lay me down on the couch as they cleaned the blood from my face. Luckily the cuts above my eyes were just minor scratches.

  Callon brought in a couple of bags of ice for the right side of my face. They moved down to my arms, hands, and thigh, cleaning and bandaging as they went. Callon checked my foot to make sure I hadn’t broken it. I was fortunate the sledgehammer hadn’t hit in the right spot and that I had a decent pair of hiking shoes on.

  So much for researching the journal today. I didn’t think I could do it even if I tried. Callon was back in doctor-mode, wanting to know when was the last time I ate. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought it was about five hours ago. He made me a small protein shake and handed it to me with a straw. Colt helped me sit up, and I tried to drink as much as I could. Callon wanted me to take some painkillers, and I didn’t fight him on this one. Without my irritation over the Jeep’s cunning plan to foil me at every turn, I was really starting to feel the hurt.

  Next time, I think I’ll wait and ask, I told myself.

  Chapter 10

  The medicine Callon dispensed helped; I slept fairly well. I only remembered waking once when Colt shifted his legs from under my head. Low voices were talking in the kitchen—they were looking at the journal. It didn’t really bother me they were reading it. I didn’t know what it said, so any insight would be helpful.

  I remembered I had placed the rings securely in my pocket and pulled them out, putting them back on my fingers. My face was still puffy, and I was sure I had at least one black eye. I thought now was as good a time as any to assess the damages.

  I had a hard time trying to pull myself out of the couch; my head was starting to throb again. This was a different kind of throb, not like the headaches I had been getting. This was just your regular “bump on the noggin” type of bothersome headache. I could handle it. I sat up first and then used the arm of the couch for support to help raise myself up onto my legs. In an instant Colt was at my side, tenderly supporting my arm.

  “How’s my little Jeep assaulter today? Are you going to take on the truck because it said something to make you mad?” he asked in a teasing tone. “You know we wouldn’t have laughed if we thought it was more serious, right?”

  He loved to tease me; actually just about anyone I met loved to. I was beginning to think I had a permanent tattoo on my forehead that read “tease me please.” I tried to smile back, but my lips and eyes wouldn’t move. This just caused Colt to chuckle more to himself. I responded the best I could, trying to throw some sassiness back at him.

  “If you think the Jeep was bad, just don’t get me angry enough to do something to you.”

  He chuckled again and then helped me down the hall to the bedroom. I sat on the bed while he went to find me some clean clothes. He was being thoughtful.

  I let out a sigh and was staring down at my hand admiring the blue ring again. When he came back, I placed my folded hands into my lap. Colt stopped and was silent; I could hear his even breathing. He looked at my hands. The ring was wrapped under my fingers now, and I realized I was clutching it harder than necessary. He reached over, and loosened my clasp to reveal the ring. He rolled it over so he could see the stone. His hand froze, and his breath paused. He pulled his hand away and balled it into a fist.

  I was confused. He handed me my clothes and walked me to the bathroom in silence. I turned to try and look at him through my one good eye, and he gave a shallow smile as he strode away. I decided the best thing I could do right now was get clean. I went to the mirror only to gasp at what I saw. I was a mess; the right side of my face was a covered in bluish green bruises, mingled with scratches and dried blood. My eye was swollen, and I had a fat lip. I shook my head at my own impatient stupidity, but that hurt.

  The cuts and scrapes stung a little when the water hit them. I tried to wash the cuts and bruises as best I could, cleaning off the remaining dried blood. I was pretty stiff and sore too; no more crazy activities for at least a couple of days.

  I was a little confused by Colt’s reaction over the blue-stoned ring. Both he and Callon saw it in the truck the other day, but said nothing. This time it seemed worse. Maybe he didn’t really get a good look at it before? I was going to have to find out why. I glanced in the mirror again and sighed. This was as good as it was going to get. I needed time to heal.

  I toddled to the kitchen where they were sitting. They turned as I approached. It was odd—the trio seemed to have blank expressions on their faces. Colt pulled the chair between Callon and himself out for me to sit on. I sat down, and my gaze wandered to each of their faces. Something was up, and it had to do with me.

  Colt slowly reached over and took my hand in his, turning it to reveal the rings. He and Callon seemed more concerned than Daniel. Callon stretched out his hand and asked, “May I?”

  I moved my hand toward his fingers. He gently grasped my wrist and started to caress my fingers with his other hand. He was rubbing his thumb over the rings. I peered into his warm eyes and saw something I didn’t expect.

  It was as if he was looking at me in awe. It was hard to imagine how he could in the condition I was in. My half bloody and battered face didn’t change his expression. I stared back, not in awe, but something close to that.

  He was so stunningly beautiful, his tanned skin highlighting his hazel eyes, the dark brown wavy curls falling onto his forehead. The way he held his jaw taut, the rough growth of whiskers peering out from his chin. I lowered my head; I didn’t need to get caught up in him. Colt was who I needed. Callon drove me nuts; Colt made me smile. Callon analyzed everything. They were like night and day. Colt was my sunshine, Callon the dark of night that caused shivers to run down my back.

  I allowed Callon to keep my hand in his, but turned slightly so I could lean toward Colt. Colt put his arm around my waist, slid closer, and I gave a weak grin. “Are these rings special?” I asked quietly. I directed my question to Callon since he was the one who usually spoke for the group on these kinds of topics, and he was the one holding my hand.

  “Yes, they are—the blue stoned one especially. There were only three of the blue rings in existence. Yours belonged to an extinct clan. The other two were destroyed, and the third was thought to have been lost with the clan line. It is a ring of royalty and power.”

  He was still holding my hand, tracing the rings with his fingers, his eyes following the movements. Maybe I was wrong previously about my assumption of his moods. He was speaking of the rings; however, I knew it involved information about me, and he had warmth—awe.

  “What about the other ring? Is this special as well?” I was referring to the ring on my index finger. The ring my parents had given me as a child, the ring that had the same symbols as the journal.

  “Yes, it represents another clan.“

  “What do you mean a clan?”

  He seemed to ignore me, as he was deep in thought.

  “Why did I receive them? Why do I have both?”

 
Callon’s gaze met mine and this time he was sincere when he spoke, answering me just above a whisper, “That’s a good question.”

  Okay, now what? No one knew why I had these rings, one of which was exceptionally rare. I asked again. “Callon, what do you mean by ‘represents a clan’? What does that have to do with me?”

  He still did not release my hand, but turned his chair to face me, reaching out to grasp my other hand in his. Colt slid a little closer. His hand was still wrapped around my waist, but Callon was now semi-straddling the chair I sat on. Daniel sat silently in the chair across the table. I could hear him breathing nervously and sensed his eyes on me as well. This couldn’t be good. It was as if they knew I would react badly.

  Callon started speaking passionately, all the while intently searching my face for my reaction, “Cheyenne, you need to brace yourself. You don’t live in the world you think you do. There’s a lot we need to talk about. I’ll try to give you as much as I can, but I’ll hold some back. It’s going to be hard to take it all in at once.”

  He paused, waiting for a response before he proceeded. I knew I wanted to hear; however, with their reactions as they were now I wasn’t sure it would be good. I couldn’t speak, so I just nodded, taking in small even breaths. Callon started out slowly in a controlled tone, as if to tell a story.

  “Long ago there were many clans roaming this world, each unique in its own way. We lived in harmony and peace for a long time. Some of the main clans were the Sarac, Silloquize, Kvech, Consilador, Coltooro, Laundess and Servak. Many centuries ago, an evil uprising began.

  “A leader arose from the Sarac clan, Makhi. He was greedy and lusted for power, hungered to have ultimate control. He ruled his people with an iron fist. He claimed he was the only righteous heir to the throne, that the Kvech clan was no longer royalty, no longer worthy to control the power of our world.”