Cheyenne (5 page)

I was sitting out on the front porch of my home. It was official. This was now my home and not my parents’. It had been willed to me, and it was already paid in full. I had a home, but I didn’t know what that would mean for my future.

A summer breeze wafted in the air, stirring the large ancient pine trees and causing the scent of fresh-cut grass to drift in the air and tease my nose. Colt had come over earlier in the morning and helped me mow. It was a daunting task, considering the size of the yard. The manicured lawn was small, but the meadows surrounding the house hadn’t been done yet. It took a couple of hours to complete the job. Luckily, I only had to do them twice a year, once in the spring, which I had missed, and once in the fall.

My mind drifted back to my circumstances. What was I going to do? Where was I going to go? I was fortunate to have my parents set me up so well for my future. I had no financial worries. It was as if they knew someday I would have to stand on my own. We had talked in general about their deaths, and I knew they had a will in case something happened. I just never thought it would happen like this—an auto accident when they were so young instead of having our whole lives until they grew old.

The house had been paid off, and after the accident, I had received insurance money for the truck. I also received a substantial payout from their life insurance policies and when I went to the bank, I found out they had opened several accounts in my name. They all showed large dollar amounts in their balances.

I watched from a distance as the mail truck deposited the envelopes in the box. My damp hair was cooling as it fluttered in the air, and I began the long stroll down the gravel drive. The patches of sunshine breaking through the trees kissed my skin as I passed under their canopy.

After closing the mailbox and flipping through the letters, I glanced up towards the house, into the dark forest. Instantly, the hairs on my neck stood on end.

I inhaled a shaky breath.

Something unmistakable large lingered in the shadows beyond the house.

“
It’s nothing,” I mumbled, trying to convince myself. I stared for a few moments more. I was just seeing things. My mind played tricks on me before. As a child, I had told my dad about the shadows, but he dismissed them as figments of my imagination.
It was just my imagination; that’s all
. I walked back to the house, and sighed in relief when the door shut behind me.

I wasn’t paying much attention as I tossed the mail onto the desk, but then an odd envelope caught my eye. It was addressed to Cheyenne Wilson, and seemed to be from a bank, but not one I recognized. I picked it up. Hesitating for a moment, I ran my finger under the back flap. Another account? How many were set up for me? And why? It was strange. Why would my parents have so many? Were they trying not to draw attention to themselves? Hiding something? I pulled the paper from the envelope. It wasn’t a checking account statement. It was a billing statement for a safety deposit box. The renewal payment was due in a couple of weeks and would be pulled from the account listed below, which appeared to be yet another savings account.

I didn’t remember my parents saying anything about a safety deposit box, especially at a small bank in Helena, Montana. I didn’t recall ever seeing a key, but I rummaged through the desk drawers looking for one anyway. Was there something I had somehow missed? What was in the safe deposit box? Why was it in my name? Pulling out the third drawer of the desk and running my hand through the papers, I searched for some sort of clue. I felt something strange on the bottom. There was a slight bump.

I pulled the drawer completely out, dumping the contents on the floor. My fingers ran across it again; yes, it was there, and it wasn’t my imagination. It seemed to be a small but deliberate imperfection of the drawer lining. I looked for a corner to pull away; I held it up to the light while gently finding the top and bottom sections. My nail caught an edge, and I delicately pulled it from the drawer bottom. A picture fell out.

It was a photograph of my parents and I at the Helena Cathedral. I fought to keep the tears at bay.

We were at a Christmas Mass in Montana. I remembered it well, because it was such an exquisite cathedral, with majestic twin spires rising from the foundation. I could still picture the stained glass windows sparkling from the light reflecting off them. The marble statues adorning the room. The white marble altar. The scent of incense in the air combined with the carved oak pews, and the music meandering through the halls from the organ.

I pressed the photo to my chest. What I wouldn’t have done to have a hug from my parents right now.

My daydream ended quickly as I realized the oddity of having a picture hidden in a drawer. Why had it been left there?

The picture dropped from my fingers and fell to the floor. I stared.

A note was on the back.

The note read:
The key to your future is hidden in the past. Don’t let what is stained deceive you. Music is your guide. GA

GA…my parents’ initials. What were they trying to tell me?

I read through the note once more. The key to my future is hidden in the past. Don’t let what is stained deceive you. Music is your guide.

My mind whirled around the possibilities. What did these have in common?

I pressed my fingers to my head and plopped down into the couch. I hated riddles, had no patience for them whatsoever…but one thing was obvious. I was meant to find this note. Somehow, I just had to figure out what it meant.

Chapter 4

Colt arrived before I was ready for him. I had spent so much time on the photograph and note that the afternoon had flown by. I was hesitant telling him about my recent discovery. I didn’t know what my parents had hidden from me. I also got the impression he didn’t want me to go far from home. And if this was where I thought the mystery was leading me, I was going to be traveling to Montana researching a safety deposit box.

Colt glanced at the mess on the floor by the desk in the living room. “Doing some spring cleaning, Cheyenne?” he asked.

“
Sorta. The drawer was stuck, and when I pulled it out, all the papers scattered to the floor. I was trying to put them away and got sidetracked.” It wasn’t the complete truth, but close enough.

“
I see,” he replied as he bent down to help me pick everything up. Sliding the drawer back in its place, he tested it to make sure it would operate smoothly. He glanced at me, as if I was hiding something, but said nothing.

“
Are you hungry? I could make you some dinner,” I offered, trying to change the subject. I stuffed the remaining items in the drawer and closed it. He had taken a step back to get out of my way, and was staring down at me.

“
I’m good. Have you eaten yet?” he replied casually.

“
No, but I’m not hungry at the moment.” I quickly needed to think of a diversion. “Thank you, by the way, for helping me with the yard this morning.”

“
You’re welcome, but you already thanked me a couple of times.”

“
Oh,” I replied and turned towards the couch, knocking over the pile of DVDs that were sitting near the TV. Dang! If he didn’t suspect I was hiding something before, he would know now for sure from my clumsy behavior. He could always tell something was going on. “You want to watch a movie?” I asked, as I began rummaging through the movie pile.

“
Sure,” his deep voice made my nervousness even more pronounced, as he dropped into the couch and waited. He knew me too well; he didn’t buy what I was telling him. I put a movie in and sat in the chair, as far away from him as I could get. I don’t know what we watched. I was trying to keep my distance, trying to come up with a way not to tell him. I began twisting my ring with my thumb as I thought it out.

The movie ended too soon for my liking, and Colt bided his time until he had me cornered in the kitchen. There was only one way in or out of the room, and he was standing in the doorway blocking it.

“
So, what’s going on?” he demanded.

“
Nothing,” I replied a little too quickly and cringed at my own guilt.

“
Nothing?” he answered with a reproving tone.

I didn’t reply.

He leaned in the doorway, crossing his arms. I knew he did it deliberately to make his arm muscle bulge beneath his clingy t-shirt. He grinned at me with a twinkle in his blue eyes. He was only a friend, but when he would produce that crooked grin… My face was a dead giveaway for my feelings! I spun around and started digging through the cupboard to hide my blush.

“
What’s this?” he asked.

I glanced his way and frowned. I’d left the newly found picture clipped on the fridge.

“
Um, just a picture I came across while cleaning.”

“
You found it in the drawers?”

I blinked.

He flipped it over and read the note on the back.

“
It’s nothing important,” I said.

He nodded and then added. “If it’s nothing important, then why’s there a note on the back?”

I was trying to ignore him as I moved to the pantry in the corner and began clanking cans and boxes around. It took him three steps to cross the kitchen floor and trap me in the pantry. I didn’t turn around. I could feel him behind me, blocking the exit, while he stood in the doorway. I knew at some point I was going to have to turn and face him, and he would probably get the information he wanted. I wasn’t good at lying to him.

Slowly turning, I realized that he had leaned down and his face was only inches from mine. I jumped. He laughed. Angry at his reaction, I pushed at his rock-hard biceps. They didn’t budge. I sighed and flashed him an exasperated expression, while I made an effort to duck under his arm. This time, he caught me by my arms and twisted me around to face him again. Two steps and he had me pinned against the kitchen wall, his musky scent inching dangerously close. I kept my gaze locked on the floor. He moved his hand off one of my arms and cupped his fingers under my chin, gently pulling my face up to meet his eyes. I closed mine, fearful of what I would expose. He patiently waited for me to open them as he kept hold of my chin. I could sense he was smiling. He knew he would get it out of me.

Slowly lifting my eyes to meet his stare, it was just as I thought. He had the biggest grin plastered over his face. He knew that he had won. My gaze wandered from his blonde hair down his face to his lips; he could be very distracting sometimes, especially when I wasn’t sure of his actions anymore. I could maybe tell him part of the truth, but I couldn’t let him know everything. I didn’t even know everything yet.

“
I have to go out of town for a few days and take care of family business,” I said, matter of fact.

“
Is that it? You seem more distracted than just going out of town for ‘family business’ would imply.” There was a deeper questioning to his tone.

“
Nope. That’s it. I just didn’t want you to worry about me, so I wasn’t going to tell you until I came back. Sometimes, you can be a little overprotective,” I snapped back, slightly miffed that he could make me so confused.

He was still cupping my face lightly with his fingers and grinning while he gazed down. The problem was that I could stare into his eyes for a long time—they were warm and inviting. I kind of liked the way that he was holding me at the moment. I knew my face had softened. I could see the same emotions mirrored in his. A shiver ran through my body. He felt it too and chuckled under his breath. He had been torturing me with his touch for months now, but he kept me constantly guessing because he never made a move.

Moving his fingers from my chin, his thumb gently caressed my cheek, stopping at the back of my neck.

I stopped breathing.

He ran his hand down my throat, pausing at my neckline. I was still staring into his eyes, but his expression seemed to have changed. It was more protective. He took a step forward and pressed me up against the wall. His right hand moved back up my shoulder, briefly stroking my neck, and then down my arm again to plant itself on my waist. My heart was fluttering at this point. I wasn’t quite sure what was happening, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it—I didn’t want to. My arms were limp at my sides.

His voice was soft and serious. “Is overprotective a bad thing?” he asked, in a deep gravely voice.