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Chapter 4
Chris kept one hand near his gun, his uneasy feeling growing. He had found a river, found willow trees and got enough bark for some tea. Now he could get back to Morgan and the others. Make sure they were alright.
He heard another one of those horseless carriages, trains that didn't run on tracks, whatever the hell they were, coming and stopped in Cheyenne's backyard to watch it go past. He went upstairs and opened the door to all hell breaking loose.
"Get out!" the woman who had brought them home was shouting, pointing toward the door. "You're all insane!"
"We ain't the ones makin' up crazy stories!" JD yelled back.
Chris quickly scanned the room until he saw Morgan. She was standing on her own two feet, Buck keeping a hand on her as he tried to talk to Cheyenne. Morgan put a hand to her head like it was still hurting her, her jaw tightening as Cheyenne pointed towards the door again and ordered them all out of her house.
"Now, Cheyenne, we're all just tryin' to figure out—"
Buck didn't get to finish his sentence because one of the windows exploded, shards of glass flying out of the frame. Everyone ducked down. Chris whipped out his gun, staying low, going to see where the shot had come from. He hadn't heard any gunfire, didn't see anything that had come through the window. Everyone else barely gave the window a look, getting back up.
"If you ain't some sort of witch, why does that keep happenin'?" JD demanded.
"You some sort of shaman?" Vin was asking. "You don't have to make up stories. We won't judge you none."
"I knew a Cheyenne shaman once," Josiah added in.
"I'm not a shaman! Or a witch! And I'm not Cheyenne!" The woman looked ready to tear her hair out. "I'm Irish and—and German or something. Not Native American!"
"You ain't from America?" Nathan asked.
Buck glanced over and saw Chris standing in the doorway. "Chris," he said, relief flooding his face. "You're back."
Morgan turned to look at him, the worry and tension on her face easing slightly at his return and a light behind her shattered, sending everyone ducking for cover again.
"What the hell is going on?" Chris demanded.
"She said we're in Wyoming!" JD accused.
"And seems to think it's the twenty first century," Josiah added, clearly finding that more alarming than them being in a different territory.
"Yeah! And that!" JD added.
Chris looked over at Cheyenne even as he moved closer to Morgan. "You ok?" he asked.
Morgan nodded, then winced and put a hand to her temple. Chris reached out and gently touched the back of her head where she had hit it on the ground, grimacing when he felt the knot there. The lamps that were glowing without benefit of any flame all grew brighter around the room and then flickered wildly.
"I don't know that this lady's any sort of shaman or sorceress or whatever," Buck said quietly to Chris. "But I've seen enough working girls fall into opium to get their brains addled."
"Excuse me?" Cheyenne asked. If she had looked flustered and slightly scared when Chris first came in, she was downright livid at Buck's quiet words to Chris. She planted her hands on her hips and glared at Buck. "Working girl?"
Buck's face was sympathetic. "I ain't judgin' you, Miss. None of us are. It's hard for a woman on her own—"
"I'm not a prostitute!" Cheyenne nearly screamed. "What is wrong with all of you?"
There was a tentative knock on the still open door and seven hands went toward their guns. Chris and Buck shifted to block Morgan from any threat.
A young woman, not much younger than Cheyenne, jumped back at the sight of the armed men. Chris had to give her a grudging respect that she squared her shoulders and looked to Cheyenne.
"Are you alright, Cheyenne? I heard shouting."
Cheyenne eyed all of them like she would gladly throw them all out through the broken window one by one.
"I'm fine, Casey," she said. "Just have some unexpected company that apparently escaped from the loony bin."
"We didn't escape from anywhere," Ezra said to the young woman in the door. "We were trying to explain to Miss Cheyenne that there was some sort of earthquake—"
"And a light—" Nathan added in.
"And that necklace of Morgan's…" Buck started, but then whirled around to face Morgan. "That necklace!"
The memories of the sudden shaking and noise and light was still something of a blur, but Chris remembered the necklace as soon as Buck said that.
Buck reached for the jewel around Morgan's neck and grabbed it. He yanked it off her, breaking the chain and tossed it aside. It landed with a clatter on the floor and skidded to a stop near the new woman's feet.
Casey's brow furrowed and she bent down, picking up the jewel.
"No!" the men all shouted at her in unison.
Casey jolted at the sound, but didn't drop the necklace. She turned her attention back to the necklace. The necklace that laid in her hand like a cold jewel and nothing more.
"This looks real," she said in awe.
"It should be," Ezra said. "It was supposed to cover a substantial debt."
Casey looked up at all of them. Then her gaze landed on JD and she narrowed her eyes.
"What's that?" she asked sharply.
"That's JD," Buck offered. "He ain't much, but—"
Casey was grabbing at the sheriff's star JD had pinned on his vest. She studied it, then turned it over and and raised alarmed eyes to JD. "This isn't a replica."
"Well of course not," JD said. "I'm the only sheriff in Four Corners. I got a real badge."
Casey looked more confused and stared at him. JD looked bewildered by her closeness.
"Do you know what this is?" Casey asked Cheyenne, holding the badge out toward her.
Cheyenne shook her head. "I don't know what any of this is," she said, waving an arm around to encompass all the men and Morgan, the broken glass.
"This is a sheriff's badge from the late 1800's. We have a collection of them at the museum." She looked over their clothes and their guns. "And look at their clothes. Their guns!" Casey eyed the weapons. She looked at JD in awe. "How did you get original weaponry that's over a hundred years old and in such good condition?"
Chris rubbed a hand on his forehead. "What is going on?" he asked again, hoping someone had an explanation that made sense.
"No," Cheyenne was saying. She was shaking her head. "No way. There's no…" her words trailed off and she looked the group over, a horrified look on her face wiping out the disbelief. "There's no way you're time travelers."
#
Morgan sank down on a chair at the edge of Cheyenne's yard. She fisted her hands in her lap and fought for control. Nothing made sense. Somehow that necklace had dragged them into the future. Her head hurt, her hands wouldn't stop shaking, and she just wanted to go home.
She was terrified.
The window of the small garage she was sitting near shattered and Morgan jolted. That had been happening all day, scaring everyone, leading the men to blame Cheyenne and Cheyenne to blame the men. Morgan had no idea what was causing it, but she wished it would stop. She was stressed enough, and jumping every time something moved or exploded didn't help.
She fisted her hands in her lap.
"Quite the turn of events."
Morgan jolted and the chair next to her flew a few feet through the air, clanging to the ground.
Ezra looked from her to the chair. Without comment, he picked up the chair and set it upright near her, sinking down into the seat.
Morgan relaxed slightly. Of the men her brother rode with, she and Ezra had always gotten along the best, often to Buck's dismay.
Ezra looked up towards the house where everyone was still inside. It was late, the sun setting and casting long shadows. A few lights that had remained unbroken glowed from inside the house.
"I should apologize," Ezra said without looking at her. "I had no idea that necklace…"
"Has some sort of supernatural power to create a storm that dragged us all through the centuries to land in a field with some woman Buck insulted by calling a prostitute?" Morgan finished for him.
Ezra's lips moved slightly into smile. "I was caught off guard by that."
"Not me," Morgan said. She cocked her head in spite of the pain and gave Ezra a haughty look.
"Really?" Ezra asked, lifting an eyebrow dubiously.
"I knew Buck could offend women in any decade," Morgan grinned.
It felt good to laugh.
#
Cheyenne brought out the bottles of beer from her fridge. She really only had them for if Eli or Jason if they came by. But the men in her living room looked like they could use them.
Casey was still there, questioning the men about their lives. She was a middle school history teacher who picked up extra money by working at the history museum summers and weekends. The men looked shell shocked, rousing to answer Casey's questions and occasionally ask one of their own. They didn't look heartened by anything she had to say about the era they found themselves in.
Buck took the beer from her with a thanks, rousing from his thoughts. Cheyenne felt a tug of pity for the man. Other than assuming she was a prostitute, he had been kind from the moment she had met him. She had watched how worried he was for his sister, how protective he was of his sister and friends.
"I need some air," Buck said, standing.
Cheyenne was struck anew by how tall he was. He looked toward the door and looked lost.
"Do you want to take a walk?" she asked.
She had no idea what had possessed her to ask him that. But then he looked at her with relief, like he wasn't so aimless for at least a minute, and she was glad she had.
He held the door open for her, looking at her broken window on the way out. "I'll fix that for you."
Her broken lights and windows were the least of her problems at this point. The houseful of gunslingers and Morgan were at the top of her list of issues to deal with right now.
Cheyenne saw Morgan and Ezra seated in her lawn chairs at the edge of the yard. She saw Morgan smile at something Ezra said, even though she was still squinting like her head hurt.
Buck gave Morgan a once over and must have decided she looked like she was on the mend because he didn't do anything more than give them a nod as he and Cheyenne walked past.
Cheyenne left her yard behind, heading into the vacant field that edged up to the back of the yards on her block. Buck fell into step with her, shortening his stride to match hers.
Cheyenne kept to the east side of the open field, heading toward the wooded area. She glanced a couple times toward the car shop her brother and Hunter worked at, but didn't see any movement in that direction. It was still too early in the evening for any of the stolen vehicles to show up and the garage to convert to a chop shop.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she and Buck made it to the cover of the trees. The land sloped downhill and she walked until they reached the edge of the river.
She went to a fallen tree, taking a seat on the log.
Buck kept moving to the edge of the water, his attention on the lazy current. Cheyenne took the opportunity to really study the man for the first time. She hadn't looked much past the weapons and odd clothes of the group earlier.
Buck height was muted by the height of the trees around him. She could see the frown on his face beneath his mustache. When he turned and looked at her, his eyes were gentle. She hadn't expected that.
"I'm awful sorry for thinkin' you were a soiled dove, Ma'am."
The directness of his statement made her smile, in spite of the offense she had felt earlier.
"I'm sorry for trying to kick you and your friends out on the street so many times."
He returned her smile and Cheyenne felt some of the weirdness of the day fade in the light of his smile.
Cheyenne wanted to ask him what he and his friends were going to do, but realized how pointless that question was. There was no way they had a plan when they were all still reeling at the news that they had landed in the future.
"You should stay at my place tonight," she said suddenly.
Buck turned to look at her and Cheyenne frowned. "That came out wrong," she said, feeling her cheeks heat.
Buck grinned at her obvious discomfort.
"You all should stay in my house until you figure something out," she clarified.
Buck sobered and there was that softness in his eyes again. She wasn't familiar with that look in her life.
"We'd really appreciate that, Cheyenne," he said.
Cheyenne shrugged off his appreciation. They could camp out in her living room for a day or two. And hopefully they would all be gone somewhere then. She had no idea where they would go, but she told herself it wasn't her problem. None of this was.
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