It was hard, though, putting my father’s words in my mouth, watching Cheyenne flinch, even in make-believe. I stared at the dark side yard, half-hidden now by reflections, and imagined Arthur standing behind me, setting a hand on my shoulder. If I called, I bet he’d come back. He’d support me.
But I was a grown man and he was probably nursing that headache and surely didn’t need more of mine. This was probably harder on Cheyenne than me.
“Okay?” Wynn’s voice came softly. “I think we’re ready, but we could put it off till tomorrow.”
“No!” Cheyenne said sharply. “I’d forget stuff. I’m ready now.”
“It’s three hours later there,” Wynn pointed out. “We’ll probably be waking them. Is that likely to be good or bad?”
“I think it’s good,” Cheyenne said. “They’ll be mad and not thinking about what they’re saying. Brooklyn?” I saw her hands shaking, but she crossed her arms and raised her chin. “I’m ready.”
I wanted to hug her and tell her to forget it, I’d protect her, I’d find a way. But her steely-eyed courage made me say, “Then let’s do this.” I nodded to Wynn who set up his phone to record. I hit start on the app and once it indicated it was recording, I entered our parents’ phone number and hit send. Quickly, I slid the phone over to Cheyenne.
After three rings, my mother’s voice came through the speaker. “Brooklyn Whalen West, is that you? It’s the middle of the night! Why are you calling? Do you know where your sister is?” Her demanding tone had me wondering if Dad was nearby, because she was usually quite meek when he was within earshot. Maybe waking her had shaken her calm. Or they were just that angry.
“It’s me, Mama.” Cheyenne spoke softly. “How are you?”
“Child, we’ve been worried sick.”
The harsh edge to her voice had my hackles rising. She wasn’t worried—she was angry.
“Sorry, Mama. I just—” She blinked. “—I didn’t want to marry Harvey, so I came to Brooklyn’s. But I don’t like the town here. Everyone’s so…queer.” She rolled her eyes at me.
“Are you surprised, your brother being that way? Time to get back where you belong. You’re in California?”
“Yes.” Again, very quiet. “I stole Brooklyn’s phone so I could call you.”
“Oh, here’s your father. You listen to him, Cheyenne. You do what you’re told.”
Another eye roll.
“Cheyenne? Where are you?” Dad’s low volume held the menace of an arctic chill.
“Gaynor Beach, California.” Her hand trembled as she inched the phone closer to her. “But I want to come home.”
“We’ll have one of your brothers drive out to get you.”
“Can’t you send me money for a bus ticket? I have ID.”
“You stay put and don’t move an inch. We’re not giving you a penny to run off with. Denver will leave first thing. You’re going to owe your brother bigtime.”
Despite trembling hands, she still managed to smirk and shake her head. “Okay, but if I come home, you have to promise you won’t make me marry Harvey. That’s not going to happen.”
“Cheyenne Abigail West.” Again with the frigid tone. Hell, I was intimidated by him—and I’d been out from under his thumb for twelve years. When I’d stayed with them, the lure and promise of money had kept them civil to me. Today? He was ready to lose his shit.
“Yes, Father?”
“You will stay in a motel until someone comes to retrieve you. You will not leave that room under any circumstances. Then you will come home and you will marry Harvey. We’d do it right now, but the damned state took away our freedom to decide when our children are ready for marriage. So you’ll live in our house till the day you turn eighteen, and then you’ll be his.”
“I want to come home…but I’m not marrying Harvey.”
“Cheyenne. You. Will. Do. As. You. Are. Told.” The volume on the last word crackled over the phone.
This time, I rolled my eyes. My heart pounded and a metallic taste tinged my dry mouth—a part of me was terrified—and yet I had enough distance to realize our father really did have the ability to go over the top.
Dad’s voice suddenly changed. “Wait. What are you up to? Do you have me on speaker?”
“Uh, I don’t know. I’ve never used this kind of cell phone. It came up this way, but I’m hiding in a closet. I don’t think Brooklyn can hear me.” She met, and held, my gaze.
