The Sunstone Brooch : Time Travel Romance by Katherine Logan (i am reading a book TXT) 📕

gloved fingers, forming a tight fist. Then she punched down on it.

The rest of the tail she pulled over her right leg.

It was time.

She reached way up on the railing and pulled her lady gooch to her pinkie—slide and ride. She sat slightly cocked to one side to avoid smashing her face on the slide gate when the bull pitched in the chute.

Then she grinned, winked, and gave a calm verbal command to Randy and the gateman. “Okay, boys.”

The gate flew open, and the clock started when the bull exploded from the chute. The clock would stop when Ensley’s hand came out of the rope, her feet touched the ground, or her free arm touched the bull.

The bull bucked with an explosive upward movement that forced her body to rock back like she was sitting in a rocking chair tipped back as far as it would go, while the front end dropped when the animal hit the ground, jolting her.

One, two, three bucks as the bull spun in a circle.

She flung her legs high to spur the bull, hoping to earn bonus points.

The bull went into another spin while bucking, and she struggled to get into the bull’s rhythm. The bull then kicked out to the side and twisted its torso, tilting her to the opposite side, putting pressure on her arm.

Then the bull bucked her off, and the ride turned into a complete shit show.

Ensley was on her feet, but her hand was caught in the bull rope. She flopped against the bull like a rag doll. With all her weight pulling down on her arm, it forced her hand to clamp shut when she needed it to open so she could break loose.

The bull tried to hook her with his horns, determined to get her off and away from him. She was stuck, trying to hang close until the bullfighters came out to help her break free. Seconds ticked off the clock. The snorting bull beat her up as he twisted and bucked.

“Damn,” she screamed, struggling with the rope.

The bull twisted so hard that her hand finally came loose. The force, though, knocked her to the ground, where the bull kicked her in the hip, sending her flying. When she landed in the dirt, the impact knocked her out.

She floated above her body without any pain, disconnected from the injured girl on the ground and the aghast spectators whispering their fears.

Men ran toward the body while others ran after the bull. And she watched all the action from her perch high above the arena where there was no pain.

You must go back, Ensley.

I’m too broken.

You must be the warrior you were born to be. The Keeper will need you for the coming war.

What war?

You will discover that in time. But always remember you carry the handprints of your ancestors on your heart. And when you are ready, your true love will find you.

Then the voice blew a breath of warm air across her face. When she looked again at the injured girl, the image of an ash tree supporting the universe with its roots extended into the underworld appeared on her forehead.

What’s that?

You are marked. Never forget.

And then the warm air blew it away.

2

Napa, CA (1881)—James Cullen, Age 13

The light went out.

His head throbbed, and blood trickled down his face.

He was scared and tired and hungry, and he wanted to go home. And now he was in total darkness.

Don’t be scared, wee laddie. Ye come from a long line of Highland warriors. Don’t ye give up. Not today. Not ever.

His heart pounded in his chest, his throat, even in his ears, and he almost pissed his pants—again. “Who’s there? Who are you? I can’t see you.”

He plastered himself against the wall as soon as he realized he didn’t actually hear the voice. It wasn’t as if a woman stood next to him. He sensed her voice, like mental telepathy. He shook his head hard, just like Tater Tot shook when he came out of the lake.

“Who are you?” he asked again.

The disembodied woman said, A guardian.

Anxiety still gripped him, but he wasn’t afraid of her. “Like an angel?”

Nay, not an angel.

“A Jedi Knight?”

I’ve never met one.

“A see-through person, then. A ghost, like Uncle Cullen?”

Aye, a see-through person. I’m Kristen.

“Uncle Cullen had a sister named Kristen. I’ve seen her name on my family tree. She drowned.”

Aye.

“I heard she saved Uncle Cullen from drowning after he was shot.”

I’ve always watched over him.

“Are you watching over me?”

I’m watching over ye both.

“Is Uncle Cullen in trouble, too?”

That’s why I’m here. Ye have to go back.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” he said in a frustrated singsong voice, waving his arms for emphasis. “I lost my light.” A touch, soft as a feather, brushed James Cullen’s cheek, sending shivers up and down his spine.

Before ye were born, young Cullen, ye were given the gift of sight. Ye’re blessed.

“What’s the gift of sight?”

The ability to see what others cannot.

“Like Superman’s X-ray vision?”

Ah, wee laddie. The gift is limitless, but it doesn’t all come at once.

Okay, this was getting too weird for even a campfire ghost story. “Do you have the gift?”

Aye.

“But you’re dead.”

I don’t have an earthly body.

He was hallucinating. That had to be the answer. The moldy smell he’d been smelling must be those hallucinogenic mushrooms.

It’s time for ye to use yer gift.

“How can I use it? I don’t even understand what it is.”

Understanding will come.

“When? Why can’t I understand now?”

What ye seek will be revealed.

“You’re talking in circles.”

Clarity will come, too, young Cullen.

“The only thing coming my way are the men with butterfly nets. See, I don’t believe you, and what I seek, you’re not capable of giving me. I want to go home.”

It’s not my purpose to give ye anything.

A faint breeze washed over him, and his hair fluttered. He jumped to his feet, turning in circles. “Hey, wait, Lady Yoda. Don’t go. I didn’t mean to be rude. Tell me more about the