I'm smart as a whip, and think things through. I love to compete in the rodeo, showing horses, riding horses you name it. I grew up on the back of a horse, and can't imagine not having horses in my life. I'm over protective of my baby brother. Especially after losing our mom. I usually take things seriously, but I know how to have fun as well. I can be courageous when the need arises, and take things head on. I became a leader over the years in my various activities, and take it in stride. If I want something I go after it wholeheartedly with everything in me. I also wear my heart on my sleeve for my family, and would do anything for them. I'm one of those not afraid to get my hands dirty either. So the world better watch out!

[smear:#ae0001]Positive Traits:[/smear:#eeba30:0]
1)Adventurous: Willing to try new experiences and take risks.
2)Courageous: Possessing the mental or moral resilience to face opposition, danger, or difficulties despite one's fear.
3)Persistent: Stubbornly continuing on despite opposition, difficulty, or danger.
4)Uninhibited: Not restricted or restrained by societal or psychological norms.
5)Sensual: Appreciating the senses; seeking to explore one's appetites to gain sensory gratification.
6)Industrious: Working with devotion and determination.

[smear:#eeba30]Negative Traits:[/smear:#ae0001:0]
1)Stubborn: Unyielding or obstinate.
2)Vindictive: Disposed toward seeking revenge.
3)Mischievous: Maliciously or impishly troublesome.
4)Impatient: Restless or short-tempered when facing delay or opposition.
5)Temperamental: Marked by unpredictable changes in mood. I am a woman!
6)Rebellious: Flouting the law or resisting authority.

It is believed that the MacQueens of Scotland were of Norse origin, coming to Scotland with the Norsemen who occupied the Hebrides and west coast of Scotland during the ninth and tenth centuries. They were probably Vikings, who during that period of history conquered Ireland, England, Scotland and certain parts of France. In Scotland they eventually affiliated themselves with the Celtic tribes. Family names did not come into common usage until the twelfth or thirteenth centuries. Variations on the MacQueen name are Swyne, Sveinn, MacSwann, MacCuine, MacSween, etc. The transition of the name into MacQueen probably came about the fifteenth century when a branch of the family settled in Strathearn.

The MacQueen's are allegedly of the same descent as the Clan Donald, having kinship with the High Kings of Ireland. The MacQueen's are said to have provided a guard for a daughter of the chief of Clan MacDonald of Clan Ranald, who married a chief of the Clan Mackintosh. The Mackintosh clan were also chiefs of the Chattan Confederation and so the MacQueens settled around Findhorn and became part of the confederation of Clan Chattan.

The Clan MacQueen was then known as the Clan Revan. The chiefs became the Lairds of Corrie borough and were highly regarded amongst the supporters of the MacDonalds. Clan Macqueen is a Highland Scottish clan and a member of the Chattan Confederation. The clan does not currently have a chief and is therefore considered an armigerous clan.

Cameron MacQueen was one of the last descendants of the Lairds of the Clan MacQueen. He and his brother Duncan. Cameron, the eldest son, was more of a hell raiser. For he joined a motorcycle club in Dingwall, Scotland. A town in the highlands of Scotland. His father wasn't happy with him after he found out he was prospecting to the charter. Saying one of their royal breeds was too far above those ruffians. Cameron just scoffed at his father, and stayed on prospecting. Thinking he wasn't that special. He was just a normal boy wanting to have fun and not follow in his ancestors footsteps.

His younger brother Duncan was in a bus wreck on a school trip a few months later, and was pronounced dead at the scene. He was only sixteen years old. He attended the funeral of his younger brother mourning him in despair. There were no words spoken between father and son. It was as if he didn't exist at all. Word reached him days later that the bus accident wasn't an accident. Someone on that bus was targeted. It wasn't till his father was assassinated the next week in public that he realized it was his family that was the target.

It was arranged for him to flee to America, before there was an attempt on his life. There was no way he was taking over as Laird. It wasn't him, and never would be. So it was off to America he went. With nothing but what he could fit in his saddlebags on his bike. He found himself in Big Sky Montana. It took him a while to get settled in, but once he did he met a daughter of one of the Wild Wolves MC there when he prospected them. Falling madly in love with one another. Trisha Harris was her name. She was definitely not one to be tamed, and he loved that about her. They were married in August, and I must have been conceived on their wedding night as I was born exactly nine months later to the day.

My mother was an avid horse enthusiast, and opened her own stables called Everlasting Fable Stables. Lots of people boarded their horses there over the years. She trained horses and gave riding classes to all ages. Teaching them how to show and some even made the Olympic riding teams. There was a waiting list to get into the stables here. She hired the best to work here so the horses and people that came and went were well taken care of. Clubs were started up, and some were more elite than others. With students competing to get into the more elite ones.

Mom was riding the day she went into labor with me since it was like second nature to her. I was born right out there on the range with my father helping her. Even though she'd have probably been advised against it she rode back to the house with me in her arms. So my first time on horseback was the day I was born. Mom barely took off the time for maternity leave getting right back in the saddle. With one of those baby carriers slung down the front of her with me in it.

I loved growing up on the ranch, and I was way ahead of kids my age in riding as it was in my genes. I grew to love horses as much as my mother did. Course there were times when dad would put me on his bike with him, and that was fun too. Hearing someone refer to it as a steel horse I started calling it that much to my dad's delight. When I was five mom had my little brother Cameron Jr. The age difference wasn't for lack of trying. Mom told me when I was older she'd suffered two miscarriages between my brother and I. This time she had her baby in the hospital since she was having complications. It took her a little longer this time to get back in the saddle.

As I grew older I rose up in the ranks, and in the clubs. Making my own way, and I loved everything about showing, and riding. I had my group of friends that I grew up with and we were close. I'd learn how to train horses as well at a younger age. The best part of it though was the bonding with the horses. Palominos were my favorite, and I have two of them. Pali and Miss Kitty Beau. Both of them I've trained myself, and growing with me as I grew up.

I was also in MotoCross competing. It wasn’t that easy juggling everything, but my parents made it work. I’d started out learning to ride on a mini bike when I was around four and worked my way up to my dirtbike and was able to compete when I was around seven.

Around my twelfth year mom was pregnant again. She'd been advised after my brother not to have anymore with the complications she had. At that young age I wasn't understanding what was going on with her. Or the arguments her and dad were having quite often. It was later I learned and was able to understand why. She was going against the doctors wishes as she kept on working through her pregnancy. She was having complications again with this baby. Her seventh month of pregnancy she was working with a skittish colt training him. Usually she could stay on a bucking horse, but something was off this time. I had come to watch as had others, and I watched in horror as she went flying through the air. Colliding with the corral fence before falling to the ground.

People were yelling her name, and running towards her. I was frozen to the spot as she lay on the ground not moving. By the time the ambulance got there, and got her to the hospital it was too late. She'd miscarried, losing way too much blood. Plus she had internal injuries from the fall. They did all they could trying to save her, and then the baby. Both of them died that day though. My brother had been in a riding class when the accident happened, but we'd been taken to the hospital after they had gathered him and I up. Nobody would tell us anything though as we sat in the waiting room. My brother and I sat there crying and scared as I held him to me.

Dad had been called, but he was about an hour away on club business. By the time he got there it was too late. When he was told he broke down crying as did our grandfather, mom's dad, who had been on the ride with him. Dad made his way over to me and Cam gathered us in his arms as he sobbed in his grief. He told us that mommy and the baby had gone to heaven. They were our guardian angels now. Even at twelve I knew what that meant. Cam though he didn't so it was even harder as time went on with him asking for mommy. The next few days to me were a nightmare. Saying goodbye to my mother and the baby girl that she had been carrying. Moira Nichole was what they had named her. They were laid to rest in the family cemetery on the ranch.

Time moved on, but it never really got any easier with the loss. Our family all felt it deeply. Gramps took over running the stables with mom's right hand woman. Who he ended up falling in love with and they got married. Muriel got him through the rough patches, and gave him some hope for the future. The numbers dwindled down though with mom dying of the people who came here to board horses, have them trained, and their kids lessons. It didn't hold as much prestige without her there in their opinion. There were those loyal though that stayed with us.

Going into my teens I worked even harder on the ranch making sure that our stable stayed up in the highest rankings in the world. I tried sports, but they weren't for me. Instead I joined the FFA and 4-H gaining recognition in the horse department. I joined the Rodeo club too riding poles and barrels. Even did roping once in a while becoming an all around in competing. I did try English, but western suits me better. My mom's trophy room was added onto with all the ribbons and trophies that I won, as well as my brother when he was old enough to join 4-H. I was an FFA officer and 4-H officer all through high school. President of both of them my senior year which kept me more than busy especially with everything else I was doing. Both Cam and I were doing Motocross. So my family was more than busy.

One of my good friends from grade school was Mason Moretti. We became close during junior high and started dating the summer, before our freshman year.

After graduating I went onto college at Big Sky University working towards getting a degree teaching Vo-Ag. I was also on the college rodeo team, and was princess of a few rodeos during this time. Which I forgot I was during high school too. By the time I graduated I would be able to teach at a college level all the way down to preschool age in riding and anything to do with Horses. My plans were to get the ranch back to what it had been and help out at the ranch and teach Vo-Ag at the high school. Plans never seem to work though in my family so I should have been expecting something to happen.

My little brother Cam was sixteen now. He'd be starting his sophomore year next year. It was going to be his first year getting to go to Sturgis. Dad had taken him to get his Harley when he turned sixteen, the same as he did with me when I turned sixteen. Both of us loved riding motorcycles as well as horses. Cam was working on making his name as well known as I had made mine going through high school in all areas. Only thing different between us for sure was that he'd be getting to prospect to the club when he turned eighteen. Being a girl I hadn't had that privilege.

Things started to look up for awhile, but we started hearing news reports that not one, but two men named Cameron MacQueen had been murdered in the States. One in New York and another in Florida. Dad was more than paranoid after that. Dad told me and Cameron why he had come to America. Grandpa wanted dad to take Cam and go hide in the mountains. He refused saying it was time to stand his ground. Instead he talked Grandpa and Muriel to go up to the old hunting cabin with Cameron to keep him safe. In the meantime two other men of the same name were killed. It was only a matter of time with how well known I had made the MacQueen name that they'd show up here. He tried to talk me into going up to the hunting cabin too, but I refused.

It was in the middle of the night when they struck. Setting the barns on fire. The trainers and staff that lived there scrambled to get the horses out of the barns as they screamed in fright. Dad and I went running to help them. Dad and I were working on a barn the farthest away that we kept some of the brood mares in. We were almost done when the first shot was heard. I heard dad grunt just as a horse bolted from the stall I had just unlatched the door. She hit the door hard, knocking it into me and I was thrown back. I laid there trying to catch my breath. The smoke wasn't helping with trying to. There were more gunshots, and I turned my head as I gasped for breath seeing my father down about twenty feet down the stable laying there. I heard him say Uncle Callum as if in question. The man standing over him laughed. Saying he should have been the Laird of the Clan, and he shot my father as I watched in horror A scream finally escaped me as my breath caught.

The man walked over to me and stood over me. I'll never forget his words. "I have to wipe out your line so I can be the Laird." He said in a Scottish brogue a lot more thick than my fathers. In the blink of an eye I heard the shot before I felt it. It hit me in the left shoulder. There were yells then as he was raising up his gun to shoot me again. Instead he ran, and I blacked out. When I came too I was in the hospital in a private room. My grandfather, Muriel, and Cameron were there. I could tell that Cam had been crying, and he immediately jumped up seeing I was waking up. "Dad's gone." He broke down sobbing again, and I reached up, pulling him down to me, and hugged him. I was in pain with it radiating from my shoulder. At least Cameron was hugging me and had his head on my right side. He was more important than anything else right now.

In the days ahead Cameron was there with me the whole time as well as Mason. Wild Wolves MC were guarding the door to my room in case the man came back to finish off the job. When I remembered what had happened I let the authorities know. Saying that dad had called the man Uncle Callum. He told me he had to end my dad's line so that he could become the Laird of the clan. Dad had left Scotland to get away from that life though after his father and brother were murdered. At least they knew now that Callum MacQueen was who the authorities were looking for now that had murdered those other poor men that shared my father's name. At least all of the horses and other livestock had survived with us getting them out of the barns. Only fatality was my father, and the stables had been shut down for a while. My friends were finally allowed in to visit me, but one of the Wild Wolves stayed in the room, and outside the door the whole time unless they were a son or daughter of one of the Wolves.

I’ll be getting out of the hospital tomorrow, and the Wild Wolves are moving us to the clubhouse to keep us safe. Our grandfather will be there with us. He was a member of the Wild Wolves, still just not as active as he had been back in his wild days. Hopefully this great uncle of ours just runs now that we know who he is. One thing I won’t let him do is get to Cam! I’ll protect him with my own life!