Under the Open Sky
A Montana Heritage Novel
By: Michelle Maness
Under the Open Sky
© 2012 Wendy Michelle Maness
This book is a work of fiction any resemblance to those living or dead is coincidental. This book may not be copied in part or whole without prior permission.
One
Amanda Lynn Jennings loved watching the sun rise over the Bitterroot Range, each day painting her world in brilliant color with broad strokes. Here on her father’s ranch, life was secure and happy and Amanda couldn’t imagine life ever being any other way. Even the absence of her mother, long deceased, seemed to have little effect on Amanda’s life; she supposed it was hard to miss what you never really remembered having. Besides, her Aunt Naomi was most often there with a warm hug or a cool hand for an overheated forehead. This morning, as many others, found Amanda seated on the porch roof outside her bed room window watching the horses romp and run in the corral just off the barn. To her left a large pond reflected the new light of day as wisps of fog began to burn off the night cooled surface of the water. Amanda had been climbing on the roof to watch the sun rise and often stars since she was a young girl. Her Aunt Naomi had fussed, to little avail, ever since.
“Mandy!”
At her Aunt Naomi’s call, Amada rose to her feet on lanky legs and climbed back through her window before carefully setting the screen back in place. Amanda turned to leave the room and caught site of herself in the long oval mirror that occupied the corner of her room. Her hair was completely disheveled and she knew to go downstairs in such a state would gain censure from her aunt. Amanda grabbed her brush and began pulling it through her long wheat colored locks with impatient strokes before braiding it, securing the end, and flipping it over her shoulder to hang nearly to her waist. Amanda brushed a hand down her cut off jean shorts, and checkered western cut shirt before stepping from her room and taking the stairs in a rapid rhythm that Naomi swore sounded like a horse galloping.
“Good morning, Aunt Naomi,” Amanda kissed her aunt’s cheek as she took the plate of eggs, toast, and bacon her aunt had waiting.
“You’ve been on the roof again haven’t you?” Naomi’s blue eyes were accusing as they slid over Amanda. Naomi kept her pale brown hair neatly coiled in buns or perfectly arranged coils lending her an austere look that often suited her but seldom gave testimony to the love she showered on her brother, niece, and nephew.
“Good morning, Daddy,” Amanda favored her father’s weathered cheek with a kiss and ignored her aunt’s accusation.
“Good morning, Pumpkin,” her father’s brown eyes were warm when they landed on his youngest. Despite the contradiction it appeared, Sterling Jennings was a firm, but indulgent man. He always listened to his children’s requests and ideas, often heading them. When he decided something, however, he expected it to be strictly adhered to: no questions asked.
“Good morning, Trent,” Amanda greeted her brother.
“Mornin’ squirt,” her brother’s smile was affectionate. Her brother shared her wheat colored locks but possessed their father’s dark brown eyes. Amanda’s daddy claimed Amanda got her unusual eye color from her mother, though the faded photographs made it hard for Amanda to confirm this. Her eyes were a luminous medium green: cat eyes her brother called them; Cat eyes to go along with her coltish body that had yet to take on more than the barest hint of feminine shape. Most her friends were beginning to carry around full busts, at least by comparison, and were claiming boyfriends. There was only one boy’s attention Amanda wanted.
Chris Atkins had been causing Amanda fits ever since the school year began. Nearly two years older but in the same grade as Amanda, Chris could make her sigh with no more than a hint of a smile. With thick dark brown hair and brilliant blue eyes to top off a physique that was already being sculpted by his work on his father’s ranch, Chris was more than a little attractive. He had trouble with his reading, meaning he had repeated a grade a few years ago. The last time a classmate had made fun of him for it, Chris had laid the boy out in one punch.
“Have you decided what you’re going to want for your birthday next week?” Naomi asked as they ate.
“My learner’s permit.”
The humph that came from behind her father’s farm journal wasn’t reassuring.
“I can already drive the tractor, how much harder can the truck be?” Amanda had been making her case as well as any lawyer for over two months now. The only explanation for her lack of result was that the jury had obviously been bought; likely by one well-meaning but meddling aunt.
“I hired a new hand.” Sterling made the comment in an off handed manner, but a new hand always brought interest from the family.
“Tell us about him, Daddy,” Amanda prompted when he offered no further information. Sterling put down the farm journal he’d been reading and took a sip of his coffee.
“He just turned eighteen and is in his final year of school. He’ll be moving into the bunk house.”
“Who’d you hire?”
Trent, too, was in his final year of school; chances were he already knew the new hand.
“Cade Winston.”
“Cade Winston? He’s the biggest bad ass in the school; you can’t be serious?” Trent was staring at his father in disbelief.
“Watch your mouth,” Sterling shot his son a pointed look.
“Sorry.”
“I hired him on the condition that he will finish school; just because his father was worthless doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve a chance.”
Amanda finished her breakfast, grabbed her plate and slipped out the screen door, across the screened in back porch, and to the dog’s food bowl.
“Hey, Big Boy,” Amanda rubbed the large dog’s scruffy neck and turned to retrace her steps into the house. After rinsing her plate and placing it in the dishwasher, Amanda slid back into her seat to finish her juice.
“Shouldn’t you be dressing for school?” Naomi surveyed Amanda before rising from the table.
“I am dressed,” Amanda knew that would get a rise from her aunt.
“You are not going to school in cutoff jeans; I took you shopping for school clothes for a reason.”
Amanda rolled her eyes but stood and bounded up the stairs to change. She closed the door to her room and admired the papered walls. Her Aunt Naomi wasn’t all bad; she had talked her father into letting Amanda give her room a more mature make over. The walls now sported new wall paper of white background scattered with vines and lavender colored flowers. Her white, iron bed frame, an antique nearly as old as the house, was now covered with a light purple spread. Amanda yanked open the top drawer of her oak chest and pulled a pair of jeans from the top of the pile. She paired them with a t-shirt and long sleeved floral printed shirt, with western, silver buttons; she knew that it would please her aunt that she had taken the time to layer her clothes. In Amanda’s view clothes were an accessory and anything serviceable would do. In Naomi’s view they were a part of the person wearing them. Amanda pulled on her socks and struggled into her boots, before checking that her braid was still neat and grabbed her books to catch the bus. Sometimes she rode with her brother; today she was in a hurry to be on her way.
“That’s much better; where are your tennis shoes?” Naomi was standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“What’s wrong with my boots?”
Amanda didn’t wait for an answer as she strode forward to hurry out the door, the screen door snapping shut with a slap behind her.
“Sterling, that girl is growing up wild!”
Naomi’s voice carried through the open windows
and made Amanda grimace. Naomi had it in her head that Amanda was becoming a young lady and should act and look it. Amanda raised a hand in greeting to a couple of hands who stood outside the bunk house opposite the house and across the pond. Amanda hadn’t made the end of the drive when her brother’s truck stopped beside her.
“Hop in,” her brother ordered.
“You’re leaving early,” Amanda climbed into the cab and dropped her book bag onto the floor to put on her seat belt.
“I’m meeting Angela before classes start.”
“You know how dad feels about her,” Amanda glanced at her brother. She knew the girls found her brother attractive and she supposed he was. He was six foot even, his long, lanky build deceptive of the firm muscle he had earned through hard manual labor.
“I know.”
“I won’t tell,” Amanda smiled at her brother.
“Thanks, Squirt.”
“I won’t tell that I saw you making out in the barn with her either,” Amanda smiled and waited for her brother’s reaction.
“You were spying on me?” Trent turned his attention from the road to shoot his sister a fierce frown.
“I was reading a book in the loft. I was in plain sight; you just weren’t noticing anything but Angela.”
“You brat!”
“I told you I wouldn’t tell but if you want to abuse me…” Amanda lifted one thin shoulder and let the threat dangle.
“I’m sorry but don’t you be spyin’ on me.”
Trent’s face was still that of an injured party and Amanda turned to hide her smile.
Trent turned his pick up into the school parking lot and carefully maneuvered around buses as he looked for a place to park. Their community was small, all thirteen grades housed in one large sprawling building that had been added to as needed, but never quite outgrown to the point of being replaced. Amanda hopped from the truck as soon as it stopped moving and hurried to her locker; she wanted to search out Samantha and see if she knew who this new hand her father had hired was. Amanda passed the large mural of a mountain trapper, the school’s mascot, and nodded her head in greeting. It was a whimsical tradition she had started years earlier.
“Sam!” Amanda called as she spotted her friend. The petite brunette turned, a smile lighting her brown eyes.
“Hi.”
Her friend’s greeting brought a smile to Amanda’s young, angled face.
“Hey, do you know who Cade Winston is?” Amanda fell into step beside her best friend.
“Of course I do; why?” Samantha was watching her warily.
“My daddy hired him at the ranch; I don’t know who he is.”
“You don’t know…” Samantha stopped to stare at Amanda.
“What?”
“I swear, Mandy, when your head isn’t in a book; it’s in the clouds.” Samantha rolled her expressive eyes and continued walking.
“Well, who is he?”
“He’s a senior.”
“I know that,” Amanda rolled her eyes in impatience. They were nearing their lockers, both noting the stance of two boys down the hall; curiosity pulled them closer.
Amanda recognized the shorter of the two as Michael Fredricks; he had been a friend of her brother until their sophomore year when they’d had a falling out, over what Amanda never knew. She had seen Michael’s opponent around school, at least she thought she had, but he wasn’t someone she knew. He had thick black hair that stood on end as though he had the habit of perpetually running his hands through it. His vivid blue eyes were snapping in fury, causing a small scar, wider at one end than the other, at the corner of his left eye to stand out. His jaw, clenched in anger, appeared to be sculpted of stone.
“Come on; fight like a man!” Michael shot at the taller man, his hazel eyes reckless with anger.
Amanda watched as the other young man’s shoulder’s bunched, muscles pressing beneath his shirt and his hands fisted; causing the muscles of his arms to bulge against his rolled sleeves. His stance was loose from his slender hips; he was ready to pounce. He didn’t look like a man Amanda would want to cross.
“Your father was a drunk and your mother was a whore!” Michael bellowed. Amanda watched the other man spring forward, the sound of flesh meeting flesh causing her to jump. The fight was brutal, the tall stranger taking very few hits in exchange for the many he threw.
“Break it up!” Principle Jones and Coach Seiver pushed their way through the throng to each grab a hand full of shirt. Coach Seiver hauled one student one way and Principal Jones dragged the other student in the opposite direction. As Coach Seiver passed, hard blue eyes made contact with Amanda’s causing her to shiver.
“That is Cade Winston,” Samantha spoke from behind Amanda.
Two
Amanda sat crossed legged in the hay loft, a book discarded in her lap, and watched as her brother and Cade Winston sized each other up. They reminded her of two dogs dancing circles around each other as they decided whether or not the other was friend or foe. The morning’s fight had left Amanda morbidly fascinated with their new hand and somewhat in awe of him. Trent stood, arms crossed, opposite a negligent Cade.
“You say you’ve done ranch work before?” The look on Trent’s face was skeptical.
“More’n once,” Cade seemed almost disinterested in the conversation, his voice so low that Amanda had to lean forward to hear him. Her movement drew her brother’s attention.
“You spyin’ on me again, Brat?” her brother called.
“I was reading.” Amanda held her book up for her brother’s inspection.
“Go on in and help Aunt Naomi instead of hidin’ in the barn,” Trent was doing his best to come across as authoritative; it would have amused Amanda if it hadn’t irritated her so badly.
“I already helped her with laundry and dinner; she said I could read,” Amanda made no offer to move.
“Go on, Mandy!” Her brother’s tone had turned sharp and Amanda knew if she stayed he would get truly good and mad at her. She sighed as she stood and reached for a beam opposite her. She hopped onto it, reached for a thick metal pipe, seated herself on it and flipped upside down from her knees; then grabbed another pipe below her to swing to the floor.
“Dad would have your hide if he caught you swingin’ from his pipes like a monkey,” Trent threatened.
“A lot goes in the barn that Daddy doesn’t know about doesn’t it?” Amanda shot her brother a saucy smile as she passed and had to dodge his hat as he took it off to swing it at her behind.
“Get out of here!” Trent called after her.
“Make me,” Amanda turned to walk backwards and made a face at her brother. She caught a hint of amusement in Cade’s eyes and the increase in her heart’s tempo more than her brother’s ill glare prompted her to turn and leave.
“She’s a pest but I love her,” Trent’s words drifted to her as she left and made her smile. She nodded to Greg, one of the hands who was approaching the barn as she passed.
Amanda meandered her way back toward the house only to stop where her father was working on the tractor.
“Hi, Daddy,” Amanda leaned against the tractor’s large wheel.
“Hey, Cupcake; you been reading in the hay loft again?” Sterling’s gaze was amused when he looked up at her.
“How’d you know?” Amanda stared at her dad suspiciously. Sterling reached over to pluck a piece of hay from Amanda’s hair and she smiled at her father.
“Is your book good?” her father’s gaze was back on the engine in front of him but Amanda knew he would listen to every word she had to say.
“I guess so; the heroine’s kind of stupid.”
“How so?” Sterling glanced up at his daughter to let her know he was interested.
“She’s weak; ‘oh help me, help me,’” Amanda pitched her voice high and waved her hands dramatically. Sterling chuckled at his daughter’s antics.
“Not every woman is as strong as you are,” Sterling informed her.
“She’s still stupid,” Amanda insisted.
She strolled over to a nearby Oak, its limbs spreading wide over the land around them and climbed into one of the lower crooks to resume her book. Stupid or not, she wanted to know what happened to the heroine of her story; she was curious about the stranger who had just ridden to the rescue. When Amanda once again became frustrated with the heroine of the story, she closed her book and stretched out across the tree limb, to study her father.
He was silver headed, prematurely according to her aunt, and Amanda had always felt his name was somehow a moniker for his beautiful hair. She could remember, however, that he’d had dark blonde hair once upon a time, though even then it had been streaked with silver. She couldn’t help wondering why her father had never remarried. He was an attractive man and while their ranch wasn’t the largest or most successful they had never truly wanted for what they needed. For a time Amanda had blamed her Aunt Naomi; she had felt that she made her father’s life too comfortable for him to realize he needed a wife. She had almost immediately felt guilty; she loved her Aunt Naomi, even if she was a priss.
_______________________________________________
Amanda surveyed herself in the mirror and made a face; fifteen year olds were not supposed to be as straight as a rail. Well, that was not entirely accurate; she did have two pathetic bumps that were supposed to pass for breast but she wasn’t buying it. Her Aunt Naomi was completely unsympathetic too. “All in good time,” her aunt continually admonished. In the meantime Chris Atkins was purported to be “going steady” with Nancy Moore; she had the largest boobs of anyone in the school. Amanda turned from her mirror in disgust and dressed for the day.
“Happy birthday,” Naomi greeted her as soon as she walked through the door.
“Thanks, Aunt Naomi,” Amanda took the offered plate of blueberry waffles, her favorite, and seated herself beside her daddy.
“Can we go get my learners permit after school today?” Amanda asked the question casually as she dribbled a generous portion of syrup over her waffles.
Under the Open Sky (Montana Heritage Series) Page 1