Bluebells on the Hill (16 page)

John-Michael led the way when the trail began
to narrow. Amanda followed with Mac bringing up the rear. Curving
through the trees, switching back as the terrain grew steeper, the
trail cut through the undergrowth. In some places, the branches and
leaves met across their path, the horses forcing them apart as they
continued their plodding climb.

The air was cool in the dappled shade, a
small breeze ruffling the uppermost limbs of the ponderosas. Birds
fluttered, chattered; squirrels and mysterious rustling in the
undergrowth could be heard now that conversation was impossible.
Amanda's heart swelled with happiness. She loved this land, she
loved riding. Maybe she could get a horse, if she could arrange her
travel schedule to warrant enough usage to justify the expense.
Maybe she could even work out some arrangement with Mac for
boarding the horse.

She stifled a laugh at that. She could
imagine how co-operative he would be to make her life more
appealing in Timber, when all he wanted was for her to leave so he
could obtain her land. No, she'd have to find another solution.

'We're here,' John-Michael called.

The riders burst forth from the trees, into
the bright, sunlit open field, surrounded on three sides by the
thick Sierra forest. On the fourth side the meadow ended in a sheer
drop; beyond, only sky and endless mountains and valleys to the
south of the field.

'Oh!' Amanda's eyes lit up with the sight. It
was magnificent. Involuntarily she stopped her horse, just gazing
at the smoky mounds in the distance. In one valley a suspicious
glint of light suggested a river or lake.

John-Michael dismounted, tethering his horse.
Mac followed suit, looking to Amanda, still enthralled with the
view.

'Need help?' he asked, reaching up to grasp
her by the waist.

'I can manage,' she protested, as the warmth
of his fingers penetrated her shirt, his strength against her body.
It seemed effortless, the ease with which he lifted her from the
saddle and set her down on the grass. Amanda could feel her heart
race with his nearness. She kept her eyes fixed on his throat, the
brown column rising from his blue-checked shirt, the pulse at the
base strong and steady.

'Thanks.' She didn't recognize the thready
voice as her own. She took a deep breath to strengthen it. Stepping
back, she was reluctant to break contact, still was realistic
enough to realize safety lay in distance.

'You're welcome.' A trace of amusement in the
timbre.

'Can I help unpack?' Amanda joined
John-Michael. He had already pulled his saddle-bags from his mount
and was moving towards a flat area nearby.

'We can just pull it all out and start
eating.'

Amanda settled herself on the warm grass, the
forest behind her, the view before her. Contentedly, she sat in the
blazing sun, munching on a sandwich as she gazed off into the
distance, not talking, only half listening as John-Michael and Mac
exchanged remarks.

Replete from eating, Amanda's eyes began to
grow heavier, the balmy air and hot sun joining to make her
positively sleepy. Slowly she sank back upon the scented grass,
pulling her hat over her eyes, her lids closing, the warmth of the
sun a gentle blanket, the breeze moving softly against her skin,
keeping the sun from being too hot. Amanda drifted off to
sleep.

'But Dad, there's got to be some time when it
is okay. What about secret agents? You don't think they can
function without deceit.'

Gradually Amanda was becoming aware of the
man and boy talking. Bit by bit she became more awake. She remained
lying down, idly listening, not at first understanding the trend of
the conversation, still dozing.

Mac hadn't replied immediately to
John-Michael's comment. When he did, Amanda had almost forgotten
what John-Michael had said.

'Probably most of our problems in the world
today are due to deceit of one form or another. But, I grant you,
due to the way things are, it might be necessary for a spy or
whatever you want to call him to be deceitful. But that doesn't
apply to day-to-day living, especially here in Timber. Deception is
wrong, John-Michael, it is not a basis for any kind of
interaction.'

'I still think it is acceptable in some
circumstances,' he muttered.

Mac caught it. 'Like what?' he asked
sharply.

'I don't know. Like if you really didn't like
a lady's dress and she asks you, so you say it is pretty or
something.'

'That's hardly the same thing, though a
really clever person can come up with an honest reply which won't
insult or hurt the lady. I suspect I'm rather rigid in my views on
this, but there it is. A person is either straightforward or not.
Ones that are not, aren't to be trusted. Better to stay away from
them. I have very little tolerance for lies and deception.'

'Me, too, Dad. Only sometimes it might be
justified. That's all I'm trying to say.'

'Um.' Mac's reply was non-committal.

'Billy Oldmyer's folks are having a big
barbecue next weekend. I think most of the guys from school are
going. Good chance to see them all again if I can go. It seems like
a long time since school got out.' John-Michael changed the
subject.

Amanda lost track of the conversation, caught
up in Mac's words on lies and deceit, wondering what had been the
starting point of the conversation, why they were discussing deceit
in the first place. What would he think when he discovered her
position was based on a lie by omission? She wanted to share with
him her reasons for not letting neighbors know who she was, but now
wondered if she could, and still maintain some sort of friendly
relationship. He seemed so very adamant against deceit of any
sort.

On the other hand, she could not envisage
herself adhering to this role for years just because of his views.
Once she knew some people, and they accepted her for herself, she
had no objection to the whole world knowing what she did for a
living. She was proud of her work, of her accomplishments. It was
just initially that she did not want those accomplishments to
affect her acceptance in the community.

What a quandary. She wanted Mac to think well
of her. Why, she refused to closely examine. If she wanted to clear
it up, she had better do it soon. Before it got worse.

With the decision made, she stretched, coming
fully awake and slowly sat up.

'Gosh, Sleepyhead, we thought you'd sleep all
afternoon?' John-Michael said.

'Your snoring scared all the animals off,'
Mac said.

'I don't snore,' she replied
disdainfully.

'How do you know?' John-Michael asked.

'Someone must have told her,' Mac replied,
his eyes watching her.

She gave him a very speaking glance, unaware
it had no effect because her sunglasses hid her face. 'Someone did,
as a matter of fact,' she said sweetly, 'my sister.'

'I didn't know you had a sister,'
John-Michael said with interest.

'Oh, yes. I'm one of five, two girls and
three boys. Plus, my mother’s from a large family, my dad's from a
large family and their brothers and sisters also married people
from big families. I had forty-three cousins within a ten mile
radius of town.'

'Gosh, I'm an only child; Dad is too. I don't
know about my mother.'

'She had a sister, but no kids there, last I
heard,' Mac said, gathering up the remnants of lunch. 'I've work to
do. Are you two heading back now?'

'Yes. I've some things to do, too. It's been
lovely, though. Thanks for asking me, John-Michael. You have a
beautiful place here.’

'Glad you like it, Mandy. Come and ride any
time. That's all right with you, isn't it Dad?'

Mac was quiet for a moment and Amanda
couldn't resist, 'Thinking up an honest answer that won't insult
me, Mac?'

'Eavesdropping, were you?'

She grinned easily. 'Only the last few
minutes, just as I was waking. Don't worry. I won't come riding if
I'm not wanted,' she said with scarcely any pang.

'I'll go with you a few times, make sure you
can find your way around--and don't neglect or abuse my
horses.'

'Charming.' She stood, reconsidered. 'Thank
you, I might like it after all.' The two of them, alone, riding;
what better opportunity for sharing confidences?

Mac left them before they reached the barn,
riding across the field, erect, yet at ease in the saddle, his hat
low on his face to protect from the sun.

Amanda watched until he was lost from view.
It had been a nice day, made even more so by Mac's unexpected
arrival. John-Michael was waiting for her when she turned back.

'Tell me about growing up with forty-three
cousins. It must have been fun.'

'Oh, it was. We’re all close, some of each
age, you know, so everyone has someone special. Holidays are the
best. Aunt Meg has the biggest place, so we almost always go there
for Christmas.' Amanda recounted holidays on the ride to the barn.
John-Michael listened with great interest, asking questions,
laughing, sharing her memories wistfully.

'How did you ever leave?' he asked as they
unsaddled the horses.

'Well, a couple of us work together, try to
get home a few times each year, though it's been a while since
we've been back this last stretch. The others are all grown, too.
Some married and moved away. We still see each other whenever we
can. It was great fun and I loved it. But I like California, too.
This is where I want my home, for my kids to have happy
memories.'

'Yeah, I guess so.' John-Michael was quiet as
he brushed down his mount, led him to the corral and turned him
loose inside. Amanda was right behind him.

As they watched the horses amble away, he
spoke again, pensively. 'I guess if Dad and Mom had stayed
together, there would have been more kids. It's hard to imagine,
though.'

'Your father’s still fairly young. He could
marry again, have more.'

'Wouldn't be the same. I'm almost grown now.
Well, maybe I wouldn't have liked sharing anyway. Want to come to
the house for a Coke?'

'No, thank you, some other time if I may.
I've had fun today. Thank you for asking me. It's a great ranch,
John-Michael. I would like to see it again.'

'Sure, any time. I might drop by tomorrow for
another lesson.'

'Good. See you then.' With a smile and wave,
she was off. But she couldn’t help wishing Mac had ridden back to
the barn with them. That’s he’d been the one to offer her free
access to his ranch.

CHAPTER TEN

Amanda dressed with great care for Elizabeth
Burke's dinner party. She had not seen Mac since the picnic.
John-Michael had come for another lesson, not referring to the
picnic, nor to the embrace he had interrupted, but smiling at
Amanda more than before. She, of course, did not refer to either;
what could she say? Besides, the interrupted embrace had only been
a kiss. Only a kiss? She grew warm all over whenever she thought
about it. Well, then, maybe a little more than just a kiss.

Amanda decided to throw caution to the wind
and really dress for dinner. If someone recognized her, so be it.
Her reason for keeping her identity secret now seemed silly. She
had made no effort to make friends in town. She kept to herself and
soaked up the solitude. Time to be herself and let the chips fall
where they may.

And she wanted to look her best. She washed
and curled her hair, brushing it until it gleamed, soft and wavy
around her face. Make-up was subtly donned, enhancing her blue eyes
and high cheek bones. She wanted to look especially nice–for the
other guests, she told herself, thinking of a particular other
guest. Her intent was to forever erase the hippie image, if she
could.

Her dress was a soft, creamy light-weight
fabric with high ruffled collar, long sleeves with ruffles
capturing her wrists. It clung to her figure, outlining her firm
breasts, slender waist and rounded hips. Amanda was pleased to see
she had put on a little weight since her summer began. She had been
too thin at the end of her last tour. This dress made her feel
feminine and alluring. She wrinkled her nose and turned from the
mirror. She was not out to allure anyone.

The dress swayed gently as she walked,
molding her slight frame, displaying her figure to advantage as she
moved. Mac and John-Michael would be here soon to pick her up. She
would didn’t want to keep them waiting. Nervously she fingered her
skirt, then chided herself for her foolishness. She, who had
performed many times before thousands of people, was nervous of a
man coming to pick her up to drive her to a small dinner party.
Honestly! One would think it mattered.

Gazing out the window, Amanda paused. It did
matter. She was anxious that he should like her. Maybe more than
like her. She wanted it to be for herself, however. For Mac to
value her for what she was, not for the fame she had achieved. In a
moment's conversation she could clear up the less than
complimentary image he had of her, could clear up any
misconceptions about her situation, chance his anger about deceit
and let him know she was a hard-working, successful member of
society.

Still, stubbornly, Amanda clung to the notion
of being wanted for herself, as she was, not for what she had
accomplished. She wanted him to want her as he knew her. Let the
explanations come later. Sighing softly, she wondered if it were a
pipe-dream.

She heard the truck before she saw it turn
into the drive. Only it wasn't the old gray truck, but a gleaming
maroon and silver Ford with MHR entwined in a fancy monogram on the
doors. It looked new, powerful, expensive. Obviously the vehicle
they must use when going to shows, rodeos, wherever. It reflected
more the successful ranching endeavor Amanda suspected Mac ran than
his old gray pickup.

Fluffing her hair one last time, she grabbed
her handbag. Taking a deep breath, just as she did to calm herself
before going on stage, Amanda flung open the door.