Bluebells on the Hill (3 page)

The sun was well up in the sky before Amanda
arose. Cora Rosefeld had left her well situated, leaving a set of
linen and a few cooking utensils in addition to the furniture she
had included in the deal. Cora had even seen to it that Amanda's
refrigerator and cupboards were stocked.

'Since you don't have a car, it is going to
be hard to manage groceries,' Cora had told the younger woman.

'Yes, I'll have to work something out,'
Amanda had replied. Surely not a major problem. Someone must pass
on the highway who could give her a lift. If not, a taxi. Though
was Timber large enough for such a service? And how would she call
for one when there was no phone in the cabin? And no cell service
in this part of the mountains.

Oh, well, time enough to worry about that
later. If the worst came to the worst, she’d have to buy a small
car.

It only took a day and a half for Cora
Rosefeld to get the structural inspection completed, sign over her
house, pack her things and leave for Phoenix. Keeping her part of
the deal struck in Gold Country Properties, she had not told her
friends or neighbors who had purchased her house, nor the terms of
the deal.

Amanda moved in on the afternoon of Cora's
departure, immediately plunging into washing windows, sweeping and
dusting the cabin from one end to the other. She dropped into bed
when darkness fell, tired, but pleased with her accomplishments.
The cabin was clean and tidy, ready for the redecoration project
when she decided to get started. But not right away. First she'd
relax. She slept soundly, not at all disturbed by it being her
first night alone in an unfamiliar place. Now she was up and ready
for her first day as a home-owner.

Amanda showered and dressed in an old
misshapen T-shirt and jeans, no bra or shoes. Padding into the
kitchen barefoot, she prepared herself a cup of coffee and some
toast.

Breakfast ready, she carried it out to the
deck. Pulling one of the tattered plastic folding chairs to the
railing, she sat gingerly down, putting her feet on the railing,
tilting back. The chair held.

The Ponderosa pines towered over her, rising
thirty, forty feet or more into the clear blue of the California
sky. She looked up at the dark green branches, silhouetted against
the pale blue background, swaying gently in a breeze not felt at
ground level. A strong peace invaded Amanda. She drew another deep
breath of contentment, of her joy in the day, and sipped her
coffee.

Idly she wondered if the track to her place
branched from the main drive to the infamous Mac's house.

How far away was this neighbor, the man who
owned all the land surrounding her? She had not noticed any lights
last night. The countryside had been particularly dark to a girl
more used to city street lights, lots of buildings, traffic until
the wee hours. It had been a long time since she had been so far
from the bustle of cities. The silence was awe inspiring.

Another day maybe I'll follow the drive and
find out. But not today. Today is just to sit around and relax and
enjoy the trees, she told herself. She smiled again. If her friends
could see her, they would be amazed. To sit around and gaze at
trees was not their idea of fun.

Amanda munched her toast, eyes roaming here
and there, constantly discovering new pleasures in the scene before
her. Through the trees, opposite the main drive, she thought she
glimpsed another small meadow. Later she'd explore it. She could
differentiate between several of the different types of trees,
pine, cedar, madrone, but not all. A book on plants would be
something to invest in, to learn more about the flora on her
property.

The sun shifted, moving from behind some of
the trees, shining its rays directly on the deck now, raising the
temperature dramatically. As she took another sip of her coffee,
Amanda realized her legs were beginning to feel the intense heat of
the sun as the dark denims drew the hot rays. Maybe she'd change
into shorts. Sunbathe, maybe take a nap. Good grief, getting up so
late and now a nap! It was wonderful!

The hum of a motor penetrated the stillness.
At first she was unable to determine from whence it came, then
pinpointed it. From further up the driveway. She remained seated,
she would change later. If someone from Mac's place were going to
drive by, she wanted to see them. She wiggled bare toes in the sun,
waiting.

A battered, faded silver pick-up truck pulled
into view but, instead of continuing on to the highway, turned into
her track, bouncing on the ruts, driving almost up to the cabin
steps. Amanda was fascinated. She hadn’t seen such a dilapidated
truck in many years. It had once been a silvery gray, but was now
faded, dented and rusted. It was difficult to assign a color to it.
Piled in the back was a partial bale of hay and a tangle of baling
wire. She wondered how it could hold together enough to carry the
limited cargo. Maybe the wire was for repairs.

It ground to a stop, the air suddenly
silent.

A tall, powerfully built man climbed out,
cowboy hat pulled low on his face, jeans low on his hips. He
glanced at the cabin, contemptuously dismissing Amanda after one
glimpse, now looking towards the door expectantly as he climbed the
steps.

Wow! was Amanda's first impression, followed
almost immediately by, you arrogant male. He moved smoothly,
swiftly up the stairs, an air of definite purpose about him. At
least six feet tall, well-built with broad shoulders, muscular
arms, chest straining at the buttons of his checked shirt.

As he reached the deck, she brought her feet
down, stood up. Time to make this visitor aware of her.

'Can I help you?' she asked, turning towards
him.

'No.' His eyes raked her, dismissed her.

Amanda was suddenly very aware of her
apparel, of her lack of bra, of bare feet. She culd use the extra
inches her boots gave her. Then anger coursed through her at his
look. Who did he think she was? She could dress however she chose
in her own home.

Indolently, Amanda studied him. He banged on
the door. She lifted her head and stepped closer. It was the last
thing she wanted to do. She'd rather run to the back, out to the
yard, anywhere to avoid this man altogether.

'I'm here to see Cora.' he said, rapping on
the door again.

'She's not here.' Amanda did not expand on
the statement, facing him defiantly.

'When will she be back?' he asked, fully
turning his attention to her. His voice was low and hard as he
faced her. Amanda had heard of people with green eyes, but never
actually met anyone with them before. His were a clear green like
an emerald or cool mountain pond, gazing down at her with contempt.
She tilted her head considering. If he didn't have a constant frown
of disapproval, causing the deep furrows between his eyes and along
his mouth, he'd be absolutely gorgeous.

She took a breath and looked up into his
face. She'd been wrong about his size, he must be four inches or
more over six feet. She herself was tall, yet had to look up a long
way. She wished she had on her boots, or even high-heels.

'She won't be back. She moved to
Arizona.'

'Moved!' He was startled. Narrowing his eyes
he regarded her as if she were something distasteful. 'When?'

'She left yesterday.'

Suddenly Amanda knew. It had to be, and she
didn't blame Cora at all. This man asked to have people against
him.

'You must be Mac,' she said, anticipating how
angry he'd be upon learning Cora had sold out, and not to him.
Served him right.

'Yes. Who are you?'

'Mandy Smith. I'm living here now.'

'Timber's own resident layabout hippie?' he
said, glancing again along the length of her, his eyes resting a
second longer than necessary on her breasts, outlined by the thin
cotton T-shirt, moving, ending with her bare feet.

It was Amanda's turn to be startled and then
amused. Is that how he saw her? A hippie? Just because she had on
old clothes, with bare feet and her hair in a braid? She couldn't
help smiling. If Mr High-and-Mighty only knew. She was not a
layabout. She had worked very hard to be where she was. Of course,
he might not think she had come so far, worn clothes, run-down
cabin. She shrugged.

'Cora's gone,' she repeated. Why had he
come?

'To Julie's, I suppose.'

Was that the name she had heard? 'Yes, I
think so.'

'Leaving you here until she can sell? Or does
she plan to plague me with a stream of undesirable tenants to jack
up the price? If she thinks that technique will work, she has
another think coming. Damn it!' He spun around without waiting for
an answer, pausing only for a moment by the truck for a final,
disparaging look at Amanda standing at the top of the steps. He
opened the door, climbed in and drove off, gravel spinning beneath
his wheels.

Amanda could follow the truck's progress
towards the highway until the motor faded from the air. For several
moments she continued staring down the drive, reviewing in her mind
her meeting with the infamous Mac, What an unpleasant man, for all
he absolutely radiated sex appeal. Briefly she toyed with the
picture of a different meeting. Her own part vastly changed, the
cabin all repaired and decorated, charming and attractive; herself
in a fashionable dress, make-up flawless ... She gave a short
laugh. His part she could not envisage differently.

'Oh, well.' She shrugged, turning back to the
house. Shed met the infamous Mac and survived. Even experienced a
small degree of smugness that he’d so quickly jump to an erroneous
conclusion, just on her appearance. Now what could she do to
justify his opinion? Ideas crowded her head, a small joy at the
thought of leading him on.

As she went to change, Amanda dwelt less on
the visit than on the man himself. He was extremely good-looking in
a rugged sort of way. Skin the color of teak, eyes startling in his
brown face. She remembered how his jaw tightened when he heard Cora
had gone, his cheeks slightly hollow, cheekbones high. She wondered
if his hair was dark or not. She had not noticed it because of his
hat. His body was trim and fit, evidence of hard work and temperate
living. What did he do for a living, she wondered. Probably a
rancher. Timber lay in the heart of mountain ranch land. If he
owned all the land surrounding her place, it followed his
profession was probably tied up in it. His attitude needed
improvement, though. His constant frown would be wearing. She
didn't envy his wife, having to live with his constant disapproval.
Of course, he likely didn't disapprove of her.

Quickly Amanda donned a pair of shorts and a
brief top. Taking a blanket from the bed, she stretched out on her
deck her legs and arms exposed to the sun. She knew better than to
stay out too long; the air was thinner at this elevation, affording
less protection from the sun's rays. Gradually she relaxed, letting
her thoughts drift, fully at ease in the heat of the day. Conscious
of the time, she turned over, then dozed for a little while.

The hum of the pick-up truck brought her
awake as it raced up the drive. She opened sleepy eyes and watched
through the railing posts as it passed. No stopping at her place
this time.

Aware of the warmth of her skin, Amanda rose
and went inside. She had not deliberately stayed outside until he
returned. But she couldn’t help wonder where he’d gone. Did he stop
by the real estate office? Learn more about Cora’s disposition of
the house? She'd love to have been there when he found out.

Two days later Amanda decided she was ready
to explore her new environs. Dressed in the inevitable jeans and
cotton top, she walked down her track to the main drive. Left to
the highway? Or right to see where Mac lived? Her heart sped up a
little at the thought of confronting her neighbor again. Maybe
another day. She'd opt for the highway now. She had no place to go
and all day to do so. Walking would be good exercise.

It was pleasant walking along the gravel
drive, the air clean, scented with pine and cedar. The heat of the
previous two days not in evidence yet. It was a wonderful change
from city pollution. She pushed the tinted glasses up on her nose
again; they had a tendency to slide down.

A hat. That's what she needed. Maybe she
could walk to town one day this week and get one. It’d shelter her
from the hot sun, as well as provide relief from the glare.

Reaching the highway, she turned right, away
from town, and ambled along the shoulder of the road, exploring as
she walked. The road lay in the sun, with dappled shade in long
splotches as the trees sheltered it here and there. The day was
warm, but not hot. Now and then Amanda heard a rustle in the
undergrowth. She’d stop quickly, peering in the direction of the
sound, trying to see what it was. The only animals she saw,
however, were the gray squirrels chattering in the trees. She
looked in vain for a deer. How complete the walk would be if she
could sight one.

A slight dip in the highway and Amanda came
to a bridge spanning a large creek. Water tumbled over rocks and
rushed around large bleached boulders as it scurried on its way to
the sea. She stopped to watch. Its melody was pleasant, soothing.
The rapids and eddies mesmerizing. Why was the sound of water so
peaceful? For many long minutes she stood and gazed in delight,
lost in thought.

Rousing herself at last, Amanda left the road
to follow the stream upward for a short distance. She suspected it
might even be the one that crossed her property and, if it were,
she could follow it home. It was easy to walk along the bank; the
ground was not particularly steep, nor overgrown, the gurgle and
splashes of the tumbling water a wonderful background sound as she
moved deeper into the forest. The words and melody of a new song
began forming in her head. When she reached home, she'd try them
out with her guitar. Repeating the phrases over and over, she
wished she had brought pen and paper. Still, by repeating it
enough, she wouldn't forget. An entire verse fell into place. She
tried humming a little of the melody: it would work. It sounded
good.