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.