Royal Atlas Read online

  Royal Atlas

  HJ Bellus

  Small Town Girl Books, LLC

  Contents

  Royal Atlas

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  1. Molly

  2. Molly

  3. Molly

  4. Molly

  5. Molly

  6. Molly

  7. Molly

  8. Molly

  9. Molly

  10. Molly

  11. Molly

  12. Molly

  13. Molly

  14. Molly

  15. Molly

  16. Molly

  17. Molly

  18. Molly

  19. Molly

  20. Molly

  21. Guy

  22. Molly

  23. Guy

  24. Molly

  25. Guy

  26. Guy

  27. Molly

  28. Molly

  29. Guy

  30. Molly

  31. Molly

  32. Molly

  33. Molly

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Untitled

  Royal Atlas

  ROYAL ATLAS

  Copyright © 2016 by HJ Bellus. Small Town Girl Books, LLC.

  Edited by: Emma Mack

  Formatting: HJ Bellus

  Proof Read by: Emmy Hamilton and SJ Sawyer

  Cover Designer: Dana @Designs by Dana

  Photographer: Golden @ Furious Fotog

  Cover Model: TankJoey

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of HJ Bellus.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  Dedication-

  To loved ones that can never be forgotten.

  Prologue

  May 4, 2052

  Tessi

  “How’s Mom doing today?” I ask, handing my dad a cup of coffee.

  He’s aged over the last six months. He’s been by my momma’s side the entire time as she fights for a few more given days by the grace of God.

  “She’s having a good day.”

  The hurt slicing his words guts me. I should consider myself lucky having both parents in my mid-fifties. Their love taught me how to give and be the best mom and wife possible.

  “Poppy.” My daughter, Belle, wraps my daddy up in a hug.

  “Little Hop,” he croons. The smile on his face highlights the crow’s feet on the sides of his eyes.

  “Belle has a class assignment in Women’s History and she’s doing it on Momma.”

  He smiles even wider. “I’ve always told her she’d get a page in the history books.”

  I pat his shoulder. “I know Daddy.”

  Their love is like something I’ve never seen. They’d bicker when we were growing up, but genuinely never went to bed angry at each other.

  “Your grandma will be thrilled to see you.”

  When we walk into her small, personal room, the scent of stale death hits me hard. We only have days left with her, but we all act like we have years. It’s too damn painful to think any other way. Daddy goes to her side as quickly as his body will let him. He grabs her hand making her eyes light up with happiness and love and then kisses her like two teenagers in love would.

  “You have visitors, Hop.”

  She turns her head and lights up seeing me and Belle. Belle doesn’t waste any time racing over to her bed. Belle and my momma have always been close, sharing their love for horses. She taught my daughter to ride and compete on horseback.

  Belle is my wildcard in life. She’s on her second college degree and is certain that she finally has it right this time. She wants to be a college professor and I’d have to agree with her. She has the love of teaching in her heart.

  “Grandma.” She leans over and hugs her tight.

  My momma kisses the side of her face with a few tears running down her face.

  “Belle, did you forget something?” My daddy asks.

  She rushes over to his side of the bed, kissing him, and hugging him again then he reaches down in his front pocket for a sweet caramel. She settles in a chair next to him pulling out a MacBook. I sit on the other side of my mother clutching her hand in mine.

  Her once smooth milky white hands have morphed into fragile, wrinkled, and time speckled. I’ve watched my mother drift away over the last year with the culprit being old age.

  “Grandma, I have a class project…”

  My daddy interrupts Belle. “You’re going to be in a history book.”

  I stifle a laugh, but don’t have it in me to correct my dad. Belle continues on, telling my momma about the project. The main purpose is to tell the life story of a prolific woman in your life. She has to use a variety of media to gather the information and present her research.

  My kids know the story well and the rich roots of Beartooth, but Belle wants to hear it from her grandmother’s mouth. She flips on the recording device and begins the interview.

  “I’m Belle, here with my grandmother, Molly. Grandma can you please state your full name and birthdate please.” Belle points to the recorder.

  “Damn, it sounds like I’m in trouble.”

  We all share a laugh. When my momma’s coughing fit settles down she begins to answer.

  “I’m Molly. Maiden name is Marshall. I was born on May 4th and raised on Beartooth Ranch.”

  The questions continue in the same manner for a long time until one has my momma dreamy eyed.

  “How did you fall in love with Grandpa?” Belle asks, sweeping her wild brown curls behind her ears.

  Momma doesn’t answer right away. She’s taken off into a dream like state.

  My daddy speaks up. “This one might take a while.”

  “We have all the time in the world,” Belle answers hopeful.

  The problem is we don’t. Momma begins speaking and we all become entranced in her well-told fairytale. It will take her hours to tell the story and she’ll drift into far off secret memories she’s never told me. But it’s her chance to relive her happy moments before leaving the world.

  The fairytale of Molly Marshall…

  1

  Molly

  “Mom said we aren’t supposed to be down here.” I stop in the middle of a mud puddle with my hands on my hips.

  “Shut your trap, Squirt.” My brother, Amos Marshall, launches a twig at my head.

  “Be nice to Little Hop.” Guy Webb, his best friend, holds his hand out to help me leap over a log. “It will be okay, little one.”

  “I’m not little.” I swat away his hands. “Mom said it’s dangerous down here.”

  “Then go home or shut the hell up.”

  My five-year-old heart is too curious to turn around, but my mother’s warnings about the head of the creek bed being dangerous haunt me. The boys have sharpened sticks in their hands armed to spear a fish. It’s their latest infatuation on the ranch. I’m just too damn curious to turn back.

  I bite back all the worry and swat away several mosquitos swarming my head. After deciding to head down to the creek with them and not turn back for the ranch house, I’m nimble following them over the logs and thick trees.

  The clear opening of the creek finally opens up to us.

  “They’re here. Grandpa Marshall was right.” Amos points to the water bef
ore sprinting near.

  Guy is right behind him with his spear ready. I’m easily distracted by the wildflowers in full bloom near the creek bed. I begin plucking several of them all in different colors. I sit in a small opening of meadow grass and begin to braid them into a headband.

  My dark brown curls spray in every direction. My mom always tells me to embrace them. I have no idea what that means and just hate the frizz monster that attacks my hair every night before bed.

  “I got one.” I hear Guy yell, but I don’t look up, floating off into a pretend land where there’s cowboys and Indians and one princess that is in trouble and needs saved. She has to choose between the cowboys and Indians. I lay back in the grass with my flower tiara on and let the thoughts carry me away as I study the clouds.

  I pretend the hoots and hollers from my brother and his best friend are the Indians in the midst of their war cries. The stomping sounds of cowboys on horses running in to save the day.

  The walk must’ve been longer than I thought. My eyelids slowly begin to drift as the sun warms my belly. I fight not to fall asleep because it wouldn’t be the first time Amos left me alone when I fell asleep. He’s mean like that and doesn’t care about the whippings he gets. Amos enjoys and lives for being the mean older brother.

  Soon sleep takes over and the cowboys come in to save the day. I smile up at their handsome faces and encourage their help. I climb up on the back of a gorgeous, strong buckskin horse. The cowboy hero and princess race away from the war.

  “Molly.” I feel my shoulder shake. “Wake your ass up or we’re ditching you here.”

  “Be nice to her, Amos.”

  “The coyotes will eat you alive,” my brother taunts me.

  I barely peek open my lids and am blinded by the sunlight.

  “We won’t leave you, Hop.”

  I sit up and look at Guy who has a string of fish hanging over his shoulder. He slings them to Amos who hoists them over his shoulder and then swivels around so his back is to me.

  “Here, jump on.”

  I fight to wipe away the sleep and then stand to my feet. I steady my tired legs and wrap my arms around his neck while he grabs my legs. Guy is huge for his age while Amos is just an average bean pole.

  “Go back to sleep, Little Hop.”

  I lay my head on his shoulder and go back to the fantasy of the cowboy and the princess. My cowboy just saved me. I think it’s the first time I realize I’m in love with Guy Webb.

  “Give her here.” I hear my mother’s voice roar.

  I peek open my eyes in time to see her peel me from Guy’s back. She sets me down on the front porch and I turn just in time to see her go after Amos with a broom, but he’s faster than her and sprints out into the yard with fish dangling around his tall and skinny frame.

  “Come here, Hop.” I look over to my Grandpa rocking in his chair.

  He’s my favorite person in the world. He always smells like rich cedar mixed with oranges, wears Wranglers with suspenders, and a soft plaid button up shirt. His favorite straw cowboy hat is next to his cold ice tea on a table next to him.

  I sprint over to him feeling my whole body wake up.

  “What happened out there?” He wraps me up into his body and I relax all the way back on him.

  “Why aren’t we supposed to go to the head of the creek, Grandpa?”

  “Damn that boy, I never should’ve told him about the fish.”

  “Grandpa?” I look up at him questioning eyes.

  “A bad accident happened there a long time ago. Your momma doesn’t like it there.”

  “Someone die?” I ask.

  He only nods his head. It makes my heart sad for a few seconds just like the time I saw Ol’ Yeller die on the television, but then Grandpa kisses my forehead and takes away all the sadness.

  He pats the left pocket on his shirt. I smile widely and reach my hand down in it and pull out a soft caramel chew. They’re my favorite and he always keeps some for me in his pocket.

  “I love you,” I smile brightly up at him.

  He looks just like my daddy, but an older version. Everyone says I have the Marshall fiery blue eyes and wild dark hair. I don’t see it. I don’t look like a boy after all.

  He points to the grass where Momma has Amos trapped up in a tree waving the broom up at him. Daddy rides up on his horse trying to figure out what all the ruckus is about.

  “He took Guy and Molly out to the creek head after I’ve told him no.”

  “Catch any?” Dad asks.

  Amos holds up his two lines with a bright smile.

  “Nice job, son. Now go clean and cook them up for dinner.”

  My mother pokes the broom at my daddy’s chest.

  “And barn duty for a month, all the stalls, Amos.”

  “Daddy.” I fly off Grandpa’s lap out to my father hoping for a ride.

  “Hop,” he smiles brightly down at me.

  “I want to ride.”

  “Come here, cowgirl.” He leans off the side of his horse and holds his hands out to me.

  My small palms wrap around his wrists as he hoists me up.

  “What happened to your arm?” He runs his fingers over the long scratch.

  “Amos tried to scare me home by throwing wood at me.”

  “Hey,” my brother interrupts beginning to defend himself. “She wouldn’t quit following us and she didn’t even cry.”

  “Damn, boy,” my dad growls. “Girl, you’re going to be tough as nails one day.”

  2

  Molly

  “Touch my horse one more time, Amos, and I’ll…”

  He cuts me off before I’m able to threaten him. “Going to tell Daddy?”

  “Knock it off.” Guy nudges him in the shoulder.

  Amos kicks another cloud of dust at my horse as I braid his tail for the rodeo. Small chunks of gravel fling toward us. I eat most of the dirt and it pisses me off. I throw my brush to the side, pat Broker, and then sprint for my asshole brother. He used to be able to bully the hell out of me when I was younger, but now that I’m nine, I fight back.

  My boots kick up as much dirt as possible in his direction. My arms fly in the air knocking his cowboy hat off his head. I get in one good punch to his jaw and the asshole only laughs.

  “That all you got, Hop?” He wraps an arm around my head putting me in a headlock.

  “Don’t screw with my horse again, puke face.” I wind up and land a blow to his gut.

  He groans which only makes me smile. But he’s fast and a wrestler at heart. He takes me to the ground, smooshes my favorite straw hat into the cloud of dust while we tangle, trying to beat the shit out of each other.

  “Knock it off, Amos.” I hear Guy’s voice, but don’t stop every sucker punch that I can land.

  I hear Amos grunt again and then he’s gone. Thank God for Guy’s tall stature and beastly muscles at the age of eleven. He’s always playing referee between us. His hand extends down to me and I place mine in his.

  “Hop, you okay?”

  I pop up on my feet and dust off my jeans and put back on my cowboy hat.

  “I hate him.” I look up to Amos who’s being drug off by our dad. His ear stretches out as Dad hollers at him.

  “He loves you, but in an assholish way.” Guy shrugs.

  “Still hate him and his assholish ways.”

  “You shouldn’t cuss, Little Hop.” He hands me his brush.

  “I’m not little.” I square my shoulders up to him.

  Even though years have floated by, the knot Guy creates in my chest hasn’t faded. I save the cowboy and princess dreams for nighttime. I love Guy Webb more than a nine-year-old with a wild heart should. He doesn’t see it and I do a damn good job of hiding it.

  “Hop.” I turn to see my Grandpa walking up to me.

  I run and wrap my arms around his neck. This man gets me.

  “You okay?”

  I nod and smile up to him then reach into the front pocket of his shirt to grab a carame
l. It always makes everything in my world right.

  3

  Molly

  Middle school is hell. Actually, I think it’s a level below hell. It doesn’t help matters that I’m just the little sister to the almighty Amos Marshall. And his best friend is Guy Webb, which makes him an honorable big brother to me.

  Hush whispers spread across the cafeteria and I know they’ve made their appearance to the common lunchroom shared between the middle and high school. Girls whisper and fluff their hair just hoping to catch a glance. I sit here with braces, thick glasses, and a crooked nose thanks to a scrabble with Amos.

  I’m nothing compared to the girls who go after Guy. They’re all developed and well refined opposed to me in my awkward puberty stage. My heart thuds hard against my chest when I lock eyes with Guy. He sends me a wink and I feel that love deep down in my bones bloom for him. It’s gone from a little girl’s fantasy to a deep love. The problem is…I’m only Hop to him.

  I break the eye contact when their prom dates saddle up to each side of them. Even though they’re only juniors in high school all the girls, even the seniors want them. The two of them have dominated the football field and wrestling mats since their freshman year. They’re the small town heroes.

  I duck my head, so the asshole—also known as Amos—doesn’t make eye contact with me. We don’t fight as much as we use to since he’s been able to drive. I had to learn quickly he was my ticket off the ranch. I’ve cleaned my share of stalls and done way more of his chores than I ever thought of doing just to ride with him to and from school.

  I concentrate on my peanut butter and honey sandwich while trying to read my new book. My grandpa and I share the love for western novels. I tend to go for the ones with more of a romance flair to them. I’m still his Little Hop who always reaches in his pocket for a soft caramel.

  Horses, Beartooth Ranch, and rodeo are my lifeline. And well, day dreaming about the one boy that I’ll never have. A loud slam of a lunch tray scares me. My brown lunch sack flies into the air along with the thick novel.