Ride the Sky: The Ranchers of Montana, #1

By Murray Pura

David Lapp had been courting Tabitha Reimer for over a year before he finally decided to take her out to a special place and ask her to be his wife. That Saturday had started out in a special way -- Tabitha had dreamed once again of vast open ranges bordering impossibly tall mountains topped with snow. She had never seen a mountain, which made this vividly real dream even more perplexing. That afternoon, David came by, and the two traveled in his buggy along back roads leading to a pathway that seemed as though it had been forgotten by the world. They passed through a wonderland of Colorado blue spruce, hardy transplanted survivors in Pennsylvania soil, finally stopping at a still and frozen pond. David and Tabitha carefully walked out on its surface, and then he asked her to become his wife. As they began their journey home again, the two excitedly started planning their marriage and wondering if they could convince the bishop to allow them a spring wedding date rather than waiting until a traditional fall date. 

Ride the Sky is a grand and glorious tale about an Amish community that emulates the Amish pioneers of old and moves to ranch lands in Montana. The reader shares in the adventure as Tabitha and her community travel west, and Tabitha sees first-hand those mountains of her dreams. Tabitha is a marvelous character and seeing as the nineteen-year-old blossoms into a strong and independent woman and cowgirl is grand fun indeed. Pura's story is beautifully told, his eloquent descriptions of the Millenia mountain range that becomes their homeland made me seriously thinking of relocation despite what seem to be harsh winters indeed. Pura adroitly handles the cultural issues facing the Amish, and one can't help but cheer as Tabitha and the other aspiring Amish cowgirls finally get their chance to ride the range. This was my first Amish novel, but it won't be my last. I had a grand time getting to know the peace-loving families who came to life in Ride the Sky. It's most highly recommended. -reviewed by Jack Magnus for Readers' Favorite

• Language: English
• Publisher: MillerWords, LLC
• Release date: Mar 20, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386407829

Murray Pura

I'm born Canadian, live in the blue Canadian Rockies, sound Canadian when I talk (sort of) ... but I'm really an international guy who has traveled the world by train and boat and plane and thumb ... and I've lived in Scotland, the Middle East, Italy, Ireland, California and, most recently, New Mexico. I write in every fiction genre imaginable because I'm brimming over with stories and I want to get them out there to share with others ... romance, Amish, western, fantasy, action-adventure, historical, suspense ... I write non-fiction too, normally history, biography and spirituality. I've won awards for my novels ZO and THE WHITE BIRDS OF MORNING and have celebrated penning bestselling releases like THE WINGS OF MORNING, THE ROSE OF LANCASTER COUNTY, A ROAD CALLED LOVE and ASHTON PARK. My latest publications include BEAUTIFUL SKIN (spring 2017), ALL MY BEAUTIFUL TOMORROWS (summer 2017), GETTYSBURG (Christmas 2018), RIDE THE SKY (spring 2019), A SUN DRENCHED ELSEWHERE (fall 2019), GRACE RIDER (fall 2019) and ABIGAIL’S CHRISTMAS MIRACLE (Christmas 2019). My novels ZO, RIDE THE SKY and ABIGAIL’s CHRISTMAS MIRACLE are available as audiobooks as well. Please browse my extensive list of titles, pick out a few, write a review and drop me a line. Thanks and cheers!

Book preview

Dedication

This novel is dedicated to Jacinda Gore,

angel horse girl, 1990-2015

Jay, you loved your family, you loved the people around you, you loved your horses, and you loved a God of love. Your beauty was like the sky and the sun. Now you ride free and strong over the vast fields of heaven and grace.

This story is for you. Ride the sky, my friend. You are alive.

And there it is, my Friend! https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/e30/2/24/FACE_WITH_COLON_THREE.png

Thanks, Murray!

Happy Easter!Luv, ~Jay https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/images/emoji.php/v9/zed/2/16/2764.png

Chapter One

Tabitha Reimer’s eyes blinked open, wide and bright green, and for several long moments she stared at the plain wallpaper a few feet from her bed. The dream almost slipped away. But she was able to hold onto the images and run them through her mind while she woke up. She saw mountains. Tall, snow-capped mountains that hurled themselves up into a piercing blue sky. It was the second dream about mountains she had experienced that month. 

But why? she murmured. I have never seen a mountain in my life.

She recalled a verse she had looked up in her German Bible after her last dream about mountain peaks. It was from the Psalter: The mountains shall bring peace to the people.

So, the mountain dreams do make me feel peaceful and strong, Lord, Tabitha prayed out loud. But I don’t understand why you think I need an extra measure of strength and calmness of spirit. I am doing fine.

It was Saturday. The day she baked bread while her mother made butter and cheese. She sat up in bed in her nightgown and looked out the window at the snowy January landscape. A few flakes twirled lazily down from the gray clouds. 

Why mountains? she asked again.

Then she was quickly up and dressed and down the stairs to join her four younger siblings, and her mother and father, for a breakfast of pancakes and bacon and scrambled eggs she helped prepare. 

It is a good day, her father said with a smile. His ginger beard glistened with a fresh brushing and was exactly the same bright color as his daughter’s eyelashes and eyebrows and the hair pinned up under her prayer Kapp.

For baking bread and churning butter, Tabitha replied, returning the smile.

And for visitors, her mother added, pouring her husband fresh coffee.

Tabitha’s smile widened and she glanced down at her plate. It is always a good day for that.

When will your young man arrive? her mother asked.

At four. He has promised me a buggy ride with his new horse.

And your young man will stay for supper?

"Ja, mother, David will stay for supper as you asked him to last Sunday."

A good family, the Lapps, a very good family.

I think so too.

Will you bake any sourdough today? Her brother Timothy, nine, changed the course of the table talk completely. 

Tabitha smoothed back his hair. Of course, I will.

Whole wheat sourdough?

"Ja. There are always seven loaves of that."

"Gut, gut, gut." Timothy was grinning with two missing front teeth. There is nothing better.

I like white, spoke up Tabitha's seven-year-old sister Ruth.

There is always white, Tabitha responded.

I enjoy black, said her fifteen-year-old brother Samuel. 

That I know. Tabitha got up from the table. Since there are so many requests, mother, I had better get started.

"Danke. The girls and I will clear up."

Tabitha always baked two dozen loaves, and one more for an extra blessing, since the family typically ate two or three loaves a day. It took most of a Saturday to complete the task, from kneading, to rising, to baking, and finally to cooling. This Saturday, however, Tabitha was highly motivated to finish the twenty-five loaves by four, so she went at it like a whirlwind, stopping only for soup and a sandwich with the rest of the family when the Grandfather clock struck noon. At five to four she slid the final seven loaves out of the oven just as she heard the clop-clop of a single horse and the crunch of iron wheels over gravel and snow. 

He’s outside, Ruth and her twin sister Rebecca announced at the same time.

So I hear, Tabitha replied, swiftly removing her apron. But thank you for making sure I was aware of David’s arrival.

Are you going just like that? asked Rebecca.

"Well, I am going to wash my face and hands and put on my winter coat, but ja, I am going just like that. What else did you expect me to do?"

Change your dress.

Ha. This dress is just fine, thank you. There is not a smudge on it.

But it smells like smoke and flour and the baking of bread.

Tabitha smiled. And all of those things David loves.

Which was true. And once David and Tabitha were in the buggy, and making their way along back road after back road, none of which had any ruts, David agreed. There are few better aromas than that of the wood stove and bread baking inside of one. Though the smell of baking cookies is also good.

She nodded. I’m sure it is.

I like freshly sawed pine for the wood. Or maple.

So, the next time I am sawing a pine tree for firewood I will be sure to invite you over to help.

I would come gladly.

I have no doubt of that. Tabitha looked ahead at yet another road untouched by boot prints or wagon wheels. Where are you taking me?

Haven't you been down this track before?

Never.

So, I used to skate here when I was a kid.

By yourself?

All by myself.

You didn’t ask me to bring my ice skates, David.

Oh, today is not about ice skating, Tabitha.

No?

No.

What is it about?

David flicked the reins and the horse trotted a little faster. It is a good day. You know, all days are good in one way or another. It’s just that some days you must hunt for the good in the same way a man hunts for a doe in October. Always, they are so hidden and move so softly.

Well. She pointed with a gloved finger. The cloud cover is breaking up over there. Now we have the first blue I’ve seen today. That is something. That is good.

You have family. Two dozen loaves of fresh bread. A warm winter coat. You will turn twenty this summer.

"Ja. All good things. She patted his arm and smiled into his dark brown eyes when he turned his head. Of course, there is you as well. You are also on the list."

"Danke." He looked ahead as they came around a cluster of tall evergreens. But today I give you something very, very good.

You do?

I do.

Much better than everything else?

In its own way.

And its own way is . . .?

Just around the next bend.

Just around the next bend meant going around a large stand of Colorado blue spruce which made David comment, Seeds from someone’s windbreak found a home here years ago. I remember when they were much smaller. This kind of tree is native to the Rocky Mountains.

Images of snow-capped peaks leaped into Tabitha’s mind from her dreams. 

Why do you say that? she demanded.

He shrugged. So many Pennsylvanians use the blue spruce around their yards and acreages. But the trees are from far to the west. This is not their home.

She took in their rich scent as the buggy brushed against the spruce branches. You will tell me you like the smell of them as well.

Of course, I do. Don’t you?

I do. Are they the very, very good thing you wished to show me today?

They are not. But look.

David reined in the horse. A frozen pond lay in front of them. On part of it, the snow had been cleared away so that Tabitha could see ice, some of which was opaque and some translucent. As more cloud cover peeled apart, the sun, low on the horizon and soon to set, sent golden rays that made the snow and ice of the pond sparkle like gems. 

My goodness. Tabitha curled her gloved hands into fists and put them to her mouth. It’s like looking at a thousand rings.

Rings. David smiled and laughed. "That is appropriate. Well, more so if we were Englisch, but still."

What do you mean?

Come. Walk onto the pond with me.

But . . .

No, no, it is quite safe. The ice is over a foot thick.

He held out his hand and helped her down from the buggy.

How do you know that for certain? she asked as she stepped onto the snow.

Yesterday I cut out a chunk of it.

David Lapp, all this sounds like some sort of plan of yours.

Maybe. Come and find out.

She followed him onto the exposed patch of ice. The sun vanished below the horizon, but the silver glimmer of a short winter dusk made both ice and snow gleam for a few minutes longer. The pond was ringed by a mixture of blue spruce, pine, and eastern cottonwoods, and all of them stood at least one hundred feet high. Clearly, they had been growing here a long time, and even when the swift dusk had ended, and the only light was from the first few stars, the snow on the evergreens, and on the long thick bare branches of the cottonwoods, had a glow to it.

But why have I never come here? Tabitha was astonished by what she was seeing. I have lived in Lancaster County all my life and I have never seen this pond.

David shrugged. Few have. Perhaps you did not notice how many different backroads I went down to get to this one?

I did and I also noticed that no one else had been on them recently.

There is a sign saying this road is closed due to hazardous conditions. The sign was partly covered with snow. Past the pond there is a steep drop off into a river and a number of cars and trucks have gone over the edge.

Oh, no.

But not the pond. The pond has harmed no one. The pond is perfect.

Perfect, is it?

Especially for my purposes.

Your purposes? Tabitha arched an eyebrow for the first time that day. It was a habit familiar to all who knew her, but she had seen no reason to do it on their buggy ride until that moment. You are full of mysteries today, David Lapp. What is going on?

He kicked at the ice of the pond. Soon we must turn back or we’ll be late for your family’s supper.

So?

So, I need to say something.

Oh, my goodness, David, you are driving me crazy. If you have something to say to me, just say it.

It’s not so easy.

The eyebrow again. Really? And what makes it difficult?

You. You do.

I? Tabitha was genuinely surprised – and shocked. What have I done?

"Everything. The way you walk, the way you sit, the way you comport yourself at church, the way you have of tilting your head to the left when you smile, how you fold your hands in your lap when you are listening to the minister preach, every fingernail perfectly and modestly trimmed . . . ja, everything about you is the problem, Tabitha."

I see. Her mind was swirling. And what do you intend to do about the problem?

Ask you to marry me.

"Vas?" His words startled her and made her feel as if she gulped down a glass of cold well water too quickly. "Vas?"

David hesitated. Then plunged ahead. I am in love with you. I love you so much it is impossible for me to consider living out the life God has given me without you at my side. I have prayed that you might feel the same way about me. I have waited and waited. But now I find I cannot wait any longer. Tabitha Reimer, do you have any feelings for me? I cannot go through another day without asking for your hand in marriage. Whether it is a yes or, God forbid, a no, I cannot last another day. So here, on this beautiful night, on this beautiful pond, I am asking you something I have never asked any other woman: Will you marry me? Will you make my life complete? Before God . . . will you consent to becoming my wife?

Tabitha stared at him and bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling. David Lapp, you astonish me. I have been waiting for well over a year to hear words like that come from your lips. Honestly, I thought you might never speak them. But that I would finally hear them in the middle of winter with us both standing on a frozen pond in the dark . . . She blinked her eyes several times because she did not want to spoil the moment with too many tears. You honor me. I should be proud to be your wife and helpmate. And yes, I do have feelings for you. I just did not think it would be right for me to declare myself before you did. Now that you have . . . David, I love you. I love you so very much. I have dreamed about being your bride. She stopped and took a long breath. I will marry you, David Lapp. I will marry you and be your love forever and ever. She smiled her largest and brightest smile. Forever and ever. That makes it sound like a story from a children’s book.

David smiled back. Or the Bible.

Or the Bible. She looked up at the glittering stars and back at him. So, then it is settled. We are to be married. And when do we want this to happen?

As soon as possible. I know we are supposed to wait until November or December, but I will ask the bishop if we can be wed before spring planting.

That will be a bold question to bring before him since it parts ways with our traditions. Yet before you put the question to him, you must put another question to someone else, and that will take even more boldness than paying a visit to the bishop.

The smile left David’s face. Your father.

Oh, David, please, don’t look so glum. He likes you. It will be all right. Of course, he will grant you permission to take my hand in marriage.

Are you sure?

I am sure.

So, when should I ask him?

The sooner the better, Tabitha replied.

And when should I approach the bishop?

The sooner the better.

So . . . and when should the marriage take place?

The sooner the better. Tabitha grinned, and hugged herself, and stamped her feet in the cold. Oh, I’m so excited. I can hardly wait another minute for you and me to become husband and wife. Not another minute.

Chapter Two

That night, after the Saturday dinner, and after David had gone home and everyone else, including Tabitha’s father, had gone to bed, Tabitha and her mother met by lamplight and had a heart-to-heart. Tabitha had found it difficult to contain her excitement during supper, and now she was so grateful to have her mother to confide in she practically burst at the seams, and the words tumbled out of her. Her mother smiled and took both her daughter’s hands in hers and blessed her.

Your cup runneth over, Ta, the mother said, using her daughter’s childhood nickname. And in God’s blessing on you our entire family is blessed. David is a fine young man with a good work ethic. He will be a wonderful provider and you will set such a table before him that will keep him strong and fed all of his days. Not to mention the children you will bear him that will fill him with joy.

Tabitha’s smile was broad. You move so quickly, mother.

Do I? Well, nothing ought to be wasted in this life, especially time. Who knows what dawn will bring? Each day ought to be used up with nothing left over – not a minute, not even a second.

Then David should speak with father as soon as possible?

Oh, even sooner than that. Winds of change are blowing and if I were him I’d get to it before father gets distracted.

Distracted by what?

Oh, I’m sure you've heard the talk.

I don’t think I have because nothing I’ve picked up on has been unusual.

Her mother squeezed Tabitha’s hands. It is not for me to get into it. I’ve only heard snippets and threads and I may have the whole pattern wrong. I don’t want to give you an impression of events that misleads or alarms you. Let me simply say there will be big changes in our church and community and ultimately, I believe, they will be changes for the good.

Mother, now you really have piqued my interest.

Let it remain piqued for the time being. I’d rather talk about your wedding. Will you choose a date in November or December?

David hopes to get the bishop to agree to a spring wedding.

Her mother arched her eyebrow the way Tabitha did. A spring wedding?

Before seeding.

Before seeding. My, my. You have such an enthusiastic suitor. But the bishop will never agree to it. He will not break decades of tradition to please David Lapp. However, yes, it is true he has consented to several March weddings, so perhaps he will grant you that. But not April or May.

Well, then, March, I suppose. So long as it is this March.

This March? That would give us only two months to prepare. Oh my, that is hardly enough time, Ta.

How much time do we need? It does not take months to sew bridesmaids’ dresses, or the groom’s shirt and suit, and the meal for our guests will be prepared the day before. This March is good.

The bishop may not agree. He may find you are acting too hastily.

Well, I’m certainly not going to wait almost a year until November. Or more than a year until next March.

"You