***Hello! Sorry for the delay! If you're reading/enjoying this story please let me know! I am forever on a rollercoaster of self-doubt and I lack proficiency in writing-related self-soothing, so external validation is always appreciated ð Cheers!***
Josh
"What are you doing?"
Josh choked down a yelp and spun around, damn near shooting out of his skin. His wife had a damned annoying habit of sneaking up on him.
Near two months had passed since he and Amelia had been married. Fall had given way to a bitter, brutal winter. And, while the weather chilled. his relationship with his wife had, quite unexpectedly, warmed. At first all he knew of her was her beauty and her quiet, calm nature. Now he'd come to know more.
He knew her laugh was free and frequent, but that tears sat stubbornly in her eyes and refused to fall except in the heaviest moments. He knew that she was intelligent and well-read, and that she possessed an infinite ability to create stories and scenarios for her own entertainment. He knew she snored lightly when she slept on her back, that she wrinkled her nose when she was annoyed, and that she was terribly, frighteningly light on her feet. He had half a mind to hang a bell around her neck to save himself the embarrassment of damn near pissing himself every time she walked up while he had his back turned.
"I have half a mind to hang a bell around your neck," he growled, scowling at her as she sat on a bale of hay, wrapping her arms around her legs and grinning sweetly.
"I'm sorry," she said, but that silly smile told him she wasn't sorry at all. She thought it was amusing, and he reconsidered his threat. Maybe he'd just let her kill him with fright, and then he could die looking at that goofy smile and listening to her laugh.
"No you're not," he said, turning his back to her once more and bending to scoop more soiled straw into the wheelbarrow.
"I am!" she exclaimed from behind him, and he heard her shifting on the hay bail. "But you didn't answer my question. What are you doing?"
"Mucking stalls," he said shortly. There was no use in elaborating. Another thing he'd learned about her was that she loved to learn. She'd pick a subject and then grill him on it until she was satisfied, or until something else called them back to earth. He liked her questions-- liked talking to her, liked the way it felt when she dragged the answers out of him-- so he never expedited the process by giving her the full explanation right away.
"What does that mean? Put it in words for a city girl, remember?"
"I'm cleaning the stalls," he obliged, dumping another shovel full of malodorous straw onto the pile. Not that he minded her company, but she had a tendency of finding him when he was up to his knees in manure or falling off horses or elbow deep up a cow's rear end. He wished she'd sneak up on him sometime when he was doing something more glamorous. He had aspirations to move up to the bed sometime soon. It was cold as hell on the floor, but he sincerely doubted she'd want him sharing her warmth if all her images of him were covered in excrement, dirt, and embarrassment.
"So that hay is old," she said, and he didn't have to turn to know she was gesturing the wheelbarrow.
"Old and soiled," he said, his nose twitching at the acrid stench of urine and feces. It didn't bother him much but he was sure it bothered her. She bathed often and she always smelled faintly of roses. Roses did not meld well with the barn.
"So you'll take the old hay out..."
"It's actually straw."
"What?"
He turned, leaning on the shovel and gesturing at the bail beneath her. "It's straw. You're sitting on hay. Hay is made from grass or alfalfa. It's for eating. Straw," he hooked a thumb behind him at the floor of the stall, "is a sort of wheat leftover. It's not food. We just use it to make their homes a little more comfortable and easier to clean."
Her face brightened in spite of the banality of his lecture, and she looked down, pulling a small handful of hay off the bail and toying with it. Her fingers weren't small and delicate, but they were gentle and graceful. He watched, entranced, as she twisted the dried stalks together, nodding to herself.
"So I'm sitting on somebody's dinner," she said brightly, looking up, and he quickly averted his gaze. Hopefully she hadn't noticed he was staring at her hands the way Brent stared at a deck cards and his father stared at a tumbler of whiskey.
"I guess," he agreed, turning around an resuming his task lest she see the heat creeping into his face.
"I feel kind of bad," she said cheerfully. "I'd be a bit put out if someone sat on my dinner."
He laughed. "I don't s'pose they'd care, but I won't tell them if you won't."
"Do you think I could help you?"
He balked. "Nah, I don't think so." She looked so sad, he felt compelled to add more. "Just cuz of your... condition, that's all. Shouldn't you be resting?"
She flapped a hand and rolled her eyes. "I'm only few months along. I knew ladies who kept right on working right up until they broke their water."
"Even so..."
"Okay," she said, shoulders slumping. Then she perked up. "Perhaps you'll show me after the baby comes?"
"Sure." Maybe by then she'd have found something better to occupy her time. Something more worthy of her beauty and her intellect and her grace.
"Where are the horses?" she asked, and he relaxed marginally, relieved she'd let the issue go.
"Pasture out back," he jerked his head toward the open rear door, opposite the one she'd come in.
"So they get to dance around outside while you make their beds for them?"
"Guess so," he said, although he didn't imagine the horses were doing much dancing. The weather was foul-- blustering and gray-- so the poor animals were probably huddled together for warmth. Come to think of it, Amelia must be freezing. He looked over his shoulder, frowning at her. "Are you dressed warm enough?"
She rolled her eyes but smiled, opening her arms to display her clothing. "Three layers, not including the coat," she said. "Scarf, hat, mittens, and thick wool socks..." she pointed at each item as she said it, and by the end of her list he was grinning in spite of himself. "You worry way too much," she finished. "I know I'm new to life in the country, but I'm not new to dressing myself, Josh."
Every time she said his name, his stomach turned over the way it did when he was bucked from a horse, in those seconds when he was flying through the air before the harsh impact with the ground. It felt like his insides had torn themselves loose from his body and were somersaulting inside him. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite feelings.
"You're warm, though?" he asked, unable to ease the tension that tightened his shoulders at the thought of her discomfort.
"Yes," she said with a sharp, emphatic nod. "I'm warm. So what are you going to do with the gross h-- the gross straw once you've shoved it all up?"
On and on she questioned him, and twenty minutes later she was an expert in stall-mucking, he was sweaty and winded, and the floor of the stalls was layered in fresh, sweet-smelling straw. He straightened, twisting his back to one side and then the other, until the knots of exertion loosened. Amelia had wandered over to the wall and was studying the harnesses hanging from their hooks.
"You want to help me bring the horses in?" he asked, regretting the offer before the words were finished leaving his mouth. He should have escorted her back to the house. But no. He'd asked her if she wanted to go stand in the cold for ten more minutes. Best husband this side of the Mississippi, he chided himself. "Actually they can wait. Let's get you back to the house. You're probably freezing."
"No!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. "I want to help!" She dug her hat and mittens from her coat pocket and tugged them on, bracing her hands on her hips with a wide smile. "I'm ready and I'm warm. Let's go!"
He snorted, slinging a handful of leads over his shoulder and picking up the bag of apples and carrots he'd brought with him. Down at the crew stables the horses got lumps of sugar, but he liked to spoil the family's horses. On a crazed whim, he held out his hand to Amelia, relief hitting him like a wash of warm water when she took it. Her mitten was scratchy and thick beneath his bare fingers, and he tightened his grip as they walked out of the barn.
Outside, the weather had deteriorated. Piles of crusty old snow dotted the landscape, but the ground was otherwise dry and brown, all floral life but the towering pines having retreated into hibernation for the winter. The sky overhead was angry gray, and wind whipped at their clothing as they walked. Flecks of snow hit his skin like needle pricks and he grimaced, lowering his face. Amelia skipped along beside him as if they were out for a springtime jaunt.
"I guess you've gotten used to the weather," he noted, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.
"What?"
"Nevermind."
"What's in the bag?" she asked, tipping her chin at the burlap in his hands."
"Apples and carrots."
"For the horses?"
"Yep."
"Can I feed them?" Her hand tightened in his and her smile was so bright it hurt him. He stifled a sigh because she was just too damned happy. He'd thought he was helping her when he asked for her hand, but a woman like this didn't need to settle for convenience. She could have anything she ever wanted. She was so... sunny. She belonged on the arm of some wealthy businessman in the city-- someone who could give her things that actually justified that brilliant smile.
"Of course."
They drew up to the fence of the paddock, where his family's private horses were standing with their backs to the wind, heads down. It occurred to him that he'd never introduced her to the horses. It seemed rude to have kept them from her for so long. They were worth meeting than most of his family-- the men, anyway.
"That's Lady," he said, pointing to the black and white spotted mare. "She's Melissa's. Duke," he pointed to black gelding," is my father's. "Poppy and Tulip," he rolled his eyes and pointed to two palominos in the far end of the paddock. "Are new to the ranch. Lisa named them. They're broke, but still a little wild. Copper," he pointed finally to the rust-colored animal who was already meandering his way towards them, "is mine."
He felt a little silly for over explaining, but when he glanced at her face he saw that she was beaming.
"They're beautiful," she breathed. "Are Poppy and Tulip for Brent and I? She spoke as if Brent was coming back, and the thought sent a sharp spear through his chest. He tried to tell himself she was just adding up the numbers and allocating the last two horses to the two members of the family he'd yet to mention. But some angry, frightened, unjust part of himself hated that she'd lumped them together. Poppy and Tulip-- a pair. Amelia and Brent-- a pair.
He shrugged. "I s'pose if you want. Like I said, though, they're a little wild. Maybe we ought to start you off on something a little slower."
"So you'll teach me to ride?"
You idiot, he chided himself. Walked right into that, didn't you?
"It might not be a good idea in your--"
"My condition," she finished for him with an exasperated sigh. "Right. Maybe after the baby comes, then? You'll teach me to shovel manure and ride horses?"
Her tone was so dry and sarcastic he smiled in spite of himself.
"Sure. Here, you better get an apple ready. Copper isn't known for patience."
She tugged off her mitten and fumbled in the bag, pulling out an apple.
"Hold it with your palm open so he doesn't get your fingers."
Her eyes grew wide and she obeyed, her fingers overly stiff and flat as she held the apple out to the docile animal. Copper sniffed it briefly before taking it between his teeth, chewing loudly. Josh slipped the bridle on while the horse worked on the apple. When he was finished he wrapped the lead around the fence post and took Amelia's arm, gently pulling her to where Lady stood, munching on a sprig of hay from the trough by the fence.
"Same thing," he said, nodding his head at Lady while he prepared the bridle. Amelia nodded eagerly and offered a carrot to the horse. In short order, they were leading Copper and Lady back to the barn while the other three waited patiently. Normally, this was a much faster process. He knew all of these horses, and gathering them up was a simple matter of climbing into the corral, gathering them all together, and leading them back to the barn.
But Amelia wanted to help, so they did it this way. He gave her Lady's lead and they walked side-by-side, leading the horses. The task was near-impossible to mess up, but Amelia held herself stiff as a board, glancing from him to Copper to Lady behind her, her fingers clenching and unclenching around the lead.
"You gotta relax," he said finally.
"I am!"
"You're not. You're all nervous."
She blushed a furious red and he fought the urge to take it back and tell her she was a natural, just to make her feel better. If she was going to live here-- raise a child here-- she had to know how to act around the animals.
"Just... act relaxed," he said, trying to gentle his tone and follow his own lead. "Even if you're nervous, relax your body, and try to breathe deep. When you get tense they can feel it and it makes them all twitchy."
"Really?"
"Yeah, look at Lady. See how her ears are back?"
"Yeah."
"She's nervous."
"Oh no! Because of me?" She was horrified, guilt ridden, and he bit back a smile.
"Here." They'd reached the barn and he tied Copper's lead to a hitch post and went to Amelia, taking the lead from her hands. "Take a deep breath," he said, drawing in an exaggerated breath and blowing it out while she followed, her eyes still comically wide.
"Good. Now relax your shoulders." Her shoulders slumped forward and he swallowed another laugh. Taking the slack out of Lady's lead, he brushed a hand down the horse's neck a few times, nodding for Amelia to do the same.
"She won't kick me if I touch her?"
"Nah, not Lady. Some of the other horses maybe, but not her."
"Even though I made her nervous?"
"She's fine now, see? Look at her ears. Remember, though, you always want to approach the horse from within eyeshot. Even if it's one like Lady, here, that you know won't hurt you. If you come up from behind and startle them, even the docile ones will lash out with a hind leg."
Amelia's hand stilled, then resumed stroking Lady's neck.
"You wouldn't kick me, would you?" she crooned at the animal.
"Here," Josh said, handing back the lead. "I think you've got the hang of it now. Follow me inside and we'll get her settled in."
* * *
"Thank you for showing me how to muck stalls and feed the horses."
Josh started a little and then smiled at his bedroom ceiling, crossing his arms behind his head. Twice in one day she'd snuck up on him, although this time he'd known she was in the room. He just didn't know she was still awake.
"Thanks for keeping me company."
"I like keeping you company," she said, her voice a little quieter, low with timid expectation. Like she expected him to laugh at her for being kind.
"Well, we'll have to find more things around the ranch for you to learn. I dunno, though. Maybe next time we'll find something a little less..."
"Stinky?" she offered, and he laughed. The fire in the hearth warmed his feet, and he rolled into his side, facing the door. He liked having her at his back. Somehow, ironically, he felt safe and secure when she was safe and secure behind him. The floor was hard and cold leeched into his body, drafts snaking beneath the door and up through the floor boards. But damn if he didn't sleep better since they'd married. Better than he'd slept since... better than he'd slept in a long, long time.
"Yeah, something less stinky," he agreed drowsily, closing his eyes. Outside, the wind raged, whistling by the walls of the house. He'd likely wake up to a foot of snow and a long day of hard, cold, grueling work. It made him shudder, but it also made him smile. Because after that long, hard day he'd come home. Amelia had taken to waiting up for him when he was out late, always ready with a pot of tea and a bright, red-cheeked smile when he tromped in. They'd sit and drink the tea while he thawed the chill from his bones, and they'd talk. It was his favorite time of day and it always seemed even better when the day had been especially hard.
"Hey, Josh?"
"Yeah, Ames?" he mumbled, already half asleep.
"Melissa told me there's a dance in town next month. Sort of a holiday thing."
He grimaced without opening his eyes. "Sure is."
"Are we going?"
I hope to hell not. "Do you want to go?"
"I just thought it might be fun. We spend a lot of time just the two of us. I was thinking maybe it'd be fun to spend time together, but... not just the two of us."
Damn. Not only did she want to go to the damn thing, she wanted to go because she was getting tired of his company. That was awfully damn quick.
"Of course we'll go," he said, rolling onto his back once more, suddenly wide awake andn ursing a bizarre and unbidden ache in his chest. "You probably ought to meet more people."
"Okay," she said quietly. He glanced up at the bed. He couldn't see her. She never ventured close enough to the edge for him to catch a glimpse of her profile, although sometimes he woke up to find a limp hand dangling in the air above him.
The fire crackled, and he studied the same plaster ceiling he'd been staring at since he was a boy. It was unfair to begrudge her a desire to get out and meet people. He spent all day with a teeming mass of men-- some friends, some tolerated employees. Regardless, his life was full of people. Amelia's wasn't. She had him, Melissa, his father, and the memory of Brent. And she was from the city, so she was probably used to loads of people, all the time. Hell, she'd left all kinds of friends behind when she came west with Brent. She'd told him as much.
"It'll be fun," he said abruptly, and he heard a rustle before her face appeared above him, hair hanging over her shoulder. He clenched his fingers to avoid reaching up and taking the soft strands between his fingers.
"You think so?" she asked, frowning down at him. "You sounded angry earlier."
"It'll be fun," he said again, nodding. She looked so concerned he threw caution to the wind and reached up, brushing his thumb over her cheekbone and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. It was so soft. Softer than anything he'd ever felt. He wanted to bury his face in it and pull the scent of roses into his lungs. Her eyes widened and he pulled his hand back, tucking it behind his head and offering her his best attempt at a smile. It probably wasn't very convincing, what with the way his guts were all tied up in knots. Amelia frowned and disappeared, flopping noisily back to the pillows.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "And you know I didn't mean... I didn't mean that I don't enjoy spending time with you. I just thought it would be fun to have some experiences together. I knew this nun, once, who said the best way to get to know a person is to watch how they interact with others. Plus by then I'll really be showing, and we can make sure everyone knows the baby is yours."
"You're awfully pragmatic," he said, smiling in spite of himself.
"I am. And you're awfully kind to indulge my whims."
"It'll be fun." Damn, couldn't he think of anything better to say?
"Yes," she said, wry and dry. "You've mentioned that."
"Well, it will be."
"It will..."
"Sleep well, Ames."
"You too, Josh."
Long after her soft snores filled the room, he lay awake and let his thoughts and feelings follow their natural course. By the time he fell asleep he was smiling to himself. Sure, he'd have to go to town and see people he didn't much care for. Sure, he'd have to put on starched clothing and probably shave his face and let Melissa cut his hair. Sure, he'd have to spend the whole time worrying about the way people were looking at his wife. The men would all be too appreciative, for sure, and the women would all be looking at her rounded belly and wondering how she was showing so much so soon in her pregnancy.
But then again, maybe he was right. Maybe it'd be fun. She'd dress up, too. She'd wear a nice dress and do her hair. She'd have to dance with him at least once. He was her husband, after all. Even if she spent the whole night twirling around the floor with others, he'd get at least one. And it would be good for her to make friends. She had so much energy and kindness all pooled up inside her. There weren't enough people on the ranch to receive all of it.
Yes, he decided as he finally drifted off. It'll be fun.