Amelia
Amelia Conner was born in the city, raised in the city, came of age in the city, and had always expected she'd die in the city. So really, it wasn't her fault that she was so taken aback by the sight before her. When Brent had told her his family owned a ranch, she had envisioned a quaint little white-washed farmhouse with a red barn. Perhaps with some chickens in the yard and a small herd of cattle in a paddock.
She would never have imagined the sprawling complex nestled into the shallow valley before her. She stared, her mouth open, as they crested the last low hill and clattered down the road that turned to follow the ridge of the hilltop. Beside her, Brent slumped on the bench with his hat pulled low over his eyes as if the weight on his shoulders had increased from burdensome to crushing.
For the first time, Amelia didn't pay his mood any mind.
The house rising up on the hilltop above her was far from quaint. She stared in awe at the large bay windows and wraparound porch. The paint was stark white, the shutters powdery blue like the sky overhead. Off to her right side, sprawled across the side of the hill and the valley itself, were five long buildings she assumed were barns. A maze of corrals contained cows and horses in quantities she'd never seen before. Here and there, men worked among the livestock and dogs and cats darted like ants around the entire property. A large chicken coup sat nearer to the house, and no fewer than fifty chickens pecked about in their fenced-in yard.
Amelia's heart hammered in her chest as they approached a fork in the road and Brent guided the wagon to the left, steering them toward the house. "I hate that smell," he said, with a noise of disgust, wrinkling his nose. Amelia lifted her face and breathed in the earthy scent of manure and livestock. It was unfamiliar but not altogether unpleasant. Before she could say as much, Brent stopped the wagon and set the brake, handing off the reins to a young man who had come running from the direction of the corals as they approached.
"Good to have ya back, Mister Tucker. I'll see to the horses and have the bags brought up to the house."
The man did not acknowledge her. Brent didn't acknowledge the man. Instead, he circled around and helped her down from the wagon.
"Would you like to see the house first or the property?" he asked, and Amelia wondered which answer would displease him less. She fixed a smile on her face.
"I'd like to stretch my legs. Maybe we could go see the property?"
He heaved a sigh that cut through her like a rusty blade. "Sure, let's..."
"Brent!"
Footsteps heralded fresh company, and they both spun to see a young woman dashing across the yard. She didn't slow or stop to greet them, but flew into Brent's arms with a happy sound. He laughed and picked her up, spinning her around, her dark hair flying, and Amelia felt a flush of sadness. This brief flash of exuberance only emphasized how sullen Brent had been since she'd come to him with news of her pregnancy.
After a couple twirls, Brent set the woman down and they both turned to Amelia-- Brent reluctantly, the woman bright and eager. She was beautiful, Amelia thought, immediately coming to the conclusion that this was Brent's sister. He'd mentioned her off-handedly before, and Amelia could see the resemblance. They had the same dark hair and ivory skin. The same dimple in the right cheek and the same grassy green eyes.
"Is this her?" Brent's sister asked, and Amelia fought not to fold her arms over her chest as the other woman's eyes scanned her from top to bottom, an appreciate smile spreading over her face.
"This is Amelia," Brent said in the gruff monotone Amelia had come to know over the past few weeks. He wasn't playing his part well, she thought. They were supposed to be husband and wife. He could at least pretend to be proud.
"Oh, Brent, she's beautiful." His sister gripped his arm and then turned her attention fully to Amelia. "I'm so excited you're here. I'm Melissa, Brent's sister." Amelia took the pale, delicate hand that was offered. Her own hands were rough and calloused, and this petite young woman made her feel large and ungainly.
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ma'am," she said.
"Oh, don't be so formal," Melissa laughed. "Although I suppose, technically, I am the mistress of the house. Or was, before you got here." She giggled while Amelia's stomach plummeted. Would she be expected to perform the duties of the mistress of the house? What were the duties of the mistress of the house? Her pulse pounded in her throat.
"Anyway, daddy wants to see you as soon as you get here, Brent. I'll help Amelia get settled." She gave no opportunity for argument, and took Amelia by the arm, pulling her back down the dirty path. Amelia cast a glance over her shoulder, but Brent was already walking toward the house, his shoulders slumped.
"I really am so glad you're here," Melissa said as they walked. "There aren't very many women around here. There's some in town, and wives and daughters at other ranches, but I don't get to see them except at church and the occasional social call. You and I will have to be good friends."
Amelia didn't know anything about this woman, other than her name and her resemblance to Brent. Even so, something inside her settled into warm comfort at Melissa's words. She'd spent her life surrounded by other women. The farther she and Brent traveled, the more she came to feel hollow and deserted-- adrift in an empty sea of gruff-talking, leering, spitting men. Lost and drowning without the sturdy strength of femininity to keep her afloat.
"I'd like to be friends," she said lamely, rubbing a hand over her stomach.
"Well, good!" Melissa chirped, letting go of her arm but dragging her by force of charisma alone down the dirt path away from the house. "You have to tell me all about yourself. Brent told Pa in his letter that you worked in the city. What kind of work did you do? Which city did you meet in? Have you always lived there? Is it exciting? You must have seem so many different kinds of people. Was your family sad to see you leave or excited for your new adventure?"
She paused, and Amelia realized she was expecting an answer. Where to start? She cleared her throat. "I'm from St. Louis. That's where Brent and I crossed paths. I was born there, but my parents both died when I was young and I don't have any other family, so I grew up in a girl's home."
"Oh, that must have been so terrible," Melissa said with a sad sigh. "I'm so sorry for your loss."
Amelia shrugged. "I was young," she said honestly. "It wasn't so bad," she lied. "I learned to read and write, but the only jobs I could find were manual labor. Laundry, dishwashing, that kind of thing. It wasn't very glamorous."
"Where did you meet Brent?" The girl's eyes were shining, as if Amelia was telling her the most interesting tale in the world. They walked together down the dirt road toward the barns and corrals, and Amelia thought this life must be much more stimulating than hers had been. Melissa must know how to ride a horse. Amelia could not even imagine the freedom...
"I met him at a hotel," she admitted. "I was waiting tables and cleaning rooms, and he was playing poker."
"He loves cards," the other woman said with a sigh, tipping her head back to the sky as if asking for patience. "He was always going to town to play, even when he lived here. Brent's a wanderer. He likes to meet new people and see new things, you know?"
Amelia held in a sigh. Yes, she knew. She knew because she was the anchor he'd just discovered tied around his ankle, preventing him from doing just the thing he so loved.
"I'm sure you'll be happy, though," Melissa said quickly, as if realizing her mistake. "You're so beautiful, and you seem so nice. He'll be very happy. I'm sure you have no reason to worry."
Amelia was sure she had every reason to worry, but such seemed inappropriate small-talk with the man's sister at their first meeting. She looked around, stumbling easily in a natural change of subject."Where are we going?"
"Just a quick tour of the ranch," Melissa said, waving an arm at the chaos in front of her. "I figured you'd want to stretch your legs. We won't go talk to the hands, yet. They're not always fully decent when there's ladies about, and Josh'll kill me if I bring you around without him there to keep them civil."
She led the way off the road until they stood on level ground some distance down the hill, overlooking the valley below. She spread her arms wide, as if presenting the scene before them.
"Behold the Triple T," she said in a mockingly grandiose tone that, in a stroke of irony, matched perfectly with the genuine awe that Amelia felt. "As you can see, we're no two-bit operation. Daddy inherited this place from his father, so we've had a few years to establish ourselves. We're the second largest ranch in this part of the state. Every year, we produce cattle and horses for the market, as well as milk and eggs for local distribution. Those long buildings you see are where we house the livestock, especially during the winter months when it gets cold. Corrals are primarily used for training and exercising the horses, but are also used for branding and breeding. We have four active fields, but they're used mostly to feed the livestock, not for any cash crop. That one-story over there with the chimney is the bunkhouse, where the ranchhands live, and the building next to it is the kitchen. The cook just feeds the men, though. I do most of the cooking for the main house."
"I can help," Amelia hopped in quickly, eager to find a familiar place in this bizarre new world.
Melissa smiled brightly. "Of course you can! It'll be so good to have company in the kitchen again. Anyway, over there is the chicken coop. There's some boys Josh hired down in town who tend the chickens and collect up the eggs, and they drop off a dozen every morning for us to cook and bake with, as well as fresh milk. We've got four wells scattered across the property. One for the main house, one for the livestock, and two more spread out for the dry seasons."
"Dry seasons?"
"Oh yeah," Melissa said with a grim nod. "We've had a few hard summers but we stay afloat because of the wells. They keep the livestock hardy while every else's dies off. Drought years are difficult, but we usually fetch a profit at the markets just because everyone else does worse."
That seemed awfully brutal to Amelia, but she didn't say anything. She reminded herself that the city had its own brutality. She was hardly ignorant of the unpleasant underside of humanity.
"Is there anything you'd like to see out here, or can I give you a tour of the house?"
The house, Amelia learned shortly thereafter, was no less impressive than the ranch itself. There was a parlor, a sitting room, a dining room, and a kitchen with a cellar entrance and a large stove. There was also a study, but the door was shut and Melissa promised to show it to her when her father and Brent were finished talking.
"He doesn't like to be interrupted," she said.
Up the grand, curving staircase were the bedrooms. A blue-themed "guest room" that looked like it had never been used. A green-themed room with a twin-bed, a cozy window seat, and shelves of books that Melissa proudly declared her own. A massive, austere living space outfitted with a bar and all mahogany furniture which was described as the "master bedroom."
"And this will be your room," Melissa said as she pushed open the final door and tugged Amelia inside. "Just until Josh builds you a house."
Amelia didn't know who Josh was, and as she stepped into the room she forgot to ask. Her new quarters were bigger than Melissa's, smaller than the master bedroom, and a thousand times more impressive than anything she'd ever called her own. There was a window seat like Melissa's, with red cushions that clashed horribly with the thick, light-blue curtains. The bed was obviously two twin-beds pushed together, and there were nightstands with candles on either side. One stand had a small vase filled with wildflowers and wrapped in a wide purple ribbon.
Across from the bed stood two vanities with a water basin between them. Two fresh, cream-colored towels hung on twin hooks above the basin. One vanity was all but empty, but the second held a random assortment of soaps, lotions, perfumes, and hair clips.
"It's not much," Melissa said with a frown, watching Amelia closely as she turned in a small circle, in awe of her good fortune. "This used to be Josh and Brent's room. I tried to fix it up, but Josh only cleared out three days ago so I didn't have much time. We'll go to town this weekend and find some stuff to make it pretty."
The chagrin on her face was in such contrast to Amelia's own amazement that she laughed out loud.
"It's beautiful," she said, brushing her fingers appreciatively over the petals of the wildflowers. "Thank you."
Downstairs, the door opened and a male voice called out.
"Miss Melissa, we've got the bags!"
Melissa pulled Amelia down the stairs, and the next few minutes were a flurry of activity as the young girl directed a small host of men to carry the bags and assorted supplies Brent had purchased up to the bedroom. As quickly as it began, it was over, and Amelia found herself standing in her new room with suitcases and boxes stacked all around her.
"Do you need any help getting unpacked?" Melissa asked, and Amelia shook her head. She had one small carpetbag. Everything else was Brent's. "Okay, then," her new friend said with a smile, wrapping her hand around the doorjamb. "You take some time to get settled. We eat at noon every day, so I'll come get you ten minutes before. My father's very strict about the schedule."
And she was gone.