Amelia
"Ames, you're bein' difficult."
"I am not!"
"Yes you are. It's not that hard."
"That's easy for you to say!" she snapped back, hiking her skirts up and lifting her leg to fit her boot into the stirrup. She gripped the front of the worn leather saddle with her left hand and the back with her right and--
"Ames, wait," Josh's stern voice interrupted her, and she glared over her shoulder. He leaned sideways against the fence, one elbow propped on the top rail, looking gratingly casual and relaxed while she sweated and struggled. He tipped his chin toward the saddle. "Where do your hands go?"
"Arrogant, insufferable know-it-all..." she grumbled under her breath, adjusting her grip so that her left hand was wrapped in the horse's withers. In fairness, he had been fairly clear in his instructions. If she only gripped the saddle she ran the risk of pulling it straight off the horse's back when she hoisted herself up. So she had to grab a fistful of this poor creature's hair, which Josh swore didn't hurt it a bit, in order to haul her weight up. Ridiculous. Who's idea was it to do this, anyway?
"You're the one who wanted to learn to ride," he pointed out with a one-shouldered shrug, as if listening to her thoughts. "It's not my fault you're a poor student."
"I'm an outstanding student," she huffed back, giving two practice hops before heaving her body up. This time, she actually got some distance off the ground and had just begun swinging her leg up to clear the horse's back when her weight took over. With a squeak, she fell backwards. Instead of toppling into the dirt, she landed in two strong arms, holding her tight against a chest that rumbled with laughter.
"That was better than last time," he offered, setting her on her feet. She had to resist the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and play a distressed damsel just to stay there a moment longer.
"It's my skirts," she said, her face burning with embarrassment and desire as she straightened her dress.
"Sure," he said, nodding with a smile that told her he was aware of her lies as she was. "Perhaps tomorrow you should wear trousers."
She gaped at him. "That wouldn't be appropriate, Josh. How would you feel if one of the men saw me?"
"The men don't come up here unless I tell them to," he said with another infuriating, effortless shrug. "Anyway, I don't think it's your skirts. You just gotta give it a good try."
"I'm not strong enough."
"I've seen you haul Reb around, honey. You're not weak."
"Reb is a baby! She weighs hardly anything! Can't you just give me a boost up like you've been doing all week?" she pleaded, fluttering her eyelashes in her best approximation of wanton flirtation. His grin widened, and he turned her around, grasped her hips, and...
... pushed her toward the horse.
"Mount up, Amelia. I'm not helping you."
She glared and shoved him away, and he resumed his position by the fence, this time hopping up onto the top rail and bracing his elbows against his knees. On the first try, she barely boosted herself high enough to see over the horse's back. On the second, she got her right knee up to the saddle before losing her balance and slumping back down. On the third, she gave three good practice hops, gripped the withers with one hand and the saddle with the other, shoved hard off the ground with her right leg, stepped up with her left foot in the stirrup, swung her right leg up and over. And squealed with delight as her bottom landed with a thump on the worn leather of the saddle.
The horse sidestepped in alarm at her exuberance, and she abandoned her celebration to cling to the saddle horn. Laughing, Josh slid off the fence and took the horse's reins.
"Calm down, Tulip," he soothed, rubbing a hand over the animal's neck. Amelia frowned, leaning forward to smooth her own hand over Tulip's shoulder. In the beginning she had resented the horse's name. She thought she'd prefer something with a bit more verve. Lightning, perhaps. Or maybe Ghost, since the horse was so pale? Fierce names had rolled through her head. Battlecry, Fury, Snowblind, Whitecap. But no. Her horse, from now until one of them died, was named Tulip.
She didn't mind much, anymore. The sweet mare was as gentle as her name, and Amelia had no intentions of abandoning her kindly mount for something more ferocious. She took the reins in gloved hands when Josh handed them to her, leading the horse through the drills as he called them out. She walked, trotted, loped, and cantered around the paddock. She turned left, turned right, and backed up. She stopped slowly and stopped quickly. All the while, her husband beamed like she was singing him an opera.
"You're a fast learner, Ames," he praised when she drew Tulip to a halt behind the fence and grinned down at him. She was breathing hard, as if she was the one exerting herself.
"I am!" she agreed, leaning forward and giving her noble, lame-named steed a fond pat on the shoulder. Then she looked up at Josh from beneath her eyelashes. "I've got a good teacher."
"I dunno about that," he laughed, freeing the lead-rope and walking her and Tulip out of the enclosed paddock. "You alright to stay here for a minute while I go fetch Copper? I can help you down if you like."
"Why are you fetching Copper?" she asked, unable to keep the excitement from bubbling up in her voice. She'd entertained this fantasy for months-- her and her husband riding the hills together, side-by-side, equals...
"I thought we'd go for a ride, since you're doing so good with your lessons. I got something I want to show you while Melissa's watching over Rebecca." If she didn't know better, she'd say he looked a little sheepish, with the slight reddening of his ears and his inability to look her straight in the face. She gathered up Tulip's reins and straightened her back.
"I'll wait here," she said, smiling at him with feigned confidence. In truth, she had horrid nightmare daydreams where, left alone with nobody but Amelia to control her, sweet Tulip transformed into some slathering war beast and took off at a dead gallop across the fresh spring green of the grassland. But she had to be more brave if she was going to live a good life here, if she was going to raise a strong daughter here, if she truly planned to live and die as the wife of such a man as her husband.
So when Josh abandoned her for the stables to saddle Copper, she forced herself to ignore her fear and practice all the things he'd taught her. Gently digging her heels into Tulip's fleshy sides, she urged the animal into a slow walk, steering her around the barn. They wandered back into the paddock and trotted a few laps around before easing into a canter. Something deep inside Amelia's chest longed to bend low over the horse's neck like she'd seen her husband do and transition into a gallop-- wild, unafraid, and free. But she didn't dare.
Then Josh re-appeared, leading his aptly-named, rust-colored monster of a horse. Melissa had proudly proclaimed her brother's horse an Akhahl-Teke, for which he'd traded five healthy, saddle-broke American mustang stallions in Denver three years ago. Five healthy saddle-broke American mustang stallions were, Amelia supposed she was to deduce, a steep cost and Copper was, therefore, to be admired.
Amelia didn't see much that impressed her about Copper. He was just a horse, albeit a bit taller than Tulip and with a bit more snort to his breath and flare to his eyes. In any event, the animal wasn't near so impressive to her as the way his owner swung easily up into the saddle in one fluid, graceful movement. She thought of her own wobbly, uncertain efforts and felt her face heat. Was it embarrassment? Excitement? Both, probably.
"You ready?" he asked, nodding his head toward the worn-down dirt path. "Sure you're up for it?"
"Of course!" she said, suddenly indignant. She had told him she wanted three hours' worth of lessons this afternoon. It had only been an hour! Not that she didn't adore her daughter, but... well, she needed her full three hours.
"Alright, alright," he said, his face stretched with that silly, happy grin she'd come to see more and more since Rebecca's birth. "Let's go."
Josh
Josh felt silly. Like a child, over-eager for presents on Christmas morning. Like a dog, bouncing and yipping and whining for a bowl of food. He felt soft and frivolous and weak, like he'd melt into water and seep away into the ground if this went any way other than perfectly. Before Amelia, he'd been content with his life, thank you very much. He'd had thick skin that deflected even the deepest barbs his father cast and the foulest memories his mind could conjur. He'd enjoyed simple, cheap pleasures-- riding, whiskey, the beauty of the land, the satisfaction of a hard day's work...
Now... now he was some kind of glutton. Those simple things no longer brought him joy, only contentment. For true joy, he needed her smile. Her laugh. Her hand. Her warmth. Her voice. And a spot of joy was no longer sufficient. He wanted it at the start of his day and the end. He wanted it when the sun was high in the sky and he wanted it in the dead of night. He didn't just want her giggle, he wanted her full-bellied laughter. He didn't just want her smile, he wanted her squeal of delight. He didn't want small-talk, he wanted her hypotheses and theorems on God and politics. He wasn't content with her warmth beside him in bed, he wanted...
He wanted this to go well.
Amelia was as quick a learner as she'd claimed to be, and he felt a stirring of pride as he looked across and saw her sitting tall and proud, albeit a bit stiff, on Tulip's back. He wanted to see her break into a gallop and sail across the plains, hair falling loose from her braid and trailing behind her on tendrils of giddy laughter. For now, he was happy to have her riding beside him.
She realized where they were going fairly early in the ride, but of course she did. She was quick like that.
"Is it finished?" she asked excitedly, twisting in the saddle to glance at him over her shoulder. He'd let her pull ahead a bit, solely because he wanted to observe the way she sat and maybe offer some pointers for a more comfortable ride. Certainly not because he enjoyed watching the shape of her hips and the gentle curve of her back as she swayed with the horse's steps.
"Is what finished?" he asked, feigning ignorance and unable to keep the smile from his face. He schooled his expression into concentration and gazed west at the horizon, as if there was something there more important than her.
"Don't be a tease, Josh. We're going to see the house, aren't we?"
"Mm," he grunted noncommittally. He should've found himself a silly, slow wife who was easier to surprise.
They rode the rest of the way in jittery silence, Amelia shifting anxiously in the saddle and Josh trying his damndest not to drool while he watched her. When the house came into view, Amelia gasped out a happy, excited sound of delight and nudged Tulip into a canter. Josh followed at a slight distance, suddenly wracked with unease.
When he'd ridden out this morning to give it one last check, he'd thought the little cabin was a good job-- neat, straight, and solidly built out of solid lumber. He'd given it two porches, one for watching the sun rise and another for watching it set. He'd even ordered panes of glass for the windows, and made sure there were windows in every room so none would be without sunlight. It was small, of course, but he'd built it so it wouldn't be difficult to add rooms, if Amelia wanted their family to grow. For now, there was a bedroom for he and Amelia, a separate bedroom for Rebecca when she grew older, a sitting room, and a kitchen large enough to accomodate a table. It was a good little house in which to start a life.
At least it had been when he watched the sun rise on the freshly thatched roof. Now, with the afternoon sun shining bright and Amelia's gaze even brighter, it just looked... pitiful.
"Help me down!" Amelia cried impatiently, twisting in the saddle as he rode up. He stopped a moment and captured the sight of her, tendrils of loose hair billowing around her face in the breeze, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, set against the backdrop of their home. He imagined her image would make more sense in front of a castle in the mountains or a mansion in the city. She looked wrong in front of the puny little cottage, like she was a fine crystal wine glass that he'd decided to use on the trail to drink gritty black coffee, brewed over a cow-pat fire.
With a sigh, he dismounted and hitched Copper to the porch rail. Amelia was already halfway down, and he caught her by the hips, easing her the rest of the way. She spun in his arms, grinning brightly, and planted an enthusiastic but none-too-involved kiss on his lips. Then she pushed away and dashed up the stairs.
Taking his time, Josh tied Tulip next to Copper and followed Amelia inside. The plain pine walls were barren, the floors featureless, and the entire place smelled of sawdust. He and Amelia had ordered furniture, and most of it was sitting in an unused storehouse on the ranch, but he hadn't had it brought out yet. He figured she'd want to direct its placement. Now he wished he'd had it delivered so the place didn't look so cold.
He found Amelia in the room they'd set aside for Rebecca, turning a slow circle with her hands on her hips.
"The sun will come in through the window in the morning," she said, smiling brightly. "She'll wake every morning to sunlight."
His heart lightened a bit, just at the thought of their little girl, stretching and greeting the warm sunlight with a sweet, sleepy grin. Hitching a shoulder against the doorframe, he forced himself to smile. "We oughta get curtains. She's already phobic of a good night's sleep."
Amelia laughed, turning another slow circle, then brushed past him. He followed her to their bedroom, then to the kitchen, where she traced her fingers over the stove, to the sitting room where she talked about the shelves they'd need to build for books. Finally, he followed her out the back door to the west-facing porch. She stood at the edge, arms crossed over her chest as she gazed out at the mountains. It wasn't near to dusk, but the snow-capped peaks were beginning to glow yellow, marking the sun's descent. Amelia closed her eyes, the light casting her face in a golden hue.
"This is per--" she broke off as she turned to face him, her happy smile falling away to a frown. "What's the matter?"
He shook his head, forced another smile. "Nothing at all. Just enjoying the view."
Amelia turned her back on the sun, closing the distance between them until she stood with her chest to his, her hand so her hips and and brow furrowed. "Don't lie to me, Josh," she scolded, shaking her head and lifting a hand to brush her fingers over his cheek. "What's upsetting you?"
How could he explain?
"It's just... small," he said, wrapping his hand around her cool fingers and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "That's all. I wish I could build you something bigger."
"You could build me something bigger. I wanted this."
That... she wasn't wrong. "I should have gone against your wishes then," he said stubbornly, unwilling to sacrifice his broader, unspoken point-- that she deserved a palace. "You ought to live somewhere grand."
"Well, that's what you think," she said, tapping him on the chest before turning around and striding back to the edge of the porch. "And you're welcome to your silly thoughts. But I know what I want, and this is what I want. Don't muddy it all up." She turned and extended her hand toward him. "Come enjoy it with me."
Reluctantly, he joined her at the edge of the porch, following her down when she sat on the edge, wrapping her arms around her knees and smiling at the view.
"I never meant to end up in a place like this," she said into the crisp air, and Josh wanted to throw himself at her feet and apologize for all the circumstances that had brought her to end up in just such a place as this. "I thought I'd travel, you know. I always wanted to go to Europe."
"We could go to Europe," he said weakly. Oh yeah, you fool? When? How? With what funds?
Amelia laughed, as if she knew he was stretching the truth. For some reason, that hurt. But she eased the hurt, unwittingly or not, by looping her arm through his and resting her head on his shoulder.
"But I also wanted Rebecca to be a boy," she mused, her fingers twitching at his elbow. "You don't always want what you need, you know?"
"Sure," he said, but he didn't really follow. She should have a daughter and a son. She should have a cozy home with a sunset porch and a year-long sojourn in Europe.
"Our house is beautiful," she went on, rubbing his shoulder with her cheek, an unconscious move she did at night when she was drifting off to sleep. He loved the soft little habits she had almost as much as he loved the whole, fierce totality of her.
"I'm glad you like it."
"It's not a home yet, though. We'll need the furniture, and the curtains I've been making."
"The furniture's already come in. I can have it brought up this weekend."
"The sooner the better," she said, twining their fingers together as she turned her attention back to the glowing mountains. Josh didn't see the mountains, even though he was looking right at them. He saw her standing in their home, in the middle of the room, directing furniture-carrying men like a general directing troops. "I'm getting tired of sharing a roof with your family."
"Yeah?" he half-laughed.
"Yeah," she confirmed, her grip tightening in his. "You know how I feel about your father, and I love Melissa, but she's... nosy."
"Nosy?"
"Yeah," she sighed, nuzzling deeper into his side. "She... well, you know we share a wall with her. And sometimes if we're up late talking, or moving about, she bothers me about it the next day."
Josh snorted and rolled his eyes. "I'm sorry about her."
"Oh, it's no big bother," Amelia said, her shoulder shifting against his side in a shrug. "It'd just be nice, you know? To be able to talk and... and move around freely. At night. When we're in bed, you know? Without people listening."
Aw, hell.
Suddenly, Josh couldn't remember what he'd been so morose about before. Was it something about the house? Something about a mansion in the city? Something about Europe? All of those troubles seemed to fade into nothingness as a voice screamed in his ear.
She wants you, you fool. She wants you, she wants you, she wants you.
But how?
It doesn't matter.
And it didn't.