Something Borrowed

Chapter 2

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.