Something Borrowed

Chapter 2

"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.