Melissa

Melissa had to admit that, despite her annoyance with her little brother, his homecoming sure brought a spark of drama to a life that had become appallingly sedate ever since Josh and Amelia had moved out of the big house.

"This will be the parlor!" Brent declared with his arms thrown wide. They stood together in an empty plot of land, marked only by stakes and twine to indicate the massive footprint of her brother's future home. It was impressive, she had to admit. Or at least the tale he was telling was impressive. "I'm having some artwork brought over from Europe for the walls. This is the first room my visitors will see, so it'll be a bit ostentatious."

Melissa snorted in spite of herself. "A bit?" she murmured to Amelia, who stood by her side, holding Rebecca. Josh stood at Amelia's other elbow, arms crossed over his chest with a look of practiced boredom on his face. Her father stood a few steps closer, nodding along with Brent's tour, pride showing in every line of his body. He glared at her over his shoulder.

"Presentation is critical in the business world, Melissa," he stated with a disappointed shake of his head. "Your brother understands the importance of putting his best foot forward."

Brent laughed. "Fortunately, I have two best feet so it's easy," he joked, nodding his head toward the next 'room.' "This will be my office. I've modeled it after yours, pa. There will be bookshelves on these three walls, and the desk will sit in the middle. I had to place a special order for the chairs, so mine will stand a few inches higher than the others. You taught me that too."

The old man laughed good naturedly, and Melissa felt a little embarrassed. Amelia had been around for years, now. She'd seen the way her father was, but Melissa had never felt much more than passing shame because he was only one old man and Amelia had Josh to show her what the Tucker men were capable of being. Now, though, there were two of them. Two obnoxious gas bags, and they sure did have a way of building off each other's energy! God, they were insufferable.

"What's that about with the chairs?" Josh asked, and Melissa wanted to kick him. He knew damn well what it was about. Where Melissa was embarrassed by the display, she was sure her brother was grateful for it. The more of an ass Brent made of himself, the more secure Josh's place would be.

"It's an intimidation technique," Brent said, his voice taking on a pedantic heaviness, the words slow as if his audience would struggle to keep up. He braced his hands on his hips as he spoke. "It's subtle, of course, but effective. Men are more likely to let you short them on a deal if they're already feeling insecure and small."

Josh snorted, muttering under his breath, and there was a rustle of fabric as Amelia elbowed him. Brent's face fell a little, wrinkling with annoyed distress, and Melissa bit her lip and strode forward, taking him by the arm. "Come on and show us the next room," she said, dragging him away.

According to Brent, there would be a parlor, a sitting room, an office, a music room, a kitchen, a dining room, and a small washroom, all on the first floor. The second story would be smaller, but boasted four large bedrooms, all with their own open-air balconies. Each room would have a theme, some more coherent than others. "A night in Paris" made sense, as did "the plains of Africa" and "Mother Russia." Melissa wasn't quite so sure what "revolution" would look like, though, or "the glory of the steam engine."

The tour was long, and the afternoon sun was high by the time it finally finished, warming the air enough that Melissa unbuttoned her coat as she joined Josh and Amelia, who had settled on the back of their wagon. Little Rebecca played at their feet, digging a hole in the dirt, her dress wrinkled and stained. Her bonnet hung on a ribbon halfway down her back and her shoes had mysteriously disappeared, leaving her in thick socks that were brown on the bottom from the dirt.

"Amelia," Brent said as they reached the couple, pulling himself loose from Melissa's hold and extending his hand. "Would you like to take a walk now? Like you promised?"

"She didn't promise you anything, Brent," Josh growled beneath his breath. Rebecca stopped her digging to frown up at him and he smiled at her. Appeased, she returned to her hole.

"Don't be difficult now, Joshua," Melissa's father said, crossing his arms over his barrel chest. "He just wants to talk to her."

Josh opened his mouth to argue, but Amelia chimed in, slipping off the edge of the wagon. "It's okay," she said, giving the other men her back and placing small hands on her husband's shoulders. She dropped a kiss on the hard line of his mouth and patted his cheek. "We won't go far and we won't be long."

He sighed but relaxed and Amelia brushed by Brent's still-extended hand. With boyish excitement gleaming in his eye, he spun and hurried after her. Which left Josh, still sitting on the end of the wagon. Rebecca, happily playing in the dirt by his feet. Their father, glaring at his eldest like his gaze had the power to smote a man right off the face of the earth. Melissa, shifting on her feet, wondering how best to address the awful tension.

Before she could even try, her father took a step forward, relaxing his arms and jamming one pointed finger at Josh's chest. "You need to cut out the attitude, boy," he snarled in a low hiss, and Melissa could see the fight in her brother's face. It was just a shame that his expression was the only place his frustration would ever show. God forbid he lash out and defend himself...

"Let's not do this now," Josh said, his gaze dropping to Rebecca who had stalled once more and was staring up at the two men with wide eyes. "You okay Reb, honey?"

She nodded, but Melissa could see as well as Josh could that Rebecca's presence wasn't going to be a suitable deterrent. Reading the plea in his eyes when they met hers, she hurried forward and bent, scooping Reb off the ground without a spare thought for the dirt stain the child would likely leave on her coat.

"Let's go see if we can find a good climbing tree," she said to the little girl, trying to sound excited. On the far side of the footprint, Brent stood with Amelia. They faced each other, Brent's hands gesturing imploringly, Amelia's arms crossed over her chest. Every time he stepped forward, she stepped back. Not daring to go any closer, lest Rebecca hear something she shouldn't, Melissa took the little girl into the stand of trees to the west of the Brent's new property.

Rebecca, happy and loved, reminded Melissa of how she'd been when she was little. She ran from tree to tree while Melissa trailed behind, pointing at gnarled branches until she finally selected one that was suitably close to the ground. She hefted the little girl up to the branch, which was barely at neck level, and hovered beside her while she dangled from the limb, laughing with glee.

One eye still trained on Rebecca, she watched over the child's head as her father spoke sternly, his face splotchy red. Josh sat motionless, hands gripping the edge of the wagon. As she watched, her father gestured behind him with a hand to where Amelia and Brent stood talking. Without warning, Josh shoved to his feet, and their father stumbled back as he threw one enraged hand in the same direction and spoke, leaning close. Oh, how Melissa longed to be closer so she could hear what he was saying. Josh never spoke back to the old man.

"Aunt Mel, I want up," Rebecca demanded, kicking her legs in a vain struggle to get her feet up to the branch. Melissa lifted the girl two hands beneath her back so she could loop her feet around the limb, and she hung like a monkey, her head dangling back. She laughed uproariously. "Aunt Mel, look!"

"I see, sweetie," she said distractedly, watching by the argument. The two were clearly engaged in some sort of verbal swordplay. Her father gestured repeatedly at Amelia and Brent, and occasionally stabbed a finger over Josh's shoulder in Melissa's direction. Josh shook his head, letting it droop for a second on his neck before he tossed his own hand in Melissa and Reb's direction. The old man rolled his eyes. Josh crossed his arms over his chest. Their father dragged a hand over his face, and Josh tossed his arms out to his sides and let them fall.

Just when Melissa was getting bored of this silent show, Josh leaned in close and jabbed a finger at the old man's chest. And just like that he was stumbling back, one hand flying up to his face. Melissa choked on a cry of alarm as the old man followed, dragging back and letting another punch fly. This one, Josh ducked. And the next. He kept throwing his arms out in front of him to hold the old man back, but it was no use. Melissa hadn't seen her father in a rage like this in years. Since before Amelia had arrived at the ranch, for sure. Maybe even longer? The fourth punch connected, Josh dropped to a knee, and Melissa had half a mind to grab Rebecca and run to interfere. Fortunately for her niece, Brent and Amelia ran up. Brent threw himself in front of his father, talking him by the shoulders and walking him backward. Amelia fell to her knees beside Josh, her face bright red with fury.

"Aunt Mel, look! One hand!" Rebecca dangled from the branch, as promised, by one hand. The other waved in the air. "I want upside down!"

"Okay, okay," Melissa agreed, tearing her gaze away from the scene playing out beyond the trees. She helped her niece adjust so she hung by her legs, crooked over the branch at the knee. She kept one hand at Rebecca's shoulder and the other behind her back, so she could easily tip the child into her grip if she began to fall. But of course, true to form, Rebecca didn't need her help. She swung upside down for longer than was probably healthy, until her face grew close to purple and Melissa decided it was time to be done.

"Alright, wild child," she said, hoisting her niece into her arms and swinging her onto a hip. At the wagon, the scene had calmed. Brent and her father had disappeared, and Josh leaned against the back of the wagon while Amelia stood on her tiptoes, swiping at his face with a handkerchief. He pushed her hand away and she stepped back, braced her hands on her hips, and said something that made him laugh.

Deciding the scene was as safe as it could be, Melissa brought Reb back to the wagon. "Do you need my services?" she asked as she drew close, setting Rebecca on the ground.

"Papa!" the little girl cried, running forward and bypassing her mother to slam into her father's legs. "Are you okay?"

Bending to pick her up, Josh flashed a broad grin and tapped her on the nose. "I'm fine, little one. Tripped over my own feet and fell down."

"Like mama in the snow?"

Josh laughed and Amelia made a soft sound of amused annoyance, smiling gratefully at Melissa. "Just like mama in the snow," she answered, plucking her daughter out of Josh's grasp and jerking her chin at him. "Melissa can you take a look at your brother and make sure his fall didn't break anything important?"

Melissa was pretty sure he was fine, but she nodded and smiled, waiting until Amelia had Reb out of earshot before wheeling on her brother.

"What in the hell was that?" she hissed, stalking closer and crooking a finger to indicate he was to stoop so she could see the damage. He only stood up straighter. "I saw what happened, Josh."

He blanched. "Did Reb--"

"No, no," she waved a hand. "Reb didn't see. She was busy hanging like a monkey from a tree branch."

His frown only deepened. "Lisa you know we don't let her climb trees."

"I know," she said with false cheer. "That's what makes it a special Aunt Mel activity. And before you go blowing a valve, we're very safe. I'm always right there beneath her and she never gets to climb higher than my shoulder. Now will you please get down here so I can look at your face?"

"It's fine, Lis," he said with a roll of his eyes. "He's an old man who sits at a desk all day. He's hardly got it in him to do damage."

"Your nose looks like it would disagree."

He grimaced, prodding it with a wince. Blood dripped from his nose and he lifted the handkerchief Amelia had left behind and used it to staunch the flow. "It's fine," he said again, his voice a little muffled.

"At least let me see if it's broken."

"It's not."

"You're just scared it is and I'll have to reset it. I never took you for a chicken, Josh."

Glaring, he surrendered to the bait and stooped. With careful fingers, she tested his declaration and found him honest. "Not broken. You're lucky," she said. "I'd hate to make you cry in front of your daughter."

"You wouldn't dare," he said, standing up straight and pressing the bloodied cloth to his nose once more.

"So what were you two talking about?" she asked, joining him in leaning against the wagon, crossing her legs at the ankle. "I haven't seen him in a rage like that in a long while."

A moment of silence, and then he answered, his voice gruff and weary. "What do you think we were talking about, Lisa?"

"Brent," she said succinctly. "And Reb and Amelia. And probably ma if I had to guess. There's not many things that get him livid enough to start throwing punches."

Josh huffed out a laugh that ended on a grunt of pain, and he tipped his head back, blinking at the sky for a moment. "Well, if you're so goddamn perceptive I don't know why you even bother to ask questions," he said finally.

"What did you say?" she pressed, not sure if she was asking for him or for her own curiosity. "Was it about mom?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I don't know how I can win this, Lis," he said by way of answer. "He's always been... he's never been quite right since... well, y'know. It's getting worse, though. Every week it's less about what happened to ma and more about the devil and... honestly, Lisa, it scares me."

"It scares me too," she said softly, staring down at her hands. "It's like he's two different people."

Josh hummed in agreement, lowering the bloodied handkerchief and refolding it to give himself a clean corner before pressing it back to his nose. "With Brent back it's worse," he said, defeat heavy in his voice. "Say things work out for the very best... for me, I mean. Say Amelia chooses to stay, and--"

"Josh, there's no choice to make. She's your wife," Melissa said crossly, offended at the implication of his words. "Amelia isn't some... she's not going to run off on you."

Another heavy sigh, and he shook his head. "Regardless," he pressed on. "Say it all works out perfectly. In a sense that's a worst case scenario. Because I don't know what that old man will do, Lisa." The admission was stated firmly, with more resignation than fear. "He's always hated me but I've never seen him like he was just now. It's more than the old anger. He's scared, going on about the devil and all that again. If Amelia stays with me do you think he'll let us stay on the ranch? We've got money stashed away, but not enough for our own spread, Lis. I'd have to work for someone else, and where are the girls gonna live while I save enough to build a house for them? Are they gonna live in the bunkhouse with me?" He huffed out a sardonic laugh and shook his head. "And what if it's not enough that we leave? He's half mad, going on about sin and curses. What if..." he trailed off, but Melissa followed his train of thought.

With her own sigh, she looped her arm through her brother's and leaned her head against his shoulder. "You're not a curse," she said.

"I know that, Melissa," he muttered.

"I know you know, but it's worth saying," she said. "He's had that reverend in his ear for too long and between that old monster's poison and the liquor, he's lost his good sense. But he's not completely mad, Josh. He's still under there, somewhere."

A snort of derision made her scowl and thump her head against his shoulder. "Don't be rude. You know I'm right. He has his moments, doesn't he? In spite of all his talk, he's never actually kicked you off the ranch. He lets you run things and--"

"He won't even let me look at the books, Lisa. I have to keep my own."

"Well, that's probably more about him than about you, don't you think? He needs to feel like he has some purpose still." At his grunt, she went on. "I just think... I think he's got it in his head that all these awful things he does are for everyone's benefit. He thinks he's protecting us."

"He's protecting himself."

"Yes, he is. He's a selfish old bastard. But Josh... what I'm trying to say is I think we can reason with him. He adjusted when you and Amelia got married. He adjusted when Reb came and you claimed her as your own. He's adjusted to everything, eventually. Just give it some time. Give them both time. Brent will eventually see that he's not winning Amelia back. Pa will see the world continue to turn and he'll realize the devil isn't actually after him. Things will go back to normal."

She wanted to talk more. She had so much more to say, and she never got enough time anymore to talk to her oldest friend. But Amelia was coming back, and Brent and her father were climbing into their wagon.

"I guess I have to go," she said. "It looks like my chariot is leaving."

"Thanks for the talk, Lis," he said as she pulled away. He still sounded defeated, but the smile he gave her was genuine, if a little bruised.

"Anytime," she said with a casual shrug. With a wave, she abandoned Josh to his wife and ran to her father's wagon. Clambering up into the back, she sat on the bench, buttoning her coat against the breeze as Brent encouraged the horses out onto the road and back towards town.

They rode in silence, listening to the latter of the wheels over rutted dirt. Melissa watched her father's profile, his chin up, eyes on the horizon. His face was locked into emptiness. Brent, too, was impassive. They had spent the whole drive to church plotting together, and now they sat in sullen silence, mourning their thwarted plan. Melissa slumped back against the seat and contemplated her neutrality.

It was hard, being in the middle. She always had been. In most senses, it was a blessing. Josh never questioned her continued love for her father. Her father never questioned her affection for her brother. Brent never tried to drag her into his plots. Even Amelia seemed to understand the importance of her position. She was a true neutral, an ambassador. What a privilege!

What a burden...