Rick insisted.
“If you need to know, I want to borrow Elizabeth’s hot rollers and pick up a pair of panty hose she bought for me.”
Rick’s head spun around faster than Sandover’s. “Panty hose?” Rick’s incredulous tone said much more than his words. “Rollers? You won’t even know how to put those things in your hair.”
Amy still said nothing.
“And since when do you care about how you look?”
“Since Tim and I started going out. You know that,” Amy replied, wishing the flush would leave her cheeks. She didn’t need to feel guilty. Her desire to look attractive was nothing to be embarrassed about, especially not in front of her little brother.
“C’mon, Amy. Your motto’s always been ‘death before makeup.’ Your idea of dressing up for a date was to iron your T-shirt. Now you’re going to wear panty hose and—” he put heavy emphasis on the word “—curl you hair. What’s next? Lip gloss?”
“It’s my engagement party. Why wouldn’t I want to look my best?”
Rick drew alongside her, and she chanced a sidelong glance, catching his quizzical look. “I don’t think you’re being straight with me, sis. The last time I saw you dressed up was—” He paused, his brow furrowed in thought. His expression brightened and he snapped his fingers. “I remember. Two years ago, you bought a dress and you curled your hair.” He narrowed his eyes. “Two years ago. The last time Paul Henderson came home.”
“Would you give me a break?” Amy said, angry at what he implied. “Like I said before, it’s our engagement party. Tim’s and mine. I bought a new dress for him. I’m curling my hair for him. Paul hasn’t been around for years.”
“And you haven’t spent this much time on how you look in years.”
“And every time he comes home,” Amy continued, pretending not to hear, “he’s got another girl on his arm.”
“You can’t compete, Amy,” Rick said shortly. “He’s way out of your league.”
“Why are you even bringing this up?” Amy turned on her brother, angry and frustrated with the position he put her in. “I happen to be engaged. Tonight’s our engagement party. Tim and I are making plans to get married. Paul hasn’t been important to me for years.” Amy swung Misty around and clucked angrily to her horse.
Misty broke into a gentle lope, the breeze cooling Amy’s heated face.
Why did I overreact? Amy berated herself. Now he’s going to think he’s right.
Misty crested the hill, and Amy drew her to a halt. She glanced back over her shoulder. Sandover plodded slowly along, his head down, looking disarmingly submissive.
Amy turned back, a gentle sigh lifting her shoulders as her eyes took in the view. The valley lay below her, sun-warmed and restful, the sweep of the fawn-colored hills undulating away from her. Solitary stretches of pine trees lined their rims, sending delicate fingers of darker green down the hillsides.
She drew in a slow breath, as if drawing in the life-giving sustenance of the tangy air of the Cariboo. She knew there were other places in God’s creation more spectacular, but she had been placed here, and here was where she belonged, as surely as the grass and as snugly as the rocks.
A soft, warm breeze teased her heated cheeks, and she turned her face to it as she lifted up a quick prayer, thanking God for Tim, friends and home. She shook her head, wondering at her brother. He still didn’t believe that her childhood crush for Paul Henderson had slowly worn away with each year Paul stayed in Vancouver and each new girlfriend he brought home for his brief visits.
The thump of hooves behind her broke into her thoughts. She turned in time to see Sandover rear, his front hooves flashing out.
“Get off that miserable horse,” Amy called out.
But Rick stayed on, a grin splitting his face at the challenge. Sandover bucked, shook his head and came to an abrupt halt. Rick exerted steady pressure on the horse’s bridle, slowly pulling his head up. “Just go on ahead, Amy. I’ll catch up,” he called.
Amy hesitated, then, reassured that Rick indeed had the horse under control, turned and clucked to Misty. If she hurried she would be able to make it to the ranch, get what she needed and be out before Rick and Sandover reached the yard.
Misty hit her long trot, easily covering the ground on the way to the Hendersons’ spread. They traveled a path well-worn over the years, toward a place Amy had considered her second home.
It was Elizabeth and Fred Henderson who had become her second parents when Rick and Amy’s mother, Noreen, left Judd, ten years ago, one month before Judd’s accident.
Elizabeth had dried Amy’s tears both then and during each crisis after that. It was to Elizabeth that Amy at a tender-hearted age of twelve ran with stories of being picked on in school. Elizabeth was the one who shamed Judd into buying a prom dress for Amy and it was Elizabeth who taught Amy to pray, to trust in God for both the large and small things of her life. It was a good trade all the way around. Amy had no mother and a bitter father. And Elizabeth had three boys and no daughter.
And now she was going to open her home for Amy and Tim’s engagement party, a job that would have been Noreen Danyluk’s had she elected to stay with her family.
Amy rode into the yard and dismounted before Misty came to a complete stop. She pulled the reins over Misty’s head and tied her loosely to a corral post. “Be back in a flash, girl,” she murmured to her horse, stroking her neck. Misty blew as if in answer, and Amy turned and jogged up the walk to the verandah.
The door swung easily open and Amy stepped inside, unlacing her roper boots and kicking them off with the ease of many years of running in and out unannounced. “Anybody home?”
“The stuff is in the laundry room,” called out a voice from the top of the stairs. “I’ll be right there.”
Amy walked down the hallway, ducking into a small room tucked under the stairs. A crumpled paper bag lay on the dryer and Amy peeked inside, checking the contents.
“How’s my girl?”
Amy jumped, then glanced over her shoulder at Elizabeth Henderson. She leaned her small frame against the doorjamb, a smile crinkling up her face, brown from the sun. Her gray, short-cropped hair stuck up in all directions. Dust smeared the front of an old high school sweatshirt cast off from one of her sons. The knees of her blue jeans sported twin circles of grime.
Amy turned and gave Elizabeth a quick hug. “Where were you?” Straightening, Amy brushed a cobweb from her wrinkled cheek.
“I started cleaning up the spare room for Paul’s latest girlfriend and ended up in the attic, hauling around all the old junk.”
“When is Paul coming?”
“I expect both of them any minute.” Elizabeth smiled as if in anticipation.
“Tracy, is it?”
Elizabeth shook her head, tucking her arm through Amy’s as
