Mel's Arc

Chapter 2 of 36

The invitation lay on Mel's kitchen table, its rule still burning in her head. Formal dress only. No ranch wear. No hats. Her sharp red shirt and polished boots meant nothing now. Two nights remained, and she owned no gown. If she showed up in her work clothes, they'd turn her away at the door. She'd never even see the heir. She pressed her hands flat on the table and made herself think. A knock rattled the screen door. Ted stood on the porch, hat pushed back, holding a fat cluster of flowers. Lilies and irises and white snowball blooms spilled over his fists. He and Mel had ridden the same fence lines since they were kids. He always turned up when she least wanted company. "For the dance," he said, grinning. "Figured a girl brings flowers, or gets them. I couldn't decide which." "I'm not going," Mel said. "New rule. No ranch clothes. And I've got no dress." Ted's grin faded. He looked at her clothes, then at the flowers, then back. He set the cluster on the rail and stepped inside without asking. "My aunt sews," he said. "Lives past the river. She's got dresses hanging she never wears. She'd lend you one before she'd let you miss it." Mel stared at him. "You'd take me there?" "Saddle up." They rode hard under a low sun. The black horse Mel had raised carried her easy, matching Ted's mare stride for stride. At the aunt's house, a small woman with pins in her collar looked Mel up and down like livestock. She pulled a deep red gown from a wardrobe and held it against Mel's shoulders. "Long in the arm," the woman muttered. "But close. Stand still." Mel stood while the woman pinned and tucked. The dress fit her waist, then her shoulders, then her whole shape. In the mirror, a stranger looked back. Not a cowgirl in a hat. A girl who could cross that dance floor and not be laughed at. "It's yours for the night," the aunt said. "Bring it back clean." Mel rode home with the gown folded across her lap. Ted rode beside her, quiet now, watching the road more than her. At her gate she stopped. "Thank you," she said. "I mean it." "Save me a dance," Ted said. He tipped his hat and turned his mare toward home. Mel carried the dress inside and hung it on the closet door. The door problem was solved. She'd walk in now, no question. She could reach the heir at last. Then she pictured the night. Ted, waiting for his dance. The heir, across the room. She'd only wanted one boy's eyes on her. Now a second boy had given her the way in, and asked for something back.