Hard 5 by Stephanie Brother

2

"I'm sorry." I scramble into a seating position, grasping the edge of my blanket and fumbling for the handle of my bag. With so few possessions, hanging on to what I have seems to hold a new urgency. "I'll leave now. I won't be any trouble."

Nothing about the man's expression is changing, except for a slight tick in his jaw. With his hat drawn low, and face shaded, all I know is he's one of the Bradford triplets, but which one? What does it matter? I just need to get out of here before he calls the cops.

I being to roll my blanket, focusing on the methodical action of making it as small as possible. I wait for him to say something, shout angrily about this being his land, tell me I can't come back, but he says nothing. Somehow nothing is harder to listen to.

My pa was a real talker. He loved the sound of his own voice, loved his stories, which he repeated so often I could recount them word for word. This man doesn't seem to own a voice.

I'm on my feet, stuffing the blanket into the top of the bag when he speaks.

"You're Melanie?"

Oh, that voice. It's deep with a huskiness that I imagine comes from yelling instructions and drinking too much whisky.

"Yeah. Look, I know I'm trespassing now. I know this is your place but I…I just wanted to stay one more night. I promise I'm going now, okay?"

I stare up at him, his more than six-foot frame feeling even larger in our close confines. He nods his head just once, blinking slowly as though he's thinking through some kind of conundrum. Outside, more men speak, but I can't hear what they're saying. Then there's a call. "Cash, where the hell are you?"

The man shakes his head, his attention still fully focused on me. "Where are you going now?"

I look up at the barn roof, trying to think of a good lie, but my mind is addled from lack of sleep and his imposingness. I can't think of anything believable, so instead, I shrug. "It's not your problem, is it?"

Footsteps approach from behind the man I now assume to be Cash. "There you are. What are you doing…?" He stops abruptly, glancing between us at the unexpected sight of me conversing with his brother. Even at first glance, the resemblance between them is uncanny. The same straight, strong noses and full lips are visible beneath the brims of their hats. That, and the eyes the color of polished steel.

"This is Melanie," Cash says. "I was just about to ask her if she's looking for work. We could use someone to keep things going at the house now that we've taken on more land."

"You want her to come and work for us?" I guess his brother isn't used to Cash making unilateral decisions, and it doesn't matter because I can't take up their offer. It would feel like laboring for the devil.

"I don't need your pity." I square my shoulders, drawing myself up to my full five feet eight inches, grateful that I took after my momma's family in that regard.

"It's you who should take pity on us," Cash's brother says with a gleam in his eye. "We're down to our last clean shirts and underwear. There are more dishes in the sink than there are in the cupboards, and the floors haven't been vacuumed in over a month."

Cash shakes his head again. His brother has said more than he wanted to give away. I get the distinct feeling that Cash likes to appear in total control. He's the swan, gliding over the surface of the water while his feet are paddling frantically beneath. His brother, on the other hand, doesn't mind wearing his humanity on his sleeve. "We pay fair wages, and you'll have room and board included."

"I'm not a cleaner," I say. "I know how to work the land. I know how to care for livestock. I know this business."

More footsteps approach from behind. "What the hell is going on in here? How many men does it take to survey a barn?"

The third triplet appears next to his brothers, wearing low-slung jeans and a shirt with a pocket hanging half-torn. He's chewing something, maybe gum or maybe tobacco. I didn't take these boys for traditional ranchers, drawing from the old western traditions, but maybe they are. "Well, I don't remember us bidding for a beautiful woman at that auction yesterday."

"Maybe they threw her in with the farm?" the other brother says. My head swims with the image of three almost identical men, as though I'm drunk, and the image of just one man is splitting into more.

Cash scowls. "Excuse my brothers, Melanie."

"Cary." The hand of the torn-pocket brother is offered to me to shake. I look at it, surprised, then free my right hand so as not to leave him hanging.

"Colt," the other brother does the same. "And this moody version of me is Cash." He laughs at his own joke, but not in a boastful way. There's just a lightness in his eyes that makes everything seem easier. He turns to Cary. "Cash is bidding on the beautiful woman right now. She's driving a hard bargain."

"Whatever he's offered, double it," Cary says. "And can we go? We're going to be late."

Cash reaches out to take my bag in a gentlemanly way, but I refuse. I haven't agreed to anything, and these men are already assuming that I'm theirs as part of a package deal.

"I haven't said yes," I remind them.

Colt turns from the barn doorway. "But you will." He winks, tipping his hat and disappearing back the way he came.

"One week," I say, meeting Cash's gunmetal gaze. "And if it's not working out, I'll move on. No guarantees."

He nods, and it feels like some mutual respect exists between us.

I follow Cash from the barn, blinking and squinting against the fierce morning sunshine. The farmhouse draws me, and I stare into its darkened windows, remembering the smell of momma's biscuits and the fresh bread she used to bake.

When I glance back at the Bradfords, who are already jumping into their big pickup truck, I notice Cash is watching me closely. Maybe I imagined the respect. This job offer could be about him wanting to save face. What would it look like if a young girl was sleeping rough in town because of the Bradfords’ acquisition strategy? Not good at all.

Sliding into the backseat is a strange experience. Is this what criminals feel like when they're dispatched in a police car? I know I'm going with them of my own free will, but how free is my will when I have such limited other options?

I've never been onto the Hard Valley property before. The sign at their gate is shiny and new, and as we approach the main house, I'm stunned by its gorgeous, whitewashed exterior. It's big; at least twice the size of what used to be mine. No wonder they're struggling to keep up with chores when they have so much house and land to manage.

"Here we are," Cary says, turning to shine a huge, white-toothed smile in my direction. "We still call it Flint House, even though there is nothing flinty about it anymore."

"I'll get Melanie settled in. You guys can carry on," Cash says. It's a definite order.

Colt and Cary share glances, but they don't contradict their triplet, so I'm left trailing just Cash into a strange house.

When the front door closes behind me, I realize that no one knows where I am. These men could be serial killers, intent on keeping me locked in their basement. They could have strange desires that they want me to fulfill. What if my pa was right all along?

I’m reassured when I find that, despite needing a good scrub, the kitchen is bright and new and feels homely, not scary. The cupboards are gorgeous warm wood, and the floor a dark kind of tile that looks pretty flinty to me. There's a dog sleeping in the corner, who observes me through one slit-opened eye and then ambles slowly to its feet. "That's Big Boy," Cash says. "We've had him for years. He's too old to get about much anymore."

I crouch down as Big Boy shuffles over to sniff me. He's tall and brown, and would have been strong in his prime. Now, his nose nuzzles into my hand, and his watery chocolate eyes assess whether I'm good folk or bad. I guess I must pass his assessment because he makes a small whining sound and flops at my feet, rolling so I can stroke his belly.

Cash watches everything with an expression that gives absolutely nothing away. I like to think he's impressed with my dog bonding skills. Maybe he leaves Big Boy to decide who is trustworthy. The connection between man and dog can be a complex one.

"I'll show you to the spare room," Cash says, already making a beeline for the door to the hallway.

"See you later, Big Boy," I whisper, ruffling his fluffy head. I get a comforting whine in response, and a tired-looking tail wag.

The hallway is plain with dark wooden floors and cream-painted walls, but no pictures or furniture. The stairs are dusty at the sides and worn in the middle. It could be pretty, but it lacks the things that make a house a home.

Cash thuds up the stairs in front of me and my eyes are drawn to his muscular thighs and tight rounded ass. There's nothing about this man that doesn't scream solidity and strength. I shake my head, baffled by my own observations about this stranger's body. There's no way looking at Cash should make me feel so warm and flustered. If I listened to my pa, no man would ever give me those feelings.

At the top of the stairs, there are many open doors. The room at the end of the corridor is closed, and this is where Cash heads, turning the handle and glancing inside before stepping over the threshold.

"The bedding will need changing. And it'll need cleaning. No one has been in here for months."

I follow him inside, looking around at the place I'm going to be staying. It's pretty, but every surface is covered in dust that's thick enough to write in. I'm going to have my work cut out just getting this room habitable. Forget the rest of the house.

"I have to go now," Cash says. "There are cleaning products in the laundry room. The vacuum, mop, and broom are there too. If you need anything, I'll leave my number on the kitchen table. Just call, okay?" He nods once briskly and leaves me standing in this place that is now my home.

Home. Will I ever feel like that about anywhere that isn't my farm?

I have no idea, but at least tonight, I will have a soft bed to rest in. It's better than a straw-covered barn floor, that's for sure.

I guess “Take every day as it comes” will have to be my new mantra.

I'm living with the ruthless Bradford brothers now. What would my ma and pa think about this situation?

I guess I'll have to get used to sleeping with one eye open. I think it was Shakespeare who said, “Heaven is empty, all the devils are here.” Well, now I have five of them to deal with.

If they think I'm going to be a pushover, they've got another thing coming.