When Country Meets Thedas

On the Farm

The Amarillo sun beat down on Reagan brutally as she hefted the last bale of hay from the truck and threw it on the stack in the barn with the rest. Dropping the metal hooks to the ground, she pushed the brim of her cowboy hat back to wipe the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her shirt.

"I think that's all of 'em, Miss Jasper," Kyle said as he jumped down from the tall stack of hay.

"Of this load anyhow," she joked. "Thanks again for your help Kyle, and thank your momma for the cobbler she sent."

"Yes ma'am," he said with the cocky grin of a teenage boy before jumping into his truck.

Raegan shook her head with the sudden blare of unknown music that screamed from the cab of the truck. Kyle waved his arm out of the window and took off down her driveway. Closing the barn doors, she picked up the hooks from the ground and headed for the tack room to put them away. To be that young again, she thought with a small snort.

Reagan sat at her kitchen table with a sandwich, chips and an ice cold beer as a reward for unloading her fifth load of hay for the day. Taking a large bite, she thought about her fiscal year. Ranchers like her had done pretty well with cattle sales this go around. She had even squirreled enough away for the expansion to the barn with a little extra.

If I stretch it, I might even have enough left over to repaint the house, she thought, taking a drink of her beer.

Snorting slightly with the thought, like I'll have the damn time, she finished up her lunch after she looked at the clock.

"Speaking of time, shit, I gotta get ready," she muttered unceremoniously shoving the last bite of her sandwich in her mouth. Getting up, she downed the last of her beer and put her plate into the sink before running up the steps.

Reagan looked at herself in the old mirror with annoyance as she fought with her curly, burnt copper red hair. Why daddy...why did you have to give me all this hair? Groaning as another curly lock knotted around her finger, she muttered around the rubber band between her teeth.

"If I can wrangle a damn cow, I can surely do this," she told herself while she forced her uncooperative hair into a French braid.

Gazing at her reflection, she lined her green eyes with black eyeliner and a touch of mascara before dusting a bit of blush over her freckled cheekbones. She had never considered herself beautiful; she was too much of a tomboy for all that, too thin, too many muscles. She might be model tall at six foot, but a model she ain't. However, days when she was forced to put a dress on, she at least liked how she looked.

"Not too shabby for thirty-six," she told her reflection.

Placing the small pearl earrings in her ears, she ran her hands over the summer dress with soft colors of flowers and leaves she purchased from Macy's last week for the wedding. She turned from the mirror to put her shoes on.

"Come on girl, get a move on," she urged herself, slipping the light green ballet shoes on that she bought to match the dress. "Rowena's wedding ain't gonna wait on you," she prodded herself.

Quickly jogging down the steps, she grabbed the gift and her keys from the desk and slipped out the front door headed for her truck.