An Old Fashioned Romance

From The Heavenly Surrender by Marcia Lynn McClure

“Ya’re loose in the head, Brevan McLean! Loose, I tell ya,” Brenna scolded her brother.

Brevan looked down at his younger sister standing next to the wagon.  She glared up at him— furiously.

“It’s me own business it is, Brenna. And none of it yars,” he reminded.

“Ha!” she exclaimed. “None of me business, is it? Well, let me tell ya a thing or two,” she began pointing a dainty index finger at the man—wagging it with chiding. It was an Irish accent that deepened noticeably as Brenna’s emotions heightened—still, her dark hair and blue eyes somewhat belied her ancestry. “I’ll not be havin’ it! Do ya hear me? I’ll not be havin’ ya runnin’ off and marryin’ some old, wrinkled-up raisin of a woman!”

“And what makes ya be so certain she be old and wrinkled up?” Brevan asked.

… “Why else would she be havin’ to answer advertisements to find a husband then? Hmm? Tell me that? She’s either wrinkled up and old…or larger than any ship you and I ever set our eyes upon! I tell ya, Brevan…ya’re mad! Don’t do it.” Brenna sighed.  She knew that no amount of scolding could convince her brother to abandon his current course.

“Now, Brenna,” Brevan began. “Ya’ve got the steam a blowin’ from yar ears like a lunatic woman. I’ve explained this to ya ‘til me throat is raw from explainin’—you and our little brat of a brother, Brian, have married and begun to settle onto yar own lands. That be well and fine and I’m happy for the both of ya, I am…but Father left me this land, he did…these orchards, the fields. I’ll not let him down by losin’ them or lessenin’ their worth…and I cannot do it alone. I’m man enough to admit it, I am. And it’s time I settled as well.  Ya know that I’ve not the patience, nor the time, to waste on courtin’ some silly young lass who’ll be worthless when it comes to hard work.” He raised a hand to silence his sister—her mouth falling open with the intent of arguing again. “This Genieva Bankmans sounds to be a hard-workin’, serious-minded woman. Ya’ve read the letters she’s written to me, haven’t ya now?” Brenna dropped a guilty gaze to the ground for a moment, but looked up quickly when Brevan chuckled before continuing. “It’s me own decision…none but mine. I’ve set me mind to this, Brenna.” Taking the lines of his team in hand, he added, “I’m off now, to pick up me new wife at the train station. I’m sure ya’ll be here to meet her…a starin’ and a gawkin’ like ya just seen one of the little people dancin’ a jig on yar knee.” Brevan snapped the leather at the backs of the team of horses and the wagon lurched forward.

“Ya’re lost in the mind, Brevan McLean! And ya’re too daft to know it!” Brenna cried after him. Turning on her heels, she stormed off in the direction of the farm and orchard owned by her new husband and bordering Brevan’s lands to the west. “Father and Mother are sure as rollin’ over in their coffins at seein’ this,” she muttered, shaking her head with severe disapproval.

Undaunted by his sister’s nagging, the uncommonly handsome Brevan McLean drove toward town with renewed determination—toward town and whatever the train steaming from the east would leave there.

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