Free Homecoming Ranch by Julia London

some sort of scent, and she wondered wildly if it was dogs or bears that oneshould not look in the eye? Slowly, Madeline began to ease back, hoping to get around her car and in before they attacked, when the screen door opened and a woman with curly hair bounded out. “Hey!” she said.
    All four dogs leaped to their feet and headed directly for Madeline. Madeline shrieked and raced around the car to the driver’s side, crashing into the bumper and stumbling in her shoes as she reached for the door handle.
    “They won’t bite!” the woman shouted at her, following the dogs to her car. “Back to the garage, you beasts! Garage, garage!” she shouted at the dogs, and swung her arm out, pointing at the garage Madeline had not noticed until this moment. She had one hand on the car door, another gripping her bag, prepared to use it as a weapon. But the dogs suddenly pulled up and lazily trotted in the direction of the garage with peeling paint, disappearing between two cars parked there.
    “Are you all right?”
    Madeline jerked around. Across the top of her car, the woman with the crazy curly hair was staring at her with blue-gray eyes.
    “I’m sorry if they scared you. They’re just mutts. Harmless mutts.”
    “I’m fine,” Madeline said, breathless. She wasn’t fine—she was terrified. She straightened the jacket of her suit, pushed her hair behind her ears, trying to gather herself. She smoothed down her jacket again and glanced at the woman.
    The woman was grinning.
    The mess of curls was held off her face by a bandeau. She was wearing jeans, Converse sneakers, and a red-checkered shirt. She looked a little like a carhop, and Madeline guessed she was a caretaker or housekeeper.
    “You must be Madeline,” the woman said, her expression hopeful as she walked around Madeline’s car to the driver’s side.
    “Yes,” Madeline said, and extended her hand. “I’m here for the meeting. And you are…?”
    The woman’s smile deepened. “I am
so
excited to meet you! I’m Libby!”
    The name did not immediately register.
    “Libby Tyler. Your
sister,
” she said, as if Madeline hadn’t heard the news that she had inherited two sisters. And she walked right past Madeline’s extended hand and threw her arms around her, hugging her tight.
    Madeline had tried to prepare herself for meeting sisters, but nothing could have prepared her, not really. A thousand questions danced through her head as Libby hugged her, such as how old Libby was, and where did the hair come from, and were there more like her? But Madeline couldn’t speak. She was momentarily overwhelmed by the actual, physical proof of a sister. Someone who shared her DNA.
    Libby was not what Madeline had imagined—she couldn’t even say
what
she’d imagined, really, but she supposed she thought her sisters would look like
her
: medium height, brown hair, a butt that was this side of bouncy. Madeline had not thought once about curly hair, or boyish hips and a toothy smile.
    “You’re suffocating her, Libby,” someone said, and Libby laughed, her breath in Madeline’s hair, then let Madeline go.
    “That’s Emma. Your
other
sister,” Libby said, and turned her head.
    Madeline followed her gaze. Not only did Emma look nothing like Madeline, she looked nothing like Libby. She was tall and thin, almost painfully thin. Her hair was golden blond, sleek and hanging to her waist, the sort of hair Madeline knew cost hundreds of dollars to possess. She wore a flowing skirt that danced around her knees and a short brown leather jacket that matched the brown leather boots that were loose around her calves.
    Emma eyed Madeline suspiciously, as if she’d caught her trying to make off with a cow. She casually perched one hip on the railing as she gave Madeline a good once over, and said, “You should probably know that we never heard of you until a couple of weeks ago.”
    Madeline appreciated straight talk, but in this case, she didn’t care for the