The Complete Oregon Series, page 69
Luke pointed her rifle at the older Indian, who was still on top of Midnight. Would he keep his promise and let the gelding go, or would he try to ride off and hide in the mountains, where they might never find him?
A few tense heartbeats later, the old man dropped to the ground. Midnight, freed of his rider, loped over and joined the other horses.
Luke knotted a rope halter around Midnight’s head while Phin did the same with Raindrop. “Come on,” Luke said. “Let’s go before they change their minds and decide the horses are worth the risk of a fight with two armed white men.”
Eager to get some distance between them and the warriors, Luke marched into the darkness. When they were a mile away, Luke slowed and looked at Phin. “About the tintype. Why do you carry that around?”
Phin sighed. “I swear I’m not in love with your wife, boss.” He fished the tintype out of his vest pocket and rubbed his thumb across one of the faces.
Nattie? Luke narrowed her eyes and then told herself she was imagining things.
“It’s just that you’re the only family I have,” Phin said.
“I hope you know we consider you part of the family too.”
“Yeah.”
Luke reached over and gave Phin a pat to the shoulder. “Thanks for not letting the Shoshoni have the tintype.”
“Uh.” He put the picture back into his pocket. “You’re welcome, boss.”
Hamilton Horse Ranch
Baker Prairie, Oregon
April 28, 1868
“Mama?” Amy knocked on the bedroom door and waited, as she’d been taught from early childhood.
“Come on in,” Mama called.
Amy opened the door. “How’s the head?”
“I’m fine. Just a slight headache.”
Hesitating, Amy stepped closer. “I know we told you to go lie down and rest...”
Mama sat up in bed and patted the empty space next to her.
Half-forgotten childhood memories resurfaced. With a grin, Amy sat on Papa’s side of the bed, letting her booted feet dangle over the edge. The pillows still smelled of Papa and the bay rum Mama applied to his cheeks after shaving. Except for the smell of horses, it was the most soothing scent Amy knew.
“Any news about Adam?” Mama asked. “Did the sheriff catch him?”
“No. The sheriff said that he had his revenge, so he’s probably halfway to Canada by now. He would be a fool to stick around until Papa comes home.” Amy had told the ranch hands to keep an eye out, just in case, but she wasn’t particularly worried about Adam anymore. Even Hendrika had gone back to sleeping in the cabin.
“What is it, then, sweetheart?” Mama picked a blade of grass off Amy’s chaps.
Self-doubts wrestled with pride and won. “I know I’m supposed to run the ranch right now, but I need some advice,” Amy said.
Mama turned to face her. “Running the ranch doesn’t mean you can’t ask your old mother for advice.”
Amy snorted. “You’re not old enough to be put out to pasture, Mama.”
A gentle laugh tickled her ears. As a child, she had often lain awake at night and listened to Mama’s laughter drift upstairs, mingling with Papa’s lower chuckles.
“You think your father makes all the decisions alone? That he knows everything? Never doubts himself?” Mama shook her head. “He’s asked me for advice a few thousand times. The first few years here in Oregon, your father and I worked side by side every day. I learned how to split corral rails and drive a hay wagon. Your father was never too proud to ask for my help or my opinion. We make the big decisions together. That’s what marriage and family is all about—helping each other.”
Amy straightened her shoulders. “We need a new barn. Dotty and Nugget still haven’t had their foals, and I’d like to keep Zebra confined to a stall until her leg heals.”
Mama nodded for her to go on.
“So we’ve got two options, both of them bad.” Amy worried the edge of the covers between her fingers. “If we split the logs to rebuild the barn ourselves, it’ll take us forever. And we can’t keep up with the rest of the work at the ranch, so we might lose the first cut of hay.”
They couldn’t afford that. The hay fed their own animals later in the year, and they also made a nice income by selling hay to the farmers higher up in the Cascades.
“I don’t think your father would want us to do that,” Mama said.
“No.” But Papa wouldn’t be too fond of option number two either. “We could order the planks and board for the new barn from the sawmill, but we don’t have that kind of money lying around. In fall, once we’ve auctioned off a few of the foals, we could afford it, but not now.”
“Socks already had her foal,” Mama said. “We could sell him.”
An image of the colt’s large white blanket flashed through Amy’s mind. “I don’t know, Mama. Papa might want to keep him. He’s got really nice colors, and in a few years, we’re gonna need a new stallion. An untrained foal wouldn’t cover the costs for the new barn anyway.”
“What about the yearlings?” Mama asked.
Amy had thought about that too. “They’re not ready to be sold either. They’ll bring more money with a bit more training.” Only one option remained. “We could sell one or two of the older horses.”
Mama’s eyes darkened. As much as she insisted she was not a horse person, she loved each and every one of their horses. “Which ones?”
It had to be a gelding. The mares were too valuable for the ranch’s future. “Perceval, maybe, and...” Amy swallowed. “Cinnamon. He’s a good horse, but he’s getting old.”
Gently, Mama squeezed her hand. “Oh, Amy.”
Amy forced back tears. Cinnamon had been the first foal she had helped birth and the first horse she had trained. Don’t be stupid. Ranching is a business. Papa told you that from the start. It’s a bad idea to get too attached to a horse you might end up selling.
“When Measles died, your father cried all night even though that mare had a good, long life,” Mama said into the silence.
“Really?”
“I know he pretends to be this tough rancher, but it’s his soft heart that makes him so good with the animals—and that makes him the person I love. It’s all right to be sad, Amy.”
A shaky breath escaped Amy’s lips. “I am sad. But it needs to be done. We need that new barn, and we can’t wait until next year.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and climbed off the bed. “Get some more rest, all right? I’ll handle things.”
Rika folded her arms across the corral rail and enjoyed the warming rays of the rising sun.
The sight of the barn’s black remains made her sad, so she avoided looking in that direction. Instead, she kept her gaze on the horses wandering around in the corral. Watching them soothed her in a way she had never imagined. While all the names and horses had been a blur to her in the beginning, she was now learning to tell them apart.
The horse rolling around in the mud, adding even more splotches to the spots in her coat, was Nora’s mare, Pirate. Snowflake, the brown mare who rubbed her lower lip over another horse’s back, belonged to Nattie. Ruby, Amy’s fire-red mare, swished her tail at Cinnamon, causing him to trot away from the patch of grass she wanted for herself.
“Hey there,” Rika murmured when Cinnamon stopped in front of her and stuck his head over the corral rail. After a moment’s hesitation, she slid her palm along his neck and scratched the spot Amy had shown her. He wiggled his lower lip and moved his head as if he wanted to return the gentle rubbing.
Rika combed her fingers through his mane. A few cinnamon-colored strands had been singed by the fire, and she shuddered to think how close he had come to being hurt or worse.
Cinnamon’s soft nicker made her look up.
Amy stood next to her, looking at her with a strange expression.
“Oh. I didn’t hear you.”
Still not saying anything, Amy leaned her arms on the top rail. Together, they watched the foals frolic around the corral under the watchful eyes of their mothers. “I’ll probably have to sell him,” Amy said.
Rika startled. “Who?”
Amy rubbed Cinnamon’s smooth head. “Cin.”
Dread gripped Rika. She liked the gentle gelding. “This isn’t because he threw me off, is it? That wasn’t his fault.”
“It’s not that. We need the money to build a new barn.”
Their gazes slid to the charred beams.
Rika glanced back at Amy, who refused to look at her. Moisture shone in her eyes. It’s breaking her heart, and she doesn’t want me to see. Her own heart ached too. “I wish I had some money.”
“I already stole money from you once,” Amy said.
“You didn’t steal it. You used it to save Mouse.” Amy might be a little brusque sometimes, but her love for the horses was pure and unselfish like no love Rika had ever known.
They stood in silence.
The rattling of wagons and shouts of “whoa” made them turn around.
Two wagons loaded with boards, planks, and joists rolled into the ranch yard. Riders on horses crested the hill, and women carrying big baskets walked toward them.
“What’s this?” Rika asked.
Amy frowned. “I have no earthly idea.”
Hannah, the friendly woman Rika had met at the dance, was the first to reach them. She handed Amy her basket. “Here,” she said. “Your favorite pie.”
“You’re bringing me pie?”
“We’re bringing you a new barn.” Hannah winked.
Rika’s gaze flew to the loaded wagons. She can’t really mean...?
“We already had the wood ready for our new barn, but when we heard what happened, we decided that the old one will do for another year. The wood is yours if you want it. You can pay us back later in the year. No hurry.”
Rika couldn’t believe it. All the neighbors had come over, leaving behind their own work and bringing wood and baskets of food—all without asking anything in return. Maybe, she dared to hope as she watched the men unload the wagons, maybe this is a good place to make a home.
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Frowning, Rika shaded her eyes with her hand and stared at Amy, who was hammering away high up in the rafters.
“Don’t worry,” Nora said. “Amy has been doing this for years.”
“Why would the men let her do this kind of work?”
Nora handed her a glass of lemonade. “Because she’s the lightest and most agile. And because they remember the temper tantrum she threw when she was ten and they told her she had to stay at the food tables instead of helping her papa.”
Next to them, two older men measured and sawed off planks while three of the ranch hands nailed boards to the sides of the frame that had been heaved up with ropes and long poles earlier. Other neighbors cleared away the charred wood of the old barn, which was now behind the new structure. Children ran around, shouting and making a game out of gathering waste wood and piling it up out of the way.
“There are no people like this in Boston,” Rika muttered to herself.
Nora filled more glasses of lemonade. “In Hannah and Josh’s first year of farming, there was a big flood in the valley. Josh’s fields were swamped with debris, trees, and stones. Luke packed up our family and the ranch hands, and we helped Josh clear his fields so that they could plant in time.”
“Ah.” Rika nodded to herself. Now she understood why they were giving up something as valuable as a new barn. “They have a debt to pay.”
“No. They’re not doing this because they have to,” Nora said. “They’re doing it because they want to.”
Nattie leaned over the pie she was arranging onto plates and laughed. “It’s a strange concept called friendship, Hendrika.” She shook her head. “Haven’t you ever helped someone just because you wanted to?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Her nose wrinkled when she remembered the smell of blood, sweat, and rotting flesh when she had bandaged the horrible wounds of soldiers. She had cared for others many times, but with the exception of Jo, no one had ever helped her. Not without an ulterior motive.
Nora took a tray of glasses and a pitcher of lemonade and carried it to where Amy and the men were working.
“Are people in the East so different from us?” Nattie asked. “Are they so uncaring that you’d distrust the friendly gesture of a neighbor? Then maybe the East is a place where I don’t want to live after all.”
“You want to leave and live in the East? But aren’t you happy here?”
Sometimes, the ranch seemed unreal to Rika, like an idyllic place out of a fairytale. Sure, the days were filled with hard work too and people like Adam proved that not everyone was as friendly as the Hamiltons, yet still things felt different than in Boston. She could breathe here, and it wasn’t just because she didn’t need to work in the dust-filled weave room anymore.
“Of course I’m happy,” Nattie said. “This is my home and my family.”
The certainty in her voice made Rika wonder if she would ever have this kind of happiness and belonging for herself. “Then why would you want to leave?” she asked when only the noise of hammers and saws filled the space between them.
“I love it here, but maybe I could do more elsewhere.”
“Do more?”
Nattie pointed at the new barn. “Look at Amy.”
Rika did. All day, her gaze had been drawn to the young woman, who now put away her hammer and climbed down from the roof.
“She does things around the ranch that I could never do,” Nattie said, admiration mingling with envy in her tone.
“Well, I don’t see your mother up there on the roof either, and I’m sure your father would say she contributes a lot to the daily life on the ranch. And so do you. You’re mucking stalls, taking care of the horses, milking cows...”
A grateful smile softened Nattie’s expression. “Yes, but anyone can do that. It’s not that I’m contributing something special. Amy will take over the ranch one day. She’s the right person to do it. I love horses, and Papa and Phin say I’m a good rider, but I could never run a ranch.”
“Neither could I, yet I still hope to be a good wife for Phineas and prove myself useful. Maybe you’ll marry in a year or two, fall in love, and be a wonderful wife just like your mother.”
The words were meant to cheer Nattie up, but instead, her lips tightened and she shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“What else could you do?” Rika liked the friendly girl and didn’t want her to end up working in a cotton mill back East.
“I’m thinking about maybe going to school in the East for a while. I want to find something that I could contribute to life in Baker Prairie. A neighbor studied in Boston to become a lady doctor. Maybe it would be the right thing for me too.” Nattie directed an expectant gaze at her. “You were a nurse. Isn’t it a good feeling to help others? Why didn’t you mention it in your letters?”
Rika looked away, her gaze once more finding Amy, who shook shavings from her hair. Whenever Rika started to feel that maybe there was a place for her on the ranch, something reminded her that it was rightfully Jo’s place, not hers. “I don’t like to talk about the war,” she said. It wasn’t a complete lie. “Too many painful memories. When I started working in the cotton mill, I tried to forget about that part of my life.”
“Oh.” Nattie squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry.”
“Yes, helping people felt good, but it can consume you if you’re not careful,” Rika said. “You spend so much time helping others that there’s no time to ask yourself what you really want.” It was the story of her life, not just her three years as a Union nurse. Only now, while she waited for Phineas’s return, was Rika forced to think about what she wanted in life. Was it really to marry Phineas, a man she would have to deceive for the rest of her life? What else was there for her?
Nattie nodded thoughtfully. “I might not have to worry about it anyway. Maybe my parents won’t let me go. They act as if the East is an evil place.”
Rika shrugged, not wanting to get in the middle of a family affair. “Well, your mother would know.”
A frown carved a furrow into Nattie’s smooth brow. “Why do you say that?”
“Isn’t she from Boston? I thought I heard a familiar accent when she talks sometimes.”
Nattie’s frown deepened. “I don’t know,” she said, as if she had just realized it. “Mama?” She waved to her mother, who returned with a tray of empty glasses. “You’re not from Boston, are you?”
The tray rattled as Nora abruptly set it down. “Why are you asking?”
Uh-oh. Answering a question with a question. Rika had mastered that technique early on, especially when her father was drunk and she couldn’t do anything right, no matter what her answer was. Seems I’m not the only one with a secret around here.
“Is it true?” Nattie asked.
“I could kill for a glass of lemonade.” Amy’s cheerful voice interrupted. Sweat turned the soft locks sticking to her forehead into dark copper. She looked from Nattie to her mother and then to Rika. “Speaking of killing... Why do you all look as if someone died? What’s going on?”
Silence answered her.
Just to have something to do, Rika handed her a glass of lemonade.
“Mama?” Nattie asked. Her gaze remained fixed on Nora.
“Yes.” Nora looked from one daughter to the other. “I did grow up in Boston.”
“Right where Hendrika did?” Nattie asked.
Rika doubted that. If she wasn’t mistaken, the hint of accent in Nora’s voice indicated a wealthy family, maybe one with a private tutor. Even if they had been the same age, their paths wouldn’t have crossed.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Amy wrapped both hands around her glass of lemonade. “You and Papa never talk about your families or your childhoods. Why’s that?”
