The Complete Oregon Series, page 75
Hendrika swung the saddle down from the corral rail and stumbled with the weight of it.
“Careful.” Amy reached around her and helped carry the saddle to Cinnamon.
“Gracious! It’s a lot heavier than I thought.”
It was. As a child, Amy had often ridden bareback because the saddle had been too heavy for her to lift on her own. “Now place your feet shoulder-width apart, and put your left foot forward.”
When Hendrika slid her right foot back to balance herself, her leg brushed against Amy, who was still helping her hold on to the saddle.
Amy swallowed. “Rock your body back and forth three times to gather momentum.” She cursed the breathless tone of her voice. “On the third rock, you swing the saddle up with a twist of your hips.”
When Hendrika’s hips rocked back and forth against Amy, the heat that shot through her almost made her drop the saddle. It landed on Cinnamon’s back with more force than planned. He turned his head but otherwise stayed still.
“Sorry, Cin,” Amy mumbled and stepped back, away from Hendrika.
“Seems I have to practice that some more,” Hendrika said. Did her voice sound a bit scratchy too?
Goose bumps broke out all over Amy’s body. Not with me, she wanted to shout. Her body screamed something different. “Yeah. Cinnamon would appreciate a softer landing instead of just dropping the saddle onto his back.”
She showed Hendrika how to secure the cinch, taking care not to let their hands brush against each other. “All right. Now up you go.” She folded her hands to form an improvised ladder. When Rika gathered up her skirt, Amy dropped her gaze to the ground, not wanting to make her think she was staring at her legs. The heat of Hendrika’s hand on her shoulder seared through the fabric of her jacket. Oh, Lord. This is getting worse instead of going away.
Hendrika finally settled into the saddle, and Amy stepped back and took a deep breath.
One glance at Hendrika’s hands clutching the reins reminded her of something. “Oh. Wait.” She raced to the tack room, where Mama had hidden the new gloves after bringing them home from town yesterday. Amy had wanted them to be a surprise but hadn’t found a quiet moment to give them to Hendrika. Or maybe you just chickened out.
When she returned, the gloves held behind her back, Hendrika sat stiffly in the saddle, patting Cinnamon’s neck.
Amy stepped up to them. “Here.”
Hendrika’s fingers slid over the soft leather. “What’s this?”
“Gloves.”
A tiny smile parted Hendrika’s lips and gave Amy a glance at the charming gap between her front teeth. “I can see that. But these aren’t yours, are they?”
“They’re yours.”
Hendrika made no move to take them. “I can’t accept these.”
“Of course you can.” Amy fiddled with the gloves. “They’re a thank-you for helping me save the horses from the burning stable.”
“You don’t need to thank me for that. I would never want anything to happen to Cinnamon or any of the others.” Her bare fingers slid over Cinnamon’s neck.
“I still want you to have these.” Except for Mama and Nattie, Amy didn’t have much practice giving presents to women. She had always avoided it, afraid the gesture would be misunderstood. “They’re from the whole family, not just from me,” she said to make it appear less personal.
Hendrika looked back and forth between the gloves and Amy’s face. Finally, with her gaze still resting on Amy, she slipped on the gloves. They were a perfect fit. “Thank you. This is the nicest gift I’ve ever received.”
Amy didn’t know what to say to that. She went over to Ruby. “Let’s get going.”
Cinnamon moved smoothly under her, content to follow Ruby without much direction from his inexperienced rider. Rika looked at her hand holding the reins. The supple leather of the gloves felt good against her fingers.
She couldn’t remember ever getting such a nice gift—or any gift at all. Even Willem had never given her more than a bouquet of flowers on their wedding day. What meant even more to her than the gloves themselves was their meaning. Amy accepted her. Her pleasure at the thought mixed with guilt. Every day she spent with the Hamiltons made lying harder.
“Rika,” Amy called.
Startled by the use of her nickname, Rika looked up.
Amy pointed toward the river, where a beaver plunged into the water. When it was carried downstream by the current and disappeared from sight, Rika’s gaze returned to Amy.
A flush crept up Amy’s neck. “I’m sorry. I heard you mention that name to Hannah’s son, but it’s not proper to use it without permission.”
Rika hesitated. Few people had ever been allowed to use her nickname. And some of them were far less worthy than Amy. “You can call me Rika if you want.”
Amy flushed again. “Really? I didn’t want to assume—”
“It’s all right,” Rika said. “You and your family have been so wonderful to me.”
“Oh, yeah. I put you on a horse that promptly threw you off. I yelled at you because you fed the horses too many oats, and you were almost burned to a crisp when you followed me into the burning barn—all within a few short weeks.”
Laughter shot up Rika’s chest. “Well, considering all of that, maybe you should call me Miss Bruggeman.”
Amy blinked at her, then her tense features relaxed into a grin, and finally, she joined in Rika’s laughter. Her eyes sparkled with life. When her laughter died down, she looked at Rika for a moment longer. “Phin got really lucky,” she murmured.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing.” Amy urged Ruby forward. “Did you see the beaver?”
Rika was pretty sure Amy had just paid her a nice compliment. Not used to compliments and unsure of how to handle them from Amy, she decided to let it go. “Just for a moment before the current carried him away. Is the river always this high this time of year?”
“No.” A frown replaced Amy’s carefree expression. “The mountain snowmelt set in late this year, and with all the rain we had, it adds up to this.” She pointed at the fast-flowing river that carried small trees and other debris. “But don’t worry. The beaver will be all right. They’re great swimmers.”
They followed a bend in the river.
Without warning, Amy stopped her mare.
“Whoa!” Rika barely managed to rein in Cinnamon before they barreled into Ruby. “What’s going on?”
“Stay back!” Amy shouted and urged Ruby down the bank, leaving Rika to stare after them.
There, in the middle of the river, on a half-immersed island, stood a foal. Water crept up its trembling legs. Its mother pranced back and forth next to it and tried to nudge it into the water, but the foal refused.
They might have been there for hours while the water around them flowed higher and higher. With the debris in the murky stream, crossing to the bank might be dangerous even for the mare.
Rika clutched the reins and watched Amy wrench her lasso from the saddle horn. But the nervous mare was in the way. Even if Amy’s rope managed to cross the distance, it couldn’t get to the foal.
Without hesitation, Amy directed Ruby forward, and they waded into the brown flood. The current tore at Amy’s pant legs. Branches and pieces of wood bobbed on the wild waves, making Ruby toss up her head.
Oh, Lord, please don’t let anything happen to her. Rika exhaled a shaky breath when they finally neared the small island.
Just then, a board slammed into Ruby. The mare reared.
The wet saddle provided no hold for Amy. She toppled backward. A splash of water swallowed her.
“No!” Rika pressed her heels to Cinnamon’s flanks. At the riverbank, she stopped the gelding. Her gaze darted over the water. There!
Amy crawled onto the island. She spat out a mouthful of water and lifted up on her knees.
Thank the Lord. What now? Rika looked around. Ruby had safely made it to the other side of the river, unreachable for Amy and Rika at the moment. The foal’s mother waded into the water, scared by Amy’s sudden appearance on their little island, but the foal still refused to follow.
Water lapped at Amy’s ankles as she got to her feet. She stared at Rika, her arms dangling helplessly.
“Can you swim back?” Rika shouted. “Maybe pull the foal along with you?”
Amy shouted something back, but the roar of the water drowned out her voice.
“What?” Rika cupped one hand around her ear to indicate that she hadn’t understood.
“No, I can’t,” Amy shouted again.
What then? Rika saw no other option. “You got a better idea?”
Frustration carved itself onto Amy’s face. “No.”
“Then why not try?” With the debris bobbing in the water, it was dangerous, but probably not as dangerous as Rika going after her.
Amy shoved wet locks out of her face. “Because I can’t swim.”
“Can’t swim?” Coldness spread through Rika’s limbs. Amy couldn’t swim, yet she had ridden into the river to help the foal? A lump of emotion lodged in her throat and prevented her from answering.
“Can you ride back to the ranch and bring help?” Amy shouted.
Rika’s thoughts raced. The river was still rising. Water sloshed up the small island, crumbling its edges and causing Amy to take a step back. By the time Rika made it to the ranch and back, the island would have been swallowed up by the torrent—and with it Amy and the foal.
The image of Amy being pulled under by the merciless flood flashed through Rika. If she couldn’t swim, she would drown in a matter of seconds. Rika clamped her hand around the reins. “I’m gonna ride over to you.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
Amy waved her hands. “This is crazy! What if you get tossed off too?”
“At least I can swim.” Unexpected anger made Rika’s voice rise over the roaring of the river. She forced herself to calm down, having learned that horses could easily read her emotions and be affected by them. Her feet searched for support in the stirrups, and she pressed her legs to Cinnamon’s sides. “Be a good boy now, Cin.”
“Start upstream,” Amy shouted.
“What?”
“The current will sweep you downstream. Start higher up the river, and let it carry you down to the island.”
Rika glanced at a large branch that rushed by on the bobbing waves. She’s right. Tugging on the reins, she directed Cinnamon upstream.
The gelding pranced along the riverbank, hesitating for a few seconds, but then waded into the water. His hooves slipped on the river bottom, and he scrambled for more secure footing, bringing them into deeper water.
Cold water rose up her legs. Rika gasped. Her hands trembled so much that she almost lost her grip on the reins, but then she glanced at Amy and the foal, and new determination filled her. “Good boy.” She patted Cinnamon’s neck and urged him onward. Her gaze flitted upstream, keeping watch for any large objects that might slam into them.
The current pulled and tugged at them. Water drenched her up to the hip.
Cinnamon lost his footing, and for a moment, he was swimming. The forces of the river grabbed them and rushed them downstream.
Panic robbed her of breath. She clung to the saddle horn for dear life. Too fast! We’ll be swept past the island!
Cinnamon stretched his neck, his nose pointing at the island. His muscles worked beneath Rika. As he turned, the water hit them from the side.
Please, please, please, don’t let anything hit us now.
Inch by inch, they gained against the forces of the river. Then Cinnamon’s hooves found solid ground. He scrambled up the small island.
Amy gripped his bridle with one hand and brought him to a stop.
“Oh, God.” Rika’s stomach lurched, and she slid from the saddle with numb limbs.
Strong arms caught her and kept her upright. “That was crazy.” The hot whisper brushed her ear as Amy pulled her against her equally drenched body.
Words deserted Rika. She clung to Amy for long moments, resting against her body. How odd. Here she was, drenched to the bone, standing in the middle of a raging river, and yet she felt safe and at peace. Then cold water crept up her calves. “How are we gonna make it back?” She didn’t think for a second that Amy would leave the foal behind. She wouldn’t either.
Amy let go and pulled back. “We’ll ride double and tow the foal along. I’m pretty sure the mare will follow on her own.” She again formed a ladder with her hands. “Hurry.”
With trembling knees, Rika heaved herself into the saddle.
Amy took the rope off Cin’s saddle, slipped a loop around the foal’s neck, and then climbed up behind her.
The foal’s scared squeal was nearly drowned out by the noise of the water.
The mare circled them and nudged her foal toward the river as if she understood what they were doing.
Amy’s arms slid around Rika to grip the reins. The embrace forced back the panic that clutched Rika’s insides. “Give me the rope,” Rika said, now calm enough to think. “You take the reins, and I’ll take care of the foal.”
The drenched leather of Amy’s gloves tightened around the rope. Then she handed over the rope and the responsibility for the foal. “Keep it tight.”
Rika grabbed it with both hands, trusting Amy to keep her in the saddle.
Cinnamon walked forward. Water splashed and drenched them.
Behind them, the foal squealed as the water tore at it. Its little hooves lost traction, and the wild-eyed foal was forced to swim.
Amy’s arms tightened around Rika when they reached the halfway point between the little island and the bank. The water rose up Cinnamon’s sides, and then he was swimming too.
The tug on the rope increased. Rika’s arm muscles screamed in protest. She glanced over her shoulder. “The foal won’t make it to the other side.” The little head dipped under water, then resurfaced with a panicked squeal when Rika pulled on the rope. “It’s getting weaker.”
The mare behind them whinnied as her foal went under again, despite Rika’s tight grip on the rope.
Cinnamon’s hooves found solid ground, but now they were dragging the foal. It had stopped swimming.
Rika tried to duck beneath Amy’s arm and slide out of the saddle.
Amy’s arms clutched at her. “No! What are you doing?”
“The foal is drowning,” Rika shouted. “Take the rope, and let me go!”
A wild curse wrenched from Amy’s lips, but she let go.
Shivering, Rika slid into the water. The torrent gripped her, tearing at her, and she grabbed the rope. Water burned in her eyes and made her cough as she slid down the rope. Her hands found the foal’s head and struggled to keep it above water.
Something large appeared in her line of sight.
A fallen tree rushed at them.
Rika kicked with her legs. No! Get away! She let go of the rope to grip the foal’s neck and drag it with her, away from the tree.
Branches scratched and clawed at her like a wild animal, but Rika never let go. Her skirt, sodden with water, threatened to pull her down.
A powerful surge shoved her head underwater.
Rika let go of the foal, afraid she would drag it down with her. She struggled against the force of the water with hands and feet. Her lungs burned. Air!
A strong hand grabbed the back of her dress.
Coughing, she resurfaced. She was pulled against Cinnamon’s warm side. Seconds later, her feet touched the ground. She struggled up the bank and sank into the mud.
With a splash, Amy landed next to her. “Rika!” Her hands flew up and down Rika’s body as if to make sure she was still in one piece. “Rika!”
She wanted to answer, wanted to tell Amy that she was all right, but all she could do was gasp for breath. Her throat burned, and her arms and legs felt as if they weighed a ton.
Gently, Amy turned her around and knelt over her. When their gazes met, Amy blew out a breath. “Rika,” she said again and again. “Oh, God, Rika. When you let go of the rope and were gone, I thought...”
Rika opened her mouth to tell her she was fine but stopped when hot breath brushed over her lips and trembling hands framed her face.
Gulping, Rika stared at Amy, transfixed by the intense green eyes just inches from hers. Thoughts swirled through her head faster than the foaming torrent shot through the riverbed, but she couldn’t grasp even one of them.
Then all contact between them was gone. Amy pulled back with a startled cry.
It felt like the moment she had been forced to let go of the rope, and she stared at Amy, disoriented. Again struggling for breath, she sat up. What just happened? “Amy? What...?” Her voice was rough with river water and confusion. “Are you all right?”
Amy wiped her face with sodden gloves. “Yes, yes, of course. I’m just glad we all made it out of that damn river alive.”
The sound of hooves squishing through the mud pulled Rika out of her jumbled thoughts. “The foal!” She glanced around.
“He’s fine,” Amy said. “You saved him when that tree almost hit him.”
The foal stood farther up the bank, its flanks shaking. His mother ran her muzzle all over him. Cinnamon waited with dragging reins not far from them.
Rika shivered. “What now?”
Amy went to check on the horses. She didn’t look at Rika. “You could ride to the ranch and send one of the boys back with a horse for me.”
“And leave you here on your own?” Rika didn’t like the thought. Her imagination showed her pictures of what might happen to Amy while she was gone. She shivered. “Why don’t we ride double? I’m sure Cinnamon can carry both of us if we take it slow.”
Without answering, Amy continued to slide her hands over Cinnamon’s sides and legs. She checked the saddle before turning back to Rika. “All right. Come on, then.” She mounted, pulled her foot from the stirrup, and reached down for Rika’s hand.
