The Complete Oregon Series, page 82
“A mare, please,” Frankie said. “I prefer mares, and Sally is getting too old to rush down a hill to rescue damsels in distress.” Frankie winked at her.
Amy blushed and wanted to object to being called a “damsel in distress,” but Frankie’s smile was disarming.
They wandered to the herd in the corral and went from horse to horse in comfortable silence. In a strange way, it reminded Amy of walking with Papa, checking on the horses. How odd that a woman reminds me of Papa. Frankie had turned all her assumptions of what a woman’s life could be upside down. She wondered what it meant for her. Was she like Frankie in a way? Would it be possible for her to determine her own fate, to make her own decisions without ever getting married?
Next to her, Frankie chuckled. “I’m still confusing you, aren’t I?”
Heat stained Amy’s cheeks. “No, no, it’s just...”
“It’s all right.” Frankie smiled at her. “I confused myself for a lot of years too.”
It was hard to imagine the confident Frankie as a confused young woman. “You like dressing like this, right?” Amy asked.
Frankie ran a hand down the outer seam of her pants. “It’s comfortable, yes.”
They had that in common. “But you don’t dislike dresses, do you?”
“No. I like both, just for different occasions,” Frankie said. “A woman doesn’t have to wear pants to be strong, Amy.”
“Oh, I know.” Mama was by far the strongest woman she knew, and Amy had never seen her wear pants.
“I grew up a bit like you.” Frankie pointed to the bunkhouse and the corral. “In a man’s world. I lived in a mining camp with my father and five brothers. Have you ever seen a mining camp?”
Amy shook her head. “Papa went to Silver City once with a herd of horses, but he said I was too young to come with him.”
“And he was right. Mining camps are rough. Except for a few Chinese women, I was the only female for hundreds of miles, and my father dressed me like a boy to protect me from any unwanted advances.”
The thought of being courted by a horde of unwashed miners sent ripples of disgust through Amy.
“I enjoyed the freedom it gave me.” Frankie leaned her arms on the corral rail and stared off into the distance. “I could roam the area with my brothers instead of staying in the tent. It took me years to figure out that dressing in female apparel is fun too and that being a woman is a wonderful thing.”
Is it really? Amy wondered if she would ever see it like that. If she were a man, she could run the ranch without people like Adam questioning her at every turn. And then my feelings for women wouldn’t be wrong. She suppressed a sigh and forced her thoughts back to Frankie’s life instead of her own. “How did you become a Pinkerton detective?”
The smile on Frankie’s face vanished. She turned and leaned her left side against the corral, now facing Amy. “My father was killed for a handful of gold.”
“I’m sorry.” Amy didn’t know what else to say. The thought of losing her own father filled her with dread.
Frankie nodded in acknowledgment. A veil of grief still covered the normally clear eyes. “His murderers nearly got away with it. But then a Pinkerton detective hunted them down. I never forgot it. When I came across an advertisement, I applied for a job with the agency.”
“They were advertising for female detectives?” Amy shook her head in wonder.
“No.” The grin was back on Frankie’s face. “They were advertising for a secretary. But I can be very persuasive when I want to be. And my success spoke for itself. I solved a lot of cases by befriending the wives, sisters, and mistresses of suspects in a way no male detective could.”
“And your cousin? Was she a Pinkerton too?”
Frankie’s lips curled. “No. She helps me get the job done, but Tess was never officially a Pinkerton. She prefers to be her own boss.”
They wandered along the corral side by side, again looking at the horses.
“How about that one?” Amy pointed at the dun mare that stretched her head to nibble on a bit of clover growing under the corral rail. A whitish blanket without any spots dusted her hip. “Her name is Zebra. She’s not a very tall horse, but she’s fast.”
Frankie chuckled. “Zebra?”
Amy nodded at the shadowy stripes on the mare’s legs. “Yeah, well, Nattie once read a story about zebras. Apparently, they look like horses and they have these stripes too.”
“What about her?” Frankie pointed.
“Mouse?” They owned a herd of beautiful, well-trained Appaloosas, and Frankie picked a plain gray mare?
A dark eyebrow rose beneath the brim of Frankie’s hat. “Mouse?”
“Well, she’s—”
“Gray.” Frankie laughed. “And that’s why I like her. For my kind of work, I need an inconspicuous horse that no one will remember, not a flashy Appaloosa. So, how much would you want for her?”
“You’ll have to talk to my mama about that.” Even when Papa was home, Mama always had a say in financial decisions. Then something occurred to her. This was her chance to pay back Rika’s ten dollars. “Better yet, talk to Rika. I bought Mouse with her money, so I guess you need to see if she’s willing to sell her to you.”
“All right,” Frankie said. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Want to try riding her before you decide?” It was a test not just for the mare, but of Frankie’s skills as a rider too. Frankie was the cousin of Mama’s best friend, but still, Amy wouldn’t sell Mouse to her if she didn’t have a gentle hand and the experience to handle the skittish mare.
A confident grin tipped up the corners of Frankie’s mouth, letting Amy know she suspected the true reason for the offer. “Sure.”
Rika swept the soiled straw out of the henhouse and sneezed as dirt and tiny feathers tickled her nose.
The dog shot out from beneath the veranda and raced across the yard, barking.
Rika looked up. Her hands tightened around the broom, ready to defend the hens and the rest of the ranch.
But instead of the coyote she expected, Tess closed the outhouse door behind her.
“Hunter,” Rika yelled at the dog. “Quit making such a ruckus. You know Tess isn’t an intruder.”
Hunter trotted back to her. His wagging tail beat against her skirt, and she reached down to scratch behind his ears.
Slowly, keeping an eye on the dog, Tess walked up to them. “I’m impressed. He listens to you.”
“He’s gotten used to having me around, and Amy let me feed him a few times, so now he wants to stay in my good graces.” Rika weaved her fingers through his shaggy coat. “My first week here, he started barking every time I came near the henhouse too.”
“He’s defending his home.” Tess reached down and let Hunter sniff one of her hands. “Speaking of home, are you really fine about staying with Amy? When you agreed to let us have the cabin, you probably thought we’d stay just a night or two. But now it’s been ten days, and I know that’s not what you expected. If it’s a problem, we can figure out some place else for us to stay.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. This way, I can keep a closer eye on Amy.” And Amy really needed someone looking after her.
A golden eyebrow arched, and something in Tess’s expression made blood rush to Rika’s face.
“It’s fine,” she said again. “If Phineas is anything like the Hamiltons, he wouldn’t want it any other way.”
Tess’s gaze probed hers. “Are you looking forward to meeting him?”
Am I? Part of her was curious about him, but another, bigger part of her dreaded his return. As if acting on a silent pact, she and Amy never talked about her betrothal, so on most days she could forget what had brought her to Oregon. For the first time in her life, she was free to be herself—not the dutiful daughter, the wife, the tireless nurse, or the diligent mill girl. Phineas’s return would force her to take on yet another role, that of Jo Bruggeman.
“I don’t know.” She lifted her shoulders, then let them drop. “I don’t know him, so I’m not sure what to expect. I know some people think becoming a mail-order bride is unusual or even immoral, but—”
A soft touch on her forearm interrupted her. “I’m not judging you,” Tess said. “God knows, I have no right to judge anyone for her life choices. It’s just that you seem,” she shrugged, “conflicted about it.”
Rika blinked. Was she that easy to read? Dozens of answers ran through her mind, all of them lies that sounded plausible and would get Tess to stop asking questions. But something in those blue eyes made her discard the lies and tell the truth. “I barely made enough for a living in Boston, and I lived in fear of losing my place in the cotton mill every day. I thought marrying a perfect stranger couldn’t be any worse than what I’d already been through.”
“But?”
Now, after a few weeks at the ranch, she felt as if she had found a place where she wanted to stay and people to whom she might belong some day. The thought of moving away made her heart heavy.
Before she was forced to voice her thoughts, hoofbeats interrupted.
Amy and Frankie swept into the ranch yard and pulled their horses to a stop in a cloud of dust.
At the sight, Rika’s heartbeat sped up. Lord, she’s so stubborn. She had told Amy to stay out of the saddle, and here she was, racing with Frankie. Before Amy could dismount, Rika was at her side.
Ruby flicked her ears in her direction, and she slowed her approach. The mare tugged at the bit. A speck of greenish-white foam landed on Rika’s sleeve, and she rubbed it away. This was not a leisurely ride. Still in the saddle, Amy towered over her, and Rika craned her neck to glare at her. “Didn’t I tell you not to ride for a while?”
Amy shoved her hat back and let it dangle from her back. The temper people usually associated with her hair color sparked in her eyes. “You’re not my mother.”
Rika pressed her hands to her stomach as if an unexpected punch had hit her. “I thought I was your friend.”
The muscles around Amy’s mouth and eyes loosened. “You are. I’m sorry. It’s just that Frankie wants to buy Mouse, and I wanted to give her a chance to see how far she’s come in her training. It’s been ten days, so my ribs should be fine.”
At the sight of her glowing eyes and wind-reddened cheeks, Rika couldn’t hold on to her annoyance.
Tess wandered over and reached out to touch Mouse’s neck. Frankie leaned down and kissed her cheek, greeting her cousin in the affectionate way Rika had observed between them since their arrival. Despite having helped to raise her siblings, Rika wasn’t that close to any of her relatives.
“They have so many beautiful Appaloosas here, and you decide on this plain little mare named Mouse?” Tess chuckled.
That was how Rika had often felt among her half sisters, the young women in the boarding house, and even here at the ranch. In comparison to all the pretty women, she was plain and uninteresting.
“She’s not plain,” Amy said.
The passionate fire blazing in her eyes stirred something in Rika. Does she think that about me too?
“Look at how she carries herself.” Amy gestured to the mare. “With a little more training, she’ll be the best horse you ever had—if you want her.”
Frankie rested her hand on Tess’s shoulder. “Oh, of course I want her.” She turned to Rika. “So, how much would you want for her? Is forty dollars enough?”
“Me?”
“I bought her with the money Phin left for you, so she’s yours,” Amy said.
“But you were the one who did all the work and trained her.” Rika didn’t want to take Mouse from Amy after the long hours she spent with her in the corral. The ten dollars weren’t really hers anyway.
“I promised to pay back your money, and this is the only way I can afford it.” Amy lowered her head and looked down at her. “Please, take it.”
After a second’s hesitation, Rika nodded. At least Mouse would be cared for and could be useful in ways that she wasn’t at the ranch.
“Then it’s a deal.” Frankie swung out of the saddle and looped her arm through Tess’s.
A wagon clattered into the ranch yard. “Amy!” Nora called as she pulled Old Jack to a stop. “What are you doing on that horse? Didn’t we agree that you would take it easy for a few more days?”
Rika couldn’t stop the smirk that spread over her face. “Now she,” she nodded at Nora, “is your mother. There’s no way you can avoid that dressing-down.”
“Thanks,” Amy murmured and hastily climbed out of the saddle.
Hamilton Horse Ranch
Baker Prairie, Oregon
June 5, 1868
Rika drifted awake. The orange light of dawn filtered through her closed eyelids, and she knew she had to get up soon, but for now, she kept her eyes closed. Peace filled her, and a contented hum escaped her lips.
At the tiny sound, something moved against her back, and she became aware of the warm body pressed against her own. Unlike Willem’s presence in their bed or her half siblings draping their little bodies over hers, this didn’t feel like an intrusion on her space. It felt nice and warm and safe.
Behind her, Amy nuzzled closer in her sleep. Soft locks tickled Rika’s neck, and the ebb and flow of Amy’s breathing bathed her shoulder and trailed a path of warmth down her body.
Amy murmured something and smacked her lips, making Rika grin. After two weeks of sharing the room and the bed, Amy had finally stopped suggesting she sleep in the stable every night. She still clung to the edge of the bed once they slipped beneath the covers, but after talking for a while, she relaxed enough to sleep.
The nightly conversations were nice. Rika had never shared so much of herself with anyone. She loved how close she felt to Amy when they were huddled together beneath the blankets. Hiding her identity became harder every day.
She was jerked out of her thoughts when a warm hand landed on her hip and slid around to her stomach, then upward toward her bosom.
Lord! Unexpected heat shot through her body. Her smile vanished, and every trace of sleepiness fell off her as her hand shot out to grip Amy’s wrist. She craned her neck and looked over her shoulder.
Amy was still fast asleep. Russet lashes rested against golden skin, giving her an appearance of innocence and vulnerability.
Calm down. She’s sleeping and didn’t mean anything by it. It wasn’t Amy’s fault if Rika’s body reacted in improper ways to an accidental touch. She moved Amy’s hand to a safe spot outside of the covers and tried to enjoy a few more minutes in bed, but her body had lost its drowsiness now. Every inch of her skin felt alive after Amy’s touch. With a sigh, she slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb her companion.
Amy rolled to her stomach on Rika’s side of the bed. Her hands slid over the sheet as if searching for something.
Rika pulled the covers over her shoulders and decided to let her sleep for a few more minutes. With the haying, Amy’s day would be long and exhausting enough.
Nora bent and trailed her hand along the wide-bladed grass. A few steps to her right, Hank bit down on a stalk of grass. Nora didn’t need to taste it to know that now was the time to bring in the hay crop. If they waited any longer, the stalks would become coarse.
With hardly a cloud in the sky, it was good haying weather. “All right,” she said. “Let’s get started.” She ignored the grumbling from the ranch hands. They detested any work they couldn’t do on horseback, and that included haying.
Chains jangled and leather creaked when they put Old Jack and Little Jack in front of the two-wheeled mower. Amy climbed on the seat and gathered the reins, and Nora wanted to race across the field to drag her down from the mower before she could hurt her ribs.
Mowing was not a smooth process. Holes, stones, and stumps lurked beneath the grass, threatening to jerk the breath out of the driver and reinjure Amy’s barely healed ribs.
But she held herself back. Amy was a grown woman, a woman who was trying to gain the respect of the ranch hands.
Someone else didn’t have that kind of consideration for Amy’s authority, though. Hendrika gripped Amy’s sleeve and tried to tug her down from the mower. “Let Hank do this.”
“I’ve been handling the team with the mower for years.” Amy lifted her chin like a battering ram.
Hendrika didn’t let go of her sleeve. “Not with bruised ribs.”
They stood caught in a silent battle of wills, until Nora reached them and held out her hand. “How about giving me the reins?”
Amy eyed her. “You want to drive the mower?”
Under her daughter’s skeptical gaze, Nora straightened to her full height. “I’ve been driving that thing since before you were big enough to hold the reins.” The first few years in Oregon, they couldn’t afford to hire ranch hands, and Nora had helped with every chore on the ranch. When Luke had broken her foot one summer, Nora had been forced to learn quickly. She hadn’t handled the mower in recent years and was probably quite rusty, but she couldn’t hand the reins to Hank. It would send the message that women shouldn’t drive the mower.
Finally, Amy relinquished the reins and climbed down.
The ranch hands stopped their own work to watch. Most of them hadn’t seen Nora drive the mower before.
Hendrika gave Nora a nod and helped her up on the seat, perched above the six-foot-long cutting blade sticking out to the right side of the mower. With a deep breath, Nora loosened her grip on the reins and clucked at the horses. “Hyah!”
Old Jack started to pull, and his slightly smaller companion followed.
The mower rattled along the field, jostling her. She kept an eye on the long blade and tried to see through the grass. If she hit a rock or another hidden object, the steel blade might break and would have to be replaced.
