The Complete Oregon Series, page 93
“You all right?” Nora’s voice vibrated through her, soothing her like a favorite lullaby.
“Did you ever think Amy might feel more than friendship for Hendrika?”
Nora craned her neck to look at her. “A bit of an infatuation, maybe. Amy’s a passionate young woman, after all, and she hasn’t been around women her age much. Nothing to worry about, right?”
“That’s what I thought too, but I watched them together and now I’m not so sure.” She glanced toward the veranda again. Amy and Hendrika looked at each other, keeping eye contact for an intense moment. Was this really just random infatuation that could have been directed at any woman who came along?
“You think it could be love?” Nora asked. “Amy is so inexperienced when it comes to that.”
“Just as inexperienced as I was when I met you.” Luke settled her hand on the curve of Nora’s hip.
“If you’re right, Amy will be heartbroken once Hendrika marries Phin,” Nora said. “Do you think Hendrika might have feelings for Amy too?”
Luke paused their swaying for a moment. “I’m not sure, but I think there could be something there. Something that could grow into love, like it did for us. But nothing will ever come of it. Amy is so afraid. She’ll never tell Hendrika how she feels.”
“Would you want her to?” Nora asked. “Hendrika is Phin’s betrothed, after all.”
Luke clutched Nora more tightly to her body. “I don’t know. It’s all a mess, and I don’t want to see Phin hurt either. But I can’t help thinking that maybe Amy needs to take the kind of risk that I did, or she’ll forever regret it. What if Hendrika turns out to be her Nora, and she lets her go?”
Nora freed herself from their embrace and turned. She clutched the ropes and leaned across the swing. Her lips found Luke’s, and for the length of one passionate kiss, Luke forgot their conversation.
Then Nora drew back and breathed deeply. “And under different circumstances, maybe Amy would turn out to be Hendrika’s Luke, but Amy isn’t ready. She might one day come to accept her feelings, but not now.”
“But Hendrika won’t be there one day,” Luke said. She clutched the swing’s rope until it bit into her hands and struggled to draw air into her lungs. “No more waiting. We need to tell the girls the truth about me.”
Hamilton Horse Ranch
Baker Prairie, Oregon
June 26, 1868
When Rika reached the edge of the carrot patch, she pulled out a handful of dandelions and threw it into a bucket that was already filled with horsetail, wild clover, and other weeds. Groaning, she straightened and brushed earth off her skirt.
Nattie carried over her own bucket of weeds. “All done. Finally.” She plucked a bean leaf from Rika’s sleeve.
They emptied their buckets onto the manure heap, and Nattie pulled up a bucket of cool water from the well.
Rika drank deeply, enjoying the coldness of the water as it slid down her parched throat. She looked around for Amy, who might be in need of some water too.
“I’ll take some water over to Phin,” Nattie said.
Rika flushed. For heaven’s sake, Hendrika Aaldenberg! You’re supposed to think of your future husband’s needs, not Amy’s. “Let me.”
Shrugging, Nattie handed over the water bucket.
Bucket in hand, Rika walked over to the corral, where Phineas was cleaning the hooves of a horse. “I brought you some water.”
“Thanks.” He took the bucket from her, picked up the ladle, and drank. After setting down the bucket, he gestured toward her face. “You’ve got some dirt on your face.”
She rubbed her knuckles across her cheek. “Gone?”
“Um, no. Wait.” He opened the saddlebags hanging over the corral rail. “Here. I bought this for you in Fort Boise. I didn’t know you were goin’ by Hendrika.” He held out a handkerchief with lacy edges and the initials J. S. stitched in one corner.
Rika curled her fingers around the handkerchief and trailed her thumb over the initials. Johanna Sharpe. Phin’s last name sounded as wrong as the first name. “It was very kind of you to think of me.”
Phineas took the handkerchief from her, dipped it into the water bucket, and rubbed it over her cheek, wiping away the speck of dirt. “There.”
“Thank you.” Stepping back, she noticed Nattie on the veranda, watching them with flushed cheeks.
When Nattie saw her looking, she whirled around and hurried inside.
Is she...jealous?
Phineas handed back the handkerchief. A hesitant smile spread across the lower half of his face, which was freshly shaven and paler than the rest of his face. His smile warmed the ice-blue color of his eyes. “Who knows, maybe one day, we’ll have a daughter whose name starts with J. Then you could give her the handkerchief.”
Daughter. The thought of having children with him hadn’t crossed her mind. You’re being silly. He’ll be your husband soon. Of course he wants children. “Maybe.” She stuffed the handkerchief into her sleeve. “Thank you, Phineas.”
“Call me Phin.” He reached for her hand and rested it in the crook of his elbow, then set them off for a stroll along the corrals. “When you call me Phineas, I feel like my father is standin’ behind me.”
“And that wouldn’t be a good thing?” She already sensed the answer.
“No. My father was a real bastard.” He blanched. “Um. Pardon my language.”
Rika smiled. Why did men always think women would faint at the mere mention of a cuss word? “My father was a real bastard too.”
The jangle of his spurs stopped midstride. He stared at her and then laughed.
“Nattie said you’ve worked for the Hamiltons for ten years?” she asked.
“Ran away from home as soon as I knew one end of a revolver from the other,” he said. The muscles under Rika’s fingers tensed, then softened. “The Hamiltons took me in. They’re like family to me.”
They were starting to be like family for her too. “Aren’t you gonna miss them?” Since Phin had arrived, she woke up every day afraid that he would show up with the pastor and this would be her last day at the ranch.
His gaze drifted to the main house. “Yeah. I will.”
“Then can’t we stay?” She clamped her fingers around a handful of her skirt and held her breath.
Instead of looking at her, he still gazed at the main house. “No. I need to leave.”
Rika had rarely cried in her life. Not when her father had broken her arm and not when Jo had died. Now tears stung her eyes.
“We’ll still see the Hamiltons in church on Sundays, but I can’t be their foreman forever,” Phin said. “I stayed longer than I should have already. One day, another man is gonna be the boss, and there won’t be a place here for me.”
Another man? Is he talking about Amy getting married? The thought stabbed her in the pit of her stomach.
“I asked the pastor to come over later today to talk about the wedding,” Phin said. “He said he can get us married on Monday.”
“Oh.” She had expected it, but still... In three days, she would be a married woman and on her way to a new home, away from Amy and the Hamiltons.
He tilted his head. “Is Monday not good? If you’d rather wait a few more days...”
“Oh, no. It’s fine.” If she hesitated too long, Phin would find another bride. He seemed determined to start a new life.
He squeezed her fingers that still rested on his arm. “I know we don’t know each other well, but if we don’t get married soon, people will start waggin’ their tongues.”
How would Jo have reacted to his businesslike tone? Rika got the feeling that he wasn’t any more eager to get married than she was. “Of course,” she said.
“Wanna learn how to brush down a horse?” His voice was overly cheerful as if he were trying to make her feel better—or maybe himself. “Lancelot is a sucker for a beautiful woman with a brush.”
His grin was kind and charming, but his eyes said something else. He didn’t look at her with love.
Not that she had expected it. “Lancelot?” she asked.
He pointed at the dotted horse that was tied to the corral rail. “Nattie named him, and now he thinks he deserves to be treated like a real knight.”
Rika already knew how to brush down a horse. Amy had taught her weeks ago, but she didn’t want to disappoint Phin, so she nodded.
“Great.” He slipped out from under her hand. “Wait here. I’ll get the brush.”
She leaned against the sun-warmed corral rails, closed her eyes, and drank in the sounds of the ranch. Soft neighs, the patter of hooves, and sounds of horses plucking on clumps of grass drifted over. Hens clucked and fluttered. Behind the woodshed, an ax sang as it dug into the chopping block, and then the split logs clattered to the ground. The low rumble of John’s voice came from the paddock, and a woman’s calm tones answered him.
Amy. Rika opened her eyes and peered at the paddock.
One booted foot propped on the bottom rail, Amy stood and watched the horses. She pointed out one horse to John, who nodded. They ducked between the rails and climbed into the paddock.
“Here we are.”
At Phin’s sudden voice next to her, Rika whirled around.
“Here.” He handed her a brush. “Try it. Start on his left side.”
She slid her left hand down the gelding’s neck, letting him know she was there. His familiar horse smell engulfed her, and the rhythmic stroking soothed both of them. She listened to the voices from the paddock while she worked.
“Put some muscle into it,” Phin said. “Don’t be afraid. You won’t hurt him.” He stepped closer and covered Rika’s hand with his to show her how to brush. Amy had done the same, but her warm, slender body felt different against Rika’s back than Phin’s. The curve of his biceps rested against her arm, and his muscular chest brushed against her shoulder blades. For a moment, an image of what it would be like to share the marriage bed with him flashed through her mind.
It felt all wrong. His bay rum scent didn’t set her blood afire. Not the way being close to Amy did.
Lord, what are you thinking? You can’t feel that way about a woman. But she did. “Can you take over?” She let go of the brush and stepped to the side, away from him.
“You all right?” He paused the brush against Lancelot’s neck. “You’re not afraid of him, are you?”
No, she wasn’t afraid. At least not of the horse. Thinking about the future made her shiver, though. She felt as her mother might have on her way to America—adrift at sea, with no past to return to and a future she wasn’t sure she wanted. “No, of course not. I’m fine.” She moved away another step, her gaze returning to the paddock to see if Amy was still there.
“Watch out!”
A bucket clattered on its side. Water drenched Rika’s skirt. She jumped back, slipped on the wet grass, and fell.
Her shoulder smashed against a corral post, and a loud pop rang through her ears. Pain exploded. Someone cried out.
Rika’s vision dimmed, and she fought to stay conscious. She realized she was lying on the ground.
“Hendrika!” Phin dropped to his knees next to her. “Hendrika, are you all right?”
“Rika,” Amy shouted from somewhere.
Rika groaned. Dark spots danced in front of her eyes, but Amy’s voice enticed her to answer. “Yes.”
Hands touched her, trying to help her up. A new wave of pain stabbed her shoulder and raced down her arm. “Don’t.” She breathed through clenched teeth. “Don’t touch me.” Clutching her arm, she rolled around.
The large hands retreated, and then Amy was there. Her fingertips trembled against Rika’s cheek. “What happened?”
“Think I threw out my shoulder,” Rika said, then clamped her mouth shut. Nausea pulsed through her, and the pain in her shoulder made her light-headed.
“How could you let this happen?” Amy stared at Phin, hands fisted so tightly that her knuckles looked like jagged mountain peaks.
Phin held out his palms, his face pale. “I didn’t know she hadn’t seen the bucket.”
“Stop it,” Rika whispered. “No use arguing now.” Her voice trembled despite her effort to keep it even. She clutched her arm, which hung motionless, and sat up.
“Let me see.” Amy’s shaking fingers slid up her arm.
“Want me to fetch the doc from town?” Phin asked.
Rika shook her head, then stopped when a new wave of pain shot down her arm. “No. We need to pop the shoulder back in right away.” The muscles were already stiffening up. The longer they waited, the more painful it would become. Her gaze searched Amy’s through a haze of pain. “If I tell you how, can you do this?”
The color drained from Amy’s cheeks. “I helped put Toby’s shoulder back in once, but I don’t know if I can do it with you. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Sure you can do it.” Pain raged through her shoulder. She knew it would stop as soon as the shoulder popped back into its socket.
Amy let out a trembling breath. “All right. Phin, help me get her to the house.” Her arm, warm and steady, slung around Rika’s waist while Phin reached for her uninjured arm.
Trembling, Rika got to her feet. Pain pulsed through her with every step she took.
“Want me to carry you?” Phin asked.
Rika shook her head. She couldn’t speak. It took all her concentration just to breathe without screaming.
Amy swung back the front door and held it open. The doorway was too narrow for the three of them to enter side by side. One of them would have to let go of Rika.
She and Phin exchanged a long glance over Rika’s head.
Phin let go, and Amy helped Rika inside. “We should do this down here and spare you the stairs.” Amy directed her to the divan.
When Rika sat and jostled her shoulder, a groan erupted from her throat. Finally, the dark spots stopped dancing before her eyes, and she looked into Phin’s and Amy’s tense faces.
“Want me to boil some water?” Phin bobbed up and down on his toes.
“We don’t need hot water,” Amy said, scowling at him. “She’s not giving birth. She popped out her shoulder.”
Phin scratched his head. “Uh, yeah, I know. I thought maybe a hot compress would help loosen her muscles.”
Despite the dizzying pain, Rika had to chuckle. Her body cramped, sending flashes of pain through her. She stopped laughing.
“Easy, easy,” Amy murmured. She pulled off her gloves with her teeth and stroked Rika’s uninjured arm. “How do we do this? Do you think a hot compress would help?” A tremor ran through her voice.
“Later. I need to look at the shoulder first.” The thought of wrestling out of her tight bodice made her dizzy, but she needed to see the shoulder. If it was broken or the head of the bone was behind the joint, trying to put the shoulder back in would make things worse.
“Oh. If you’re undressin’, I’ll leave you ladies alone and go take care of Lancelot,” Phin said. Three long steps carried him to the door, where he stopped to look back. “Are you sure you can do this, Amy?”
Eyes that had darkened to pine green searched Rika’s. “Yes.” Amy never looked away.
“All right. Give a shout if you need me.” The door fell closed, and Phin’s footsteps faded away.
Amy unwrapped the shawl from around Rika’s shoulders and draped it over her lap as if to make sure she wouldn’t get cold. Trembling fingers brushed Rika’s throat as Amy fiddled with the pin and removed her collar.
Rika watched the path of those fingers as they moved downward and opened button after button. She thought of the day she had helped Amy with her dress when Amy had burned her fingers. It seemed many months ago, yet she still remembered the golden hue of skin that faded to a creamy white the farther down the dress slipped.
Amy paused and looked up.
Their gazes touched.
“You all right?” Amy whispered. “You look flushed. How bad is the pain?”
Rika licked her lips. “It’s bearable.” And it was. Amy’s presence soothed her pain more than a bottle of laudanum could.
“Good.” Amy lowered her gaze to the buttons.
With her help, Rika struggled out of her bodice. The sleeves slid down her arms, and Amy carefully freed her right hand of the cuff. She pulled the wide neck of Rika’s chemise to the side until it dropped off her injured shoulder.
“There,” Amy said, voice rough.
Rika peered over her shoulder, biting the inside of her cheek when she saw the bulb-shaped knot. “It’s popped out, all right.” Acid burned in her stomach, and she breathed through a wave of nausea.
“What’s the best way to do this?” Amy asked. “When I helped Toby, he was in so much pain. I don’t want to do this to you.”
“I watched the doctors with a soldier once.” His screams still echoed in Rika’s ears, but she didn’t tell Amy that. “He bent the forearm at the elbow and rotated it to the side until the shoulder popped back in. Think you can do that?”
Amy nodded and stepped closer. The warmth of her leg penetrated Rika’s skirt, and she leaned against the soothing touch. With cold, damp fingers, Amy reached for her forearm. “Ready?”
“Yes.” Rika didn’t look at her shoulder. She kept her gaze fixed on Amy’s eyes. Her muscles tightened in anticipation of more pain.
Amy rotated her arm. It hung like dead weight, protesting the movement, but for a moment, it didn’t hurt. At least not worse than before. Then Amy turned the arm farther to the side, applying constant pressure.
Pain lanced through Rika’s shoulder. She clamped her jaw tight to hold back a groan.
