Hidden Trusts Read online

  "Angry at yourself?" Hendrika asked. Her eyes still hadn't lost their cautious expression.

  "I shouldn't have taken you with me. My papa never lets a green rider leave the ranch yard." Her stomach churned at the thought of how disappointed Papa would be if he knew. Nothing seemed to be going right since Papa had left.

  "Can I ask you something?"

  Amy tensed. "Sure," she said, not feeling sure at all.

  "Why did your father leave you in charge of the ranch?"

  Every muscle in Amy's body stiffened. Having her competence questioned by Adam was hard enough to swallow, but coming from Hendrika, it made her even more defensive.

  "I mean," Hendrika continued, "you seem to know a lot about horses, but you're a woman and you're still fairly young. Why didn't your father have Phineas taking over if he's your foreman?"

  Amy hadn't questioned her father's decision. She accepted his explanation that he needed his best man to bring the horses to Fort Boise. Is Papa testing me? Did he want to show her that she wasn't up to running the ranch and should get married, just as everyone else said?

  No. Papa had never told her she couldn't do something because she was a woman. Papa believed in her. Maybe she needed to learn to believe in herself too.

  "Maybe he wanted to show me that running the ranch is about more than handling horses. Or maybe he thought I already knew." Amy sighed. She had disappointed her parents and herself. While Hendrika had made mistakes, the responsibility had been hers.

  Hendrika set the bowl of stew on the table and ran her thumb over the black burn marks. "Then we both learned something today," she said. "I'll never feed your horses again, and you'll keep a better eye on me, just to make sure I don't do anything stupid."

  Keeping a closer eye on her... Amy wasn't sure that was such a good idea, but she admired Hendrika's calm maturity. Instead of holding a grudge, Hendrika was moving on. Maybe she should do the same. "You can feed the horses. Just ask me or one of the ranch hands first. And please, never leave a bucket with a handle in a stall. The horses might get a hoof caught in it."

  "Horses really are vulnerable animals, aren't they?" Hendrika said, her brown eyes wide with the realization. "They look so big and powerful, but they can be hurt so easily."

  "Yes." The shared knowledge formed an almost tangible connection between them. Amy lowered her gaze. "How are your hands?"

  "Oh." Hendrika hid them behind her back. "They're fine."

  "Let me see," Amy said, using the voice she normally reserved for coaxing a skittish foal from its mother's side.

  Reluctantly, Hendrika presented her hands, palms up.

  "Ouch." Amy winced at the sight of half a dozen blisters. She also noticed that Hendrika's hands were not as smooth as expected. Those weren't the hands of a spoiled eastern lady. Calluses had formed in different places than on Amy's own hands, but they told Amy that Hendrika was familiar with hard work. "Mama gave me some ointment for the blisters." She dug into her pants pocket and held out the small jar. "Here."

  "Thank you." Hendrika dipped a finger into the ointment and spread some of it onto her palms.

  A mental image of taking over the task, running her fingers over Hendrika's palms, flashed through Amy's mind. Stop. Don't start this again. Keep your distance from her. She had finally gotten a grip on her reactions to Hannah, and now Hendrika came along and threw her world into chaos. Amy took a quick step back and almost stumbled when Hendrika reached out to hand her the ointment. "Um, listen, there's a dance at the schoolhouse Saturday night. Nattie is trying to talk Mama into letting her go. You're welcome to attend too."

  "Just Nattie? What about you?" Hendrika asked.

  "Ah, I'm not much for dancing."

  Hendrika nodded. "Neither am I."

  Though she hadn't planned on attending the dance, Hendrika's rejection stung, maybe because she couldn't read Hendrika well enough to know if it was a rejection of dancing or a rejection of her family. It's better that way, Amy told herself. "All right. Goodnight, then."

  "Goodnight," Hendrika answered.

  Seconds later, the cool night air embraced Amy. She sucked in a calming breath, but the tension in her shoulders didn't dissipate. Her life, which had consisted just of her family and the horses, was getting complicated. Somehow, being angry with Hendrika had been easier.

  Big Laurel Hill, Oregon

  April 23, 1868

  MUD SQUISHED IN Luke's boots with every step. Her feet felt like frozen blocks of ice. Her breath condensed in front of her, mingling with the mist in the air, as she struggled up the steep path.

  Behind her, the horses in her string pounded through the mud and the sleet. Every horse in her little herd was a hardy, sure-footed Appaloosa, but Luke worried nonetheless. Boulder-strewn ravines and slippery grades didn't make the best road. It was slow going, and they'd already lost hours climbing Laurel Hill.

  Luke initially wanted to keep going and make it down the other side before they set up camp but realized that continuing on would be more dangerous than stopping for the night. "Phin," she called over her shoulder. "Let's make camp here."

  No one objected. Without losing time or words, they put up their canvas to protect them from the rain and hobbled the horses so they wouldn't wander off and eat the poisonous laurel growing everywhere on Laurel Hill.

  Finally, Luke used her saddle as a backrest and wolfed down a bowl of cold beans and bread. Chewing, she looked around. To her left, half-frozen water glittered in ruts that had been carved into the road by thousands of wagons crossing the Cascade Mountains over the last decades.

  One of those wagons had been theirs, seventeen years ago.

  Seventeen years. Luke shook her head in silent wonder. Where did the time go? A lot had happened in those seventeen years, but at the same time, it felt like yesterday. She still remembered the night on Laurel Hill. Somewhere around here, Nattie had been born.

  And it was here that Nora and I first made love. The memory of it warmed her cold body. Her skin burned under Nora's remembered kisses.

  "Boss?" Phin's voice cut through her daydreams. "Can you come over here and look at the bay gelding with the blaze? I think he's favoring his right hind leg."

  The thought of a horse being injured chased the smile off Luke's face. She set aside her bowl and hurried over.

  The bay gelding stood on three legs, resting his right hind leg. That in itself wasn't unusual. Luke had often seen horses standing on just three legs when they were dozing. The gelding wasn't relaxed, though. His muscles stood out in sharp relief, and he was wringing his tail in tight circles.

  "Hey there," Luke murmured and softly touched his nose. "How are you doing, big guy?" Sliding one hand over his back to let him know she was there, she walked around the gelding and ran her other hand down his leg. "There's some heat in his fetlock. This doesn't feel good."

  Kit watched over Luke's shoulder. The gelding was part of his string. "Anything we can do?"

  "Let's pack some moss around his leg and soak it with cold water. Other than giving him lots of rest, there's nothing more we can do," Luke said.

  "Lots of rest?" Phin stepped next to her. "You want to stay here and not move on tomorrow?"

  Luke watched Kit gather some moss and secure it around the gelding's fetlock. The horse twitched, and Luke winced in sympathy. "No," she said. "We can't leave the herd here for more than a night. If the gelding is still favoring his leg tomorrow morning, we'll have to think of something else."

  "Something else?" Phin looked at her as if he didn't doubt that Luke had a solution in mind.

  Luke often wondered whether that trust and easy acceptance of her authority would turn into disgust and rebellion if Phin ever learned who his boss really was. "The gelding won't make it to Fort Boise," she said. "Not at the pace we need to deliver the herd on time. And there's no settlement nearby and no place where we can safely leave the gelding until we get back. If he's not better in the morning, one of us will need to take him back home."<
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  Phin glanced at Kit and Charlie, then back at Luke. "Want me to go?"

  Luke was tempted to say yes. At least then she'd know her family and the ranch were well taken care off. Part of her, the overprotective parent part, even wanted to head back herself, just to make sure everything was all right. But it wouldn't be fair to Amy to hand over responsibility for the ranch and then take it away so soon. If Amy wanted to run the ranch one day, she needed to learn how to deal with all upcoming problems and the obstacles people threw in her way because she was a woman. With her or Phin there, that wouldn't happen. "No," Luke said. "Let's send Kit." As their youngest ranch hand, he wouldn't give Amy any trouble, and it would also put him out of harm's way should anything go wrong on the way to Fort Boise.

  "All right," Phin said.

  Guilt sneaked up on Luke. "Listen," she said. "I know you want to go see your betrothed, but if I send you, people will think you're taking charge."

  Phin's blue eyes zeroed in on Luke and studied her. "You're keeping me away from the ranch to test Amy? You're setting her up to fail?" Phin's jaw tightened.

  His loyalty to Amy sent a smile to Luke's lips. "No. I want her to succeed in whatever she chooses to do with her life."

  "I think it's pretty clear what she wants to do," Phin said.

  Amy said she wanted to run the ranch one day, and Luke had never tried to talk her out of it. But other twenty-year-old women were already married and starting families. One or two of Amy's schoolmates had gone east, and Bernice and Jacob's oldest daughter had even become a lady doctor. Amy had a lot of options, and Luke didn't want her to have any regrets later on.

  "She wants to live her life and run the ranch the way I do, but that will never be possible for Amy," Luke said. Not without constantly hiding a big part of herself and Luke didn't want that for her daughter. "Amy knows what running a ranch means for me, not what it would mean for an unmarried woman. She's never had to give orders without me there to back them up, never had to do business in town without the townspeople knowing that she was acting on my behalf."

  "You don't think Amy can do it?"

  "Given enough time and experience, I'm sure she could, but I want her to be sure this is what she wants to do with her life, despite all difficulties. If it's not, I'd rather she find out now, when she's still young and can do other things with her life." Luke couldn't see Amy living and being happy anywhere but the ranch, but being a good horsewoman didn't necessarily mean Amy was cut out to be a good rancher. "If all she wants is to work with horses, she might want to marry a rancher willing to accept a wife who's not just going to sit at home."

  Phin's eyes twinkled. "I don't think that's what Amy wants. I offered."

  Her heart leaped. She squinted at Phin. What was that supposed to mean? "You proposed to Amy? Without asking Nora and me first?"

  "Easy, boss." Phin rubbed his blond stubbles, which didn't hide his blush. "I knew Amy would say no, but I thought I'd give her the option. I never made any advances toward your daughters. I promised you that when you hired me."

  Back then, Phin had been little more than a pimple-faced adolescent. Had it been easy for him to keep his promise over the years?

  "You don't love Amy," Luke said. She wanted love for her daughters, the same happiness she shared with Nora.

  "I like her," Phin answered. "That's more than many men can say about their wives. It would have been a business deal between friends."

  A business deal. The familiar words made Luke grin. Her business deal with Nora had blossomed into love. Maybe it would happen for Phin and his mail-order bride too, but she couldn't see it happening between Phin and Amy.

  She clapped Phin on the shoulder in a fatherly way. "You're a good man, Phin."

  Phin smiled. "I had a good role model."

  Helpless laughter almost brought tears to Luke's eyes as she tried to suppress it and started to cough. If only he knew.

  Baker Prairie, Oregon

  April 24, 1868

  "ARE YOU SELLING newspapers now?" Jacob Garfield chuckled and nodded at the stack of paper in Amy's hands.

  Amy smiled back and tried her best to ignore two young women who looked up from bolts of fabric to throw curious glances at her. "No, Jacob. These are just posters Mama made. We're searching for a new ranch hand. Know anyone who might be interested?"

  "Buzz Williams has been looking to get away from working in the livery stable," Jacob said.

  An image of Buzz whipping the gray mare with the end of his rope flashed before Amy's eyes. She gritted her teeth. We might be in desperate need of new help, but we're not that desperate.

  "One of your men give his notice?" Jacob asked while he cut off a few yards of fabric from a bolt.

  Amy nodded. "Adam."

  Jacob's bushy brows crept toward each other like two gray caterpillars. "You are not in trouble now that your father is gone for so long, are you? Maybe Luke shouldn't have taken Phin with him."

  Anger boiled up in Amy, but she forced it back. Papa didn't need her to defend his honor. Amy had her own battles to fight. "We'll be just fine," she said. "Can I hang up one of the posters in your store?"

  At his nod, Amy handed a handwritten poster over the counter. "Thank you," she said and hurried from the store.

  She marched through town and left posters at the barbershop, the saddle maker's shop, and the livery stable. One more place to go. When she neared Baker Prairie's saloon, she slowed her steps.

  From beyond the swinging doors, the clinking of glasses greeted her.

  Just as she was about to enter, a man stepped onto the boardwalk and almost collided with her. Amy recognized Augustus Snyder, the only other horse breeder in this part of the valley and Papa's biggest rival.

  "God darn it, girl!" He squinted at her through whiskey-clouded eyes. "Aren't you Lucas Hamilton's oldest girl?"

  Amy squared her shoulders. She was twenty years old, not a girl. "I'm his daughter, yes. Good day, Mr. Snyder." She tried to slip past him and into the saloon.

  "Not so fast." Snyder grabbed her shoulder. "What are you doing, girl?"

  "I have business to attend to." Amy struggled to keep still under his grip. Mama's admonition not to act impulsively still rang in her ears.

  "In the saloon? That's no proper place for a young woman. What kind of business is this?"

  Under the pretense of adjusting her bonnet, Amy swept his hand off her shoulder. "I want to hire a new rider." She gave him a sugar-sweet grin. "So if any of your men are interested in working for the best horse breeder in the valley..."

  Augustus Snyder snorted. "Hey, boys," he called over the swinging doors. "Anyone interested in riding for a woman?"

  Only the tinny plunking of the saloon's piano answered him.

  "That's what I thought." Mr. Snyder tipped his hat. "Good day, Miss Hamilton."

  Gritting her teeth, Amy watched him walk away. She stepped toward the swinging doors.

  The barkeeper, who had walked over at Snyder's shouting, blocked her way. "That's not a good idea, Miss Hamilton," he said, not unfriendly. "People are already talking about the Hamilton women, without you coming into the saloon."

  Amy bit her tongue. "I'm not here to drink," she said. "I only want to ask around and see if there's a wrangler willing to work for us."

  "Yes, I heard. I'll pass the word," the barkeeper said.

  Amy pressed her lips together. I better not hold my breath. Trying to get into the saloon was a waste of time. A lot of work waited at home. She whirled around and strode down the boardwalk as fast as her split riding skirt allowed.

  Ruby stood waiting where she had left her. Amy unbuckled the saddlebags to shove the rest of the posters into them.

  "Want me to go in there and hang them up for you?"

  Amy turned.

  A wiry man leaned against the saddle maker's shop. His wide-brimmed hat couldn't hide Indian features.

  "You wouldn't have any more luck getting in there than I did." While he was wearing a cotton
shirt and a pair of mud-spattered chaps over denim pants, his parents clearly hadn't been white settlers, and only that counted for the men in the saloon. Amy gave him a polite nod, trying not to take her anger out on him. "But thanks anyway."

  "You're searching for a horse wrangler?" His dark eyes studied her impassively.

  Amy met his gaze and nodded. "Know someone who might be interested?"

  The man tapped his own chest.