Hidden Trusts Page 4

  "Dutch." Phin's grin grew, as if being Dutch was a great accomplishment.

  Lord, he's smitten, and he hasn't even met her.

  The thought of another woman on the ranch still unsettled her, and she watched in silence as Phin continued to shave.

  Somehow, his simple, efficient movements seemed wrong, maybe because he was shaving himself. Amy had watched her parents share this private ritual almost every day for as long as she could remember.

  Papa sat in the kitchen, and Mama lathered his face with the shaving soap, sometimes sneaking a kiss when she thought their daughters weren't watching. Amy always watched. She knew she was witnessing something special, something that bound her parents to each other. Trust glowed in Papa's eyes when he let Mama put the razor to his neck.

  A sudden longing for that kind of trust overcame Amy. She shook it off and focused on Phin.

  For Phin, shaving seemed to be a necessary evil. There was nothing gentle or loving about the way he scraped lather and stubbles off his cheeks and his strong chin.

  Maybe he really needs a wife.

  "So when is she coming here?" Amy asked.

  "Well..." Phin wiped off the rest of the shaving soap and twirled his handlebar mustache. Amy often teased him about it. She liked Papa's clean-shaven look better. "I wanted to talk to you about that. If the stagecoach is on time, she'll get here Monday afternoon."

  Meaningful silence spread between them.

  "Monday afternoon? But —"

  "I'm supposed to leave for Fort Boise with your father on Monday morning, yes."

  This was her chance! Amy hid a grin and tried for nonchalance. "Oh, not a problem. I'll help Papa bring the horses to Fort Boise, and you can pick up your bride from town on Monday afternoon."

  Phin cleared his throat. "That's not what I meant, and you'd have to discuss that with your father."

  Who would say no. Not because traveling four hundred miles with a herd of horses was a man's job. Papa never told her something like that. He would say that she wasn't ready for the trip, not while there was unrest among the Shoshoni, and that he wanted her to keep an eye on the ranch while he was gone.

  "So what did you mean?" Amy asked.

  "If it ain't too much to ask, you could put on your Sunday finery and pick up my future wife from town while I'm gone."

  That meant wearing a dress and facing the nosy folks in town, not two of Amy's favorite activities. Still, Phin was her best friend.

  "Please?" He grinned his most charming smile. "I don't trust any of the boys with her."

  Asking her to pick up his betrothed so she would be safe from unwanted attentions... Amy shook her head. Phin didn't understand the irony of it.

  "All right," she said. Something occurred to her. "So your courtship consisted of writing letters, right? How did you manage that? I know you can't write."

  "I'm learnin'. Miss Nattie is teaching me."

  "Really? But you always said you'd rather spend winter evenings repairing broken bridles than studying words on a page."

  Phin shrugged. "Changed my mind. Miss Nattie's a great teacher."

  "Nattie helped you advertise for a wife?"

  "Oh, no." Phin rubbed his palms over freshly shaven cheeks. "I wouldn't bother her with that. Your mother helped. But Miss Nattie knew."

  "Mama and Nattie knew all this time, but you never said one word to me?"

  "Miss Nattie heard it from the postmaster. The damn gossip told half of Oregon that I'm gettin' letters from a lady in Boston. I thought maybe you'd heard it around town too."

  "Not a word," Amy grumbled but swallowed her hurt feelings. After all, Phin wasn't to blame for her reluctance to visit town. She tried to stay away from Hannah and the other young women who always knew the latest rumors.

  Phin scratched his chin and added, "I thought you aren't interested in affairs of the heart things."

  True. She had never given him reason to think otherwise. She and Phin talked about horses but rarely discussed feelings.

  When she stayed silent, Phin ducked to look into her face. "Are you mad at me for not telling you sooner?"

  "No," she said. She wasn't mad, just a bit hurt and strangely unsettled. Sharing her home with a beautiful young woman could mean trouble.

  * * *

  "Listen up, boys," Luke Hamilton said. Decades-old habits made her square her shoulders to appear bigger than she was. "Phin and I will leave tomorrow. Amy is in charge while we're gone." She let her gaze sweep over the ranch hands perched on their bunks and standing around the bunkhouse's cast-iron stove. "Anyone have a problem riding for a woman?"

  The ranch hands had worked side by side with Amy every day for the past few years, but working with her and working for her were two different things.

  Most of the men shook their heads.

  "No problem, boss," Hank said.

  Adam spat out a stream of chewing tobacco, earning him a sharp glare from Luke. If anyone gave Amy trouble, it would be Adam. She stared at him until he looked away.

  "Amy's just in charge until you get back, right?" Emmett asked, shuffling his feet. "It's just for two months."

  Luke suppressed a grin. They had no idea they had worked for a woman much longer than that. To the world, she was Lucas Hamilton — rancher, husband, and father. Only three people knew that she was not what she appeared to be: her wife Nora, their neighbor Bernice Garfield, and Tess, Luke's oldest friend.

  "For now," she said. Maybe one day, Amy would be able to do what Luke couldn't: run the ranch as a woman.

  When no one protested, Luke gave some last-minute instructions and then left the bunkhouse.

  Darkness had fallen, and a myriad of stars twinkled down at her. Luke lifted her head and inhaled the tangy aroma of pines, manure, and sage from Nora's herb garden. A horse's whinny cut through the sounds of a gurgling spring and a hooting owl. Luke wandered across the ranch yard to check on the horses one last time.

  The place in front of the corral was already occupied. Amy stood with her elbows on the top rail and one booted foot propped on the bottom rung. She didn't turn around when Luke joined her.

  Side by side, they watched the dark shapes of the horses move around the corral.

  Midnight wandered over and snuffled Amy's sleeve. She patted the gelding's neck and combed her fingers through his forelock. "Did you talk to the men?"

  "Yes. They know you're in charge."

  "Good."

  Luke turned to look at Amy and leaned her shoulder against the corral. "You nervous?"

  "No," Amy said quickly — too quickly.

  "Because if you were, I'd certainly understand. I was about your age when I earned my lieutenant stripes. Suddenly, I was expected to command a troop of soldiers, some of them much older and more experienced than me."

  Amy leaned against the corral too so that they were face to face. "Were you nervous?"

  "Terrified," Luke said. Not so much about not measuring up, of course. Back then, her worst fear was being injured so badly that surgeons discovered her secret. "There's no shame in being afraid, Amy. The trick is not to let it paralyze you."

  The white of Amy's eyes gleamed in the darkness. Her chaps scratched along the corral post as she shifted. "I'm a bit nervous," she finally said. "But you don't need to worry. I won't disappoint you, Papa."

  "I know." Luke wrapped her arm around Amy's shoulder and squeezed, as always surprised to feel sturdy muscles under her hand. When had the little girl who begged her for a ride on Measles become this strong young woman?

  She sighed. She'd miss her daughters — and Nora, of course. "Come on." She gave Amy one more pat to the shoulder. "Let's go to bed. We both have a long day tomorrow."

  * * *

  Nora folded strips of cloth and handed them to Luke, who stowed them in her saddlebags. "Put them at the bottom so no one will see," Nora said.

  "Not necessary," Luke answered. "If one of the boys finds the rags, I'll just tell them those are compresses should one of the horses
get hurt." She winked and leaned down to brush her lips over Nora's.

  But this time, not even the warmth of the kiss could chase away Nora's worries. She entwined her fingers with Luke's, lifted one palm to her lips, and kissed the familiar criss-crossed pattern of scars and rope burns. "I wish you didn't have to go."

  Luke stroked the back of her fingers over Nora's cheek. "I wish I could stay, but you know we need the money if we want to invest in draft horses."

  "I regret ever suggesting that." If anything happened to Luke on the way to Fort Boise, she would never forgive herself.

  "Hey, don't talk like that," Luke said. "You're a clever businesswoman and have never steered us wrong in all these years. Now that the railroad is coming, investing in draft horses is a brilliant idea. If we sell enough horses to be able to invest in Belgians and Percherons, the ranch will prosper."

  "It's only brilliant if nothing happens to you," Nora said.

  "We'll be careful and post guards at night."

  "The trip holds more dangers for you than just Indians and horse thieves." Every muscle in Nora's body felt tight like a rope that was trying to hold a panicked mustang. "You'll have to live in very close quarters with Phin, Charlie, and Kit for over two months. There'll be no outhouse, no bedroom with a sturdy lock, no privacy to change clothes, wash, or take care of private matters."

  Luke slid her arms around Nora and held her close. "I admit I haven't had to do that in a while, but you know I've lived among men before. People see what they think is true, not what's really there. And I'm the boss, so I can decide when to scout ahead or leave camp under the pretense of hunting for game. I've always been good at slipping away from camp."

  "Oh, yeah?" Amusement bubbled up. "Is that why you were shot by our own guard when you slipped away to follow the call of nature?" Nora brushed her lips against Luke's upper arm, where an old scar reminded of that day seventeen years ago.

  Groaning, Luke rubbed her nose. "Thanks for the reminder of that glorious moment."

  Nora laughed, then moved back to look into Luke's eyes. The rain cloud gray told her that Luke was as worried as she was; she just didn't want to admit it. "Come on." She tugged on Luke's hand. "Let's go to bed." She wanted to hold Luke and pretend that she'd never have to let go.

  Luke walked around the bed and tested the door to make sure it was locked. Only then did she slip out of her clothes.

  In the flickering light of the kerosene lamp, Nora watched as Luke unwrapped the bandages around her chest until she revealed small breasts, pale against the darker color of her arms.

  Nora licked her suddenly dry lips.

  When Luke slipped her nightshirt over her head, Nora changed into her own nightgown, pulled the pins from her hair, and reached for her hairbrush.

  "Let me," Luke said. Slowly, tenderly, she trailed the brush through Nora's hair, often pausing to disentangle an unruly strand with her fingers or massage Nora's scalp.

  The first time Luke had reached for the brush and taken over the nightly task had surprised Nora. She knew it had surprised Luke too. Luke's days were spent in the saddle, working with horses or splitting logs to build fences — tasks that were the epitome of masculinity. She spent so much time convincing others she was a man that sometimes it became hard to tell what was a mask and what was real.

  But after a few years, with the bedroom door closed behind them, Luke allowed herself the feminine pleasure of trailing the brush through Nora's locks.

  Luke set the brush down and lifted Nora's hair. Warm lips pressed kisses to the nape of Nora's neck, making her shiver. She gasped as Luke nipped her earlobe.

  "Turn out the light," Luke whispered. "I wanna say a proper good-bye."

  Without hesitation, Nora lifted the lamp's glass shade, blew out the flame, and slid into Luke's arms.

  * * *

  Dancer turned his head and whinnied at the horses in the corral, not pleased to leave the protection of his herd.

  "I know, boy." Luke patted the gelding's neck, and when she felt him exhale, she tightened the cinch. She wasn't eager to leave her family either.

  Hank walked over and handed her a canteen. "Here, boss."

  "Thanks." Luke looped it over her saddle horn. "We're leaving now. You have your instructions."

  Hank nodded, and Luke wondered if he would accept Amy's orders as easily. Only one way to find out.

  Soft steps padded over the veranda, and Luke knew without looking that Nora was watching her. Luke felt the gaze rest on her like a loving touch. One more tug on the cinch and she stepped away from the gelding.

  The dreaded moment had come.

  Luke turned, her glance touching everything they had established in seventeen years of hard work: the main house, two large horse barns, a bunkhouse, Phin's cabin, a blacksmith's shop, and a dozen other outbuildings.

  All that could continue to prosper and grow — if she made the right decisions at this critical time.

  In front of the veranda, she stopped and met Nora's gaze. They stood in silence for long moments. Luke didn't need words to know Nora's heart ached too. She stepped closer and slipped both arms around Nora, who stood on the top step of the veranda.

  The brim of Luke's hat bumped Nora's cheek, making them both smile. With a flourish, Luke took off her hat and set it down on Nora's red locks.

  Nora tightened the embrace until she tumbled from the veranda.

  Luke caught her in her arms. The hat fluttered to the ground, but both ignored it. "I'll miss you." Steps on the veranda told Luke they had an audience, but she didn't lower her voice or end the embrace. They had never hidden their love from their daughters. She pressed her lips against Nora's and got lost in her warmth as if it were the last time — and they both knew it could very well be.

  Just a few days before, in revenge for the death of a white settler, an expedition of soldiers had attacked an Indian camp on the Malheur River and killed more than thirty Paiutes, including women and children. Who knew whether the road to Boise was safe or teeming with angry warriors?

  Luke had thought long and hard before agreeing to deliver a dozen horses to the cavalry at Fort Boise. She preferred staying out of conflicts, but if she wanted to secure a future for the ranch, she had no choice.

  One last kiss and they moved apart at the same time, keeping their fingers entwined.

  When Luke looked up, Nattie stood there with her forgotten hat in her hands.

  "Thanks, sweetie." Luke reached out to take the hat.

  Nattie jumped forward and threw her arms around Luke, crushing the hat between them.

  "Hey." Luke kissed the top of her daughter's black hair and noticed that she didn't have to bend to do it anymore. At sixteen, Nattie was already taller than her mother.

  Phin walked over with his spotted gelding. "You want us to bring you back something from Boise, Miss Nattie?"

  "I'm not a child anymore." Nattie moved away from Luke and put on a determined expression as she looked at Phin.

  "Right." Phin thumbed back his hat and grinned at her. "So if I happen to come across something of that Jane Austen woman you mentioned or a copy of the 'History of England,' I should just ignore it, right?"

  Nattie's eyes sparkled, bringing out the green flecks in her eyes and reminding Luke so much of Nora that it robbed her of breath for a moment. "Ah, well, I'll make an exception for Jane Austen or the 'History of England.'" Nattie looked from Phin to Luke. "But most of all, I want you to come back safely."

  "We will," Luke said even though they all knew she couldn't make any promises. With one arm still around Nattie and the other holding on to Nora's hand, she turned toward Amy, who waited silently. "Walk me to my horse?"

  Amy fell into step next to Luke, with Nattie and Nora following. Her older daughter was half a head shorter, but their steps matched in length and rhythm. How often had they walked like this, side by side, with her teaching or instructing Amy?

  "I should be back in two months, maybe a little more. I'll try to send wor
d from somewhere along the trail. You take good care of your mother and sister," Luke said. Nora didn't need someone taking care of her, but Amy would feel better about staying behind if she felt she was doing something important.

  Red locks bounced up and down when Amy nodded.

  "If it continues to rain like this, you'll have to rotate the horses off the east pasture." Luke's gaze swept over the paddocks and corrals and over the far hills. "And depending on how the hay crop is doing, you'll need to bring in the first cutting on your own. Don't wait until —"