Hidden Trusts Page 8

  Nora tilted her head. "Yes, you do, Nattie. If I'm not back on time, I'll need you to prepare supper. I haven't seen Ruth and Emeline in ages, and if the pastor comes over to see the baby, I'm sure he'll keep me there all afternoon, trying to convince me to take over teaching school again."

  Teach school? Since when did married women teach school? Rika had gone to school for four years, and no female teacher ever stayed on after getting married. The West was truly a strange place.

  "You could teach if you wanted," Nattie said. Her eyes, which seemed to change color, were now a determined gray. "Amy and I have things at the ranch well in hand. I am not a child anymore, you know?"

  "We'll see," her mother said.

  * * *

  When Rika straightened, her knees groaned and pain exploded in her back. She dropped the brush into the bucket of water black with soot. Ashes and lye soap tickled her nose and made her sneeze.

  "One more bucket should do the trick." She used her elbow and hip to open the door, not wanting to get the soot from her hands all over the newly cleaned cabin. A soft drizzle still fell outside. Does it ever stop raining in Oregon? Still, after she had cleaned the cabin all morning, the cool rain felt refreshing. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she breathed in the clean air. She drew back her hands and flung the dirty water into the direction of the hazel bushes next to the cabin.

  "Hell and tarnation!"

  Rika's eyes popped open. Her hand flew to her chest, covering her pounding heart.

  Instead of seeping into the earth beneath the hazel bushes, the bucket's contents had hit one of the ranch hands.

  No. Rika shook her head. Not a ranch hand. The voice was that of a woman. That of —

  She gasped. Amy!

  Drops of black water stained Amy's collarless shirt and ran down strong legs improperly displayed by gray pants and worn leather chaps. The now clinging shirt left no doubt that Amy wasn't wearing a corset.

  When Amy swept off her hat to wipe her brow, a mass of red hair tumbled onto sturdy shoulders. Amy shook herself like a dog with fleas. "Being around you seems to be hard on my clothes, Miss Bruggeman. What did you throw at me — a pot of ink?"

  Had something like that happened at home, Rika's father would have flown into one of his rages, but Amy just grinned.

  "Just some dirty water. I'm cleaning the hearth." Her heartbeat calmed, but she couldn't stop staring at Amy's strange attire. Was this some Oregonian tradition she had never heard of? Did local women think it was perfectly normal to dress in male garb?

  "Amy? What about the east pasture? Should we —" Two of the ranch hands came around the corner and stopped when they saw Amy. "What happened to you?"

  "She did." Water dripped off Amy's finger when she pointed at Rika. "Apparently, Phin's future wife thought the rain wouldn't make me wet enough."

  "Maybe she thought you needed to be put in your place," the older of the two men mumbled. His gaze clung to Amy's chest the same way that her wet shirt did.

  Fire smoldered in Amy's eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest. "What did you just say, Adam?"

  Rika's heart jumped into her throat. While she found Amy's way of dressing curious too, she didn't want to cause any trouble for her.

  Amy stood in front of the man, her shoulders squared and her gaze fixed on him without flinching.

  For a moment, Rika was afraid the man would hit her, and she had a feeling that Amy wouldn't back down even then.

  "He said the place is probably a mess," the second man said and pointed at the cabin. "Come on, Adam. Let's get the horses off the east pasture."

  "No." Amy kept her gaze fixed on Adam. "I need you to fix the corral gate first. It's sagging, and if it continues to rain like this, the wood will swell and we won't be able to open the gate anymore."

  "That's darned stupid," Adam said. "While we're dilly-dallying with the damn gate, the horses will trample the grass on the east pasture. Your father would never give such foolish orders, but that's what you get for letting a woman —"

  "My father was the one who taught me how to run a ranch." Amy stepped closer to the ranch hand and skewered him with an angry glare. "And I never said we'd let the horses trample through the mud on the east pasture until the grass is ruined. I'll ride out and drive the herd farther up the hills."

  "On your own?" the friendlier man asked.

  Russet brows lowered like a thundercloud. "I'm perfectly capable of —"

  "I know, but it's a big herd, and two riders might be better."

  "I could help," Rika said. The hearth was cleaned; the door didn't creak anymore, and the first spring flowers adorned the table, hiding the burn marks. One quick sweep of the floor and Rika wouldn't have anything more to do in the cabin. She wasn't used to sitting around idly, and if she wanted to have a future on the Hamilton Ranch, she knew she'd have to get into Amy Hamilton's good graces.

  Three pairs of eyes studied her. The man named Adam snorted.

  "Have you ever been on a horse?" Amy asked.

  Rika's struggled not to fidget under Amy's skeptical gaze. "Oh, sure." She didn't mention that she had been a three-year-old being held in her mother's arms. After her mother's death, her father had ordered her to stay away from the family's only saddle horse, and the big draft horses that brought the flour from the mill to the bakery had scared her. But surely riding a horse couldn't be so hard. It had looked easy enough when she'd seen Amy on her horse earlier.

  "Women don't belong out on the range," Adam said. "If you want to make yourself useful, see if you can help out in the kitchen."

  The words were meant for Amy, showing her a woman's place, but they stung nonetheless. Not that Rika minded helping out in the kitchen. But Nora and Nattie had that area of the ranch firmly in hand and didn't need her help. Adam's harsh words only increased Rika's determination to try helping Amy with the herd.

  Amy whirled around to face Adam. "I don't remember my father leaving you in charge. It's not your place to tell Hendrika what she can and can't do." She turned toward Rika. "You want to help me with the herd? Then come on."

  Rika set down the empty bucket and hurried after Amy.

  When they entered the barn, muzzles popped up over the stall doors, and somewhere behind her, a heavy horse hoof crashed against a board. Rika jumped. She stayed close to Amy as they walked down the aisle between two rows of stalls.

  A white horse with brown spots craned its neck and blew air out of its nostrils. Farther down the aisle, a black horse with a white rump rasped its tongue over a block of salt.

  "Are they all...?" Rika peered into a few more stalls. "They all look like circus horses." As children, her brother and she had slipped under the tent canvas of a circus and had spent the happiest afternoon of her childhood watching the clowns and animals. The horses in the circus ring had been spotted like the Hamilton horses.

  "Circus horses?" Amy stared as if Rika had thrown a second bucket of water at her. She looked ready to leave Rika behind just for insulting her horses. "We're breeding Appaloosas, not circus horses."

  "I meant because of the spots. They are beautiful." Beautiful and intimidating, but Rika kept that to herself.

  A smile softened Amy's expression. "Yeah, they are." She stopped in front of a stall at the end of the barn. "I thought you could ride Cinnamon."

  Cinnamon? Rika chuckled to herself. And here I thought I was on a horse ranch, and not in my father's bakery.

  Amy opened the stall door, and Rika's grin faded. Was the horse really that large, or did it just appear that way because she knew she'd have to get up on it?

  She understood why they had named it Cinnamon, though. The horse's red coat was dusted with white hairs that looked like the mix of sugar and cinnamon on the rice pudding her mother had prepared for Rika. Around the cheeks, the forehead, and the legs, the coat was darker and looked like pure cinnamon. A large white blanket with acorn-sized dots covered the horse's rump.

  "She's beautiful," she said, knowing it would make Am
y smile.

  "He," Amy corrected. "Cinnamon is a gelding."

  "Sorry," Rika said to the horse and to Amy. "Then he is handsome." But is he also tame?

  The horse rubbed his muzzle on Amy's shoulder. At the moment, he looked rather friendly. "Cinnamon is real gentle." Amy scratched the high spot on the horse's back. "I've had him since he was a foal. He was the first horse I ever trained, and he's so gentle and calm that even the Garfield grandchildren learned how to ride on him. Come on over and say hello to the old boy."

  Keeping an eye on the horse, Rika stepped next to Amy.

  "Don't stare at him, or it'll make him feel threatened," Amy said.

  "Me make him feel threatened?" Rika turned toward Amy and stared at her. By shaking like a leaf maybe?

  "Yes," Amy said. "Horses may look big and tough, but they get scared easily."

  "Don't be scared," Rika murmured to the horse. "I'm not gonna hurt you." So please don't hurt me. She lifted her hand and looked at Amy for confirmation.

  Amy nodded. "Let him sniff you."

  Cinnamon's nose lowered. Warm air brushed against her palm and then the long hairs on the horse's muzzle tickled her wrist. A velvet nose touched her hand.

  Oh, he's so soft. Rika slid her hand up and stroked his neck, admiring the small brownish-red dots on the smooth coat.

  "There," Amy said. "Scratch him behind the withers. He likes that."

  When Rika hesitated, Amy took her hand and placed it on the ridge at the bottom of Cinnamon's neck. Her body leaned against Rika's so that they could both reach the horse, but then Amy retreated.

  Rika scratched with careful nails.

  "Look at him." Amy chuckled.

  Cinnamon wiggled his nose, clearly enjoying Rika's touch.

  Rika's fear of the big animal eased. "He's wonderful. I could do this all day."

  "Oh, Cinnamon would love that. But I have to move the herd on the east pasture." Amy glanced at the barn's entrance. "If you promise not to enter the stall on your own, you could stay and keep Cinnamon company."

  Not having to get on a horse was a nice thought, but if she backed out now, Rika had a feeling she would sit around for the next two months, waiting for her future husband to come home. "I'd rather come with you," she said.

  "Then let's get going." Amy swung the stall door open. "Go get your coat, and I'll saddle Ruby and Cin."

  Rika scrambled back when Amy put a halter on the horse and led him out of the stall. She hurried to the cabin and fetched her coat.

  When she returned, Amy had tied the horses to the corral rail. She turned and squinted at Rika. "If you're gonna stay in Oregon, you'll need a new coat."

  If I stay in Oregon? Does she think going back is an option? "What's wrong with my coat?" Rika trailed her fingers over the worn wool. The coat might not be the most elegant, but it had served her well on the journey west and it would do for at least another year. She had no money to spend on fancy clothes.

  "You need a canvas jacket like this." Amy tugged on her jacket, which reached to just below her hips. "It's coated with linseed oil, so it's waterproof. In your coat, you'll be drenched to the bone before we find the herd."

  "A little rain won't kill me," Rika said.

  Amy shrugged. "Suit yourself." She turned around and began to brush down the gelding.

  "I thought you were in a hurry to move those horses? And now you're cleaning him?"

  Never stopping her rhythmic brush strokes, Amy glanced at her. "It's clearly been a while since you've been around horses. This is not because I'm vain and want him to look good when we ride out. If there's a stalk of straw or a clump of dirt caught in his coat, the saddle will rub him raw." She put the brush away and lifted Cinnamon's foot.

  The gelding didn't struggle. His hoof rested trustingly across Amy's knees while she scraped dirt out of it.

  Rika had never seen a woman do that, but Amy moved as if she cleaned hooves every day of her life. She placed a blanket and the saddle on Cinnamon's back and then tightened a leather strap in a complicated pattern of knots and metal rings.

  Before Rika got used to the thought of climbing into the saddle, Amy was back with a second horse and brushed it down too. The brush slid along the fiery red coat along the horse's forequarters, then smoothed over the white rump with its red dots and finally trailed along the white-socked legs.

  The red horse flattened its ears and flicked its tail at Cinnamon, and Rika moved one step back.

  "Behave, Ruby, and show our guest that you can be a lady." Amy tapped the horse on the rump.

  Guest, Rika repeated. There she goes again. She was here to stay, but apparently, Amy had other ideas. If she wanted a life in Oregon, she needed to impress Amy. She was running the ranch right now, as unusual as that was, and that meant she was not just Phineas's friend, but also his employer.

  "All right. Let's get going." Amy handed her the reins.

  "Um..." Rika looked from Amy to the horse. "It's been a while since I've been on a horse. Can you give me a quick reminder?"

  "Oh, for heaven's sake. Come over here, to his left side." Amy took back the reins, and Cinnamon stood still like a statue. "Put your left foot into the stirrup."

  Rika rustled her skirt. "Um. How do I...?"

  "Oh. I could lend you a pair of my pants. They're really the best thing for riding."

  Pants were beginning to look almost right on Amy, but for herself? Rika shook her head. "I'll just bunch up my skirt." No men were around to watch her anyway since the ranch hands had ridden off to tend to their own tasks.

  Rika bundled up her skirt and tucked the hem into the straps of her apron so that it would stay out of the way.

  "Sorry," Amy said, staring off into the distance. Her face glowed with a slight blush. "I should have at least put a sidesaddle on him, but we don't use them for ranch work and I thought my old saddle would make you feel more secure."

  It seemed Amy felt accountable for everything and everyone on the ranch, including Rika. No one had ever taken responsibility for Rika, and she wasn't sure whether she liked it. Maybe you should have thought about that before you came to Oregon. Very soon, your husband is going to be responsible for you. She shoved the thought away. "It's all right," she said. She eyed Cinnamon. His back seemed so far away.

  Again, Amy checked the fit of the leather strap around Cinnamon's belly. She turned the stirrup and held it in place. "Put your foot in the stirrup."

  Lifting her foot up so high was harder than expected. Rika grabbed the saddle horn to keep her balance.

  "No," Amy said. "I don't know what they've been teaching you in Boston, but here, we don't pull ourselves up by the saddle horn. Grab a bit of mane and rest your hand on his neck. The other hand goes on the cantle." Amy slapped the back of the saddle.

  "Grab his mane? But won't that hurt him?"

  "No. You're just holding on, not pulling on the mane. It'll hurt him if you pull on the saddle horn and slide the saddle out of position."

  Rika placed her hand on the warm neck and weaved her fingers through the reddish-brown mane.

  "All right. Now bounce on your foot, then push off until you stand in the stirrup. Then swing your right leg over the cantle."

  Rika glanced from the gelding's neck to the different parts of the saddle, trying to figure out the sequence of movements.

  "Don't worry," Amy said. "Cinnamon is very well-trained. He won't move an inch."

  Rika's heart fluttered, and with one deep breath, she pushed off the ground. All went well until she swung her right leg over the saddle and bumped Cinnamon's rump. Rika landed in the saddle and grabbed the saddle horn, afraid that the bump would make the horse spook and run.

  "Relax," Amy murmured next to her. "Cinnamon is a good horse. We trained him to stand still, no matter what. A little bump won't make him run for the hills with you. Trust him to keep you safe."

  Easier said than done.

  Squinting, Amy regarded her. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay here?"
<
br />   Rika set her jaw. I can do this. I already made it up into the saddle. "I'm sure. I'll come with you."

  "Here." Amy handed her the reins. A warm hand closed over Rika's cold fingers, correcting the position of her thumb. Then Amy reached down to adjust the stirrup. Rika felt her touch against her leg before Amy backed away with a mumbled apology.

  Cinnamon shifted his weight under her, and Rika again grabbed the saddle horn.

  "Don't stiffen up. Sit up straight, but relax and enjoy the ride. Ruby is the boss in the herd." Amy reached over and patted her own horse. "Cinnamon will just follow her without you having to do much. We won't go faster than a walk until you get used to being on a horse again."