Beyond the Trail. Six Short Stories Read online

  “Papa.” Nattie pointed to the tree. “That’s not how the Christmas trees look in the pictures.”

  “Ssssh.” Luke pressed a finger to her lips. “Phin didn’t know that. You don’t want to hurt his feelings by telling him he brought us the wrong tree, do you?”

  Black braids flew when Nattie shook her head. “It’ll be a secret,” she whispered. “Maybe next year, Amy and I can help him pick the right tree.”

  Next year. Luke paused but didn’t want to lie. Since she couldn’t tell their daughters the ultimate truth about herself, she’d sworn to at least be truthful about everything else. “Sweetie, Phin won’t be here next year.”

  “Why not?”

  “Nattie,” Nora called before Luke could answer. “Come help decorate the tree.”

  When Nattie hurried off, Luke blew out a breath. Saved again.

  Nora walked over and joined her, perching on the edge of Luke’s armchair.

  Luke slung one arm around Nora’s hip, holding her safely, and leaned her head against Nora’s.

  Together, they watched the girls hang apples and straw stars onto the oak branches. Phin picked up Nattie so that she could place a little doll on top of the tree. When he put Nattie back down, she threw her arms around his waist and hugged him.

  He stiffened and stared down at her as if her arms were poisonous snakes slithering up his body, but then he slowly reached out and put his hand on her shoulder.

  Nora chuckled. “He reminds me of you.”

  “Me?”

  “That’s exactly how you looked when Amy hugged you for the first time.” Nora’s grin disappeared, and she looked into Luke’s eyes. “He’s starved for love.”

  Luke closed her eyes. She knew what was coming.

  “Can’t we take him in and give him a home?”

  “Nora.” Luke opened her eyes. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Why not? Surely letting him stay with us would be better than letting him fend for himself.”

  The armchair creaked as Luke turned to face Nora. “It would be a big risk for me. One more person around who could find out who and what I really am.”

  “You took the same risk when you hired Toby and Hank,” Nora said. She rubbed Luke’s shoulder, tenderly massaging her tense muscles. “What’s this really about?”

  Luke squeezed the bridge of her nose while she tried to give voice to her feelings. “Toby and Hank are adults. Phin is still a boy.”

  “And?”

  “If we take him in, he might look to me as a father figure. A role model. I’m not sure I’m ready for that.”

  Nora slid closer, now almost sitting on Luke’s lap. She frowned down at Luke. “But you’re a wonderful father for Amy and Nattie. You don’t still doubt that, do you?”

  “No. But Amy and Nattie are girls. They’ll model themselves after you.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Nora laughed. “When I was ten, I didn’t wish for a horse for Christmas. Amy takes after you just as much as she takes after me.”

  A smile trembled on Luke’s lips. The thought was as scary as it was elating. “Yes, but still, the girls will learn what it means to be a woman from you.” She lowered her voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “How can I teach Phin how to be a man when I’m ...” Gesturing down her body, she fell silent.

  “How about teaching him how to be a decent human being first?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Tell me one thing a man could teach him that you can’t,” Nora said, her voice low, but firm.

  Luke’s thoughts skipped from idea to idea like a flat stone over the surface of a lake. Riding. Fighting. Gentling a horse. Building a cabin. Shaving. Protecting the weak. Treating women with respect.

  She’d done all of that many times.

  Surprised, she looked into Nora’s eyes. Could she really do this?

  “A boy could have a worse role model,” Nora said. “In fact, I suspect that his father beat him.”

  Luke’s stomach clenched at the thought.

  “Mama, Papa, look,” Amy shouted from across the parlor. “The tree is ready. Can we open our presents now?”

  There, next to Nora’s rolltop desk, stood the merriest oak Luke had ever seen. Its branches hung low with nuts, apples, cookies, straw stars, and colorful ribbons.

  “Sometimes,” Nora whispered, “an oak makes the best Christmas tree. And sometimes, a woman makes the best father figure.” She kissed Luke’s temple and walked across the room to help Nattie take her stocking down from the mantle.

  Stunned, Luke stayed behind.

  Phin wandered over to her, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I better go now. Thanks for the food.”

  A squeal from Amy distracted Luke. She looked across the room and saw Amy hold a new wooden horse in her hands. Amy ran her hands over its red-dusted coat.

  Luke grinned. Just wait until you find out we’re giving you a real-life horse for Christmas too.

  When Luke turned her head back around, the boy was gone.

  She jumped up from the armchair, crossed the room in three quick strides, and threw the door open. “Phin!”

  He turned on the top step of the veranda.

  Luke cleared her throat. “Why don’t you stay?”

  “Christmas is for families,” Phin said.

  “That’s why we want you to stay.”

  Now Phin turned fully and stared at her. “I told you I can take care of myself. I don’t need your pity.”

  Tread carefully. Don’t hurt his pride. “I’m not offering pity. I’m offering ...” She hesitated, and then her gaze fell on the bunkhouse. “I’m offering a job.”

  “A job?”

  “You any good with horses?”

  Phin shrugged.

  Luke decided to take it as a yes. “Good. Then you’re hired. If you want the job.”

  The wooden step creaked as Phin shifted his weight. He met Luke’s gaze, silently probing. Then he nodded. “I want it.”

  “Then come on.” Luke held open the door, and she could already feel Nora’s proud gaze rest on her. “I think there’s a stocking in the parlor with your name on it.”

  Phin stepped past her, this time not flinching away from her light touch to his shoulder.

  For a moment, Luke stayed behind, silently taking in her family gathered around the Christmas oak. Then she grinned and went inside to join them.

  ###

  Swept Away

  Hamilton Horse Ranch

  Baker Prairie, Oregon

  December 3rd, 1861

  The front door banged open.

  Amy nearly dropped the plates she was carrying to the table when Papa rushed inside.

  For once, he didn’t bother to take off his hat. Water dripped onto the wooden floor.

  “Papa!” Amy abandoned the plates. “What happened?”

  Mama hurried over from the stove and tried to help Papa out of his wet coat.

  “No.” Papa shook his head. “I’ll need to go out again in a minute. I just came in to tell you that I won’t be home for supper. The river is still rising, and this damn rain isn’t gonna stop anytime soon. I need to drive the yearlings to the south pasture, away from the river, or they might drown.”

  Amy ran to get her coat and hat. “I’ll help you.”

  Papa took the hat and coat from her and hung them back on the peg next to the door. “No. I’ll take Phin with me. You stay here.”

  “But—”

  “Your mother could use your help here,” Papa said.

  Amy stomped her foot. “Setting the table for supper?” She snorted. Rescuing the yearlings was much more important than household tasks. “Just because I’m a girl, I have to stay here and set the stupid table while Phin—”

  Papa stepped closer and lowered his head to stare directly into her eyes. “This has nothing to do with you being a girl. Phin’s an adult. You’re fourteen. That’s why he’s coming with me, and you’re staying here.”

  Amy’s shoulders slumped. />
  After patting Amy’s arm, Papa kissed Mama, and then he was gone.

  Great. Amy sank into Papa’s favorite armchair and leaned her head on her hands. Now the waiting began.

  * * *

  Hoofbeats drowned out the drumming of rain on the roof.

  Amy’s head jerked up. Is Papa back already? She rushed to the window, one of the few in the valley that had an actual glass pane.

  Clouds hung low, throwing shadows onto the ranch yard. Amy squinted to see through the rain-smeared glass. After a second, she made out the contours of a buckboard. “Mama,” she called. “Someone’s coming.”

  Her mother was already opening the door, a rifle in her hand.

  Amy followed quickly before Mama could tell her to stay back.

  In the ranch yard, Jacob Garfield handed his wife and daughter down from the buckboard. Bernice and Hannah lifted their skirts and waded through ankle-deep puddles.

  “Hannah!” Amy’s heart began to race. She ran to open the door.

  The Garfields rushed into the parlor.

  “I’m sorry to barge in on you like this,” Bernice said, “but—”

  Mama stopped her with a wave of her hand. “You know we don’t mind.”

  Amy surely didn’t. She hadn’t seen Hannah in weeks. Every time she had gone to town, Hannah had to help in her parents’ store or had been busy with other things. It seemed like forever since they had last gone riding together.

  Mama turned to Amy. “Amy, take Hannah up to your room and give her one of your dresses to change into. The poor girl is soaked to the bones.”

  She was. Her bodice clung to her ample chest. From beneath her sunbonnet, her dark hair hung down in sodden strands.

  “That would be wonderful,” Hannah said. She gave Amy a weak smile. “Days like this I reckon wearing pants like you do wouldn’t be so bad after all.”

  Amy reached for Hannah’s hand to lead her to her room. Hannah’s hand was cold, and Amy rubbed it between hers to warm it on the way upstairs. While they climbed the stairs, she strained to hear the conversation in the parlor, but she couldn’t make out more than a few words.

  Nattie peeked out of her room as they passed, an open book in her hands. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know yet,” Amy said.

  Nattie followed them to Amy’s room and sat on the bed.

  Ignoring her little sister, Amy poured water from a pitcher into the bowl on the washstand and placed a towel and a piece of soap next to it. “Here. I hope you like the soap.” Mama’s friend Tess had sent the perfumed soap from the East, and Amy had saved it for a special occasion.

  “Thank you. It smells nice.” Hannah draped her soaked shawl over a trunk at the foot of Amy’s bed and started to unbutton her bodice.

  Amy quickly turned away and busied herself with finding a dress Hannah could wear. Her cheeks burned, and she cursed herself. Hannah was her best friend, so why was she suddenly blushing around her? “What are you doing out in this weather?” she asked when she was sure her voice would sound normal.

  “We wanted to visit the Buchanans,” Hannah said. Fabric rustled. A light green skirt was placed next to the shawl on the trunk, then three petticoats followed.

  Still not looking at Hannah, Amy eyed the skirt and petticoats. Was Hannah wearing her Sunday best in the middle of the week? “In this rain?”

  “It’s been raining for the past two weeks. Mama didn’t want to put off the visit any longer.”

  “Then what brings you here?” The Buchanans’ farm didn’t border directly at the Hamilton outfit.

  Hannah put her damp stockings onto the trunk. “The roads are much worse than we thought. The buckboard almost got stuck twice in the mud.” She stepped closer to Amy. “Can you help me with the corset?”

  Heat rushed through Amy. She nodded, not trusting her voice, and slowly turned. So Hannah was really wearing her Sunday finery, including a corset. Willing her fingers not to tremble, Amy reached out to loosen the laces in the back of the corset. Her gaze followed the curve of Hannah’s shoulder blades. How pale and smooth Hannah’s skin was.

  “Amy?”

  “Uh, yes?” Amy wrenched her gaze away and quickly loosened the rest of the laces. “So you want to stay until the rain lets up?”

  “Oh, that would be nice,” Nattie said from the bed. “You could tell us all the news from town. Did your father get any new books in?”

  “I don’t know,” Hannah said and turned to face them, clutching the corset to her breasts. “I was busy with other things.”

  Was that a blush spreading over Hannah’s cheeks and extending down to her upper chest? Amy wasn’t sure. She didn’t dare look too closely for fear Hannah might think she was ogling her.

  “We probably won’t stay the night. Papa just wanted to ask your father for help.” Hannah took the skirt and blouse Amy held out to her and turned away. “Two of the bridges have been swept away, and Papa is afraid that the Buchanans might not be doing so good.”

  Amy looked out the window. The rain still hadn’t let up. Their pastures had turned into mud. The first cut of hay might be ruined for next year, but at least the Hamilton Ranch wasn’t in any immediate danger. Papa had built their main house and the outbuildings in a safe spot, on a hill, not too close to the river.

  Some of their neighbors hadn’t had the same foresight. The Buchanans had built their home on the banks of the Willamette River. While that provided them with easy access to a source of water, their location also put them at risk whenever the river was rising.

  “The Buchanans might be in trouble. Your father is right about that.” Amy chewed on her lip. She wished Papa were home to tell her what to do. “We’ve got to check on them.”

  “Amy,” Mama called from the parlor. “You make supper for Nattie and Hannah while I go with Bernice and Jacob to check on the Buchanans.”

  Amy gritted her teeth. Why did her parents always try to make her stay home? “Nattie can make supper,” she called back. She raced downstairs to send Mama her most pleading gaze. “I’ll come with you. I know every inch of land between here and the Buchanans’ farm.”

  Mama hesitated. She looked at Jacob, who shrugged.

  Hannah stepped next to Amy. “I’m coming with you too.”

  “Lord.” Jacob groaned. “What happened to the good old days when daughters were content to stay home and do whatever their parents told them to do?”

  Mama laughed. “It never worked like that in our family, Jacob.” She looked at Amy, then gazed out the window. “All right. We’ll all go. If the Buchanans are really in trouble, likely they could use every helping hand.”

  * * *

  The Garfields piled onto the buckboard, while Mama, Nattie, and Amy saddled horses for themselves.

  Normally, Amy preferred for Hannah to climb into the saddle behind her. Whenever Hannah slid her hands around her and held on to Amy’s waist, Amy felt like a knight in one of Nattie’s books. But now with the soaked ground, Cinnamon couldn’t carry the double weight.

  Amy squinted in the rain to make out mud holes.

  Cinnamon snorted.

  Amy patted his wet neck. “I don’t like this weather either, Cin.”

  The closer they came to the Buchanans’ land and the river, the worse it got. The fields ahead were flooded and the wheat, which should have been harvested soon, ruined. In some places, the fences were inundated to above the bottom rail.

  Cinnamon waded up a hill. At the crest, Amy reined in the gelding and stared ahead.

  In the distance, the Willamette River and its tributaries formed one big, mile-wide lake.

  “Oh, Lord,” Hannah said. “I hope Joshua’s all right. He can’t swim.”

  Amy pressed her lips together. She couldn’t swim either, and it hurt that Hannah was only thinking of him, not of her. Well, you’re not living right next to the river.

  Jacob urged the horse in front of the buckboard forward.

  Amy stayed to the side of the buckboard
so the mud flung up by the wagon wheels wouldn’t hit Cinnamon.

  A dead cow drifted in the knee-deep water to their right.

  Amy sent a glance skyward. Lord, please let Papa and the yearlings be all right.

  Keeping to the highest points that weren’t as flooded, they made their way upstream toward the Buchanans’ farm.

  Debris rushed down the roaring river. Two sheep were swept northward; then a pile of wood whirled by.

  Lights danced on the river and quickly came closer.

  Amy stared. Is that ...? She clutched the reins more tightly. “It’s the Buchanans’ house!”

  The raging flood had picked up the whole house. With the lights still burning, it floated down the river. As the house passed them, Amy saw a shadow move inside. “Someone’s still inside!” She urged Cinnamon into a faster gait, chasing after the house.

  Mama and Nattie quickly caught up with her. The buckboard rumbled through the mud behind them. Bernice repeated the Lord’s Prayer over and over.

  The water rose up Cinnamon’s legs, so Amy steered him farther away from the river but kept an eye on the floating house.

  The house crashed against the riverbank and shook as if it was about to burst.

  Amy held her breath.

  Bernice’s prayer grew louder, almost drowning out the roaring waters.

  Rain poured off Amy’s hat as she tilted her head and peered through the torrents. The house wasn’t dragged downstream any farther. “It’s lodged among the hazelnut bushes!”

  They left behind horses and wagon and dashed through the mud toward the house.

  The porch was pointing away from them, so there was no easy way inside.

  “I’ll climb inside,” Jacob shouted. “You women stay here.” He forced up the window and leaned on the sill to climb inside.

  The branches of the hazelnut bush creaked.

  “No,” Amy shouted. “You’re too heavy. If you climb inside, the house will be swept away. Let me go.”

  Jacob paused and stared at her. “But you’re just a girl.”