Hidden Truths (6 page)

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 word 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 —"

"— it's in full bloom, I know." Amy quirked a
grin.

"Don't be such a mother hen." Nora caught up with
them and kissed Luke's cheek. "Amy knows what she's doing."

She did.

Pride flowed through Luke, and she smiled. Still, she
couldn't stop worrying. Amy was a top hand with the horses, but she'd never had
to run the ranch on her own without Luke there to give advice.

Seems it's gonna be a time of new challenges for all of
us.

Luke turned to Phin. "Ready?"

"Ready, boss."

One last kiss for Nora and hugs for the girls, then Luke
swung into the saddle. "Then let's go."

*  *  *

Darned thing!
The ribbon of Amy's sunbonnet just
wouldn't give. She fumbled one-handedly while her right hand held the wagon's
reins. When the knot didn't come undone, she clamped her teeth around the reins
and, using two hands, finally freed herself of the bonnet.

Not that Old Jack needed her to hold on to the reins. The
gelding had pulled the buckboard to town so often that he probably knew the way
better than she did.

She lifted her face and let the light, steady drizzle
refresh her.

"Whoa." A soft tug on the reins brought the
buckboard to a halt on the edge of a rocky ridge overlooking Baker Prairie. Below
her, the Molalla River, a frothing mountain stream, joined the broad,
glittering band of the Willamette River on its journey north.

She sat up taller as she glanced back at gentle hills, lush
grass, and groves of Douglas firs. The roots binding her to this land were as
deep as those of the ancient firs.

Above her, a flock of Canada geese formed a large V and a
red-tailed hawk glided through the air. Amy watched as he rose and fell with
the currents, drifting wherever he wanted, completely free.

She wished she could be like that, riding freely instead of
having to spend the afternoon in town. But Phin's bride was bound to have some
baggage with her, so riding Ruby to town was out of the question.

With a sigh, she placed the sunbonnet back on her head. The
ribbon tightened beneath her chin, and Amy swallowed. Then she smacked herself
in the thigh and clucked at Old Jack. "Hyah!"

*  *  *

When Amy slung the reins over the hitching rail, the door to
the dry-goods store swung open. Hannah and her husband stepped out.

Joshua doffed his hat and mumbled a greeting and then
escaped to their buckboard with their little boy, leaving the women to talk.

Amy smoothed her hands over the unfamiliar contours of her
skirt and tried a smile. "Hello, Hannah."

"Amy." A smile dimpled Hannah's chubby cheeks.
"How have you been? I never get to see you anymore."

"We had a lot of work out on the ranch, trying to get a
herd together so Papa can drive them to Fort Boise."

"Fort Boise?" Hannah's brow furrowed. "Josh
says there have been massacres up there."

"I heard."

The mines in the Boise Basin lured more settlers to the
area, and sporadic raids by small bands of Indians started. The cavalry
promptly retaliated. Papa said the Snake War was a conflict between people who
both saw the other as a threat to their homes and their way of life.

"My father took Phin and two of our best hands, just in
case. I'm sure they'll be fine," Amy said, willing it to be so.

"How are your parents doing?"

Amy stiffened. Most people asked about her parents just so
they could gossip about them afterward.
Not Hannah
. Hannah never
criticized Mama for teaching school even though she was a married woman or Papa
for letting Amy ride around in pants. When other girls whispered and laughed at
Amy, Hannah never joined in.

"They're fine," Amy said.

"Listen, we want to build a new barn before we bring in
the first crop of hay this year." Hannah looked at her husband. "You
think your papa could help Josh lay the foundation when he's back from Fort
Boise?"

Amy nodded. Papa never said no when a neighbor needed help.
"I'll let him know. If he's not back in time, the rest of the family will
be over to help."

"Thank you." Hannah gave her a soft squeeze.

Amy glanced at the hand on her arm. Her skin tingled where
Hannah touched her, and Amy clamped her teeth together. "I better
go." She pointed at the dry-goods store. "Mama gave me a list as long
as my arm."

"Come over and visit soon," Hannah said. "We
used to spend so much time together, and now I never see you anymore."

With a noncommittal nod, Amy hurried away.

The bell over the door jingled as Amy entered. Familiar
smells of licorice, leather, and vinegar tickled her nose.

"Amy Hamilton! Come over here and let me look at
you!" Jacob Garfield said from behind the long counter. "Haven't seen
you in some time. How are you doing?"

"Keeping busy," Amy said.

Jacob pointed at the door. "You just missed Hannah. My
daughter says she hasn't seen you in a while either. I remember a time when you
two were joined at the hip." He chuckled.

Amy fixed her gaze on racks of sewing thread and embroidery
floss in front of her. "Things change when you grow up," she said.
"But I promised to help Hannah and Josh with their barn." Before
Jacob could ask more questions, she handed her list over the counter.

Jacob turned and measured out a pound of salt. "You
wanna take a look at the dresses while you wait? I hear there's gonna be a
wedding at the Hamilton outfit soon."

Word traveled fast in a small town like Baker Prairie.

With little interest, Amy's gaze slid over new skirts and
dresses, ribbons, and bolts of fabric laid out on a long table to catch the
ladies' attention. "No, thank you." A new dress worn only to church
was a waste of hard-earned money. Her Sunday dress would do for the wedding.

Jacob heaved a sack of flour onto the counter and piled the
rest of Amy's order on top. Finally, he opened a big glass jar and scooped
lemon drops into a small paper bag. He'd done that since Amy had been a little
girl, coming into the store with her parents, and she always shared her bounty
with Papa.

But now he was gone, and the lemon drops and the
responsibility for the ranch were hers.

When Amy reached for the sack of flour to heave it onto her
shoulder, Jacob stared at her with wide eyes. "Oh, no, leave that here.
I'll have Wayne bring it out to your buckboard."

Amy bit the inside of her cheek. Was he trying to be a
gentleman, or did he think the Hamiltons were uncivilized, just because her
papa never told her she couldn't carry a sack of flour? Amy liked the freedom
he gave her, but visits to town made her painfully aware how different she was
from other young women.

A few minutes later, she said good-bye to Jacob and left the
dry-goods store.

Rain still fell steadily, but Amy ignored it. Across the
street, two young men left the saddle maker's shop and glanced at her. One of
them said something, and the other laughed and looked at Amy again.

Amy swished her skirts and marched away. She gazed at the
stage depot, but the street was still empty. The stage hadn't arrived yet, so
Amy was stuck in town.

She shuffled her feet and glanced down.
Damn!
Mud
crusted her lace-up boots. Knocking her heels together didn't help. Instead of
dislodging mud and manure, she sent spatters all over her skirt.

Every minute that she waited made her more aware of her not
very ladylike appearance. She glanced at the sun, half-hidden behind a pile of
gray clouds. The stage was late. When working with horses, Amy had her father's
patience, but she would rather wait for a horse to trust her than for some
woman who married herself off to a stranger.

Grumbling, she popped a lemon drop into her mouth. The sweet
sourness prickled along her tongue. Had Mama remembered to hide some candy as a
surprise for Papa in his saddlebags? Then, with a grunt, she spat out the
candy. The stagecoach would arrive any moment, and it wouldn't do to greet
Phin's betrothed with a bulging cheek.

A high-pitched squeal drew her attention toward the livery
stable's corral. On their ranch, Amy had never heard a horse make a sound like
that.

Her feet moved toward the corral before she could stop to
think.

The two men from the saddle maker's shop blocked her view,
and Amy shouldered past them. The urge to help the horse propelled her forward.

Half a dozen men drove a trembling grulla — a gray horse
with a black stripe on her back — into one corner of the corral. Ropes flew at
the horse from all directions.

The mare threw her head back, her eyes white-rimmed with
fear. She pranced to the right, and when another man cut her off, she tried to
escape to the left.

A loop snaked around one of her legs, and another rope fell
down around her neck, choking her. With one quick pull, the horse crashed into
the mud.

Men jumped on her and held her down.

The mare squealed and kicked.

One man rammed both knees into her side to keep her from
moving while another bit down on the horse's ear.

Amy's fingers clamped around the corral rail.
No, no, no,
she wanted to shout. Didn't they understand that the mare was fighting for
her life? For the mare, this was a vicious attack by a pack of predators. How
could they expect cooperation?

Two of the men blindfolded the mare with a cloth while
others wrestled a saddle on her and thrust a bit into her mouth. Then a young
man climbed into the saddle. With a big "whoop" of excitement, as if
it was all great fun, they snatched the blindfold away and sprang back from the
horse.

The mare leaped and bucked, reared and twisted, kicked and
arched her back. Her front legs slashed through the air, and for a moment, Amy
feared she would flip over backward. But her hooves came down. The mare ducked
her head and kicked out her hind legs.

The broncobuster catapulted over her head and splashed into
the mud.

Part of Amy wanted to rejoice, but she knew this was far
from over. If no one else had the courage to climb on the horse, they would
hobble the mare to the snubbing post in the middle of the corral, where she
might break her leg or choke to death by getting tangled in the rope. They
would leave her standing there on three legs, without water or food. Then,
hours later, they would untie her and another man would climb on and buck her
out until the horse had no fight left in her.