by Jae
Nora continued as if he hadn't interrupted. "If you win, I'll talk to your father and tell him that I taught you all I can. Then you can spend your mornings fishing with your cousin."
Interest sparked in Hiram's eyes when he turned his head, but he quickly hid it. "Win at what?"
"Oh, I thought we could arm wrestle." Nora gave him her sweetest smile.
Silence filled the schoolroom.
Then laughter exploded from Hiram. "Arm wrestle?" He slapped his thighs. "With you?"
"I considered a spelling bee, but then I thought I should give you at least a hint of a chance to win."
"Are you crazy?" He rolled up his sleeve and flexed impressive muscles. "How could a little woman like you beat that?"
Nora gestured to a bench at the other side of her desk. "Sit down and find out." Nervousness knotted her insides, but she was careful not to show it. Appearing confident and throwing him off balance was part of the strategy. "Or are you afraid? If I win, I promise not to tell anyone what our deal was about." The school board wouldn't like that kind of teaching method anyway — at least not from a woman.
With a snort, Hiram plopped down on the bench.
Nora put her elbow on the table and gripped his hand.
The difference in their arm size made Hiram laugh, but Nora remained focused. She pressed her feet against the floor to support her upper body and leaned forward. "Ready?" she asked.
Hiram still chuckled, but he nodded.
"Go!"
Immediately, Hiram tried to push her arm down.
Nora didn't push. She locked the muscles in her belly, shoulder, and arm and focused on keeping her arm upright. She used her entire body, not just her arm, to resist his pressure.
Hiram's face turned red, and Nora wasn't sure whether it was from the exertion or from anger when her arm wouldn't budge. He let out a grunt and doubled his efforts.
The muscles in Nora's shoulder and arm screamed at her, but she held on, not trying to push him down. Her fingertips put pressure on the nerve between his thumb and index finger.
Another grunt was wrenched from Hiram's lips. His grip weakened for a moment.
Nora pulled her elbow slightly toward herself and rotated her arm. Her fingers dug into the soft spot on Hiram's hand again, and in one swift move, she forced his arm part of the way down.
"What the hell?" Hiram shouted. His gaze darted up as if to make sure it was still a slender schoolteacher sitting across from him, not a muscle-bound giant.
With her feet pressed against the desk leg, Nora shifted her hand and used his distraction to push his hand all the way down.
"Hell and tarnation!" Hiram let go of her hand as if it were on fire. He rubbed his fingers and stared at her.
Nora's insides quivered with joy, but she forced herself not to let her triumph show. An adolescent boy like Hiram would be a sore loser if she hurt his pride.
"How did you do that?" Hiram asked, still staring.
"There's a trick," Nora said. The same trick enabled Luke to beat some of the much stronger ranch hands and prove her "manliness." "And if you want, I can teach you."
Eagerness glimmered in Hiram's eyes. He was probably already imagining becoming an unbeatable hero and the envy of the other boys.
"Next year," Nora said. "When you have mastered everything else I have to teach you."
The light in Hiram's eyes dimmed.
"Deal?" Nora asked and held out her hand. Her fingers trembled with exertion, but she hoped he wouldn't notice.
Hiram hesitated. Finally, he wrapped his fingers around hers. "Deal."
When Nora stood, her knees felt weak. She knew by tonight, her muscles would be stiff and hurting and she would long for one of Luke's massages. "All right. Then I'll see you tomorrow morning. And bring your cousin." She ambled out of the schoolhouse, her skirt swishing, before he could answer.
Hamilton Horse Ranch
Baker Prairie, Oregon
May 6, 1868
"WANNA TRY BRANDING one?" Nattie asked.
The blood drained from Rika's face. She retreated until her back pressed against the corral rails. "Oh, no. I couldn't."
"Sure you can. Come on. Amy can show you. She has taught me too." Nattie dragged her to the fire as if Rika were a lassoed foal. "Amy, can you catch one for Hendrika? I need to go help Toby with the colts in the other corral."
Before Rika could protest, Nattie walked away and Amy shook out a loop in her rope.
"Come on over here," Amy said. "Don't be afraid. It's easy to learn, really."
After a second's hesitation, Rika stepped over to Amy.
A mare rushed from one end of the corral to the other, her foal sprinting after her.
Amy's loop flew through the air and jerked the foal off its feet. Two of the men who stood next to the fire ran to hold it down.
"Here." Amy took a branding iron out of the fire and handed it to Rika.
Rika stared at the foal's spotted hip. She couldn't imagine pressing the red-hot iron against the foal's vulnerable side. If it felt anything like burning her hand in the stable, she didn't want to cause the little horse the same pain. "No." Rika hid her hands behind her back. "I don't want to hurt it."
Amy tipped back her hat, allowing Rika to see the soft glow in her eyes. "It's not too bad. And if we don't brand her, anyone can take the filly from us and claim to own her."
That wasn't what Rika wanted. Over two weeks on the ranch had shown her that the Hamiltons were good people who treated their horses well. Branding the horses seemed a necessary evil, and if she wanted to become Phineas's wife, she needed to get used to it. "All right," she said, hiding the tremor in her voice. "Can you show me?"
"Come over here." Amy walked to where the two ranch hands were holding down the filly. It struggled but couldn't break free. "Grip the branding iron here. Be careful not to burn yourself."
"Yeah." Emmett, one of the ranch hands, laughed. "Phin wouldn't be happy to find the Shamrock brand on his betrothed."
Carefully, Rika wrapped her hands around the branding iron and stepped up to the struggling foal.
"Press it against her hip right here." Amy stroked a spot on the filly's hip.
Rika clamped trembling hands around the branding iron. She wanted to tell Amy she couldn't do it, but by now, all the ranch hands were watching. She had something to prove — not just about herself, but also about a woman's place on the ranch. Maybe that was why Amy was so strict with her and seemed ambivalent about her presence on the ranch. Every mistake a woman made told her ranch hands that Amy might not be a good boss.
She swallowed and touched the branding iron against the filly's hip.
"Harder." Amy put her hands over Rika's. "Press down harder."
With Amy's strong presence against her back, Rika let her hands be guided down with more force, pressing the branding iron against the filly.
The smell of burning hair drifted up, and the filly's scared whinny made Rika's stomach roil. She tried to focus on something else.
Behind her, in another corral, colts squealed as they were gelded, and mares pranced around, calling for their foals. Men shouted over the din while they drove more horses into the corral.
In the middle of all this chaos, Amy's orders were calm and her hands steady as she guided Rika. "Now step back."
When the two men who held down the filly let go, it jumped up and ran to its mother, who sniffed her daughter's hip.
"See," Amy said. "It's not so bad. It only hurts them for a moment, and then it's over."
"Amy?" Hank shouted from the other corral. "I think we got one of the neighbor's horses mixed in with our herd."
A quick glance to Rika, then Amy strode away to take care of the problem.
Rika watched her go. Two weeks before, she had thought it strange that the Hamiltons let their daughter do a man's work. But Amy seemed at home in the corral as if running the ranch was what she'd been born to do. Amy inspected the neighbor's horse, helped clean the incision of a
newly gelded colt, and wielded a branding iron with the same ease with which Rika had tended her looms.
But there was one big difference. Amy loved working with horses while Rika's work in the cotton mill seemed more meaningless and dreary to her with every day she spent out west.
"Miss Bruggeman?" Emmett called. "Wanna brand another one?"
Rika swallowed, then squared her shoulders. "Sure."
* * *
Hank shoved his hat back with his thumb and squinted at something in the other corral.
Amy got up from her place kneeling next to a yearling they were about to geld. Was something wrong in the other corral? She craned her neck to see over Hank's shoulder.
The branding went well, with no problem Amy could detect. Most mares already stood laving their foals' hips with a soothing tongue. At one end of the corral, Kit and Emmett flanked Hendrika and nearly fell over themselves to be the one to give her branding advice.
"They're fawnin' over her instead of doing their jobs," Hank said, still frowning. "Womenfolk hanging around the branding crew is a damn distraction, isn't it?"
Amusement curled Amy's lips. "Terribly distracting," she said.
Hank looked up and blinked as if he only now remembered that she was a woman too. "I didn't mean..."
"I know what you meant." And he was right. Hendrika's presence was a distraction. Two days before, discovering that Hendrika was watching had nearly gotten her bitten when she forgot to let go of Mouse's foot.
"But she ain't doing half bad for a city girl from back East," Hank said, his expression softening.
That much was true. Despite the fear Amy sometimes saw in her eyes, Hendrika did everything asked of her and took on extra chores without being asked. She was no stranger to hard work.
Loud cursing interrupted Amy's thoughts.
John stumbled past them, gripping his hand. Blood spilled forth between his fingers.
"John!" Amy rushed to him. "What happened?"
"I cut myself instead of the colt's —" He interrupted himself.
Amy rolled her eyes. She was familiar with every part of a horse's anatomy. "Let me see." She reached for his bleeding hand.
"Don't bother," John said. "I'll go and have Miss Hendrika take a look. She was a nurse during the War, and she took real good care of your mama too." He walked away before Amy could answer.
"Miss Hendrika, huh?" Maybe Hendrika fit in a little too well. By the time Phin came home, he might have to fight the other ranch hands for the honor of marrying her. Sighing, Amy knelt down. "Come on, Hank," she said. "Give me a hand, or this colt will never be gelded."
* * *
Rika's lids felt as heavy as her arms, and she struggled to keep them open. She was used to long days and hard work, but helping with the branding had left her exhausted. She stared at the cat on her lap with tired eyes. "You truly are one lucky cat, Othello." She scratched behind one black ear. "How come he's allowed in the house instead of being sent to the barn for mousing duty?"
Groaning, Nattie took a seat next to Rika on the divan and stretched out her feet. "He was trampled by a spooked horse when he was just a kitten. Everyone said Papa should just put Othello out of his misery, but I convinced him to let me try and nurse Othello back to health."
Rika wished she'd had a father like that. She hoped Phineas would be like Mr. Hamilton, who had apparently been like a father for him.
With another groan, Nattie prepared to get up. "I better go and relieve Amy so she can get something to eat."
"Where is Amy?" She hadn't been at supper, and Rika had assumed she was checking on the colts they had gelded today.
"She's staying with Dotty because she thinks the mare's about to foal."
"Oh." A hot rush of excitement swirled through Rika at the thought of witnessing a foal's birth and sharing the experience with Amy. "Want me to go? I can watch the mare until Amy has eaten."
Nattie's eyes shone. "That would be great. I can go and stay with Nugget, then. She might be close to foaling too. We're keeping her at the other end of the barn so that each of the mares gets some peace and quiet. If you are sure..."
Rika lifted the cat and set him on the divan. "I don't mind. I wanted to say goodnight to Cinnamon anyway."
"Oh, dear." Nattie laughed. "I think you caught the horse fever."
The thought made Rika smile. She nodded. "I think the pot is calling the kettle black."
Nattie laughed. "I'm a Hamilton. It's in my blood."
It might not be in Rika's blood, but she had grown fond of Cinnamon and the other horses. She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and crossed the ranch yard. Her tired legs protested, but the thought of seeing a foal being born urged her on. A soft voice showed her the way to the last stall in the stable.
"You just wait and see, Dotty," Amy said inside the stall. "Before the week is over, you're gonna have the prettiest foal anyone has ever seen. Oh, yes, the absolutely prettiest, just like its mother."
Rika pressed her fingers against her lips to stop her laughter. The tough Amy Hamilton, whispering sweet nothings to a pregnant mare. She cleared her throat and peeked over the stall door.
Amy pretended to be checking the water in the mare's trough.
A chuckle escaped Rika.
"What?" Amy asked.
"Nothing."
Dotty stretched her neck over the stall door to check out the visitor, and Rika let her sniff her hand before she stroked the velvet nose.
"I see you're not afraid of horses anymore," Amy said.
"A few of them still scare me, but by now, I've learned which horses are real gentle and friendly, and I'm staying away from the rest."
Amy's fingers combed through Dotty's dark mane. "All our horses are gentle and friendly."
True. Compared to some of the horses she had seen in Boston, the Hamilton horses were well-behaved. But still, some were gentler than others. "Your mare is a little..." She hesitated.
"Yes?" Amy drawled.
Rika ducked her head. "She's a tiny bit... bossy."
"You're calling my horse bossy?"
"Not in a bad way," Rika rushed to say. "I mean, she needs to be, right? She's the lead mare, after all."
Amy laughed. "I'm just pulling your leg. Ruby is pretty bossy, yes. But she's also very loyal once you show her who's the boss."
The gentle teasing on the Hamilton ranch still took some getting used to, but Rika was beginning to enjoy it.
"Supper over already?" Amy asked when silence spread between them.
"Yes. If you want to go and eat, I could watch Dotty until you get back."
Amy shook her head. "That's all right. Hank will relieve me at midnight, and I'll eat something..." A big yawn interrupted her. "...then."
"You must be tired." When Rika had gotten up at sunrise, Amy had already been preparing things in the corral. She worked harder than any of the ranch hands, constantly proving that she could rope a horse, handle a branding iron, and hold down a yearling at least as good as any of them. Now the ranch hands had gone to bed, but Amy was still up, taking care of the horses.
"No. I'm not tired." Amy's nostrils quivered as she suppressed another yawn.
"Liar," Rika said. Her hand flew to her mouth. Her father would have rewarded such frankness with a slap to her face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that, but... you do look pretty tired."
In the light of the kerosene lantern, Amy's face seemed pale. "A little."
"Why don't you go eat something and then lie down for an hour or two?" Rika said. "I'll stay with Dotty."
Amy's eyebrows formed a skeptical arch. "Have you ever helped with foaling?"
"No." The thought of being alone with the mare during labor set Rika's heart racing. She had helped her stepmother when her two youngest half siblings were born, but holding her hand and offering a cool rag wouldn't help the mare. "I wouldn't try to help her on my own. At the first sign of the foal coming, I'd hurry to the house and wake you." She had learned her lesson after the in
cident with the oats.
Amy rubbed her eyes. "All right." She shook her index finger at Rika. "But you need to be quick about it. Mares aren't in labor for twenty hours. Once it starts, things go quickly."
"What do I need to watch for?"
"When Dotty becomes restless, paces around, or lies down and gets up again, you need to get me immediately. Think you can do that?" Amy asked. Her tired eyes probed into Rika's.
