by Jae
"I share everything with Frankie — my life, my dreams, and yes, my bed." Tess's gaze was calm. She nudged Nora. "Don't look so baffled. It's hard enough for an old madam like me to find love. I wasn't about to let this chance at happiness pass me by, just because most people think it's unnatural." Tess rolled her eyes. "I've done a lot of things in my life that felt unnatural, but loving Frankie isn't one of them."
Nora felt the same way about Luke, but still, she never thought other women would want to share their lives with a woman rather than a man — and certainly not Tess. "Have you ever... I mean, I know you've been with Luke, but other than her, did you ever...?"
"Once or twice," Tess said, still as open as ever.
"And?"
"I liked it." Tess shrugged. "I liked being with some of the men in my life too. But I love Frankie. Just Frankie." The blue eyes held an expression more loving than any Nora had ever seen on her friend.
They sat in silence, their hands clutched together.
"It feels good to finally say it out loud," Tess said.
"You haven't told Frankie?"
"Oh, she knows." A wicked grin spread across Tess's lips. "Believe me, she knows. But everyone else thinks we're cousins."
Sometimes, the lies Luke and she had built around their lives, around their pasts, felt like a prison, but at least they didn't have to hide their love. Were the lies really a prison if they allowed them to love each other and build a life together?
She and Luke could share a bed without having to tell people they were cousins. On Sundays, Luke could hand her down from the wagon and lead her up the church steps without anyone whispering about it behind their backs. And when Luke kissed her good-bye, she didn't have to pretend that her heart wasn't aching.
Gently, she squeezed Tess's hand. "I'm glad you have her in your life even if it isn't always easy."
The door swung open before Tess could answer. Nattie entered, excitedly chatting with Rika.
Nora groaned. "Ready for more questions?"
"I don't mind. Nattie is a wonderful young woman, curious for all life has to offer. She's exactly like you would have been if your father hadn't been such a cold-hearted bastard."
The truth of her words still cut deeply after all those years.
Tess patted her hands and stood. "We'll talk later."
Hamilton Horse Ranch
Baker Prairie, Oregon
May 21, 1868
RIKA SLOWLY CLIMBED the stairs, savoring the few seconds alone. Tess and Frankie's arrival unsettled her, and she tried to figure out what it was that made her nervous.
At first, she thought it was Frankie's unusual appearance. Even in Boston, the "cradle of liberty" according to Mrs. Gillespie's magazines, Rika had never seen anyone like this woman.
That's not true.
For a moment, she was transported back to the time she'd worked as a nurse in a Union hospital. A young, pale soldier had been rushed into the tent, his foot shattered by a minié ball. Rika's stomach churned when she remembered helping to hold down the soldier while the surgeon cut off the mangled foot. After a day, gangrene set in. Rika would never forget the stench of the rotting flesh.
At death's door, the soldier confessed her true identity to Rika. She was a woman who had donned men's garb and joined the Union army to stay with her betrothed.
But Frankie wasn't like that. She didn't hide her gender; she was simply a woman who dressed in men's apparel and didn't care what other people thought.
Weeks ago, Rika might have been appalled, but after getting to know Amy, she no longer thought wearing pants was improper.
Maybe it was her guilty conscience that unsettled her. Frankie was a marshal after all, and Rika had broken the law by traveling west with tickets that didn't belong to her. Soon, she would trick Phineas into marrying her.
Don't make yourself crazy with thoughts like that. This is your life now, the only life you have. If she was careful, no one would ever find out.
Instead of worrying about Frankie and Tess, you should try to figure out why Amy is so adamant about not sharing a room. Sometimes, Amy seemed so friendly and nice, but the next moment, she was distant again. In the five weeks since she had arrived at the ranch, they had made it through a few dangerous situations and had experienced Lucky's birth together. Sometimes, she felt close to Amy, but then Amy pushed her away for no reason Rika could understand.
It scared her. She needed Amy's acceptance because she was Phineas's boss and friend.
But if she was honest with herself, she had to admit that it was no longer the only reason she sought Amy's company. She realized she spent time with Amy because she liked it. Liked Amy.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she knocked on the door and waited.
All she heard was a grunt. "Amy?" she called through the closed door. "Everything all right?"
"Yeah," Amy answered, sounding out of breath. "Just give me a minute."
Rika waited.
Clothes rustled, and she heard Amy curse.
Finally, Amy opened the door and let her in.
Rika entered and set down her carpetbag. When she looked at Amy, Rika startled.
Sweat gleamed on Amy's brow. Her red locks were tussled and her shirt half unbuttoned. The light golden tan she'd acquired during the past weeks was gone, hidden by her flushed cheeks and the paleness lurking underneath.
"Amy! You look flushed. Are you running a fever?" She clutched Amy's sleeve. Memories returned of how Jo had suffered and died. The thought of losing Amy the same way pressed the air from her lungs.
She lifted a hand to touch Amy's forehead, but Amy backed away and collided with the washstand. The pitcher started to topple over. Instead of catching it, Amy clutched her side.
"No!" Rika jumped forward and caught the pitcher before it fell. With the pitcher in both hands, she froze. Her left side was pressed against Amy, and she inhaled the soothing smell of horse and leather. Heat wafted over from Amy and engulfed Rika. Her own cheeks felt flushed too. Whatever sickness she has, it might be contagious. "You all right?" she murmured and set down the pitcher to touch Amy's cheek.
For a moment, Amy leaned into Rika's touch; then she pulled away.
Rika let her hand drop to her side. Her fingers rubbed against each other as if trying to remember the smoothness of Amy's skin. "You feel a little warm, but I don't think you have a fever."
"I told you, I'm fine." Amy backed away.
"I don't believe you."
Amy turned and gaped at her.
"You clutched your side when you bumped into the washstand," Rika said. Her eyes narrowed when she understood. "Adam hurt you!"
"It's not so bad," Amy said. "I was just looking at it in the mirror when you knocked."
So that was why Amy's shirt was half-open and her hair tussled. Trying to get dressed made her break out in a sweat, so her injuries had to be painful.
"Did he shoot you?" Something inside her trembled at the thought.
"No," Amy said. "Nothing like that. He just got a kick in. That's all."
"That's more than enough," Rika said, her voice sharper than intended. Mental images of broken ribs and a punctured lung raced through her. Rika stepped closer. "Show me."
"I'm sure it's just a bruised rib. Nothing you can do to help."
Another step brought her almost nose to nose with Amy. "Show me." She wouldn't be able to sleep before she made sure Amy was all right.
Amy exhaled sharply. Her breath brushed Rika's cheek. "All right." She undid the remaining buttons on her shirt.
It reminded Rika of the night of the fire, when she had helped Amy undress. Instinctively, she wanted to reach out and help Amy unbutton the shirt. She hurt her ribs, not her hands, Hendrika Aaldenberg. She clutched her hands together in the pocket of her apron.
Amy's shirt slid down her arms, and Rika caught it before it could fall to the floor.
The warmth of the shirt seeped into her skin.
Amy pulled her long-
sleeved undershirt from her pants and tugged it up just enough to reveal her side.
Rika gasped. Amy's side was visibly swollen. The skin looked raw and was already turning black and blue.
"That bad?" Amy craned her neck to peer down her body.
"N-no." Rika had seen much worse injuries during the War. But still, seeing the bruises on Amy's pale skin affected her. "Why didn't you tell us you're hurt? You just sat down at supper and pretended to be fine."
"I didn't want Mama to worry about a few bruises," Amy said. "You know how mothers are."
Rika wished she did. Instead of nodding, she sighed.
Amy's gaze caught hers. "You don't, do you? Your mother... is she...?"
A year ago, Jo had asked her the same, but Rika had been reluctant to answer. She had few memories left of her mother, and she protected them like a hidden treasure she didn't want to share. But now the compassion in Amy's eyes compelled her to speak. "She died giving birth to my little brother when I was four."
"I'm sorry." Amy's voice was soft like a touch.
Rika found that Amy was holding her hand, rubbing her thumb across Rika's knuckles.
Amy's gaze followed hers, and she let go as if she hadn't been aware of her gentle touch.
Rika lifted her hand and rubbed her breastbone. It didn't help to smooth the edges of raw emotion. She took a cleansing breath and changed the subject. "Lie down."
Amy stared at the bed, then at Rika. "Why?"
"I need to palpate the ribs to see if any are broken."
"I had broken ribs before. I can tell that nothing's broken this time."
How could Amy be so cavalier about her health? Part of Rika wanted to shove Amy down on the bed, but she didn't want to hurt her. "Lie down and let me see for myself," she said.
Amy sank onto the bed and leaned back until she was lying down, her legs dangling over the edge of the bed. She clamped her teeth onto her bottom lip when Rika stepped closer.
"Don't worry," Rika murmured. "I'll be as gentle as possible. I won't hurt you."
Instead of soothing her, the gentle words seemed to make Amy even tenser. As she sat on the bed next to Amy, Rika felt the tension in Amy's sturdy frame. She rubbed her fingers together to warm them. Her palms were sweaty, and she wiped them on her apron. "Can you," she stopped to clear her throat, "pull the undershirt up a little, please?"
Amy pulled the undershirt up to just under her bosom.
How vulnerable the fair skin of her belly and sides looked in comparison to the golden glow of her arms and her face. Rika smoothed a gentle finger over the lowest rib.
"Um. He kicked me much farther up and more to the left," Amy said. Her words came out in a rush as if she was holding her breath.
"As a nurse, I was taught to be thorough," Rika said, her gaze still resting on the elegant curve of Amy's ribs. The body under her hands trembled, and her touch became soothing, stroking much more than probing.
Goose bumps rose under her fingertips.
What are you doing? She's getting cold, so hurry and get this over with! She slid her hands up, following the arch of Amy's ribs. Heat drifted up from Amy's skin. Everything was smooth under her hands, no bumps to indicate that ribs were broken. Her fingertips wandered higher.
Amy groaned, a sound that vibrated through Rika and stilled her hands.
She looked into Amy's flushed face. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Did I hurt you? Is this rib —"
"No," Amy said. "The rib is fine. It's just..."
"What?"
"Your hands are cold."
"Really?" They felt as if they were on fire, not cold at all.
Amy nodded, her whole body still tense.
"Sorry. I'll hurry." Rika palpated the bruised area, probing with her fingertips to see if the ribs underneath were broken.
This time, Amy didn't groan. She lay stiffly, not moving, barely breathing.
Finally, Rika lifted her hands away and tugged down the undershirt. "I don't think your ribs are broken, but two of them are badly bruised."
Amy shoved the hem of her undershirt into her pants. "I told you that without all this... palpating."
Rika squinted at her. "You said that because you wanted it to be true, but ignoring a wound won't heal it." She stabbed a finger at Amy. "You have to stay off your horses for a while until the ribs and the bruises heal."
"I can't do that." Amy shrugged back into her shirt and buttoned it so quickly as if she needed its protection. "I have a ranch to run."
White-hot anger exploded in Rika. She jumped up from the bed. "And who will run it when you are dead?"
Amy looked up from her shirt buttons. "Dead? You said I'll be fine."
"Yes, this time. You might not be so lucky next time."
"There won't be a next time. Frankie will take Adam —"
"I'm not talking about Adam," Rika said. "I've been here for less than five weeks, and in that time, you almost managed to get yourself killed three times. First you run into a burning stable, then you ride into a raging river even though you can't swim, and now you get into a fight with an armed, dangerous man."
Amy lifted her hand and opened her mouth to say something.
"And don't tell me it's nothing!" Rika realized she was shouting and lowered her voice before the rest of the family came running to see what was going on. She stared at Amy with burning eyes. "Do you know how lucky you were? If Frankie and Tess hadn't shown up when they did..."
"I know," Amy whispered.
Something in her voice made Rika's stomach roil. "What happened?" Over supper, Amy had given them a short explanation about how she had come across Adam at the line shack and how she had overwhelmed him with the help of Frankie and Tess. She didn't mention a fight or being kicked, and neither Tess nor Frankie corrected her — either because they hadn't witnessed the fight or because they wanted to spare Nora.
"He put a revolver to my head." Amy laid a finger against her temple as if she still felt the cold steel press against her skin. "And if Frankie hadn't shown up with a rifle, he would have pulled the trigger."
"Oh, Lord!"
The room spun around Rika.
"Hey!" Warm hands grabbed her when her knees buckled. Amy's pained groan brought the room into focus again, and Rika stared into Amy's eyes from only two inches away.
"Sorry," she mumbled. "Your ribs..."
"It's all right," Amy said. She led her back to the bed and pressed her down, then sat next to her.
The warmth of Amy's shoulder brushing hers soothed Rika. Finally, she found the strength to say the words that made her stomach clench. "He would have killed you. If Frankie and Tess hadn't gotten lost on the way from town, you would be dead now."
"Yes," Amy said in an almost inaudible whisper. "But I can't let myself think like that. It would make me crazy, and Adam doesn't deserve that kind of power over me." Intense green eyes burned into Rika's. "Please don't tell my family. I don't want them to worry."
"I promise," Rika said. "On one condition."
"Which is?"
"That you promise me something in return. Promise that you'll be more careful in the future. I know you want to prove yourself to your father, and I know you don't have it in you to watch an animal suffer, but please..." Rika stopped and looked into Amy's eyes.
Warmth and understanding shone back at her. More words weren't necessary. Amy nodded. "I promise."
"And next time you get hurt, don't hide it," Rika said. "Even if you don't want your mother to know, let me take a look right away."
"I don't plan on getting hurt again anytime soon, so next time it happens, you might not be around to take care of me," Amy said, finally looking away.
The words clutched at Rika with the cruel claws of reality. Just a few more weeks until Phineas would be back to marry her, and the closer that time came, the less sure she was that she wanted to marry him. Oh, if only things could stay like this forever. But she shoved the thought away. It was a childish wish, and she had never allowed hersel
f to dream of things that couldn't come true. She wouldn't start now.
"Come on," she said to Amy. "Let's go to bed."
Amy jumped up. "You take it." She gestured wildly to the bed. "I'll bed down with Ruby for tonight."
"You want to sleep in the stable?" Amy's words cut deep. After all these weeks, Amy would still rather share space with a horse than with her? Rika was used to rejections. Most women in the boarding house hadn't paid her much attention, and Rika had been content to keep to herself or talk to Jo. But it was different with Amy. For reasons she hadn't figured out yet, she wanted Amy to like her. And she wouldn't allow Amy to sleep in the straw, further hurting her ribs.
