Hidden Trusts

by Jae

  No? What about Amy? Luke wanted to ask. But even if she had dared to ask Hendrika about her feelings, she couldn't do it in front of Nattie and Phin. Not knowing what to say or do, she watched the door fall closed behind Hendrika.

  * * *

  Amy wasn't sure how much time had passed when someone knocked on the door. Time had lost its meaning. She lifted her head from the pillow. "Go away," she shouted and dropped her head back down.

  The door creaked open, and lithe steps crossed the room. The bed dipped. A warm hand settled on Amy's shoulder, and a familiar mix of aromas drifted to her nose.

  Leather, horse, and fresh air — scents that meant safety and comfort.

  Papa.

  Amy rolled around and stared into the familiar face. Dark smudges circled Luke's eyes. Pain darkened her eyes to gunmetal gray.

  So much pain. Amy couldn't stand it anymore. She threw her arms around Luke's slender hips and buried her face against a firm thigh. Her tears soaked the denim of Luke's pants, but Luke didn't move away.

  Sobs shook Amy's body. Her nose burned, her throat burned, her heart burned. She thought she might be sick.

  Luke's hands came up and combed through Amy's hair as she had done since Amy had been a little girl. The soothing touch chased away Amy's queasiness. She quieted and finally looked up.

  Tears glittered on Luke's cheeks. Luke rubbed her hands over her face, hastily wiping them away.

  "Papa," Amy whispered and then stopped, struck by how much had changed between them — and by how much stayed the same. "Can I... can I still call you that?"

  Luke laid a hand over her eyes and nodded behind that barrier. "I'd be honored." Her voice shook.

  Amy sat up, her knees still resting against Luke's.

  They sniffled at the same time and then smiled at each other.

  "Hank just took Hendrika to the stage depot," Luke said after a minute.

  Amy nodded, grateful that Luke didn't ask her to explain what had happened. There would be time for that later, but for now, it hurt too much.

  "And you just let her go?" Luke asked. "Without telling her how you feel?"

  Amy's gaze flew up. "You... you know? H-how do you know?"

  Luke smiled. "I was in your shoes once."

  For the first time in many years, Amy knew she was understood completely. Luke understood what was going on inside of her even when Amy struggled to fully understand it herself. This was why Luke had revealed her secret — so that she could be there for her now. A wave of gratefulness washed over Amy. Her voice shook when she asked, "What did you do?"

  "Same thing you are doing now — I almost let her go. I told her I wouldn't stand in her way if she found happiness with a real man." Luke lifted one side of her mouth into a self-ironic smile. "It took me years to understand that she doesn't want a 'real man.' She wants me."

  New tears burned in Amy's eyes. Her parents' relationship was even more special than she had believed. "But Hendrika left."

  "Did you tell her you want her to stay?"

  "What right do I have to do that?" Amy rubbed her burning eyes. "She told Phin she can't marry him because she didn't want to live a lie — and even if she did like me, I couldn't offer her a life without lying and hiding. She wouldn't want that kind of life."

  Luke gripped Amy's shoulders and looked her in the eyes, almost nose to nose. "Let Hendrika make that decision. Yes, living your life forced to lie every day is hard," she said, voice low. "But you know what? Lying to townsfolk, letting them believe what they want... I don't mind that. If I could live my life over again, I'd make the same choices — with one exception."

  "What?" Amy asked.

  "I'd tell you and Nattie sooner. The lies that hurt are the ones you tell yourself and the people you love. Everyone else..." Luke made a move as if tossing something over her shoulder. "They can go to hell if they stand in the way of your happiness."

  "You really think someone like me can find happiness?"

  Luke tapped her finger against Amy's temple. "Get this thought that you don't deserve love just because you're different out of your head. I let myself believe it for too many years, and only your mother taught me otherwise. There's nothing wrong with you or me. If God didn't want me to love Nora, why did he make me like this? Why didn't he make me fall in love with... say, Hank?"

  The thought sent goose bumps along Amy's skin. She shook herself like a dog trying to get rid of fleas.

  Luke laughed. "See? It seems wrong to you too. My heart belongs to Nora, and yours might belong to Hendrika — and hers to you."

  Amy shook her head. "She's not... that way. Rika was married once."

  "Sweetie, that doesn't mean anything. Your mother's first sweetheart was a man too. And now she's in love with me." Luke's red-rimmed eyes glowed with happiness.

  "But what if Rika doesn't love me? What if she hates me once she finds out?"

  "She doesn't look at you as if she would hate you. I know this is scary, but sometimes you have to take a chance for love," Luke said.

  Just like Papa has, Amy understood. Luke had taken a big risk by telling Amy and Nattie who she was. She'd risked her safety, her life, and her family's love. She had taken that chance out of love, because she wanted to show Amy that happiness was possible for two women together.

  Amy vaulted off the bed and stumbled to the door. "What time is it?" she shouted over her shoulder.

  "Almost one," Luke answered and snapped her pocket watch closed.

  Amy wrenched the door open. "Damn." By the time she reached Baker Prairie, the stagecoach with Rika would be gone.

  Willamette Valley, Oregon

  June 27, 1868

  RIKA'S SORE SHOULDER pounded every time the stagecoach hit a stone or a hole in the road. At least the ache in her shoulder distracted her from the pain in her heart.

  The leather curtains were pulled back to let in fresh air. Outside, the green hills and fields of the Willamette Valley glided by. Every bend of the Molalla River, every dip of the land was familiar now.

  To her left was the place where Amy and she had pulled the foal out of the raging river. And on that hill over there, they had seen Tess and Frankie kiss.

  Then the Molalla River joined the Willamette, and the stagecoach headed away from the Hamilton land. Rika craned her neck, hoping to catch one last glance, until the pain in her shoulder told her to stop. She felt as if she was leaving behind her home and her heart. Leaving Boston hadn't felt like this.

  "Here." The older man opposite her offered her a sympathetic smile and his handkerchief.

  Only then did Rika notice that tears were running down her face. "Thank you." She took the handkerchief and dabbed her eyes.

  "I'm Jacob Garfield. I own the dry-goods store in town," he said. "I've seen you at church with the Hamiltons, but we haven't been introduced."

  "Hendrika Aaldenberg," Rika said from behind the handkerchief. Using her own name should have been a relief, but it wasn't. Hendrika Bruggeman had a home, maybe even a family. Hendrika Aaldenberg didn't.

  "It wasn't right of him to have you come here and wait for him and then refuse to marry you," Mr. Garfield said when he took back his handkerchief.

  "What?"

  "Phineas Sharpe," Mr. Garfield said. "He didn't act like a gentleman."

  Rika flinched. So gossip had already started. "You're mistaken, sir. That's not what happened."

  "No?" He leaned forward and tilted his head.

  She didn't owe him an explanation, but this was her last chance to protect Phin's reputation. "I decided not to marry him."

  His eyebrows jerked up. "But why? Phineas is a good, hardworking man."

  "I know." Rika fiddled with the sling around her arm. "I just..." She shook her head. She couldn't tell him she had feelings for someone else. Not when that someone was a woman. Rika hardly understood it herself. "I don't love him."

  Mr. Garfield smiled as if she were a child who had said something foolish. "I've seen many good marriages in my tim
e that didn't start with love."

  Just a few months ago, Rika would have nodded, but now she said, "I want love. And if I can't have it, then I would rather stay alone. I don't need a husband to be happy."

  Mr. Garfield's eyebrows nearly disappeared in his gray hair, but his smile was still kind, not disapproving. "You sound like the Hamilton girls. My youngest son tried to court Nattie, but she refused to see him."

  Before Rika could answer, the stagecoach picked up speed, jostling her from side to side.

  "Hold on!" the driver shouted.

  Mr. Garfield almost tumbled into Rika's lap. He grabbed the leather strap dangling from the stagecoach's roof. "Have you gone insane?" he yelled at the driver.

  "Someone's after us!"

  Rika's heart hammered against her ribs. The stagecoach didn't have an armed guard, so if outlaws stopped them, they'd be fair game. Not that she had much to lose. She had already left behind what was most valuable to her.

  The stagecoach flew up a hill. The sack of mail tumbled from beneath the front seat and slammed into Rika's shins.

  Hoofbeats drummed behind them, quickly coming closer.

  Mr. Garfield pulled his revolver and pointed it at the window, his face grim.

  The rider was almost upon them now.

  Rika caught flashes of red — a red horse galloping at full speed, red locks flying in the wind.

  In front of her, Mr. Garfield drew back the hammer of his revolver.

  "Rika!" the rider shouted.

  Amy! It's Amy! "No!" Rika threw herself at Mr. Garfield's weapon hand.

  A shot drowned out the hammering hoofbeats.

  * * *

  Amy ducked over Ruby's neck, but no bullet zipped past.

  The four stagecoach horses slowed at a bend in the road.

  Ruby stretched beneath Amy, her powerful muscles catapulting them past the stagecoach. "Billy!" she shouted up to the driver. "Stop, stop! It's just me, Amy Hamilton!"

  Billy squinted at her, then pulled at the reins between his fingers. "Whoa. Whoa I said, you sons of bitches!"

  The stagecoach rumbled to a stop in a cloud of dust.

  "Goddammit, Miss Hamilton!" He slapped his hat against his thigh and glared at her. "What's gotten into you, riding like the devil was after you? You damn near made my horses bolt for the hills, and Jacob almost shot you!"

  "Sorry. It's real urgent." Amy swung out of the saddle. Her legs felt numb as she took the three steps to the stagecoach. She flung open the red and gold door.

  Rika sat on the middle seat, slumped over.

  Lord! Amy's pulse raced in her throat. Had Rika been shot?

  But then Rika straightened, one hand pressed to her shoulder. A revolver lay on her lap. Tiny burn marks dotted the front of her dress. She coughed at the gunpowder and looked at Amy, who still hung in the stagecoach's doorframe, clutching it with both hands. "Amy? What are you doing?"

  Amy hesitated. Her one thought had been stopping Rika before she was gone for good. She hadn't thought about what she would say once she had stopped her. "Stopping you from leaving."

  "Amy..."

  "Ladies, I got a schedule to keep," Billy shouted. "Either get out now or say good-bye."

  Jacob Garfield, the only other passenger, looked from Amy to Rika, no doubt listening to every word they said.

  Ignoring him, Amy set one foot inside the stagecoach. "Rika, please. I want you to stay. We all want you to stay. Please come home with me."

  Home. The word echoed between them.

  Amy extended her hand, palm up.

  "You've got five seconds," Billy shouted. "Then I'll be on my merry way."

  Leather creaked. Amy knew Billy was straightening the reins, prepared to slap them across the horses' backs.

  "Rika," Amy said.

  Then Rika gripped her hand.

  The breath whooshed from Amy's lungs. Dizzy with joy, she pulled and stumbled backward, out of the stagecoach. At the last moment, she remembered Rika's shoulder and stopped them from tumbling into the dust by pulling Rika into her arms.

  "Hyah! Hyah, you sons of bitches!" Billy shouted. The stagecoach jerked forward and rumbled down the road, leaving Amy and Rika behind.

  "My carpetbag," Rika said. "It's still in the stagecoach."

  A smile trembled on Amy's lips. "Seems you'll have to borrow one of my skirts again."

  Rika stared at the rapidly disappearing stagecoach, then glanced into Amy's eyes just inches away. Emotions darted across her face like clouds drifting across the sky. "What now?"

  Her breath caressed Amy's lips. Heat raced down Amy's body. Her arms around Rika trembled. She stared at the pink fullness of Rika's bottom lip, the tender arc of her upper lip. She leaned forward.

  Then jerked back. No, she couldn't do this. She dropped her arms to her sides.

  But Rika didn't let go. Her left arm still rested across Amy's back, drawing her closer and closer.

  The softness of Rika's lips met Amy's, connecting their bodies in a flash of heat.

  Her legs weakened, and she gripped Rika's hips.

  Rika drew back. "Oh, Amy, Amy, please don't cry."

  Cry? Amy reached up and touched her cheeks. Wetness met her fingertips. She hadn't realized she was crying. Dazed, she stared at Rika.

  "I'm sorry," Rika said. "I don't know what came over me. I'm just so glad because I thought I'd never see you again, and I thought you —"

  "Stop." Amy wanted to touch her lips to Rika's to make her stop talking, but she didn't dare. The dusty road was deserted, but they still needed to be careful. "I'm not crying because you hurt me. I'm crying because I wanted to do this for weeks but didn't dare to."

  Rika blinked. "You did? You knew what all..." She pressed her palm to her chest. "...all these feelings meant?"

  Amy nodded, her mouth too dry to speak. She smacked her lips. "So you feel it too?"

  "I do. You don't think I go around kissing just anyone, do you?"

  Amy stared into twinkling brown eyes. "I never thought you'd want to kiss me."

  "I never thought so either. But it feels... right."

  "You seem so calm." Amy's insides still trembled. How on earth had Rika come to terms with her feelings so fast when Amy had been running from her feelings for women for years?

  "You know how the horses always go faster on the way back, when they sense that their stable is close?"

  Amy nodded but furrowed her brow. Rika wanted to talk about horses now?

  "I felt like that when I saw you open the stagecoach door. I knew home was close, so I should run toward it, not away from it."

  Amy's hands trembled with the need to cup Rika's face, draw her close, and kiss her. No. Not here.

  The same need made Rika's eyes seem to smolder. She brushed a few tangles out of Amy's hair but otherwise kept her distance. "We need to be careful."

  The haziness in Amy's mind receded, and she peered left and right.

  Dust swirled around them, but otherwise, nothing moved on the lonely road. They were alone. Still, Rika was right. Amy dug her teeth into her lip. So the lying and hiding had already begun. How long would Rika be willing to deal with it?

  "Hey." Rika squeezed her hand. "Why are you looking like that? Do you regret —"

  "No, it's just... it's not gonna be easy for us to be together. Are you sure you want that kind of life?"

  Rika entwined their fingers. "We'll find a way. Don't you dare run away from this."

  "I'm done running," Amy said. It was time to grow up and fight for what she wanted in life.

  "Good. But I can't go back to the ranch. Not with Phin living there."

  "But where else could you go?"

  "Maybe Tess and Frankie need someone to help with their new hotel."

  The burden on Amy's shoulders lifted. It was a good solution, at least for a while.

  "Let's go and ask them." She walked over to Ruby and turned the stirrup so that Rika could step into it. "Ready?"

  Rika rested her left hand on her
shoulder. "Ready."

  Hamilton Horse Ranch

  Baker Prairie, Oregon

  July 4, 1868

  "ARE YOU SURE it's all right?" Rika asked when Amy pulled the wagon to a stop in front of the ranch's veranda.

  "Why wouldn't it be? You've had supper with us many times before."