by Jae
“Climb up,” the balloon’s owner shouted. “You have to get into the basket and pull the cord.”
Amy managed to grab the rope with both hands. One glance down showed her that she was flying high above the fairgrounds now. A wave of dizziness overcame her, and her vision blurred. Oh, dear Lord. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. And don’t look down. She directed her gaze back up as she climbed higher.
Finally, she reached the edge of the basket and, with one last effort, pulled herself over it.
The boy screamed and stared at her as if she were the devil himself.
“Shush. Don’t be afraid. I’m here to help you down.” Amy sat with her back pressed to the basket for several seconds, trying to catch her breath, before she got to her feet and started looking around for a cord. There! She grabbed it and pulled carefully.
With a hiss, gas escaped from the balloon.
She glanced toward the ground. It’s working! They were sinking. She pulled the cord again.
Finally, when they were close enough, the men on the ground grabbed the rope and pulled them all the way down. The basket scraped through the mud.
Oh, thank you, Lord!
Samuel’s father lifted the crying boy from the basket, and Amy climbed out on shaky legs. Her heart was still pounding in her throat.
People crowded her, clapping her on the back, but she struggled to break free. Her only thought was for Rika. “Rika? Rika! Where are—?”
Then Rika’s arms were around her in a stranglehold.
Amy pulled her close and held on as if for dear life.
* * *
Music drifted over from the fairground’s biggest barn as the Aurora Colony Band began to play. Gentlemen and ladies, all dressed to the nines in frock coats and evening dresses, headed toward the barn.
Amy kept glancing at Rika. In the silk dress that Tess had given her, she looked like one of the fancy ladies from back east. The dress’s light yellow color made her eyes appear even darker and more mysterious. For some reason, Rika tended to think of herself as plain, but Amy thought she was beautiful. Truth be told, she was a little nervous about taking her to the dance. What if the men there kept asking Rika to dance, ignoring her betrothed?
Lord knows, I’m not an impressive sight. They had brushed out the frock coat and her trousers, cleaning it as best as they could, but a few dirt spots still remained. Her vest was ripped from climbing the tree, and she was barefoot in her boots, since they hadn’t been able to find the socks she had kicked off while hanging from the tree.
What would Papa say when she came home with her clothes all damaged? Maybe she should have taken the money Samuel’s father had offered after all, to pay for the damage to Papa’s clothes.
“Stop fidgeting,” Rika whispered as they approached the barn, which was decorated with garlands and flowers. “You look very fetching.”
Amy arched her eyebrows. “I look like a vagabond.” She glanced at herself again and sighed. “I wonder what Papa will say when he sees me like this.”
“He will say that he’s very proud of you for saving a child.” Rika pulled her to a stop in front of the barn’s entrance. “Do you really think he’ll care about a bit of dirt and some rips that will be easily mended? Do you think I do?”
People jostled them, trying to get past.
Amy shuffled her feet. “Let’s go in.” Feeling a bit better, she led Rika into the building.
The sounds of a cello, a clarinet, and a violin striking up a waltz greeted them.
Amy looked around. Papa had been right. Men clearly outnumbered the women here too. She squared her shoulders and tried to make herself look imposing so no one would approach Rika and ask her to dance.
Was it just her imagination, or was everyone staring at them—at her? Self-consciously, she brushed her free hand over the frock coat to remove any residual dirt from it. “People are staring,” she whispered. “My hair hasn’t come loose, has it?”
Rika shook her head.
A bearded man headed toward them.
Amy clutched Rika’s hand to her arm and narrowed her eyes at the stranger. Don’t you dare ask Rika to dance.
But the man didn’t even glance at Rika. “You’re the fellow who rescued Ben Lander’s boy, aren’t you?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Folks!” the man shouted over the music and the stomping of feet. “This is him—the young man I told you about.”
Amy winced as people patted her on the back, jostling her bruised ribs.
A young woman sidled up to her. “That was a very brave thing to do.”
“I couldn’t let the boy float away,” Amy said. “Anyone would have done it.”
Another woman joined them. “Oh, no. It was exceptional.” She touched Amy’s forearm.
Dizzy from all the attention she was getting, Amy stared at the hand on her arm. By now, half a dozen young women had walked over.
“Excuse us,” Rika said. “This is my favorite waltz, and I want to dance with my betrothed.” Before Amy or the women surrounding her could say anything, Rika dragged her away.
For a moment, Amy struggled to assume the man’s position before she began to lead Rika across the dance floor. “What was that?”
“They were making eyes at you.” Rika scowled.
“No, they weren’t.” Surely no one would ogle her in her bedraggled state.
“Yes, they were.” Now a smile replaced Rika’s scowl. “Not that I can blame them. You’re a hero—and a handsome one at that.”
The waltz ended, and the next one began. Before they could resume dancing, a woman approached and handed Amy a piece of pie that they were selling at the edge of the dance floor. “No charge,” she said before she hurried away.
Amy stared at the apple pie. “I’m sorry. I brought you to Salem so we could dance together, and now we’re interrupted at every turn.”
“Let’s go,” Rika said.
“What? Now? But the dance has only just begun.”
Rika handed the piece of pie to one of the children running around and dragged Amy out of the barn, through the masses of people streaming in. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along. I don’t care about the dance.”
Amy blinked. “You don’t?”
“Please don’t misunderstand. Getting to dance with you was wonderful.”
“But?”
They headed away from the fairground and began to stroll along the Willamette River in the darkness.
“I don’t care about dances. I don’t care about going to the theater or about owning fancy dresses, cooking stoves, sewing machines, new hats, wax fruit, or any other luxuries. I don’t need any of that. I don’t want a luxurious life in Salem. And I don’t want a man.” Rika slid her hand up Amy’s frock coat until it came to rest on her bound breasts. “When will you get it into your thick head that all I want is to share my life with you on the ranch?”
Amy stopped and tried to make out Rika’s face in the darkness. She wanted to ask her if she was sure that was all she wanted from life, but Rika’s tone, full of determination, left no room for doubt. She wants me. Just me, exactly like I am, including life on the ranch. She threw her arms around Rika in a tight hug, ignoring her protesting ribs.
They stood together in the darkness, wrapped in each other’s arms until the voices of another couple strolling along the river startled them.
Amy wanted to pull back, but Rika didn’t let go. “One good thing about you dressing up as a man,” she whispered. “No one will think anything if I embrace my betrothed. Or even do this.” She leaned forward, bridging the remaining inches between them, and kissed her. When they separated, both breathless, Rika stroked Amy’s cheek. “Do you believe me now?”
Amy nodded. She felt as she had after the balloon had landed back on firm ground—dizzy with relief and happiness. “I thought you might be getting bored with life on the ranch. I was afraid you might...” She swallowed. “Leave.”
“Oh, Amy. No. Neve
r.” Rika hugged her again. “The ranch is my home. You are my home. Don’t you know that?”
“I do. I just didn’t fully believe it—until now.” Amy kissed Rika’s cheek again and again.
Rika smiled. “What do we do now? Do you want to go back to the dance?”
Amy looked at the Willamette River running north, in the direction of Baker Prairie and their ranch. “No. I’ve had enough dancing for a while. Let’s go home.”
Still wrapped in each other’s arms, they headed for their wagon.
###
About Jae
Jae grew up amidst the vineyards of southern Germany. She spent her childhood with her nose buried in a book, earning her the nickname “professor.” The writing bug bit her at the age of eleven. For the last eight years, she has been writing mostly in English.
She used to work as a psychologist but gave up her day job in December 2013 to become a full-time writer and a part-time editor. When she’s not writing, she likes to spend her time reading, indulging her ice cream and office supply addictions, and watching way too many crime shows.
Connect with Jae online
Jae loves hearing from readers!
E-mail her at [email protected]
Visit her website: jae-fiction.com
Visit her blog: jae-fiction.com/blog
Like her on Facebook: facebook.com/JaeAuthor
Follow her on Twitter @jaefiction
Visit her smashwords profile at: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/jaefiction
Excerpt from Hidden Truths
by Jae
Stage Depot
Baker Prairie, Oregon
April 20, 1868
The stagecoach swayed to a halt, and Rika braced herself so she wouldn’t be thrown onto the laps of her fellow travelers.
She drew in a breath. This was it, her new home. The stage’s leather curtains were drawn shut to protect them from the mud flung up by the horses’ hooves, so she hadn’t yet caught a glimpse of the town. The two passengers opened the door and climbed down, but Rika was almost afraid to step outside and see what she had gotten herself into.
One of the men offered his hand to help her out of the stagecoach.
With one step, Rika sank ankle-deep into the mud on the main street. She shook out her wrinkled, sooty skirts and stepped onto the boardwalk.
A few dozen buildings dotted the rutted main street. Wooden signs announced the presence of a barbershop, a doctor’s office, a blacksmith, and a saddle maker’s shop in the little town. In front of the dry-goods store, a brown horse stood hitched to a buckboard.
One of Rika’s fellow travelers disappeared into the barbershop; the other climbed onto a buckboard, tipped his hat, and drove off. Now only Rika stood waiting on the boardwalk.
She scanned the faces of the townspeople milling about Main Street, going into and coming out of buildings. The man with the handlebar mustache, her future husband, was nowhere to be seen.
The stage had come in late. Had he gotten tired of waiting and left? What if he changed his mind and no longer wanted a wife? Rika clutched her carpetbag to her chest.
Her gaze darted up and down the street, but no wagon came to pick her up. People hurried across the boardwalk, trying to get out of the rain that had started falling again. Some threw curious glances her way, but no one talked to her. Shivering, she slung her arms more tightly around the carpetbag.
A few young men wandered over from the livery stable. One of them doffed his battered hat. “Can we help you, ma’am?”
“No, thank you.” Rika drew her bag against her chest. “I am waiting for Mr. Phineas Sharpe, my betrothed.”
“Ah, then you’re plumb out of luck, ma’am, ’cause Phin left to drive a few horses up to Fort Boise and won’t be back for two months.”
The blood rushed from her face, and she swayed. “Two months?”
“Or more.” The man shrugged.
Oh, Jo. Good thing her friend would never find out that her beloved Phineas didn’t intend to keep his promises. Riding off to Boise when he knew his betrothed was coming... She was stranded in an unfamiliar town, forsaken by a future husband who had apparently changed his mind. What now?
“I’m sorry I’m late,” someone said behind her.
Rika turned.
A young woman stopped midstep.
Rika took in the woman’s mud-spattered bodice and the bonnet hanging off to one side, revealing disheveled fiery red hair. Under a skirt that was ripped up to midthigh, flashes of long drawers startled her. Behind the woman, a sweat-covered gray horse pranced around.
What did she do to the poor horse?
When the wild-looking woman reached for the carpetbag, Rika flinched away. “Who are you?”
“Oh.” A flush colored the stranger’s golden skin. She wiped her hand on her skirt, probably not getting it any cleaner. “I’m Amy Hamilton, a friend of Phin Sharpe’s. And who on God’s green earth are you?”
* * *
The young woman stared at her.
Amy stared back.
“I’m Johanna Bruggeman,” the stranger said.
Amy put her hands on her hips. “No, you’re not. I’ve seen the tintype. You’re not her.”
The fragile beauty of Phin’s bride had burned itself into her memory. The stranger, however, was neither fragile nor beautiful. While the tintype hadn’t provided colors, Amy could tell that Phin’s bride had fair hair. The stranger’s brown hair, though, shone with the same coppery gleam as the mahogany coat of Nattie’s mare. Her wide brown eyes reminded Amy of a spooked horse.
The woman’s gaze flitted around, and she hid behind her carpetbag as if it were a shield. But then she tilted her head and composed her stern features.
Like a mustang. Spooked but unbroken in spirit.
“Of course I am Johanna Bruggeman.” Her slight accent made the name sound exotic.
Right. She’s Dutch. So was she Phin’s bride after all? “Then how come you don’t look like the woman in the tintype?”
A muscle in the stranger’s face twitched. “Phineas showed you the tintype?”
Amy nodded and dug her teeth into her bottom lip. She hoped she wasn’t blushing. Why did she feel like a boy who’d been caught with the picture of a dance-hall girl? It wasn’t as if she had ogled the young woman’s picture. She raised her chin. “You still owe me an explanation.”
The stranger lowered her gaze. “I was too embarrassed to have my picture taken. I know men don’t find me all that appealing, so a friend allowed me to send her picture instead.”
Amy slid her gaze over her. She is a bit on the plain side. All the better. She had been afraid of how a woman who was every bit as beautiful as Hannah might make her react.
“I know it’s vain,” the young woman said. “But I hope you won’t judge me for it.”
“None of my business,” Amy said. Just to be on the safe side, she didn’t plan on having much to do with Phin’s bride. Easy to do, since she would be busy with the ranch. “All right, then let’s go. I’ll take you to the ranch. My family will take care of you until Phin returns.” She kept her movements gentle but firm, as if dealing with a young horse, and again reached for the carpetbag.
Finally, the woman handed over her baggage.
“Do you have any other bags?” Amy asked.
A flush stained the young woman’s pale skin. “No, just this one.”
As far as Amy was concerned, there was no shame in being poor. At least she wouldn’t have to drag half a dozen suitcases, bags, and hatboxes to the buckboard and could get back to the ranch sooner.
The ranch and Mama. No doubt Mama would have something interesting to say about Amy’s skirt and the mare.
* * *
Hidden Truths is available as a paperback and in various e-book formats at many online bookstores.
Other books from Ylva Publishing
http://www.ylva-publishing.com
Backwards to Oregon
(revised and expanded ed
ition)
Jae
ISBN: 978-3-95533-028-6 (mobi), 978-3-95533-027-9 (epub)
Length: 138,000 words (521 pages)
“Luke” Hamilton has always been sure that she’d never marry. She accepted that she would spend her life alone when she chose to live her life disguised as a man.
After working in a brothel for three years, Nora Macauley has lost all illusions about love. She no longer hopes for a man who will sweep her off her feet and take her away to begin a new, respectable life.
But now they find themselves married and on the way to Oregon in a covered wagon, with two thousand miles ahead of them.
Hidden Truths
(revised and expanded edition)
Jae
ISBN: 978-3-95533-120-7 (mobi), 978-3-95533-121-4 (epub)
Length: 158,000 words (505 pages)
“Luke” Hamilton has been living as a husband and father for the past seventeen years. No one but her wife, Nora, knows she is not the man she appears to be. They have raised their daughters to become honest and hard-working young women, but even with their loving foundation, Amy and Nattie are hiding their own secrets.
Just as Luke sets out on a dangerous trip to Fort Boise, a newcomer arrives on the ranch—Rika Aaldenberg, who traveled to Oregon as a mail-order bride, hiding that she’s not the woman in the letters.
When hidden truths are revealed, will their lives and their family fall apart or will love keep them together?
Beyond the Trail
Jae
