Hidden Truths (18 page)

Are we?
What about the ugliness, the unnatural
feelings that lurked inside of her? She looked at Hendrika and waited, but
nothing more was forthcoming. She had a feeling she was getting just half of
the reason why Hendrika had come west to marry Phin.

She didn't have the right to ask, though. Not when she was
keeping so many things to herself.

T
HE
BUCKBOARD crested the hill, and Amy looked down at her home. The main house lay
in darkness. Had Mama bedded down with the mares, or had she checked on the
mares and gone to bed?

Her gaze wandered to the stable.

She jerked in alarm.

Flames shot through the barn's roof.

Fire!

"Hold on, Hendrika! Hyah!" she shouted at Old Jack
and flapped the reins.

The buckboard flew down the hill.

Hendrika clamped her fingers around Amy's arm but didn't
protest the breakneck speed.

In the stable, horses screamed in panic.

Amy's heart clenched. "Mama!"

No one answered.

Was Mama up in her bedroom or in the burning barn?

She pulled Old Jack to a stop in the ranch yard and jumped
down.

The flames danced higher along the beams of the roof.

Amy raced across the yard. She flung open the barn door.

A black cloud billowed around her, making her cough. Smoke
and heat brought tears to her eyes. She hesitated.

"Amy!" Hendrika shouted from behind her.
"No!"

A high-pitched squeal from inside the stable vibrated
through Amy. She rushed into the black smoke.

*  *  *

A wall of smoke swallowed Amy.

"Amy!" Rika yelled. "Amy, come back!"

Only the crackling of the fire answered her. She was alone
in the ranch yard, with no idea what to do.

Fear clutched at her and made it difficult to breathe. She
hesitated, trying to see something through the black smoke. Was Amy coming
back?

"Amy?"

Nothing.

Going after her is crazy. Completely crazy.

"Darn it!" She lifted her arm to cover her face
and stepped into the burning stable.

Heat leaped at her. The back of the stable was a sea of
fire. Flames licked at the barn's old wood and shot along the floor, consuming
the hay.

"Amy?" Rika called.

No answer.

Somewhere, a horse squealed. The smoke was so thick that she
couldn't see where it was coming from.

Coughing, Rika groped her way down the center aisle.

Another piercing scream and something big stormed past Rika.

The horses! Amy is getting the horses out.

To her left, the spotted horse with the eye patch kicked a
panicked rhythm against the stall door.

Rika hurried over and opened the door.

The horse reared and jumped forward. Heavy hooves missed
Rika just by inches.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She leaped out of the way and watched the horse flee down
the aisle and out the door.

Rika gripped the bolt of the next stall door.

Pain seared her fingers. With a scream, she let go of the
red-hot piece of metal. Ignoring the pain, she wrapped the hem of her skirt
around her hand and shoved back the bolt. She jumped out of the way.

The brown horse pranced past her, its eyes wide with fear.

The next stall held the gray mare. One slap of her wrapped
hand against the bolt and Rika opened the door.

But this horse didn't storm past her.

It snorted and backed away from the door.

"Come on, Mouse." Rika tried to make her voice as
soothing as possible. Smoke filled her lungs, and she coughed.

The horse moved, but away from her and the door that led to
safety.

Someone grabbed Rika's shoulder. "Get out of
here," Amy shouted.

"Not without you," Rika answered. "The gray
mare is still in there."

Amy walked past her, her movements calm, as if a raging
inferno weren't blazing around them. With a gentle but firm touch, she grasped
a bit of mane and led the snorting mare out of the stall.

Rika hurried after them, careful not to get too close to the
hooves of the panicked mare.

The smoke lifted.

Rika jumped across the threshold and sucked in a lungful of
fresh air.

"Close the door!" Amy shouted.

Startled, Rika closed the door of the burning barn behind
her, not sure what difference it would make.

When she turned around, Amy hurled herself at her.

Both went down.

Rika groaned as she hit the ground and lay dazed under Amy's
body. "What?" She struggled when Amy began to grope and slap at her.
"What are you doing?"

"Your skirt's on fire!" Amy batted at the flames
with her bare hands. "Hold still."

Finally, they lay still, coughing and wheezing. Smoke
drifted up from Rika's skirt.

"Your hands," Rika whispered and lifted one of
them to study the red burn marks.

"It doesn't hurt," Amy answered, her voice equally
low. "Not right now."

"Amy?" A strangled call drifted across the ranch
yard.

Amy shot up. "Mama?" Despite her burned hands, she
reached down and helped Rika to her feet, then hurried toward Nora.

Nora staggered around the corner. She was holding her head
with both hands and stared at their blazing barn.

"Mama! What happened?" Amy caught her mother as
she stumbled.

Without hesitation, Rika slung Nora's other arm around her
shoulder.

"Did you fall because the fire scared you?" Amy
asked.

"No. There was no fire when I checked on the
mares." The fire reflected off Nora's wide eyes. "I walked back to
the house, then something... someone hit me from behind. I passed out. Next
thing I know, you were shouting across the ranch yard."

Fast hoofbeats pounded the earth. At first, Rika thought the
panicked horses were coming back, but then she saw that riders clung to the
horses' backs. The ranch hands were returning from the dance.

Amy shouted orders, still holding on to her mother.

"Go," Rika said. "I'll take care of
her."

Amy hesitated.

"I was a nurse during the War."

"Go," Nora said to her daughter. "Take care
of the horses. I'll be fine with Hendrika."

With one more reassuring nod from Rika, Amy hurried away.

*  *  *

"Damn Indian!" Hank grabbed his lariat from the
saddle horn and spurred his gelding toward the bunkhouse.

"Where are you going?" Amy called after him.
"We have to catch the horses before they head back into the burning
barn." Sometimes, horses became so frightened that they rushed back into
the fire, searching out the treacherous safety of their familiar stalls.

Hank didn't listen. In front of the bunkhouse, he slid out
of the saddle and disappeared inside. When he exited, he dragged a sleep-drunk
John Lefevre on his lariat behind him.

"What the hell? Hank!" Amy stormed across the
yard. "What are you doing? Let him go! Now!"

Hatred burned in Hank's eyes, flickering hotter than the
fire in the stable. "Let him go? He set fire to the stable!"

"What?" John gasped. The loop tightened around his
neck.

"Yeah, you were the only one who didn't go to the
dance." Hank jerked on the rope.

"You idiot!" Amy grabbed Hank's shoulder and shook
him. "He didn't go to the dance because the stupid people in town think
anyone whose ancestors didn't drink tea with the people on the Mayflower
doesn't deserve to be part of their community!"

Hank continued to tighten the rope.

"Stop it!" Amy pulled on his arm. "Do you
think John would go back to sleep in the bunkhouse if he had set the barn on
fire? Let him go, or you'll be out of a job."

Reluctantly, Hank loosened the rope. "But didn't you
smell it?" He gestured toward the barn. "Kerosene."

The biting smell of kerosene had stung Amy's nose as soon as
she had entered the burning stable. While barn fires could spread quickly, this
one had gotten out of control too fast not to be caused by arson. "I
smelled it. But we can't afford jumping to conclusions. We need to think this
through. Let him go," she said again, emphasizing every word.

Hank wrenched the rope off John, who lay in the mud, gasping
for breath and staring at them.

When Amy helped him up, a fresh wave of pain shot through
her hands. "Come on. We have to catch the horses, especially Dotty and
Nugget."

A few more tense moments ticked by. Hank and John stared
daggers at each other, but finally they hurried away to follow Amy's orders.

*  *  *

"I'm fine, really," Nora said as they entered the
main house.

Rika kicked the door closed behind her with her heel.
"Let me be the judge of that." The amount of weight Nora put on her
let Rika know she wasn't fine at all. Nora was as tall as she was, so they
struggled to make it to the side table to light a lamp. "Bedroom?"
Rika asked.

The arm around her shoulder tensed for a moment, then Nora
nodded. "All right."

They struggled up the stairs. Nora opened the last door at
the end of the hall.

The scent of bay rum and leather hit Rika's nose before Nora
lit another lamp. Mr. Hamilton was as present here as in the rest of the house,
and Rika wondered if Nora had applied bay rum to one of her pillows because she
missed her husband.
Did Mama ever do that when Father wasn't there?
She
couldn't see her doing that.

Nora sank into the pillows with a groan. "Oh, finally
the room has stopped spinning."

Rika removed Nora's bonnet and probed along her skull.
"Do you feel nauseated?"

"No, I — ouch!" Nora flinched. "I'm just a
bit rattled."

Rika parted the red locks that still held no trace of gray.
Would Amy's hair feel this soft too? The unexpected thought startled her. What
was she doing, thinking about Amy's hair when she was supposed to take care of
Nora? She forced her thoughts back to the task at hand. "You got a big
bump right here, but the skin isn't broken."

"Good." Nora pushed up on her hands to get out of
bed.

"Oh, no." Rika pressed her down. "You need
some rest."

"I'll rest later. The whole ranch is in an uproar and
—"

"And just imagine how much bigger the chaos would get
if Amy had to worry about the horses, the barn, and you all at the same time.
Don't do this to her," Rika said. If Nora was the kind of woman Rika
thought she was, only an appeal to her motherly side would stop her from
getting up.

Nora sank against her pillow. "You fight dirty." A
smile trembled on her lips. "And speaking of dirty, you should change out
of that skirt. Go to Amy's room and take one of hers."

Heat rushed through Rika's soot-stained cheeks. "If I
keep going at this pace, Amy will run out of dresses."

The faint lines around Nora's eyes crinkled as she smiled.
"Oh, Amy would be grateful if that happened. Then she could finally start
wearing her beloved pants to town."

"I'm starting to see the advantages," Rika said.
By now, seeing Amy wear a skirt seemed more unnatural than seeing her in pants.
"At least pants would have been less likely to catch fire." She
directed a regretful glance at the hem of her skirt.

"Catch fire?" Nora jerked upright, then groaned
and grabbed her head with both hands. Her face blanched. "You went into
the burning barn?"

Rika could hardly believe it herself. "We had to get
the horses out."

Nora squeezed her eyes shut as if she wanted to avoid the mental
image. When she opened her eyes again, they held warm regard. "You are a
courageous young woman, Hendrika Bruggeman. Thank you."

The last name made Rika flinch. She didn't feel courageous
at all.
I don't even have the courage to tell these people who I really am.
"I'll
sit with you for a while," she said, "and then go change into another
skirt."

*  *  *

The drenched sleeves of Amy's dress clung to her. Her arms
felt heavy, and her heartbeat pounded in her burned palms. "This one
should do it." She handed John the last bucket.

John passed it on to Hank. The bucket went from Hank to
Emmett and finally to Toby, who in turn used the water to soak the grass next
to the barn. The stable was still smoldering, but at least this way, the fire
wouldn't reach any of the other buildings or ruin too much grass.

"Amy," Toby called. "Did you see this?"

Cursing her sodden skirt, Amy walked to where Toby was
pointing. In the light of breaking dawn, she saw footprints leading from the
hills to the ruins of their barn. Next to the indentations left by the boots, a
brownish substance had been baked by the heat of the fire. Amy bent down and
rubbed a bit of it between her burned fingers.

"Chewing tobacco." She hurled it away.

Only one man in the area was chewing and spitting wherever
he went.

"That goddamned bastard!" Hank slapped his fist
into his open palm. Then he ducked his head. "Sorry, Amy."

"Don't be sorry for cursing." Growing up around
ranch hands, she had heard worse. "Be sorry for almost lynching John. You
owe him an apology." She held Hank's gaze until he looked away. "Now
would be a good time for that."

Hank's teeth ground together. He had his pride, and
apologizing to someone he considered an Indian in front of his friends and
colleagues... Amy knew it was a lot to ask. But if she wanted to have a good
crew, they needed to establish mutual trust and respect. And the men needed to
learn that her orders were not suggestions they could take or leave.

"I'm waiting, Hank," she said.

"Sorry," Hank mumbled.

Amy kept staring at him. He had almost killed John. A
halfhearted sorry wouldn't do.

Hank turned away from Amy and finally looked John in the
eye. "I'm sorry," he said more loudly.