Hidden Truths (25 page)

"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 incident 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.

A simple nod was answer enough.

"All right." Amy slid her hands over Dotty's
swollen belly, then moved to the stall door. "Thank you," she said
when she passed Rika.

Amy's trust settled over Rika like a warm blanket. Her
cheeks glowed. She entered the stall and looked at Amy over the stall door.
"You're welcome."

*  *  *

Rika yawned and watched Dotty curl back her upper lip in
something that looked like the equine equivalent of an answering yawn.
"You tired too, girl? I'm not keeping you awake, am I?"

In the last two hours, nothing had indicated that the foal
was about to come. Maybe it wouldn't be born tonight after all.

She watched Dotty chew on a mouthful of hay, then walk away.
A minute later, the mare returned to the manger and got another bite before she
moved away.

Was that what Amy meant with "restless," or was
her unfamiliar presence making the mare nervous? If she ran to the main house
and woke up Amy, just to discover that it was a false alarm, Amy would think
Rika was no help at all.

Dotty crossed to the other end of the stall and settled her
large body into the straw.

Is this it?
Was the foal coming now, or had Dotty
just settled down to sleep? Rika hesitated, one hand on the bolt that kept the
stall door closed. She wasn't even sure if horses lay down to sleep. In the
corral, she had seen horses doze while standing up.