Hidden Truths (31 page)

She rode up to the cabin, a greeting on her lips, but
something held her back from calling out. This time of year, it was better to
be careful and watch out for strangers who were handy with a lariat and a
running iron. Around here, even rustlers knew the worth of a Hamilton horse.

A quick glance showed her that the pile of stacked-up wood
in front of the cabin had gotten smaller.
Someone is here. Someone without a
horse or Ruby would whinny a greeting.

One name shot through her mind:
Adam!

Any other traveler would have a horse.

Don't be silly.
She shook her head. Adam was long
gone. This was probably just a down-on-his-luck wrangler who lost his horse.

She slid her hand down to the revolver at her side. Since
the fire, she never rode out without Papa's spare revolver.

Before she could reach her weapon, the click of a hammer
echoed through the silence.

Fear stabbed her chest, robbing her of breath.
Steady.
She
slid her gaze to the source of the sound and tensed her muscles against the
impact of a bullet.

Nothing happened.

Not yet.

"I told you you'd regret firing me," someone said
from behind her.

Adam.
She pressed her teeth together until her jaw
muscles hurt. "I didn't fire you," she said, trying to keep her voice
calm. "You gave your notice because you didn't want to work for me. So
let's just go our separate ways without any bad feelings." This wasn't the
moment to talk about the barn he'd set afire or his attack on Mama.

He didn't answer. Instead, Amy heard his footsteps circle
around until he was facing her. Long stubble covered his cheeks, and the fire
in his eyes made him appear even wilder and more dangerous.

Amy flicked her gaze to his weapon.
If I charge him,
maybe I can kick away his revolver.

He waved two fingers toward his chest. "Oh, yeah, come
on. Try it." The corner of his mouth twitched. "Don't think I
wouldn't shoot a woman. If you wear pants like a man and act like a man, I'll
shoot you like a man."

Amy hesitated. He would shoot. But if he didn't kill her
now, what would he do to her? What was he planning?

"Get off the horse."

She didn't move, knowing that she would be at his mercy once
she was on the ground.

"Get off the damn horse, or I'll shoot her!" His
revolver swung down, now aiming at Ruby.

"All right, all right. I'll get down. Don't hurt
her." Amy wrapped the reins around the saddle horn and swung her leg over
the cantle. If she dropped down, Ruby would be between Adam and her, blocking
his view. If she could draw her revolver...

"No." Adam's voice stopped her. "Not on that
side. Climb off on my side." The muzzle of the revolver swung back up and
pointed at the middle of her chest.

Grinding her teeth, Amy dismounted on Ruby's right side. She
gave Ruby a clap on her rump and sent her away. If Adam shot at her, at least
Ruby wouldn't be hit.

Ruby trotted to the corral but then stopped and looked back
at Amy.

Home,
Amy tried to tell her mentally.
Go home and
get help.
But she knew she was Ruby's herd at the moment. Ruby wouldn't
leave unless something scared her off.

"Hands up. Come over here," Adam said.

She had no choice. Her thoughts raced as she stepped toward
Adam, but with his revolver pointing at her, she couldn't do anything.

His weapon still aimed at her, Adam used his free hand to
reach beneath her jacket. His fingers slid over her body, making her shiver
with revulsion. "Get your hands off me!"

"Oh, come on. You're enjoying this." His grin
widened. Then his searching hand found the revolver she carried against her
hip. "That's what I thought." He took the weapon. "Did no one
ever tell you little girls shouldn't play with revolvers?" He tossed it
away and prepared to step back.

No!
If she wanted to survive, she needed a weapon.
She needed to stay close to him to fight for the revolver. If he stepped out of
reach, he could shoot her from a safe distance.

She lurched forward and hammered both fists at the spot
where his neck met the shoulder of his weapon arm.

Her well-placed blow hit Adam before he could react. It
worked, just as Papa had taught her. The revolver dropped from his hand.

With a cry, Amy dived for it.

The tip of Adam's boot caught her in the ribs.

Pain lanced through her, and Amy fell back. Despite the
throbbing pain, she groped for the revolver.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Adam snatched her collar and
dragged her to her knees.

Amy struggled, but his grip was too strong. She couldn't
break free.

"Thought you could best me, huh?" Adam sneered and
bent down.

Had he found the revolver?

As his weight shifted forward, his grip on her collar
loosened.

Amy rammed her head into his stomach.

They fell and rolled. Amy stabbed her hand forward, trying
to shove her fingers into his eyes.

Adam jerked his head to the side at the last moment.

Her hand hit his cheekbone.

He grunted. With his greater strength, he rolled them around
again.

Agony shot through Amy when his weight pressed down on her.
His tobacco breath hit her face. She tried to hit his eyes, his ears, his
throat, but Adam's big hands clamped around her wrists, shackling them to the
ground.

No, no! Let go. Get off me!
Under the weight of his
body, Amy struggled to suck air into her lungs. She thrust upward with her
knee, driving between his legs, as Papa had taught her.

Adam's eyes widened. His body stiffened against hers. An
unhealthy flush shot up his neck. His mouth fell open, and he howled.

Yes!
Her hands were free. Amy shoved at his chest and
crawled out beneath him. Her heart slammed against her ribcage.

The revolver!

She had to get her hands on a weapon before Adam recovered.

Her gaze darted left and right. All around them, the grass
was trampled, but no metal glinted anywhere.

Amy scrambled to her feet.

Adam grabbed her ankle. With one sharp tug, Amy crashed to
the ground. She spat out earth and clawed the grass. Facedown, she flailed her
hands, searching for the revolver, a stick, a stone, any weapon at all.

Cold steel pressed against the side of her head.

Amy froze. Somehow, Adam had found one of the revolvers.

Her arms dropped to the ground. She sucked in a breath. Pain
flared through her ribs. "Adam," she said through a constricted
throat. "Don't be stupid. If you kill me, my father will string you from
the tallest tree in Oregon. And that's if Mama doesn't get you in front of her
rifle first."

They both knew it was true. No one, not even the law, would
stop her parents if Adam hurt her.

Adam grasped her shoulder and pulled her around. He leaned
over her, his face crimson and his eyes wild. "Yeah, but I bet Mama's
pretty little head is still hurting good. And dear Papa isn't here now, is
he?" Adam chuckled. The pressure at her temple increased, and Adam's
hate-filled eyes stared at her from just inches away.

"No," an unfamiliar voice said from somewhere
behind Adam. "But I am. And so is my Spencer carbine."

Oh, thank God!
Amy trembled, this time with relief,
not fear.

Adam jerked his head toward the voice, still pinning Amy so
she couldn't see her savior.

The voice was female. A hysterical chuckle bubbled up Amy's
throat, and she clutched her ribs.
Adam being defeated by a woman again.
It
was almost as good as knowing she would survive.

"Drop the revolver," the woman said.

When Adam hesitated, another voice came from beside the
first one. "Drop the weapon and step back, or you will be too dead to be
sorry." The voice was softer than the first one, but equally determined.
The hammer of another weapon clicked.

Adam withdrew the revolver from Amy's temple and, cursing,
hurled it away. Moments later, tanned hands dragged him off Amy.

"Careful," Amy said. "My revolver has to be
somewhere around here."

"I got it," the first voice said. While his
companion kept her weapon trained on Adam, the man bent and picked up Amy's
revolver.

Man?
Amy blinked. The voice made her think the person
with the Spencer carbine was a woman, but the hat, the pants, and the short
hair told her she was wrong.

His female companion hurried over and helped tie up Adam.

When Amy tried to get up, the woman pressed her down.
"Stay down until you catch your breath, Amy."

Amy squinted at the stranger. "How do you know my
name?" There was something familiar about the woman, about the way the
sunlight reflected off her golden-silvery hair, about the curve of her lips
when she smiled. Had they met before?

"Because you look like your mother." The stranger
grinned. "And you fight like your father."

*  *  *

Tess blinked at the young woman. With her green eyes,
flaming red hair, and freckles sprinkled over a creamy-golden complexion, the
young woman staring up at her looked almost exactly like Nora.

Or at least like Nora did when she first came to work for
me in the brothel.

Then Tess took the time to study her more closely. Denim
pants and mud-spattered chaps covered muscular legs, and Tess caught glimpses
of a sturdy body beneath a canvas jacket and a men's shirt. A piece of leather
could barely restrain a mass of wind-tangled hair. During the struggle, a few
tendrils had escaped and now fell into her face.

"How do you know my parents?" Instead of the wary
caution Tess was used to from Nora, her daughter's face showed dazed curiosity.

What had Nora told her daughters about her past? For now, it
was better not to tell Amy she'd been the madam of the brothel in which her
mother had worked. "I'm Tess Swenson, an old friend from Missouri. I knew
you when you were just a three-year-old girl."

Did Amy remember anything about that time? Did she remember
living in the brothel?

Lines of concentration formed on Amy's brow, but no sign of
recognition lit up her eyes.

Maybe it's better that way.
Tess reached down and
offered her hand to help Amy up.

"Are you here to visit Mama and Papa?" Amy asked
while she struggled to her feet.

"We're here to see your mother and meet you
girls," Tess said. "We already met Luke in The Dalles."

Now Amy's face lit up. For a moment, she looked like
three-year-old Amy when Tess had offered her an apple for the horses. "So
he made it all right? All the horses are fine?"

"I didn't ask about the horses, but Luke seemed fine.
He was only worried about his family and the ranch."

"We're doing just fine." Amy straightened, then
clutched her side. An expression of pain rushed over her face.

Tess gripped her elbow. "Oh, yeah. Just fine. I can see
that." This young woman was as stubborn as her parents. "Did he hurt
you?"

"No. I'm fine, just a little winded," Amy said.

If we hadn't gotten lost searching for the ranch and
stopped at the cabin to ask for the way, she wouldn't be fine now.
Tess
shuddered. "Come on. Let's get you home." It was time to keep her
promise and take care of Luke's "chicks."

*  *  *

Each of Ruby's steps sent waves of pain through Amy, but she
struggled not to let it show.

"Who is he?" the man Tess had introduced as
Frankie asked, pointing his rifle at Adam. His voice was oddly soft for a man —
so soft that Amy had mistaken it for the voice of a woman, but the hands
holding the rifle looked as if they knew how to fight. "Why did he attack
you?"

"Adam was one of our ranch hands, but he didn't like
working for a woman," Amy said. Everything had been fine with Papa in
charge, but so much had happened since Amy had taken over. She longed for
Papa's return, but at the same time, she wondered what he would say about all
of this. Would he think she wasn't capable of running the ranch on her own?

Tess directed her mare closer to Amy and threw a grim smile
over her shoulder. "Oh, don't we know that situation. Most men hate taking
orders from a woman."

"Mama had to threaten him with a rifle. She chased him
off the ranch, and in revenge, he set fire to our barn and attacked Mama."
A shiver raced down Amy's spine when she thought of that night, the panicked
squeals of the horses in the burning stable, Rika's skirt catching fire, and
then Mama stumbling toward them, holding her head.

"Nora!" Tess blanched. "Is
she all right?"

"She's fine. She always said she's got a hard
head." Amy forced a smile. Mama wouldn't want her friend to worry about
her.

The color returned to Tess's face. She chuckled. "Oh,
yes, that she did." Her grin deepened the lines around her eyes and mouth,
telling Amy that Tess was probably twice her own age, but Amy still found her
beautiful.

"You can't prove it was me," Adam shouted from his
place running next to the three horses.

"We can prove that you were about to shoot a
defenseless woman," Frankie said. "Now shut up and save your breath
for keeping up, or I'll drag you behind my horse all the way to the
ranch."

"Let me go, goddammit!" Adam struggled against the
rope that bound his wrists together. He spat in their direction. "This is
none of your damn business. No one will believe a word you say. I have friends
in the area, and you are just some stranger."

Frankie jerked on the rope, almost throwing Adam off his
feet.

"Oh, Frankie is not just some stranger," Tess
said. A grin deepened the lines around her eyes. "She's a railroad
marshal."

"She?" Adam and Amy echoed.

Amy's head jerked around. Pain surged along her ribs, and
she barely resisted the impulse to clutch her side. Instead, she looked Frankie
up and down.