by Jae
She put Dancer up in a stall at the livery stable and took her time brushing his coat until it gleamed. For a few cents extra, the stable owner would do it for her, but Luke preferred to do it herself. It gave her time to bond with Dancer, and she could check him over for little injuries that might have happened on the trail.
When she left the livery stable, two men walked around in the corral, looking at a horse.
"Twenty dollars?" One of the men laughed. "I won't pay you a dime for that misbehaving devil! Show me another horse."
The harsh words caught Luke's attention. After living with horses for all her life, she knew most misbehaving horses were the owner's fault. She looked at the horse in the corral. Ah. A Percheron mare. She was on the lookout for a horse just like that one. With railroads being built in the West, there was money to be made in breeding draft horses, and Luke liked the gentle giants.
Her gaze slid up and down the horse, trying to figure out what was wrong with her. Strong muscles played beneath the shining black coat. At seventeen hands, the mare dwarfed Luke's Appaloosas. She took in the deep, wide chest, the broad forehead, and the gracefully arched neck. Luke knew the breed to be willing workers, ideal for logging and hard farm work.
This mare didn't seem very obedient, though.
The owner directed the mare around the corral with a rope in an attempt to show her off. But it wasn't working. Instead of following every tug on the rope and presenting smooth gaits, the mare pranced around the corral and tried to circle to the right even though her owner wanted her to go in the other direction.
On first glance, not a horse worth buying. But Luke had learned to look beneath the surface. She stepped to the corral. "Twenty dollars?" she asked.
The owner's head snapped around. His eyes lit up when he saw Luke watching the mare. "Yes. She's worth more. She's young, strong, and has many good years left."
"Don't let him talk you into it. The mare isn't worth it," the other man said. "You'd have to break her first. When he tried to put a saddle on her earlier, she bucked like crazy."
The mare's owner shot him a glare.
Luke ducked beneath the corral rails and walked up to the mare. Murmuring reassurances, she checked the mare's teeth and slid her hand over the muscular neck, back, and hip. The horse shied away with a violent swish of her tail. "Easy, easy." She waited until the mare calmed, then turned to the owner. "I'll take her."
"Fool." With a snort, the second man walked away.
Luke didn't look at him. She had learned decades ago not to react to stupid provocations.
"You won't regret it," the owner said. He tried with little success to hide his grin.
"I know."
The young mare wasn't a misbehaving devil that needed to be broken with violence. Luke was fairly sure she had a sore back, probably caused by tack that didn't fit her broad back and rubbed against her day in and day out. But instead of looking for the cause of her sudden disobedience, her owner had concluded that she was misbehaving and needed to be sold.
What the mare needed was enough rest and an owner with some horse sense.
Luke vowed that she would get both. She flipped a double eagle into the air and watched as the stable's owner clasped his greedy hand around it. "I'll pick her up before I leave tomorrow. When you bring her in tonight, make sure you put the feeding trough to her right."
"To her right?"
"Yeah. She's got a sore back, and it's uncomfortable for her to bend her neck to the left." Luke walked away without looking back.
Willamette Valley, Oregon
June 21, 1868
"MMM, NICE." RIKA leaned back on the wagon seat and enjoyed the sunshine and Amy's warmth against her side. Sunlight danced over the path in front of them and made Old Jack's coat gleam. A light breeze carried the scent of wild roses, apple blossoms, and freshly mowed grass. At the clip-clop of Old Jack's hooves, a robin fluttered from one tree to the other.
Rika's gaze wandered over the valley. By now, the hills and the flatland along the river didn't feel like a foreign land anymore. On days like this, she felt stirrings of the love for the land that she saw shining in Amy's eyes.
Reins loosely held in one hand, Amy stretched like a contented cat and reached up to remove her bonnet. Her red locks shone like polished copper in the sun.
After a second's hesitation, Rika took off her own bonnet.
Amy turned her head, and they shared a conspiratorial grin. "Wouldn't it be nice if we didn't have to sit in church on a beautiful day like this?" Amy tugged at her bodice. "We could admire the Lord's creations much better out here than in a stuffy building."
What a daring thought. If Rika had uttered such a thing at home, her father would have beaten her for her insolence. But she was an adult now, and she was learning not to care what her father would have done. "It would be nice, but your mother and Nattie would worry if we don't show up for church." The two other Hamilton women had ridden ahead to meet the Garfields before church.
"Maybe we could stop on the way back and pick a few strawberries." A grin chased away Amy's frown. "I know a hidden meadow where the best ones grow."
Strawberries. Rika could almost sense the ripe, sun-warmed taste on her tongue. Her mouth watered. Only once in her life had she gotten to try strawberries. The thought of sharing the juicy treats with Amy sent a shiver of delight up and down her spine. "I'd love that."
On the path ahead of them, a horse neighed.
Amy slowed the wagon, making their approach as silent and cautious as possible. She reached for her rifle. As she had promised Rika, she was more careful not to charge into potentially dangerous situations without being prepared.
Their wagon crested the hill, and Amy pulled on the reins to stop Old Jack before whoever was ahead of them could see them.
Rika craned her neck.
"Mouse," Amy said. "It's just Tess and Frankie." She let go of her rifle.
In the valley below them, the gray mare munched on a tuft of grass. Frankie had gotten out of the saddle while Tess waited, still mounted on her own horse.
"Seems they had the same idea." Amy grinned. "Frankie's picking strawberries."
Tess's laughter drifted over when Frankie returned with a handful of the little red fruits and offered them to Tess. But instead of reaching out and taking the strawberries from Frankie, Tess bent and plucked the fruit right off Frankie's hand with her lips.
Rika stared at them. Maybe Tess didn't want to get strawberry juice on her hands. A sudden image of Amy feeding her strawberries right out of her hand formed before her mind's eye, but she chased it away with a shake of her head.
Before Tess could straighten in the saddle, Frankie reached up and pressed her lips to Tess's. It was not a friendly peck between cousins.
Heat swirled through Rika's belly, up her chest, and then crawled up her face. It took her a while to form words. "W-what are they doing? They're cousins! And they... they're both women!"
Only silence answered her.
She turned her head to look at Amy.
But Amy didn't provide any answers. She blanched. Her left hand white-knuckled the reins while her right hand was clamped around her knee.
"Amy?"
Amy flinched and turned toward her.
It was hard to figure out what Amy was feeling and thinking, maybe because she felt so many things at once, as Rika did. Her eyelashes fluttered.
"Maybe it was just a kiss between cousins." Amy's trembling voice made it sound like a question, not a statement.
But Rika knew what she had seen. She had lived her whole life facing reality, as harsh or confusing it might be. This had not been a gesture of affection between relatives. "You don't kiss your sister like that, do you?"
"No!" Amy's face went from pale to deep red. "I'd never —"
Rika touched her arm. "I know."
When Amy's gaze flickered down to the hand on her arm, Rika withdrew. They sat in silence until Old Jack let out a snort.
Frank
ie and Tess looked up from sharing more strawberries.
"Hello, you two," Tess called when Amy directed the wagon down the hill. "Are you off to church?"
Speechless, Rika nodded.
"We're not coming this time." Tess smiled at them as if nothing had happened. "We decided to enjoy the Lord's creation out here instead."
"Yeah. We're gonna have a picnic with strawberries." Frankie presented her hand that cradled a few more of the berries. "Want some?"
Still pale, Amy shook her head. "No. No, thanks. We better get going, or we'll be late for church."
The wagon jerked forward as if Old Jack felt his owner's agitation.
Rika spent the rest of the ride to town in a daze.
"I'm sorry," Amy said after a long silence.
"You don't need to apologize. You are not the one who goes around kissing other women."
But the look of guilt and confusion didn't disappear from Amy's face. They drove along in silence for the rest of the way.
* * *
Back in Boston, Rika had liked going to church since it was the only interruption to long, monotonous workweeks. But now she couldn't wait to leave Baker Prairie's little church. She squirmed on the hard pew while Reverend Rhodes delivered his sermon about sin.
Surely it's a sin to kiss your cousin that way. To kiss another woman.
But still, she knew Frankie and Tess were good people. Nora thought highly of them, and they had saved Amy's life. And there was so much love in the way Frankie had fed the strawberries to Tess.
Was this really wrong in the eyes of the Lord while her father's cold, sometimes cruel treatment of her stepmother was perfectly normal?
Rika didn't know what to think anymore.
Amy didn't fare any better. Whenever Rika sneaked glances at her during the sermon, she found Amy staring at her hands as if she didn't want to meet anyone's gaze. Sometimes, she flinched when the pastor promised eternal hell to sinners who didn't repent.
As soon as the pastor gave his blessing and church was over, Rika rushed down the aisle toward the church's exit. With a shy nod, she ducked past the pastor, who stood next to the portal to say good-bye to his parishioners.
Behind her, Amy mumbled a quick greeting and followed Rika down the church steps.
"Miss Bruggeman!" the pastor called.
Rika froze. She felt as if the Lord's lightning had struck her. Slowly, she turned around, shoulders lifted as if to protect her vulnerable neck. "Yes?"
The pastor descended the steps, his gaze never leaving her.
Does he know what Tess and Frankie did? What kind of thoughts I've been having?
She shook off her panicked thoughts. He's a pastor, not a mind reader. Rika tried to put on the masks that protected her so well in the past but found it hard to erect the familiar walls.
"You've been part of the congregation for a while now, but I haven't found the time to talk to you," Reverend Rhodes said when he stopped next to her. "How do you like it here in Baker Prairie?"
The knot in Rika's stomach loosened. "I like it just fine. The people here are wonderful." Her gaze wandered to Amy, who was waiting a few steps away.
When the pastor followed her gaze, he lifted an eyebrow but said nothing.
Words weren't necessary. Rika had read the silent disapproval in people's gazes often enough when they'd looked at her, knowing she was the daughter of a drunkard and the wife of a never-do-well husband. He doesn't approve of Amy, because she's not like the other girls in town. Her lips pressed together until they felt numb. He doesn't know Amy's kindness, has never seen her care for the animals, yet he judges her for the way she dresses.
She waited for him to nod and move on to other parishioners, but the pastor kept looking at her.
"Phineas is expected back soon," he said. "It's time to discuss your wedding ceremony."
Oh, no. Rika couldn't deal with that. Not today. "Oh, Reverend, I can't possibly make decisions about wedding plans without Mr. Sharpe and without even having met him. Maybe we can talk some other time, when he's back. Now, would you excuse me, please? The Hamiltons are waiting for me." She pointed at Nattie and Nora, who now joined Amy next to the wagon.
"Come see me as soon as Phineas is back." The pastor's stern gaze drilled into her. "You can't live under the same roof with Phineas and not be married to him."
"I won't," Rika said.
One of the women who sat in the first pew every Sunday waved to get the pastor's attention.
"Until next Sunday, then." With one last glance, he walked away.
"What did he want?" Amy asked when Rika climbed onto the wagon. She fidgeted with the reins as if she, too, wondered whether the pastor somehow knew about Frankie and Tess's improper behavior.
Rika settled the folds of her skirt around her and made sure her ankles were covered. "He wanted to talk about the wedding ceremony."
For the long way home, Nora, who rode next to the wagon with Nattie, talked about what Rika would wear, how they would decorate the church, and what passages the pastor would read from the Bible.
Wedding preparations didn't hold Rika's attention. Five years ago, those things held more meaning to her. She had altered one of her mother's old dresses to fit her slim frame, walked miles to pick a few sprigs of cherry blooms, and obsessed about the way her hair looked. Now she knew those things held no importance. Her marriage hadn't turned out any better because of them.
Over and over, her thoughts slid back to seeing Frankie and Tess kiss. They passed the little bend in the path where Tess and Frankie had stopped to pick strawberries. The place was deserted now, and Rika wondered if she had imagined it all.
But then she saw Amy's gaze flit to the place.
Rika sighed. Her life had changed. Everything was different, and she wasn't even sure how.
* * *
"Lord, we thank you for this food. Please bless our family, our friends, and the horses." Mama let her gaze travel over the people at the table. "Amen."
"Amen," Amy mumbled. Mama asked the Lord to bless Frankie and Tess. Didn't she know God considered them sinners?
Rika nudged her. "Dumplings?" She held the bowl out to Amy and studied her.
"Thanks." Amy looked away from the probing gaze. Her stomach churned at the thought of eating, but she placed three dumplings on her plate. If she took fewer, Mama would become suspicious.
On the other side of the table, Mama heaped chicken and gravy onto Frankie's plate and offered a slice of bread to Tess. They laughed at something, but Amy's thoughts whirled through her mind and she couldn't follow the conversation.
Mama treats them like cherished friends, not like sinners she barely tolerates at her table. Amy hadn't seen one strange glance, one disapproving look directed at Frankie and Tess. Mama probably didn't know about their unnatural ways. Or was it possible that she knew and was all right with women loving each other? Amy was afraid to let herself hope.
"You're not eating," Rika whispered. The warmth of her arm penetrated Amy's shirt. "You all right?"
"Just fine." Forcefully, Amy's fork sliced through the dumplings.
"Liar."
Amy blinked. Was this the plain young woman who had arrived here two months ago? If she was honest with herself, Amy had stopped thinking of Rika as plain weeks ago. Now she saw the strength and the beauty in her stern features. Not knowing how to answer, she pierced a bit of chicken with her fork and swallowed it past the lump in her throat.
Hamilton Horse Ranch
Baker Prairie, Oregon
June 21, 1868
"NORA!"
The urgent whisper stopped Nora on her way to the springhouse. When she turned her head, she saw Tess peeking out of the cabin, waving at her to come over.
Fetching the butter could wait, she decided. Except for supper, she hadn't seen Tess all day, not even at church. Is something wrong? She hurried over.
Tess closed the door behind them and gestured to the table, where Frankie was sitting.
"What happened?" Nora looked at the serious faces of her friends.
"Please sit down, Nora."
Nora sank onto a chair and laid her hand on the scarred table. Lovingly, she traced the burn marks in the wood, taking comfort in the old memories the cabin held.
"I think Amy knows," Tess said.
Nora's grip on the table turned desperate. Her heart lurched against her ribs, pounding out a frantic staccato. Bitter liquid burned her throat. She lived in fear of this happening for many years, and now that the moment had come, she found she was utterly unprepared. "Amy knows?"