by Jae
Does Frankie feel the same things I do? And Tess? Am I like them?
"I think you know what I mean, don't you?" Frankie asked.
The saddle slid out of Amy's hands and thumped to the floor. She knows! Oh, Lord, how can she know? She had always been so careful not to give herself away, and now... Her throat constricted.
Frankie stepped across the threshold and firmly closed the door.
With movements that felt clumsy, Amy picked up the saddle and heaved it onto an empty rack. Her muscles trembled, not from the saddle's weight but from fear. If Frankie knew, would she tell Mama? Had she already told her?
Her parents loved her, but they wouldn't understand. And how could they, when Amy didn't understand it herself?
Frankie ducked past bridles, halters, and harness pieces hanging from pegs. She turned over an empty bucket and sat on it. "Have you ever admired a woman's body, Amy? Ever found yourself stopping to breathe in the scent of her skin? Wanted to say something witty just to see her smile?"
An image of Rika's gap-toothed grin flashed through Amy. She knew she was guilty of everything Frankie just described. At night, she often tried to delay falling asleep so she could breathe in Rika's scent a while longer and could admire her form in the moonlight while Rika slept.
She had told herself it was just friendship. She admired Rika and her strength; that was all. For a while, she could almost make herself believe it. But then she had seen Frankie and Tess kiss — and it brought home the true meaning of her feelings.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Amy mumbled, not meeting Frankie's gaze.
The bucket scraped across the floor as Frankie slid closer. "You don't have to talk to me, but please don't lie to me. I've been where you are now. I know what you are going through, and I know lying to yourself and to your friends will only make it harder."
"Harder than being chased out of town? Harder than my family hating me? Harder than burning in hell?" The long buried words broke out of Amy.
"Amy, don't let your fears —"
"Does your family know about... you know?"
Frankie's jaw tightened. "They know."
"And?"
"The last time I saw my brothers, they spat in my face." Frankie didn't look away, didn't lower her head, so the pain in her eyes was plain to see. "Not everyone will accept our kind of love. Most people probably won't. You need to be careful. But that doesn't mean you should give up on love."
Amy shook her head. "As long as I can control these... urges, everything is fine."
"Sure, just like my life was fine before I found Tess." Frankie's voice vibrated with fierce determination, but her gaze was soft. "But now it's complete. There's a big difference, and you'll understand it once you stop hating that part of yourself."
Amy shook her head. She didn't want to hear it. The price was too high.
With a touch to Amy's shoulder, Frankie stood. "All right. I can see that you're not ready to talk about this. Just know that Tess and I are always here to talk." She walked to the door.
"Frankie," Amy called. Every fiber of her being trembled. For the first time, someone knew her deepest, darkest secret. "You'll keep this to yourself, won't you? You won't tell my parents?"
A sad gaze met hers. "I won't say a word, but I wish you'd talk to your mother. She didn't bat an eye when she found out about Tess and me. She won't think less of you either."
Could that really be true? Mama seemed fine with Tess and Frankie, but maybe it was different when it was her own daughter. I don't know. I don't know anything anymore.
The door slid closed with an echoing click. Frankie was gone, leaving Amy with her thoughts in turmoil.
Hamilton Horse Ranch
Baker Prairie, Oregon
June 22, 1868
THE BANG OF WOOD crashing against wood greeted Rika as she entered the stable.
There she is.
Amy's red curls bounced up and down above a stall door.
The door whispered closed behind Rika, and she stood observing, unnoticed by Amy.
Amy hurled pitchfork after pitchfork of manure into the wheelbarrow. The pitchfork's handle crashed against the wall, and straw flew everywhere, but Amy continued to work like a possessed woman. She stopped just long enough to jerk up her shirtsleeves. The muscles of her forearms bunched. Her shirt clung to her torso, and drops of sweat beaded on her golden-hued skin.
Rika licked her lips.
Women are wonderful, Tess had said. With her unusual strength and her gentle passion for life, Amy certainly was. In moments like this, Rika understood what drew Frankie and Tess to each other.
The thought was new and unsettling, but at the same time, it just fit.
She gave a cough to let Amy know she was there.
Amy whirled around, the pitchfork lifted as if to ward off an attacker.
Rika stepped back and raised her hands. "Just me."
Grunting, Amy set down the pitchfork. She rolled down her sleeves and buttoned the cuffs as if feeling exposed under Rika's gaze.
In the sudden silence, a horse snuffled for any food the visitors might have brought.
This is awkward. Before, they had been friends, but learning that Frankie and Tess were sweethearts made Rika aware that women could be more than friends. Could they be more than friends for her?
She shook her head at herself. You're marrying Phineas, remember?
Amy picked up the pitchfork again. Horse apples landed half in, half out of the wheelbarrow.
"Want me to help?" Rika asked.
"No, thanks."
Rika leaned against the stall door and watched. Clearly, Amy wanted to be alone, but Rika needed to talk. She plucked at a stalk of straw that had gotten caught in her hair. One of her hairpins slipped, and a shock of hair fell into Rika's face. "Why do you think Frankie and Tess love each other and not men?"
"I don't know," Amy said.
"Have you ever met other women like that?"
"It doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about it."
Rika looked up and found Amy glancing at her hair.
Scowling, Amy wrenched her gaze away.
"We are friends, right?" Rika asked. "If I can't talk to you about this, there's no one else that I feel comfortable talking to."
"Why would you want to talk about this at all?" Amy grumbled.
Rika gave up on trying to fix her hair. "Don't you find it riveting? Two women together... I never heard of that. Aren't you curious?"
"No," Amy said. She grabbed a shovel and scooped up urine spots in one corner of the stall so Rika couldn't see her face. The tension in the strong shoulders was unmistakable, though.
"Do you find it disgusting?" Rika asked. Amy sure acted as if she did.
"Do you?"
"No."
Now Amy threw a glance over her shoulder. Her gaze darted over Rika's face, searching for the truth. "You don't?"
"They love each other." It was so evident in their glances and little touches that Rika now wondered how she had missed it for so long. "It's unusual, yes, but..."
"But?" Amy prompted. She leaned on the shovel, gaze resting on Rika, transfixed.
"They seem happy together, happier than some women are in their marriage," Rika said. "My husband ignored me and hid at the bottom of a bottle instead of sharing his pain with me." The memories hurt, but now she understood that it hadn't been her fault. It hadn't been her plainness that failed to keep him interested. "My father used to shout at my stepmother. I never heard him talk to her with tenderness. And I watched your uncles with their wives when they visited the cotton mill. They treated them like servants. I don't think Tess and Frankie would ever treat each other like that."
Maybe it wasn't for the pastor to decide that their love was a sin while some of the unhappy marriages she had observed, with all their indifference and cruelty, were considered normal.
Amy's hands relaxed around the shovel. She exhaled slowly. The tension fled from her sturdy frame. "Not all m
arriages are like that, you know? My papa and mama still behave like newlyweds when they think no one's watching. And sometimes, when I'm out riding line, I see Jacob Garfield pick flowers for Bernice — after thirty-five years of marriage."
A wistful sigh escaped Rika. She wanted that. Not the flowers, but being loved enough that someone would waste an hour of daylight to pick them for her. "Do you think Frankie and Tess could have that with a husband?"
Amy stared at the dust motes dancing on beams of sunlight. "I don't know." She sounded badly shaken, as if she didn't know what to think anymore.
"Why is this upsetting you so? You never seemed to care what other people think."
"I don't." Amy turned and scraped at the urine spots in the corner. "And I'm not upset."
Rika shoved back the bolt and pushed through the stall door. Two strides and she grabbed Amy's shoulder and dragged her around. "You know what? You are exactly like your horses." She stabbed a finger at Amy. "You look tough and act all confident, but you scare easily."
"I'm not scared." Amy's shaking voice belied her words.
"Oh, no? You're shaking like a leaf." Concern soothed Rika's anger, and she gentled her voice. "Why are you so scared?"
Amy shook her head. "Not scared."
"Liar," Rika said with affection. For once, she felt as if she were the horse tamer and Amy the scared creature that needed gentling. She took the shovel from Amy's limp grasp and pulled Amy against her, hoping to ease her fears, whatever they were.
At first, Amy stiffened. Then she struggled and tried to break the embrace.
"Easy, easy." Rika let go. "You don't have to be afraid of me. I'm your friend."
Finally, Amy sank against Rika and buried her face against Rika's shoulder.
Her warmth pressed against Rika. Rhythmic waves of breath brushed over the bare skin of Rika's throat. Shivers trailed down her body. She cleared her throat and focused on Amy. "Want to talk about what's bothering you?" Rika asked, slipping into the familiar role of caretaker.
Red locks brushed Rika's chin as Amy shook her head.
"All right." Rika closed her eyes and held Amy until her breathing calmed. Only then did she notice that she trembled too.
* * *
Nora jumped down from the wagon seat. She pressed the reins into John's hands. "Would you take care of him for me?" On most days, she brushed down Old Jack after she returned from school, but today she had just one priority: finding Amy.
"I'll give him a good rub-down," John said.
Without another glance back, Nora hurried into the house.
Noises came from the kitchen. Someone threw logs into the stove.
Amy? Nora quickened her step.
Tess turned away from the stove and walked to the table, where a plucked chicken waited to be prepared. "Normally, people don't look so disappointed when they see me." Her tone was light and teasing, but the crow's-feet around her eyes didn't dance with laughter.
"I thought you were Amy. Is she back?"
Tess reached into a bowl on the table and took one of the peas. She turned it this way and that, studying it from all sides as if she had never seen a pea. "Yes. Came in and wanted to hurry off to work, just like you said."
The muscles of Nora's shoulders knotted with tension. She leaned forward. "How did she seem?"
"We talked to her." Tess lifted her hands. "I know you wanted to talk to her first, but I was angry she stayed out so long and when she brought up the kiss..."
Nora grasped Tess's hand. She'd have preferred to talk to Amy first, but it wasn't important now. All that mattered was that Amy was all right. "And? How did it go?"
With a low plop, the pea Tess had taken landed back in the bowl. "I think Hendrika will be fine with it."
The unspoken words hung between them like thunderclouds, heavy with foreboding. "And Amy?"
"She didn't say much, and that surprised me. I thought she'd be full of questions, but if she had them, she was too scared to ask."
"She's still scared?" Nora didn't understand it. Her courageous daughter had rarely been scared of anything in her life. "Why would she be scared?" Surprised, yes. Maybe even shocked. But scared?
Silence answered her.
Nora plucked a missed feather from the chicken, just to have something to do. "She does understand that you and Frankie would never make any advances toward her, doesn't she? That's not what this is about, is it?"
"No," Tess said. "I don't think it's about that at all."
Something more was going on with Amy. Time to finally have that conversation — whether Amy wanted or not. When Nora got to her feet, the feather fluttered to the floor. She bent and tried to pick it up, but it eluded her grasp. She sighed. A lot of things eluded her at the moment. Something was going on with Amy, and she was determined to find out what.
Hamilton Horse Ranch
Baker Prairie, Oregon
June 22, 1868
NORA FOUND AMY IN the middle of the round pen. Cinnamon, with Hendrika on his back, loped circles around her. Hendrika wore a pair of Amy's pants, and the afternoon sun gleamed on her hair that was missing a bonnet.
"Nice," Amy called. "Remember to keep your body relaxed."
Nora rested her hands on the corral and watched her daughter.
As Amy kept turning so that she faced horse and rider, her movements were confident. A focused expression settled on her face. Her voice sounded gentle but firm, giving out corrections and praise equally.
Is she really so calm? Nora doubted it. But Luke had taught Amy from an early age not to approach horses when she was angry or upset, and by now, stripping off her emotions like confining clothes had become a reflex for Amy. She's hiding with the horses instead of coming to talk to me. Why is this so hard on her?
Her daughters knew they could talk to her about anything and everything. What had changed for Amy to hide her feelings behind a façade of confidence?
"All right," Amy said. "Now get him to stop without slowing to a walk first."
Hendrika's glance sought Amy, and she hesitated.
"You can do it. Just like we practiced. And remember to go easy on the reins."
Three hoofbeats later, Cinnamon slid to a stop in a cloud of dust.
Amy walked over, grabbed his bridle with a steady hand, and patted his neck. "Very nice." She looked at Hendrika, then away.
When Amy noticed Nora leaning against the corral, she hesitated but then led Cinnamon over. "Hey, Mama, did you see that? Rika's getting really good."
At the words of praise, a blush spread over Hendrika's face. She pulled her boot from the stirrup and poked Amy's arm with her toes. Her eyes sparkled with pleasure, though.
"I saw." But Nora's attention wasn't on Cinnamon or Hendrika. "Can I talk to you?"
Amy lost her carefree expression. "All right."
The middle of the corral wasn't a good place to have this conversation. "Let's go for a ride," Nora said. Amy was most comfortable on the back of her horse. Maybe it would help her through this difficult conversation.
"Is there time before supper?" Amy asked.
"We'll make the time."
Amy turned to Hendrika. "Wanna come and get some more practice in?"
"Just you and I this time," Nora said before Hendrika could answer. She reached through two corral rails and touched Hendrika's knee. "You're welcome to come next time, all right?"
Wordlessly, Amy held Cinnamon's reins while Hendrika swung her leg over the cantle. When Hendrika hopped down, her heel caught on a pant leg that was an inch too long and she stumbled. Amy's arms came up to steady her. The gentleness of her touch reminded Nora so much of how Luke treated her.
Still within the circle of Amy's steadying arms, Hendrika looked up and met Amy's eyes. "Thank you."
Something about their interaction struck a chord in Nora, but before she could translate it into conscious thought, Amy let go and stepped back.
* * *
Half an hour later, Nora rode side by side with Am
y. Their horses slowed to plod up a hill. Nora hesitated, searching for the right words. Almost twenty-one years of being a mother hadn't prepared her for this moment. She adjusted her split riding skirt over the saddle. "Tess and Frankie talked to you about —"
"Yes," Amy interrupted as if she didn't want Nora to say the words.