Hidden Trusts

by Jae

  Her fingers trembled. A drop of ink splashed onto the paper, and for a moment, Amy expected it to be red, as if writing a good-bye letter to Rika had opened a vein. But the ink was as black as her mood.

  "Damn, damn, damn." Amy crumpled the paper and threw it across the room.

  It hit Rika in the chest just as she entered. She caught the paper ball and blinked at it. "What's this?" She smoothed the paper and read the two words. "You're writing to me?"

  Amy tugged on her earlobe. "For tomorrow. But I'm not good with putting my thoughts down on paper."

  A grin revealed the gap between Rika's front teeth, and Amy wondered if it was the last time she would get to see it. "You've got a little..." Rika pointed to her ear.

  "What?" Amy rubbed her own ear.

  "You smeared ink all over your ear, and now you're making it worse." Rika took a rag and dipped it in the washbowl. She laid the hand of her uninjured arm along Amy's jaw and tilted her head. "Hold still."

  Amy couldn't move even if she wanted to. The heat of Rika's touch melted her bones. Her eyes fluttered shut.

  The rag rubbed over her ear, cold against her overheated skin.

  "There," Rika said. She trailed her finger over Amy's ear as if to prove that the ink was gone.

  Tingles shot through Amy's body. The touch marked her deeper than any ink stain could.

  Then Rika dropped her hand and stepped back.

  Amy cleared her throat. "Maybe I should just tell you now."

  "Tell me what?"

  "What I wanted to write." Her hands trembled too much to put pen to paper.

  "Wait. That's why I came up here. I need to tell you —"

  "Let me go first," Amy said. If she didn't say it now, she would probably never say it. "I wish you all the best for the future, and I hope you'll be real happy with Phin." Every word hurt, but she meant it. She wanted Rika to find happiness, and she knew she couldn't provide it, so she had to let her go. "If you ever need anything — anything at all — just let me know."

  "Amy..."

  Amy held up her hands. "I want to give you Cinnamon as a wedding gift."

  "Oh, Amy, I can't."

  "I want you to have a part of the ranch to remember us by."

  Tears shone in Rika's eyes. "I don't need a horse to remember you. And as much as I love Cin, I can't take him."

  "Sure you can —"

  "I'm not gonna marry Phin." Rika blurted it out.

  Amy's breath exploded from her lungs. "What? Why?" She stared into Rika's eyes, searching, asking, hoping. Did Rika have feelings for her after all? Was that why she couldn't marry Phin?

  "I have to tell you something," Rika whispered.

  Amy rose on unsteady legs. She stepped closer to Rika. "Yes?"

  "I-I'm..."

  Hope vibrated deep inside of Amy. "Tell me."

  Rika pinched her lip between thumb and index finger. "I'm not the woman who wrote the letters to Phin."

  True, Amy thought. Staying on the ranch has changed her. Rika had learned to trust and enjoy the moment. And not just Rika had changed. So much had happened in Amy's life since she met Rika in front of the stage depot. The last months had been a journey of discovery about herself and her family. "Yeah, I noticed. I happen to think it's a change for the better."

  "Change? No, you don't understand." Rika fiddled with her skirt, rearranging it over her ankles as if she felt exposed. "I'm not the woman who wrote the letters. Never was. My name is Hendrika Aaldenberg, not Johanna Bruggeman."

  A lie. Another lie. Was no one in her life what he or she appeared to be? "Why?" Amy's voice trembled, barely getting out the single word.

  "I didn't know what else to do. I had lost my job, my room, and my only friend, Jo. She died the week before she could take the train west."

  "So you thought you'd honor her by marrying her betrothed and lying to him and to me for the rest of your life?" The words tasted like poison on Amy's tongue.

  Rika's lips thinned. "You don't understand. How could you? Whenever you need help, your family is there for you. Your parents would do anything for you and Nattie."

  "Oh, yeah, the perfect family life." Amy spat out the words. She shook her head until her temples pounded. "It's all just an illusion. If you look beneath the surface —"

  "I looked, and all I see is love. This is killing your father. He's not eating or —"

  "He's not my father. She. Lord."

  Rika's eyes softened to the mahogany color that matched her hair. She touched Amy's forearm. "I know this is hard on you, Amy. I don't want to fight with you, but I hate to see you throw away your family. I'd give anything to have a father like yours, even if he's a woman. I know he... she will be there for you, but my own father... I couldn't go to him for help."

  "He would have said no?" Amy couldn't imagine it. When it really counted, Luke had never told her no.

  "Oh, no. He would have welcomed me with open arms — after all, a daughter is cheap labor, and if she doesn't sell enough pastries, you can encourage her to try harder with your fists."

  Amy swallowed against a dry throat.

  "I know it was wrong to lie to you, but between asking my father to take me back or staying in the poorhouse, using Jo's train ticket seemed like a god-sent gift."

  "Then why are you telling us the truth now?"

  "I don't want to marry and have children, then make them and Phin hate me for lying to them," Rika said.

  Unspoken words hung between them.

  "I don't hate Papa," Amy whispered. "I'm just..." She flailed her arms, searching for an explanation, searching for balance.

  "I know." Rika squeezed her forearm once again, then let go and turned. She reached beneath the bed and pulled out a piece of paper.

  Amy caught a glance of a rider on a red horse before Rika rolled up the drawing and placed it in her carpetbag. "What are you doing?"

  "I can't stay here. You know that."

  "But you don't have to go now. Not right away. I'm sure my parents will let you stay until you find a job." She sounded like a little girl begging Papa for a ride on his horse. The thought added to the churning of her stomach.

  Rika closed the carpetbag, fumbling with her left hand, and carried it to the door. "Why drag this out? The longer I stay, the more people will wag their tongues later. I better go. The stagecoach leaves Baker Prairie in an hour, and if I miss it, I'll have to wait a week for the next one."

  "Where will you go? How will you get by?"

  "I'll be fine. I have the money I got for Mouse. It'll tide me over until I find work."

  One hour and Rika would be gone — not just a few miles, to the cabin Phin would build, but gone forever. Should she take a chance and tell Rika how she felt?

  No. Rika had come west to marry, and now she had talked about having children. She's not... like me, and I don't want the last words she ever speaks to me be in anger and disgust.

  Amy hunched her shoulders. Her hands dangled helplessly at her sides. She wavered between conflicting emotions. Part of her wanted to make the most of every single moment with Rika, but another part didn't want to help Rika leave. "Want me to take you to town?"

  "Phin asked one of the ranch hands to take me," Rika said. "Old Jack is ready to go."

  Amy clamped her hands around the back of the chair.

  "So I guess this is good-bye." Rika jingled the carpetbag.

  "Yeah." Amy held her breath because even breathing hurt.

  Rika crossed the room. She paused one step from Amy and searched her face. With a plop, the carpetbag landed on the floor. Rika threw her left arm around Amy and pulled her close.

  Amy squeezed her eyes shut and felt tears leak out. She rubbed her cheek against Rika's shoulder to hide them. Careful not to hurt Rika's shoulder, she pressed against her, letting their shared warmth filter through her shirt and into her heart.

  Lips wet with tears brushed her cheek.

  "Good-bye, Amy," Rika whispered.

  Then her warmth moved
away. When Amy opened her eyes, Rika was gone. She plopped down on the bed and buried her face in the pillow.

  Rika's scent from the pillowcase engulfed her, and she groaned her pain into the fabric.

  * * *

  Luke lifted her hand. When she noticed that her fingers trembled, she curled them into a fist and knocked on Nattie's door.

  "Yes?"

  After a steadying breath, Luke opened the door.

  Nattie sat at her desk. At the sound of Luke's footsteps, she swiveled.

  They stared at each other from across the room, then Nattie turned back around.

  Luke bit the inside of her cheek. What should she say? How could she begin a conversation? Her gaze fell on the papers covering Nattie's desk. Paintings of Appaloosa coat patterns littered the desk. "What's that?"

  Silence filled the room, then Nattie answered, "I'm trying to figure out what kind of parents produce the best patterns."

  Parents. Luke bit her lip. Did Nattie still consider her a parent? At least she was still interested in their breeding program. They still had that in common. Luke took a hesitant step, then another, inching closer. "Can we talk?"

  Nattie nodded but didn't turn around.

  "Look at me." Luke's voice trembled, and she tried to steady it. "Please."

  Slowly, Nattie turned and looked up at Luke with red-rimmed eyes.

  Luke's heart clenched. "Nattie."

  "I haven't told Mama yet, but I want to go east this fall, study there for two years."

  Luke stumbled back and pressed a hand to her chest. Nattie wanted to leave the ranch, wanted to get away from her. Pain sliced through Luke, but she said nothing. She was too afraid to ask Nattie to stay — afraid that Nattie would shout at her, would tell her she wasn't her father and had no right to tell her what to do.

  "That is, if we can afford it," Nattie added when Luke stayed silent.

  "We can." Every year after roundup, Luke and Nora put away some of the money to invest in a good education for Amy and Nattie. She had always wanted to give Nattie that chance, but now it seemed the money would help Nattie to get away from her forever.

  Nattie's gaze flickered from the paintings on the desk to Luke's face. "There's a college for veterinary surgeons in New York. It's a two-year curriculum that focuses on the study of horses."

  "Horses?"

  Nattie rubbed the bump on the bridge of her nose and smiled. "What else?"

  Wild hope shot through Luke. Was it possible that Nattie wasn't running away from her? Did she still want to be a part of the ranch, of Luke's life, and just needed to find her own way? "They take women students?"

  "No." Nattie's gray eyes sparked like tinder. "But I'm not letting that stop me. That's what you taught us, right?"

  Tears burned Luke's throat. She nodded numbly.

  "Frankie and Tess know one of the professors. He's willing to teach me privately." Nattie hesitated. "If Mama and you allow it."

  "Do I still have the right to allow or forbid it?" Luke asked.

  Instead of answering, Nattie jumped up and threw her arms around Luke. She buried her face against Luke's shoulder. Tears soaked Luke's shirt.

  Luke swallowed tears of her own. She stroked Nattie's hair with trembling fingers and held her close, for the first time in her life unafraid to let Nattie press too close against her chest.

  Finally, Nattie hiccupped and looked up.

  "Is that a yes?" Luke whispered.

  Nattie pressed her face back against Luke's shoulder. "Y-yes. So, will you allow me to go?"

  "I'll miss you." For once, she could openly admit her feelings without being afraid others would think her unmanly. "But I'm so proud of you for doing this. The first woman veterinary surgeon... I'd love that."

  When Nattie finally let go and moved back to blow her nose, Luke studied her. "I know telling you who I am was a big shock for you girls — for you especially. I don't want you to think badly of yourself or your mother, just because of the circumstances of your conception."

  Nattie sniffled and averted her gaze.

  "I know how you must feel."

  Now Nattie lifted her gaze. Anger glinted in her eyes for a second. "How could you know that?"

  Luke swallowed. She had wanted to forget about that part of her life, but to help her daughter, she would reveal another truth about herself. "Because my mother worked in a brothel too, and my father was one of the men who paid to share her bed."

  With a gasp, Nattie stumbled back and sank onto the desk chair. She stared up at Luke with teary eyes.

  "But there's one big difference between you and me, Nattie. My mother tried to drown her shame in a bottle of whiskey. I remember sitting on the backstairs, sometimes all night, waiting for her to tell me it was all right to come back in. Sometimes, she forgot, and I still sat there when the sun came up."

  With the old images, feelings of loneliness and despair resurfaced, and Luke shoved them away. She was an adult now and no longer alone.

  "My mother stopped caring — about me, about herself, about trying to get out. Your mother never did. She's not a bad mother and not a bad human being. And neither are you."

  For the second time, Nattie threw herself into Luke's arms. "Oh, Papa," she whispered.

  A knock on the door interrupted them.

  Nattie moved back and wiped her cheeks. "Yes?"

  The door inched open. "Miss Nattie?" Phin stood in the doorway, not entering. "Can I talk to you for a —?" When his gaze fell on Luke, he stopped. "Um. Didn't know you were in here, boss. This can wait until later."

  "Phin, wait! What happened?" Nattie asked.

  "Just wanted to let you know Hank is gonna take Hendrika into town," Phin said.

  "Into town?" Luke frowned at him. Was it just her imagination or was Phin paler than the snow on Mount Hood? "I thought you were gonna look for flowers for the wedding?"

  "The wedding is off."

  "What?" Nattie grabbed his sleeve and pulled him into the room. "What happened?"

  "She lied about who she is," Phin said.

  The words made Luke flinch. She knew how deep lies like this could cut. Damn, not this too. How would her daughters take Hendrika's deception on top of everything else? Her gaze sought out Nattie, searching for forgiveness, but Nattie was focused on Phin.

  "What do you mean?" Nattie asked.

  "She didn't write the letters. When Johanna died, Hendrika took the tickets I sent her friend to start a new life out west."

  "Oh my. I'm so sorry." Nattie squeezed his arm. "Are you all right?"

  "Yeah. Maybe it's for the best. I haven't even built a cabin yet, so I can't provide for a wife."

  The words were familiar. Luke smiled tiredly. "When I first married Nora and came to Oregon, I thought the same way. But let me tell you something that I learned about women, Phin. Women are strong."

  In the past, she had needed her male identity to feel strong and capable. Now she started to believe that her family would love her and come to trust in her strength even though they now knew she was a woman.

  "They don't need us to treat them like fragile china or to provide the perfect life," she said. "If you find a good woman, she'll want to be your partner and take care of you too."

  "Papa's right," Nattie said, still holding on to Phin's sleeve.

  The ease with which she said "Papa" lifted a heavy weight from Luke's shoulders.

  "Yeah, well, obviously, Hendrika doesn't want that with me," Phin said. "When I offered to marry her anyway, she refused."

  Luke studied him. He didn't look heartbroken, just confused. Hendrika had hurt his ego, not his heart.

  Another knock sounded on the door. Hendrika peered around the doorframe. Her eyes were red-rimmed, but she straightened her shoulders and locked her jaw like a condemned woman preparing for the inevitable. "Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to say good-bye." Her gaze slid over to Phin, then back to Nattie and Luke. "If you're still talking to me?"

  How could Luke judge her for hidin
g her identity when she was doing the same? "Are you sure you want to leave?"

  "Thanks for being so kind, but what else is there to do?" Hendrika clutched her carpetbag against her chest. "I've got no reason to stay under the circumstances."