Hidden Truths (11 page)

It seemed Amy felt accountable for everything and everyone
on the ranch, including Rika. No one had ever taken responsibility for Rika,
and she wasn't sure whether she liked it.
Maybe you should have thought
about that before you came to Oregon. Very soon, your husband is going to be
responsible for you.
She shoved the thought away. "It's all
right," she said. She eyed Cinnamon. His back seemed so far away.

Again, Amy checked the fit of the leather strap around
Cinnamon's belly. She turned the stirrup and held it in place. "Put your
foot in the stirrup."

Lifting her foot up so high was harder than expected. Rika
grabbed the saddle horn to keep her balance.

"No," Amy said. "I don't know what they've
been teaching you in Boston, but here, we don't pull ourselves up by the saddle
horn. Grab a bit of mane and rest your hand on his neck. The other hand goes on
the cantle." Amy slapped the back of the saddle.

"Grab his mane? But won't that hurt him?"

"No. You're just holding on, not pulling on the mane.
It'll hurt him if you pull on the saddle horn and slide the saddle out of
position."

Rika placed her hand on the warm neck and weaved her fingers
through the reddish-brown mane.

"All right. Now bounce on your foot, then push off
until you stand in the stirrup. Then swing your right leg over the
cantle."

Rika glanced from the gelding's neck to the different parts
of the saddle, trying to figure out the sequence of movements.

"Don't worry," Amy said. "Cinnamon is very
well-trained. He won't move an inch."

Rika's heart fluttered, and with one deep breath, she pushed
off the ground. All went well until she swung her right leg over the saddle and
bumped Cinnamon's rump. Rika landed in the saddle and grabbed the saddle horn,
afraid that the bump would make the horse spook and run.

"Relax," Amy murmured next to her. "Cinnamon
is a good horse. We trained him to stand still, no matter what. A little bump
won't make him run for the hills with you. Trust him to keep you safe."

Easier said than done.

Squinting, Amy regarded her. "Are you sure you wouldn't
rather stay here?"

Rika set her jaw.
I can do this. I already made it up
into the saddle
. "I'm sure. I'll come with you."

"Here." Amy handed her the reins. A warm hand
closed over Rika's cold fingers, correcting the position of her thumb. Then Amy
reached down to adjust the stirrup. Rika felt her touch against her leg before
Amy backed away with a mumbled apology.

Cinnamon shifted his weight under her, and Rika again
grabbed the saddle horn.

"Don't stiffen up. Sit up straight, but relax and enjoy
the ride. Ruby is the boss in the herd." Amy reached over and patted her
own horse. "Cinnamon will just follow her without you having to do much.
We won't go faster than a walk until you get used to being on a horse
again."

"Ruby is the boss? I thought the stallion is the boss
of the herd?" Were the Hamilton horses as unusual and liberal as their
owners and had appointed a mare herd leader?

Amy smoothly slid into the saddle and pulled her mare around
to face Rika. "The stallion protects the herd against predators or other
stallions, but the real boss is the lead mare. She knows where the best food
and the best route to safety are. The others trust her to make the right
decision."

Rika watched Amy. Amy sat loosely in the saddle, tall but
relaxed. Instead of gripping the reins, her fingers held them so lightly that
it seemed she didn't need them to steer the horse. Her legs held gentle contact
with the mare, as if they were conversing through their bodies. Sudden envy or
maybe longing gripped Rika. She didn't have that easy understanding with
anyone, not even an animal.

"Ready?" Amy asked.

Her hand around the reins felt sweaty, but Rika nodded, not
wanting to look scared and incompetent in front of the tough Amy.

The red mare started to walk, but whatever signals Amy gave
her had been so smooth that Rika didn't see them.

Cinnamon's muscles tensed beneath her, and he arched his
neck, but he didn't follow Ruby.
How on earth do I get him to move?

Amy turned around in the saddle. "You changed your
mind?"

"Um, no, I just... I'm a bit rusty. How do I get him to
move again?"

Ruby pivoted and came trotting back. Amy squinted at Rika.
"How can you not remember something that basic? How long has it been since
you have ridden a horse?"

"A while," Rika said. "But if you're patient
with me, I'm sure it'll all come back to me quickly." She'd always been a
quick learner, so by the time they reached the herd, she should at least be
able to stay in the saddle.

Amy rolled her eyes. "Your memory must be as leaky as a
sieve. Move your hand with the reins forward to give Cinnamon's head room to
move and squeeze his sides with your calves."

Rika thrust her hand forward and squeezed with her legs.

Cinnamon took a step, and Rika clutched the saddle horn.

"Relax," Amy said. It seemed to be the order of
the day. "Loosen your legs. If you keep squeezing, Cin will think you
believe he's dumb and didn't understand you the first time you told him to
walk."

The big body under Rika swayed from side to side as the
gelding moved his hind legs. His head bobbed up and down as if nodding to Amy's
words.

Amy turned in the saddle and watched her. "You really
are rusty. Don't stiffen up. Move your hips with his movements."

It looked so easy and effortless for Amy. She and Ruby moved
as one, in perfect harmony. A ray of sunshine slipped between two piles of gray
clouds. With her hat dangling on a rawhide string down her back, Amy's hair
gleamed the same coppery red as her mare's coat.

Rika slowly relaxed as the horses carried them away from the
ranch. The rhythmic cadence of the horses' steps mingled with the creaking of
Amy's saddle whenever she turned around to make sure Rika was still all right.
A pine-scented breeze blew through Rika's hair and played with Cinnamon's mane.

Finally, Rika's gaze lifted from the horse beneath her. She
took in the long lines of mountains rising in the distance to the east and the
west. Did all this land belong to the Hamiltons?

Every once in a while, they passed little groups of horses,
all of them carrying a four-leaf clover brand on their spotted hips.

Rika pointed. "Is that the sign that says they are
yours?"

"The Shamrock brand, yes."

"Why the shamrock? Is your father Irish?" Despite
his absence, Amy's father seemed present everywhere on the ranch. The ranch
hands talked about him with an admiration and respect that Rika had never held
for Mr. Macauley or any other employer.

Amy shook her head. "The four leaves represent the four
of us — Papa, Mama, Nattie, and me."

Growing up with a father like that was hard for Rika to
imagine. "What if your parents had another child after the horses were
branded?"

"Hm." Amy's brows pulled together. "Guess
they were pretty confident that they wouldn't have another."

The ground beneath the horses' hooves got even muddier. The
splashing and gurgling let Rika know they were close to a river, and moments
later, the glittering band appeared behind a row of cottonwoods.

"The water is really high for this time of the
year," Amy said, her brow wrinkled. "We could sure use some of your
Dutch windmills now to drain the land."

Ribbons of fog swirled along the river and then lifted to
reveal the shape of a large, bluish-gray bird standing along the riverbank. Its
yellow beak shot out and splashed into the water.

"A blue heron." Amy reined in her horse to watch
the bird fish.

Rika's horse kept walking. "Amy?" she squeaked.
"How do I get him to stop? Do I just tell him 'whoa'?" That's what
she'd heard her father say to their horse.

"Dammit. You lied to me. You've never been on a horse,
have you?" Amy glared at her. "You don't need to say anything. Horses
listen to what your body says. If you stop moving with him and sit deep in the
saddle, he'll stop."

They listen to what my body says?
Rika wondered what
her stiff posture was telling Cinnamon. "And if he doesn't?" she
asked as the gelding carried her past Amy.

"Then you help him understand with the reins. Just pick
them up a little. Don't yank them back, or the bit will hurt his mouth."

Rika tugged at her reins, and Cinnamon came to a stop.
Relief flowed through Rika, and she imagined communicating it to Cinnamon
through her body. She unclamped one sweaty hand from around the saddle horn and
patted his neck. "Good boy."

At their loud voices, the blue heron lifted its long neck
and turned its face toward them. With a croak, it pumped large wings and took
flight.

"Oh, no. Did we chase it off?"

"Don't worry," Amy said. "He or she's just
checking in with his partner sitting on the eggs. Their young ones will hatch
soon." She pointed at the bird, following its flight until it landed on
top of a cottonwood.

Rika counted half a dozen large nests clustered together in
the branches of tall trees along the river. "Oh, they have a whole
community up there. We had nothing like this in Boston."

"I don't know what Nattie finds so fascinating about
the East." Amy gave a dismissive shrug. "If there are no birds, no
rivers, and since you can't ride, apparently no horses, I wouldn't want to live
there."

"Of course we have birds and rivers and horses. It's
just..."

"Yes?"

Rika looked away. "Oh, nothing." She didn't want
to admit that she'd never had the time to study trees and birds or to learn how
to ride. Amy wouldn't understand. Rika tried to picture Amy in Boston, tending
looms, but the image of Amy in the weave room, surrounded by clattering
machines, just wouldn't come. Amy belonged out here, riding in her improper
pants.

"Come on," Amy said. "If the earth is as
saturated in the east pasture as it is here, we've got to get the herd into a
more hilly area before they ruin the spring grass. We'll talk about you lying
to me later."

A lump formed in Rika's throat, and she gripped the reins
tighter. Maybe if she proved she was a quick learner and helped with the herd,
Amy would forgive her lie.

When Amy directed her horse away from the river, Rika
squeezed her legs and grinned when Cinnamon fell into step behind Ruby.
Oh,
if Jo could see me. I'm riding a horse, all on my own!

Cinnamon plodded up a hill, and this time, Rika didn't need
to grab the saddle horn to keep her balance.

Amy's horse snorted and pawed the ground once, obviously
wanting to run, but Amy easily held her back. They continued in a steady walk.

Thudding sounds came from somewhere in front of them.
Cinnamon's ears twitched toward the sounds, and after a few seconds of
listening, Rika figured out what they were.
Hoofbeats! Did we find the herd?

But instead of a herd, a single horse thundered toward them.

Not one of the Hamiltons' Appaloosas, though. The horse's
sand-colored coat had no dark dots and no white blotches.

When he saw them, he veered to the right and fled at a
gallop, his dark mane trailing in the wind.

"Dammit," Amy said, making Rika blink at her
language. "It's a mustang stallion. If I don't catch him, he'll steal our
mares." A sharp glance from her green eyes hit Rika. "You stay here
and don't move a muscle until I get back. And get off the horse."

Before Rika could answer, Amy urged her mare forward,
already reaching for the rope tied to her saddle. Mud spattered as Ruby broke
into a run.

Cinnamon moved to follow.

"Whoa!" Rika pulled back on the reins. Sweat broke
out all over her body and her muscles tensed as pictures of hanging on to a
running, out-of-control horse flashed through her mind. But thankfully, Amy was
right about Cinnamon's training. He gave a neigh of protest or maybe a good-bye
to his friend but stopped walking.

Rika's heart hammered, measuring the time while they waited.

After a while, Cinnamon lowered his head and ripped at tufts
of lush grass.

Is he supposed to do that? Can horses eat around that bit
in their mouth?
She didn't want him to hurt himself, so she tugged at the
reins.

Obediently, Cinnamon brought his head up, and she patted his
neck. Should she dismount, as Amy had said? Once she got down, she wouldn't be
able to climb into the saddle without Amy's help.

Cinnamon's ears flicked forward.

Hoofbeats thudded toward them.

Amy?
Rika gazed at the approaching horse.

Instead of Ruby, the sand-colored mustang raced toward them.
If the tiny dot in the distance was Amy, the stallion would escape.
He'll
steal the mares.

The stallion's eyes flashed. His hooves thundered over the
ground.

Cinnamon pranced beneath her.

Fear leaped up in Rika, but then she repeated what Amy had
told her. "Horses look big and tough, but they scare easily." Maybe
if she scared the stallion a little, if she shooed him toward Amy, they could
still catch him.

Her legs trembled as she pressed them against Cinnamon's
sides and squeezed.

Cinnamon hopped forward.

Rika slid back in the saddle and grabbed the saddle horn.

The stallion veered away from them but didn't stop. He was
already too close. His hooves slashed through the air.

A squeal drowned out the thumping of hooves.

Cinnamon exploded under her, rearing in panic.

Her hands lost their desperate grip on the saddle horn, and
Rika fell.

*  *  *

Amy rejoiced when fast hoofbeats approached. Had the
stallion swerved when he came to the river with its high water level, just as
she hoped? She slowed Ruby and shook out a loop. One quick flick of her wrist
and the rope would settle around the mustang's neck.