The complete oregon seri.., p.79
The Complete Oregon Series, page 79
Rika waited.
Clothes rustled, and Amy cursed. Finally, she opened the door.
Rika entered and set down her carpetbag before turning to get her first look at Amy. What she saw startled her.
Sweat gleamed on Amy’s brow. Her red locks were tussled and her shirt half-unbuttoned. The light golden tan she’d acquired during the past weeks was gone, hidden by her flushed cheeks and the paleness lurking underneath.
“Amy! Are you running a fever?” She held on to Amy’s sleeve, remembering too well how Jo had suffered and died. The thought of losing Amy the same way pressed the air from her lungs.
When she lifted a hand to touch Amy’s forehead, Amy backed away and collided with the washstand. The pitcher teetered precariously, but instead of catching it, Amy clutched her side.
Rika jumped forward and caught the pitcher before it fell. Holding it in both hands, she froze. Her left side was pressed against Amy, and she inhaled the soothing smell of horse and leather. Amy’s body heat engulfed her, and her own cheeks felt flushed too. Whatever sickness she has, it might be contagious. “You all right?” she murmured and set down the pitcher to touch Amy’s cheek.
For a moment, Amy leaned into the touch, her eyes closing, before she pulled away.
Rika let her hand drop to her side. Her fingers rubbed against each other as if trying to remember the smoothness of Amy’s skin. “You feel a little warm, but I don’t think you have a fever.”
“I told you, I’m fine.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Amy turned and gaped at her.
“You looked as if it hurt when you bumped into the washstand,” Rika said. Her eyes narrowed when she understood. “Adam hurt you!”
“It’s not so bad,” Amy said. “I was just looking at it in the mirror when you knocked.”
So that was why Amy’s shirt was half-open and her hair tussled. Trying to get dressed made her break out in a sweat, so her injuries had to be painful.
“Did he shoot you?” Something inside her trembled at the thought.
“No, nothing like that. He just got a kick in. That’s all.”
“That’s more than enough,” Rika said, her voice sharper than intended. Images of broken ribs and a punctured lung raced through her mind. She stepped closer. “Show me.”
“I’m sure it’s just a bruised rib. Nothing you can do to help.”
Another step brought them almost nose to nose. “Show me.” She wouldn’t be able to sleep before she made sure Amy was all right.
Amy exhaled sharply, her breath brushing Rika’s cheek. “All right.” She undid the remaining buttons on her shirt.
It reminded Rika of the night of the fire, when she had helped Amy undress. Instinctively, she wanted to reach out and help Amy unbutton the shirt. She hurt her ribs, not her hands, Hendrika Aaldenberg. She pressed her hands together in the pocket of her apron.
Amy’s shirt slid down her arms, and Rika caught it before it could fall to the floor. The warmth of the fabric seeped into her fingers as she watched Amy pull her long-sleeved undershirt from her pants and tug it up just enough to reveal her side. Rika gasped. Amy’s side was visibly swollen. The skin looked raw and was turning black and blue.
“That bad?” Amy craned her neck to peer down her body.
“N-no.” She had seen much worse injuries during the war. But still, seeing the bruises on Amy’s pale skin affected her in a way that not even fatal wounds had. “Why didn’t you tell us you were hurt? You just sat down at supper and pretended to be fine.”
“I didn’t want Mama to worry about a few bruises,” Amy said. “You know how mothers are.”
Rika wished she did. Instead of nodding, she sighed.
Amy’s gaze caught hers. “You don’t, do you? Your mother...is she...?”
A year ago, Jo had asked her the same, but Rika had been reluctant to answer. She had few memories left of her mother and protected them like a hidden treasure she didn’t want to share. But now the compassion in Amy’s eyes compelled her to speak. “She died giving birth to my little brother when I was four.”
“I’m sorry.” Amy’s voice was soft.
Rika found that Amy was holding her hand, rubbing her thumb across the knuckles.
Amy’s gaze followed hers, and she let go as if she hadn’t been aware of her gentle touch.
Rika lifted her hand and rubbed her breastbone. It didn’t help to smooth the edges of raw emotion. She took a cleansing breath and changed the subject. “Lie down.”
Amy stared at the bed, then at her. “Why?”
“I need to palpate the ribs to see if any are broken.”
“I’ve had broken ribs before. I can tell that nothing’s broken this time.”
How could she be so cavalier about her health? Rika had half a mind to shove Amy down on the bed, but she didn’t want to hurt her. “Lie down and let me see for myself.”
Amy sank onto the bed and leaned back until she was lying down, her legs dangling over the edge. She clamped her teeth onto her bottom lip when Rika stepped closer.
“Don’t worry,” Rika murmured. “I’ll be as gentle as possible. I won’t hurt you.” As she sat on the bed next to her, she felt the tension in Amy’s sturdy frame. Her palms were sweaty, and she wiped them on her apron. “Can you,” she stopped to clear her throat, “pull the undershirt up a little, please?”
Amy drew the shirt up to just under her bosom.
How vulnerable the fair skin of her belly and sides looked in comparison to the golden glow of her arms and her face. Rika smoothed a gentle finger over the lowest rib.
“Um. He kicked me much farther up and more to the left,” Amy said. Her words came out in a rush as if she was holding her breath.
“Well, you know, I…” Rika searched for words to explain her strange need to touch Amy and make sure she was all right. “As a nurse, I was taught to be thorough.” Her gaze still rested on the elegant curve of Amy’s ribs. Most of the time, Amy appeared so strong and confident, but now Rika marveled at how vulnerable she looked. The body beneath her hands trembled. Rika’s touch became soothing, stroking much more than probing.
Goose bumps rose under her fingertips.
What are you doing? She’s getting cold, so hurry and get this over with. She slid her hands up, following the arch of Amy’s ribs. Heat drifted up from Amy’s skin. Everything was smooth under her hands, no bumps to indicate that ribs were broken. Her fingertips wandered higher.
Amy groaned, a sound that vibrated through Rika and stilled her hands.
She looked into Amy’s flushed face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Did I hurt you? Is this rib—”
“No,” Amy said. “The rib is fine. It’s just...”
“What?”
“Your hands are cold.”
“Really?” They felt as if they were on fire, not cold at all.
Amy nodded, her whole body tense.
“Sorry. I’ll hurry.” Rika palpated the bruised area, probing with her fingertips to see if the ribs underneath were broken.
This time, Amy didn’t groan. She lay stiffly, not moving, barely breathing.
Finally, Rika lifted her hands away and tugged down the undershirt. “I don’t think your ribs are broken, but two of them are badly bruised.”
Amy shoved the hem of her undershirt into her pants. “I told you that without all this... palpating.”
Rika gave her a sidelong glance. “You said that because you wanted it to be true, but ignoring a wound won’t heal it.” She stabbed a finger at Amy. “You have to stay off your horses for a while until the ribs and the bruises heal.”
“I can’t do that.” Amy shrugged back into her shirt and buttoned it so quickly it seemed she needed its protection. “I have a ranch to run.”
White-hot anger exploded in Rika. She jumped up from the bed. “And who will run it when you’re dead?”
Amy looked up from her shirt buttons. “Dead? You said I’ll be fine.”
“Yes, this time. You might not be so lucky next time.”
“There won’t be a next time. Frankie will take Adam—”
“I’m not talking about Adam,” Rika said. “I’ve been here for less than five weeks, and in that time, you almost managed to get yourself killed three times. First you run into a burning stable, then you ride into a raging river even though you can’t swim, and now you get into a fight with an armed, dangerous man.”
Amy lifted her hand and opened her mouth to say something.
“And don’t tell me it’s nothing!” Rika realized she was shouting and lowered her voice before the rest of the family came running to see what was going on. She stared at Amy with burning eyes. “Do you know how lucky you were? If Frankie and Tess hadn’t shown up when they did...”
“I know,” Amy whispered.
Something in her voice made Rika’s stomach roil. “What happened?” Over supper, Amy had given them a short explanation about how she had come across Adam at the line shack and how she had overwhelmed him with the help of Frankie and Tess. She didn’t mention a fight or being kicked, and neither Tess nor Frankie corrected her—either because they hadn’t witnessed the fight or because they wanted to spare Nora.
“He put a revolver to my head.” Amy laid a finger against her temple as if she still felt the cold steel pressed against her skin. “And if Frankie hadn’t shown up with a rifle, he would have pulled the trigger.”
“Oh, Lord!” The room spun around Rika.
“Hey!” Amy caught her when her knees buckled but couldn’t suppress a pained groan.
The sound brought the room into focus again, and Rika stared into Amy’s eyes. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Your ribs...”
“It’s all right,” Amy said. She led Rika to the bed and sat next to her.
The warmth of Amy’s shoulder brushing hers soothed Rika, and she found the strength to say the words that made her stomach clench. “He would have killed you. If Frankie and Tess hadn’t gotten lost on the way from town, you would be dead now.”
“Yes,” Amy said in an almost inaudible whisper. “But I can’t let myself think like that. It would make me crazy, and Adam doesn’t deserve that kind of power over me.” Intense green eyes burned into Rika’s. “Please don’t tell my family. I don’t want them to worry.”
“I promise,” Rika said. “On one condition.”
“Which is?”
“That you promise me something in return. Promise that you’ll be more careful in the future. I know you want to prove yourself to the ranch hands and to your father, but please...” She stopped and looked into Amy’s eyes.
Warmth and understanding shone back at her. More words weren’t necessary. Amy nodded. “I promise.”
“And next time you get hurt, don’t hide it,” Rika said. “Even if you don’t want your mother to know, let me take a look right away.”
“I don’t plan on getting hurt again anytime soon, so next time it happens, you might not be around to take care of me,” Amy said, finally looking away.
The words clutched at Rika with the cruel claws of reality. Just a few more weeks until Phineas would be back to marry her, and the closer that time came, the less sure she was that she wanted to marry him. Oh, if only things could stay like this forever. But she shoved the thought away. It was a childish wish, and she had never allowed herself to dream of things that couldn’t come true. She wouldn’t start now.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go to bed.”
Amy jumped up. “You take it.” She gestured wildly to the bed. “I’ll bed down with Ruby for tonight.”
“You want to sleep in the stable?” The words cut deep. After all these weeks, Amy would still rather share space with a horse than with her? In the past, Rika had been content to keep to herself or talk to Jo. But it was different with Amy. She liked Amy, liked spending time with her—and she wanted Amy to like her too.
“I sleep there quite often,” Amy said.
“Not when you are hurt. You have bruised ribs, and sleeping in the stable won’t help them heal.” She eyed the bed. “Why don’t we share?” That way, she could keep an eye on Amy and make sure she was all right.
“S-share?”
“Why not? Haven’t you ever shared a bed with your sister or a neighbor girl before?” Growing up with a brother and six half siblings, she’d rarely had a bed to herself. Her father and stepmother didn’t believe in “spoiling” their children, so whenever a little one had gotten scared at night, he or she had slipped into bed with Rika. And in the boarding house, she’d shared a bed with Jo.
“Sure, but—”
“Good.” Rika searched her carpetbag for her nightgown. “Then let’s go to bed. It’s been a long day.”
Tess knocked on the door.
“Yes?” Amy’s voice came out in a squeak.
“Amy, it’s Tess. I know it’s late, but can I come in for a minute?”
Clothes rustled before the door opened a few inches. Amy peered through the crack. “Rika is changing into her nightgown,” she said. Her blush contrasted sharply with her own white nightgown.
Ah, sweet innocence. Tess smiled.
“I’m done,” Hendrika called from inside the room.
Amy opened the door wider and let her in.
Like every other room in the Hamiltons’ house, love showed in every corner—the small figures on a shelf, probably carved by Luke’s patient hand, a warm quilt on the bed, and the mirror over the washstand that must have cost a small fortune to bring out west.
Now that Amy had changed out of her pants and had her hair down, she looked even more like Nora than before, but still, the girl’s energy, her whole demeanor, reminded her so much of Luke that it was eerie. If it was possible for the two of them to have children together, they couldn’t be a better mix of them than Amy and Nattie. Amy’s younger sister looked a lot like Luke, but with her kindness and her curiosity she was unmistakably Nora’s daughter too.
“I know it’s not polite or proper to visit you this late in your room,” Tess said. And thank God I never put much value in what is or isn’t proper. “But I wanted to make sure you were all right after...” The words died on her lips, and she looked at Hendrika.
“She knows what happened with Adam,” Amy said.
Tess arched an eyebrow. She would have bet good money that Amy would try to dismiss the danger and hide any injury she might have sustained. She looked from Hendrika to Amy, who blushed under her probing gaze. The mail-order bride and the stubborn rancher’s daughter. What an unlikely pair of friends.
“Frankie and I were too far away to stop the fight, but we saw it when we crested the hill,” Tess said, remembering those helpless seconds. “Adam didn’t pull his punches. I know you said you’re all right, but are you really?”
“I’m fine,” Amy said.
“She will be,” Hendrika said. Her gaze met Tess’s.
So Amy has at least a few scrapes and bruises, and she let Hendrika take care of them. “Good.”
“I appreciate you not telling Mama,” Amy said. “You didn’t, did you?”
“No.” While Tess hoped she was still Nora’s best friend, she hadn’t seen Nora in seventeen years and had never met the adult Amy. It wasn’t her place to interfere. “But you should tell her. She’s your mother. She has a right to know.”
“I’ll tell her,” Amy said. “Tomorrow.”
“All right. Get some rest, you two.” Tess nodded at Hendrika. “And thanks again for letting Frankie and me have the cabin.” For once, they’d have all the privacy they wanted. Nice. Let’s go and see if Frankie is back from checking on the prisoner. Tess grinned as she hurried down the stairs.
Rika pressed her nose into the pillow and smiled to herself. It smelled of leather, grass, and the faint aroma of horse. Weeks ago, she might have thought the combination unpleasant, but now those scents meant comfort and safety.
Still, for some reason, she couldn’t sleep. Even though she’d shared a bed with Jo and slept just fine, Amy’s presence next to her was distracting. She listened to Amy’s breathing. It was too fast for her to be asleep. Is she in pain?
Rika lifted her head and tried to make out Amy’s form in the darkness. Moonlight filtered in through the window. When her eyes adjusted, she saw Amy lying on her uninjured side, facing away from her. She clung to the edge of the bed. “You’re gonna fall out and hurt your ribs,” Rika said.
Slowly, Amy rolled onto her back and turned her head. Her eyes gleamed in the near darkness. “I don’t want to crowd you.”
“Crowd me?” Rika laughed. “With miles of space between us?”
Amy mumbled something but didn’t move closer.
“What is it? I don’t smell funny, do I?” Rika pulled a corner of her nightgown over her face and took a sniff. She smelled of the Hamiltons’ homemade soap.
“No,” Amy said. “You smell...um...nice.”
Oh. So she likes the way I smell. Rika’s cheeks heated. Then why does she keep her distance as if I had bad breath or pestilence? “Amy, come on. We’re not strangers. We are,” she hesitated but then said, “friends, aren’t we?” She’d had few friends in her life, but she felt Amy would be there for her when it counted. Maybe we can stay in touch after Phineas and I move away. She allowed herself the wistful thought.
Amy turned to face her, then sucked in a breath when her weight pressed on her bruised ribs.
“Careful.” Rika reached over and stroked Amy’s hand as if she could rub away the pain.
Groaning, Amy rolled back off her injured side and squeezed Rika’s hand before letting go. “Maybe we are,” she said.
They lay in the darkness, this time a little closer together, barely touching.
“Can I ask about your mother? Or is it too painful to talk about?” Amy asked just when Rika thought she had fallen asleep.
