mill, Oregon's silence made
Rika wish Amy would fill it with idle chatter. Amy didn't. Rika looked at her
silent companion, and when their gazes met, both glanced away.
Did she believe the lie about the tintype? Rika bit
her lip until a coppery taste filled her mouth. She should have thought of
that. Since Phineas sent his picture to Jo, of course Jo had to send one back.
Rika had assumed Jo would rather use her money to see a doctor than waste it on
getting her picture taken. She vowed to be more careful in the future. "A
man in town said Phineas would be gone for two months. Surely he was
joking?"
Amy flicked her gaze from the road to Rika. "No. Two
months. Might be three. He sends his apologies."
"But..." Rika reached into her coat pocket and
pulled out the rumpled bundle of letters. "He said that he'd whisk me away
to church the moment I stepped foot off the stagecoach, and now he's not even
here to greet me." How serious could Phineas Sharpe be about his promise
to marry her if he sent this strange young woman to fetch her?
"It couldn't be helped." Green fire sparked in
Amy's eyes. "My father needed him to drive a herd of geldings to Fort
Boise. Out here, making sure the ranch survives is more important than getting
married on time."
Not to Rika. To her, getting married meant survival. "I
understand," she said stiffly.
Amy fell silent.
Rika was left to her own thoughts. Thinking wasn't what she
wanted to do. She wanted to let go of the past with all that it held, but her
future was unsure and stolen from a dead woman.
The wagon crested one last hill. Below them, sheds and barns
lay scattered around a two-story main house. Tall pines and spruce flanked the
large veranda, and Rika imagined them providing ample shade in the summer and
lending shelter from the rain in winter. Paddocks spread out from both sides of
the house, leading to a large, circular corral. Rika couldn't see what lay on
the other side of the house, but from somewhere, an herb garden saturated the
air with the scent of sage and mint.
The carefully tended home seemed like something right out of
a fairy tale. Jo would have loved it.
When the buckboard rattled into the ranch yard, a large dog
charged up the path, growling and barking.
Rika pulled her skirt tighter around her legs, protecting
them just in case the dog tried to bite.
"Quit making such a ruckus, Hunter," Amy said.
The dog fell silent.
When Amy stopped the buckboard, the door of the main house
swung open and a woman stepped onto the veranda.
Rika blinked, then glanced back and forth between Amy and
the woman. With her flaming red hair and her slender yet sturdy build, the
woman looked like Amy's twin. When she came closer, a few lines around her
mouth and eyes revealed her to be an older version of Amy.
Her mother?
Amy jumped down from the wagon seat and rounded the
buckboard. She extended her hand to help Rika down, and after a moment's
hesitation, Rika laid her hand into the calloused palm and climbed down to look
at her new home.
* * *
A grin sneaked onto Nora's face when she watched Amy help
the young woman off the high wagon seat. The gesture reminded her of Luke, who
had taught their daughters well, just by giving a good example.
"You must be Johanna." Nora directed a smile at
the slim woman next to Amy. "I'm Nora Hamilton. Welcome to —" Then
her gaze fell onto Amy's dress, and her mouth snapped shut.
Mud clung to the hem of the dress and painted an ugly
pattern over the once clean bodice. The skirt and petticoat hung in ripped
tatters, and Amy's hair looked as if a flock of birds had tried to build a nest
in it.
Nora hurried down the veranda steps. "Amy! Are you all
right? What happened?"
"I'm fine." Amy folded her hands in front of her
body, belatedly trying to hide the large rip in her skirt.
Nora eyed the gray horse tied to the buckboard. "What's
that?"
"She's a mare, Mama," Amy answered.
"I can see that. What is the mare doing here? She's not
yours, is
Rika wish Amy would fill it with idle chatter. Amy didn't. Rika looked at her
silent companion, and when their gazes met, both glanced away.
Did she believe the lie about the tintype? Rika bit
her lip until a coppery taste filled her mouth. She should have thought of
that. Since Phineas sent his picture to Jo, of course Jo had to send one back.
Rika had assumed Jo would rather use her money to see a doctor than waste it on
getting her picture taken. She vowed to be more careful in the future. "A
man in town said Phineas would be gone for two months. Surely he was
joking?"
Amy flicked her gaze from the road to Rika. "No. Two
months. Might be three. He sends his apologies."
"But..." Rika reached into her coat pocket and
pulled out the rumpled bundle of letters. "He said that he'd whisk me away
to church the moment I stepped foot off the stagecoach, and now he's not even
here to greet me." How serious could Phineas Sharpe be about his promise
to marry her if he sent this strange young woman to fetch her?
"It couldn't be helped." Green fire sparked in
Amy's eyes. "My father needed him to drive a herd of geldings to Fort
Boise. Out here, making sure the ranch survives is more important than getting
married on time."
Not to Rika. To her, getting married meant survival. "I
understand," she said stiffly.
Amy fell silent.
Rika was left to her own thoughts. Thinking wasn't what she
wanted to do. She wanted to let go of the past with all that it held, but her
future was unsure and stolen from a dead woman.
The wagon crested one last hill. Below them, sheds and barns
lay scattered around a two-story main house. Tall pines and spruce flanked the
large veranda, and Rika imagined them providing ample shade in the summer and
lending shelter from the rain in winter. Paddocks spread out from both sides of
the house, leading to a large, circular corral. Rika couldn't see what lay on
the other side of the house, but from somewhere, an herb garden saturated the
air with the scent of sage and mint.
The carefully tended home seemed like something right out of
a fairy tale. Jo would have loved it.
When the buckboard rattled into the ranch yard, a large dog
charged up the path, growling and barking.
Rika pulled her skirt tighter around her legs, protecting
them just in case the dog tried to bite.
"Quit making such a ruckus, Hunter," Amy said.
The dog fell silent.
When Amy stopped the buckboard, the door of the main house
swung open and a woman stepped onto the veranda.
Rika blinked, then glanced back and forth between Amy and
the woman. With her flaming red hair and her slender yet sturdy build, the
woman looked like Amy's twin. When she came closer, a few lines around her
mouth and eyes revealed her to be an older version of Amy.
Her mother?
Amy jumped down from the wagon seat and rounded the
buckboard. She extended her hand to help Rika down, and after a moment's
hesitation, Rika laid her hand into the calloused palm and climbed down to look
at her new home.
* * *
A grin sneaked onto Nora's face when she watched Amy help
the young woman off the high wagon seat. The gesture reminded her of Luke, who
had taught their daughters well, just by giving a good example.
"You must be Johanna." Nora directed a smile at
the slim woman next to Amy. "I'm Nora Hamilton. Welcome to —" Then
her gaze fell onto Amy's dress, and her mouth snapped shut.
Mud clung to the hem of the dress and painted an ugly
pattern over the once clean bodice. The skirt and petticoat hung in ripped
tatters, and Amy's hair looked as if a flock of birds had tried to build a nest
in it.
Nora hurried down the veranda steps. "Amy! Are you all
right? What happened?"
"I'm fine." Amy folded her hands in front of her
body, belatedly trying to hide the large rip in her skirt.
Nora eyed the gray horse tied to the buckboard. "What's
that?"
"She's a mare, Mama," Amy answered.
"I can see that. What is the mare doing here? She's not
yours, is
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