Hidden Truths (21 page)

"We already had the wood ready for our new barn, but
when we heard what happened, we decided that the old one will do for another
year. The wood is yours if you want it. You can pay us back later in the year.
No hurry."

The only one more amazed than Amy was probably Rika. All the
neighbors came over, leaving behind their own work and bringing wood and
baskets of food — all without asking anything in return. She couldn't believe
it.
Maybe,
she dared to hope as she watched the men unload the wagons,
maybe
this is a good place to make a home.

*  *  *

"Isn't that dangerous?" Frowning, Rika shaded her
eyes with her hand and stared at Amy, who was hammering away high up in the
rafters. "Why would the men let Amy do this kind of work?"

Nora handed her a glass of lemonade. "Because she's the
lightest and most agile. And because they remember the temper tantrum she threw
when she was ten and they told her she had to stay at the food tables instead
of helping her papa."

Next to them, two older men measured and sawed off planks
while three of the ranch hands nailed boards to the sides of the frame that had
been heaved up with ropes and long poles earlier. Other neighbors cleared away
the charred wood of the old barn, which was now behind the new structure.
Children ran around, shouting and making a game out of gathering waste wood and
piling it up out of the way.

"There are no people like this in Boston," Rika
muttered to herself.

Nora filled more glasses of lemonade. "In Hannah and
Josh's first year of farming, there was a big flood in the valley. Josh's fields
were swamped with debris, trees, and stones. Luke packed up our family and the
ranch hands, and we helped Josh clear his fields so that they could plant in
time."

"Ah." Rika nodded to herself. Now she understood
why they were giving up something as valuable as a new barn. "They have a
debt to pay."

"No. They're not doing this because they have to,"
Nora said. "They're doing it because they want to."

Nattie leaned over the pie she was arranging onto plates and
laughed. "It's a strange concept called 'friendship,' Hendrika." She
shook her head. "Haven't you ever helped someone just because you wanted
to?"

"Oh, yes, of course." Her nose wrinkled when she
remembered the smell of blood, sweat, and rotting flesh when she had bandaged
the horrible wounds of soldiers. She had cared for others many times, but with
the exception of Jo, no one had ever helped her. Not without an ulterior
motive.

Nora took a tray of glasses and a pitcher of lemonade and
carried it to where the men were working.

"Are people in the East so different from us?"
Nattie asked. "Are they so uncaring that you'd distrust the friendly
gesture of a neighbor? Then maybe the East is a place where I don't want to
live after all."

"You want to leave and live in the East? But aren't you
happy here?"

Sometimes, the ranch seemed unreal to her, like an idyllic
place out of a fairytale. Sure, the days were filled with hard work too and
people like Adam proved that not everyone was as friendly as the Hamiltons, yet
still things felt different than in Boston. She could breathe here, and it
wasn't just because she didn't need to work in the dust-filled weave room
anymore.

"Of course I'm happy," Nattie said. "This is
my home and my family."

The certainty in her voice made Rika wonder if she would
ever have this kind of happiness and belonging for herself. "Then why
would you want to leave?" she asked when only the noise of hammers and
saws filled the space between them.

"I love it here, but maybe I could do more
elsewhere."

"Do more?"

Nattie pointed at the new barn. "Look at Amy."

Rika did. All day, her gaze had been drawn to the young
woman, who now put away her hammer and climbed down from the roof.

"She does things around the ranch that I could never
do," Nattie said, admiration mingling with envy in her tone.

"Well, I don't see your mother up there on the roof
either, and I'm sure your father would say she contributes a lot to the daily
life on the ranch. And so do you. You're mucking stalls, taking care of the
horses, milking cows..."

A grateful smile softened Nattie's expression. "Yes,
but everyone can do that. It's not that I'm contributing something special. Amy
will take over the ranch one day. She's the right person to do it. I love
horses, and Papa and Phin say I'm a good rider, but I just don't have Amy's
sixth sense for horses."

"Neither do I, yet I still hope to be a good wife for
Phineas and prove myself useful. Maybe you'll marry in a year or two, fall in
love, and be a wonderful wife just like your mother."

The words were meant to cheer Nattie up, but instead,
Nattie's lips tightened and she shook her head. "I don't think so."

"What else could you do?" Rika liked the friendly
girl and didn't want Nattie to end up working in a cotton mill back East.

"I'm thinking about maybe going to school in the East
for a while. I want to find something that I could contribute to life in Baker
Prairie. A neighbor studied in Boston to become a lady doctor. Maybe it would
be the right thing for me too." Nattie directed an expectant gaze at her.
"You were a nurse. Isn't it a good feeling to help others? Why didn't you
mention it in your letters?"

Rika looked away from Nattie. Her gaze again found Amy, who
shook shavings from her hair. Whenever Rika started to feel that maybe there
was a place for her on the ranch, something reminded her that it was rightfully
Jo's place, not hers. "I don't like to talk about the War," she said.
It wasn't a complete lie. "Too many painful memories. When I started
working in the cotton mill, I tried to forget about that part of my life."

"Oh." Nattie squeezed her arm. "I'm sorry.
But wasn't it good to be able to help people?"

"Yes, it felt good, but it can consume you if you're
not careful," Rika said. "You spend so much time helping others that
there's no time to ask yourself what you really want." It was the story of
her life, not just her three years as a Union nurse. Only now, while she waited
for Phineas's return, was Rika forced to think about what she wanted in life.
Was it really to marry Phineas, a man she would have to deceive for the rest of
her life? What else was there for her?

Nattie nodded thoughtfully. "I might not have to worry
about it anyway. Maybe my parents won't let me go. They act as if the East is
an evil place."

Rika shrugged, not wanting to get in the middle of a family
affair. "Well, your mother would know."

A frown carved a furrow into Nattie's smooth brow. "Why
do you say that?"

"Isn't she from Boston? I thought I heard a familiar
accent when she talks sometimes."

Nattie's frown deepened. "I don't know," she said
as if she just realized it. "Mama?" She waved to her mother, who
returned with a tray of empty glasses. "You're not from Boston, are
you?"

The tray rattled as Nora abruptly set it down. "Why are
you asking?"

Uh-oh. Answering a question with a question.
Rika had
mastered that technique early on, especially when her father was drunk and she
couldn't do anything right, no matter what her answer was.
Seems I'm not the
only one with a secret around here.

"Is it true?" Nattie asked.

"I could kill for a glass of lemonade." Amy's
cheerful voice interrupted. Sweat turned the soft locks sticking to her
forehead into dark copper. She looked from Nattie to her mother and then to
Rika. "Speaking of killing... Why do you all look as if someone had died?
What's going on?"

Silence answered her.

Just to have something to do, Rika handed her a glass of
lemonade.

"Mama?" Nattie asked. Her
gaze remained fixed on Nora.

"Yes." Nora looked from one daughter to the other.
"I did grow up in Boston."

"Right where Hendrika did?" Nattie asked.

Rika doubted that. If she wasn't mistaken, the hint of
accent in Nora's voice indicated a wealthy family, maybe one with a private
tutor. Even had they been the same age, their paths wouldn't have crossed.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Amy wrapped both hands
around her glass of lemonade. "You and Papa never talk about your families
or your childhoods. Why's that?"

Oh, good gracious. I think I stirred up a hornet's nest.
So
the Hamiltons weren't the perfect family they appeared to be. They were good
people, though, and if Nora kept her past a secret, she probably had a good
reason for it. Rika wanted to take back her careless question about Nora's
accent, but it was too late now.

"I didn't have the happiest childhood," Nora said,
and again Rika sensed that it was the truth — but only half of it. Rika knew
because she told the same kind of half-truths when asked about her own
childhood. "And I haven't seen or heard from any Macauley for seventeen
years, so..." Nora shrugged.

"Macauley," Rika repeated. How many wealthy people
with that name lived in Boston? She took in Nora's red hair and her green eyes,
then looked at Amy's identical coloring. Both sets of green eyes didn't hold
Mr. Macauley's cruel expression, but the color was the same. "You are not
related to William Macauley, are you?"

Nora's gaze jerked toward her. "He's my father."

"Father?" Rika shook her head. No, that couldn't
be. Nora was maybe in her late thirties, and William Macauley was about ten
years older than that. He couldn't have fathered Nora. A sudden thought
occurred to her. "Oh! William Senior was your father." One day, when
Rika had complained about their hard-hearted boss, Jo had said he was a saint
compared to his father, William Macauley Sr.

"Was?" Emotion colored Nora's voice, but Rika
couldn't say which one it was — grief? Sorrow? Bitterness?

Rika wanted to squeeze her hand, but she had no right to be
so familiar. "I'm sorry," she said. "I never met him, but I
heard that he died about two years ago."

"Oh, Mama. I'm so sorry." Nattie reached for her
mother's hand, and Amy wrapped her arm around Nora's shoulders.

"It's all right." Nora returned the soft touches
of her daughters. "We weren't close. I left Boston after a big argument
with him, and I never looked back. What happened to the rest of the family,
Hendrika?"

I wonder what happened between her and her father. Was he
anything like mine?
Despite whatever might have happened, she sensed that
Nora still cared about her family back East. "I don't know about your
mother, but your oldest brother, William, owns the cotton mill now." Rika
shook her head.
Nora's brother is my former boss. What a coincidence! But
then again, the Macauleys own half of Boston.

"We have an uncle in Boston?" Nattie's eyes shone.

Nora squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. No doubt she
didn't want her daughters to meet any of the Boston Macauleys — and Rika
understood why. What she had seen of William Macauley and his brothers made it
hard to believe that they were related to the friendly Nora and her daughters.
In William Macauley's cotton mill, Rika had been little more than a slave. Here
on the ranch, she was treated like a family member, even though she had made
some grave mistakes.

"I'm sorry to say this, but he's not a nice man,"
Rika said and caught Nora's grateful glance. "All he seems to care about
is money and power."

Shadows of the past darted over Nora's face. "Then he's
truly his father's son." She turned to her daughters. "I'm sorry you
had to find out this way, but I didn't want them to be part of your lives. Your
father and I swore to be better parents than our own were."

Nattie exchanged a quick glance with her sister, who stood
motionless, the glass of lemonade clamped in her hand. "And you are,"
Nattie finally said.

"Mrs. Hamilton? Amy? Nattie?" Hannah's husband
called from the new barn. "We're hanging the barn door now, just to see if
it fits. Do you want to do the honors?"

"Go on," Nora said. "I'll be there in a
minute."

The Hamilton sisters exchanged a quick glance. Amy pressed
her glass of lemonade into Rika's hands before she hurried to the barn,
followed by Nattie.

Rika stared at drops of lemonade spilling over the rim of
the glass. "I'm sorry." She lifted her gaze to meet Nora's. "If
I had known —"

"It's my own fault, not yours," Nora said.
"Lying to your family is stupid and hurtful for everyone. Those lies will
keep you prisoner, because you are so afraid that one day, they'll find out.
With every day, with every lie, the fear becomes stronger." Her eyes,
darkened with sorrow, seemed to look right through Rika into something in her
own past.

Nora wasn't talking about Rika, but the words hit home all
the same. Fear had guided Rika all her life — fear of her father, fear of the
War, fear of Willem gambling their money away, fear of losing her job, and now
fear of being sent away from the Hamilton Ranch. Her life was filled with lies,
and Nora was right — the lies didn't make the fear go away. They just made
everything worse. The truth trembled somewhere deep inside her, wanting to be
told, but Rika couldn't.

If she did, she might lose everything, just when she was
beginning to feel at home on the ranch.

"Come on," Nora said. The color returned to her
cheeks. "Let's go watch them hang the door. We might just have a new barn
by the time the sun sets."

L
UKE
STARED INTO the swirling waters of the Columbia River. A series of foaming
rapids and waterfalls accompanied them for miles as they drove their herd of
horses downstream.

When she had been stationed at Fort Dalles during the Cayuse
War, Luke had seen the waterfalls tumble fifteen feet until they hit the rest
of the water. Now the river carried so much water that the falls were partially
submerged and turned into a long line of roaring rapids.