Hidden Truths (26 page)

After a few moments, Dotty rolled to her feet. Sweat gleamed
on her dark coat. No sound of pain interrupted the silence, but by now Rika
sensed that something was wrong.

The foal is coming!

She hurried out of the stall, stopping just long enough to
close the door behind her.

Darkness greeted her in the main house. The screen door
creaked as she closed it behind her, but inside, everything was silent.

Moonlight filtered in through the windows, and Rika didn't
stop to search for matches to light a lamp. Holding on to the banister, she
rushed up the stairs. She forced herself to slow down just enough not to wake
the entire house. Her heart thumped against her ribcage. She tapped on Amy's
door.

"Amy!" She knocked again, then opened the door.

Nothing moved in the near darkness of Amy's room. Amy had
likely fallen into an exhausted sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

"Wake up, Amy!" Rika hurried across the room to
shake Amy awake.

Her foot collided with an unexpected obstacle. She stumbled
and pitched forward. "No!" Her hands reached out to break her fall.

"Uff." The air was squeezed out of her lungs when
she landed much sooner than expected — and much softer than expected too.

The warm surface beneath her jerked and groaned.
"What...?"

Stunned, Rika stared down into the gleaming white of Amy's
eyes.

"Rika?" Amy mumbled, her voice rough with sleep.
Her hands slid up Rika's back, as if to make sure she was really there.

Heat flowed through Rika at Amy's touch, freeing Rika of her
frozen state. She rolled off the bed and its inhabitant. "Sorry. I think
the foal is coming," she blurted out.

Amy jumped out of bed. Apparently, she had gone to bed fully
dressed. Now she shoved her feet into the boots in front of the bed. Rika had stumbled
across them earlier. "Hurry!" Amy grabbed Rika's elbow and dragged
her along.

In the stable, Dotty had lain down again.

"Her water already broke." Amy pointed to the wet
straw in the stall.

"What do we do?"

Amy took up position in front of the stall but didn't enter.
"Nothing."

"Nothing?" All of this excitement and now Amy did
nothing? Rika watched as the mare's neck arched, her legs stiffened, and Dotty
let out a low grunt. She felt like a young father, forced to watch helplessly.

"Dotty has been through this before, and all her foals
were born without a problem. We're just here in case something goes wrong. If
there are complications, every second counts."

The thought sent a shiver through Rika, and she prayed that
everything would go smoothly this time too.

Dotty got up, paced a few times, then went down again.

"Oh, no." Amy's brow furrowed.

"What? Is something wrong?"

"She's lying too close to the wall. There's no room for
the foal to be born." Amy waited a few minutes, but when the mare didn't
get up, Amy shoved back the bolt and opened the stall door.

Rika slipped into the stall behind her, plastering herself
to Amy's side. "What do we do?"

"We've got to get her up," Amy said. "Help
me. If I tell you to, push her from behind until she moves."

Dotty didn't look as if she wanted to move. Her legs tensed
when another contraction started. Rika stared at the whitish bubble that
appeared between the mare's hind legs. The contours of little hooves stretched
the white sac; then one tiny leg broke through.

It slipped partway back when the contraction ebbed.

"Now!" Amy said. She pushed against Dotty's hip,
causing the mare to lift her head to look at her.

With trembling hands, Rika pushed the horse from behind.

Dotty gave a snort of protest, then folded her legs beneath
herself and got to her feet.

"Good girl." Amy's voice soothed both Rika and the
mare. She weaved her fingers through Dotty's mane and urged her over, more to
the middle of the stall.

Rika's knees wobbled when she detected that one little hoof was
still sticking out of the mare when she lay down. For a moment, she was afraid
that Dotty would crush the foal's leg, but the mare made it down safely.

The second hoof broke through the white sac. A gush of fluid
dribbled into the straw, then a nose appeared.

Rika wanted to clap and shout, but she stood rooted to the
spot.

With gentle hands, Amy pushed the membrane from the foal's
head.

A white mark sat in the middle of the otherwise dark
forehead. Rika had learned that horse breeders called it a "star."

Lord, I hope it's a lucky star for the little one.

Dotty groaned and grunted, trying to push out the foal's
shoulders.

Rika realized her hands were clamped around Amy's arm, and
she let go. "Sorry."

An understanding smile crossed Amy's face. While she acted
calm, her eyes reflected the same tense excitement Rika felt. Amy might have
witnessed many foals being born, but she still felt the magic of the moment.

The foal slipped out of the mare little by little. With one
final grunt from Dotty, the hips and hind legs slid into the straw.

Amy brushed the white sac away from the foal and wiped it
down with a handful of straw, revealing a dark coat and a white blanket on the
hip. "It's a filly," she said with the biggest grin Rika had ever
seen on her. Then she stepped back. Her arm brushed Rika's.

They stood in silence, watching as Dotty turned and snuffled
her daughter's face. She nickered and then began to clean the foal's coat.

"Oh." Rika exhaled carefully, as if a loud breath
would interrupt the bonding between mother and foal. "She's so
beautiful."

Amy turned toward her. Their gazes touched and held.
"She is," Amy said. "Very beautiful."

Something trembled deep inside of Rika, but she couldn't put
a name to the unknown feeling. A part of her wanted to reach out and touch Amy,
wanted to bond with her in the silent way the mare established contact with her
foal.

Amy looked away, breaking their eye contact. "Papa will
be so pleased. Black horses with such a nice, big blanket are rare. This little
one will be an important part of our breeding program one day."

Sudden sadness gripped Rika. She wouldn't be there to see
the foal grow up. Even if she could convince Phineas that she was his
betrothed, they wouldn't stay at the ranch for much longer. In his letters to
Jo, Phineas had mentioned that he wanted to establish his own ranch soon.

"Everything all right?" Amy asked.

Rika didn't look at her. She kept her gaze fixed on the
foal. "Yeah. Everything just happened so fast."

"I told you mares don't take twenty hours giving
birth."

"Yes." She hadn't meant just the foaling, though.
Three months ago, her life had been so different that she couldn't have
imagined her life in Oregon now. The routine of the noisy weave room and the
bustling activity in the boarding house had formed the pattern of her days and
left little room for anything else.

Now she was playing midwife to a mare with Amy Hamilton by
her side. In a way, it felt completely unreal and absolutely right at the same
time.

"Look," Amy whispered.

The filly struggled to get up, but her hind legs didn't
support her body yet. Dotty nudged her foal with a gentle muzzle, encouraging
her to try again.

Finally, the filly stood on wobbly legs. Dotty got up too,
breaking the umbilical cord. The filly nuzzled her mother's flank, searching
for her teat. Moments later, she started to suckle.

"Oh, dear Lord!" A voice interrupted the moment.
When Rika turned, she saw Nattie stand in front of the stall. "What a
beautiful foal. Look at that nice blanket. Good girl, Dotty."

"She did great," Amy said and yawned.

A cloak of exhaustion settled on Rika too.

"Why don't you two head off to bed?" Nattie said.
"I don't think Nugget will foal tonight, so I'll keep an eye on Dotty and
the little one for a while longer."

Hesitantly, Rika directed her gaze away from the suckling
filly.

Amy opened the door, and they walked out into the ranch
yard. The drizzle had stopped, and the moon and hundreds of stars were shining
down on them.

Rika smiled.
So it was a lucky star for the filly.

Not saying a word, they walked to the cabin. Rika put one
hand on the door but then looked back at Amy. "Goodnight," she said.

"Goodnight."

She waited until Amy's steps faded away before she let the
door fall closed behind her.

*  *  *

Despite her exhaustion, Rika was up before sunrise. She
hurried through the chores she had taken over from Nora. In her eagerness to go
to the stable and see the filly, she nearly dropped the eggs she collected from
the henhouse.

"Slow down," she told herself. Now that Nora
taught school on most days, the Hamiltons needed her help more than ever, and
she didn't want to do a shabby job. She fed the hens and put the eggs in the
springhouse to keep them cool and fresh.

Only then did she allow herself to wander to the stable.

She stumbled to a halt.

The spot in front of the stall door was already occupied.

When Rika walked down the center aisle, Amy turned. Her red
locks were mussed, but her green eyes sparkled as if she hadn't been up half of
the night.

Their gazes met, and they smiled at each other like two
proud parents.

"How is the filly?" Rika asked.

Amy turned around to face the stall. "Hungry, it
seems." She chuckled.

Rika stepped next to her.

The black filly had her head bent beneath her mother's belly
and was suckling. Dotty stood patiently.

"I could watch all day," Rika said.

"Me too, but I don't think the ranch hands would like
it. We need to check on the colts today."

Steps announced the arrival of more visitors come to admire
the foal.

Nora and Nattie joined them and peeked over the stall door.

"Oh, what a beauty," Nora said. "Luke will
hate to have missed this year's foals being born, especially this one. Is it a
colt?"

Amy shook her head. "A filly."

"Then I hope you found a good name for her," Nora
said. She glanced at Rika. "It's an old family tradition. Nattie gets to
name all the colts and Amy the fillies."

"Poor little filly," Nattie said to the foal.
"Now you'll get teased by the rest of the herd for having an odd
name."

A nudge from Nora silenced her. "So?" She looked
at Amy. "Have you picked a name?"

"I thought I'd let Hendrika pick the filly's
name," Amy said. Her gaze wandered to Rika, then veered away.

Rika's breath caught.

In the sudden silence, Dotty's soft nickers sounded
unusually loud.

"Me?" Rika pressed both hands to her chest.
"Name the filly? Oh, no, I can't."

"Sure you can. Can't be any worse than the name my
sister would pick," Nattie said.

Nora said nothing. Her silence made the importance of Amy's
generous offer even clearer.

Rika looked at the filly, studied the graceful arc of her
neck and the perfect dots on her white hindquarters. No name came to mind.
"I can't think of a name beautiful enough for her."

"Don't think," Amy said. "Just feel and the
right name will come to you."

Rika closed her eyes, then looked at the filly and her
mother again.
Just feel.
She tried to remember what she had felt when
she had first seen the filly last night. "Lucky," she whispered.
"Lucky Star."

"Lucky Star," Nora repeated. Her gaze probed
deeply into Rika. "Is that how the filly makes you feel?"

It was. Despite Jo's death, maybe it had indeed been a lucky
star that led her to Oregon and to this place, where she got to witness the
birth of a foal. "Well, with the big star on her forehead and Amy there to
watch over her when she was born, Lucky Star just seems to fit."

"It does," Amy said.

Nattie clapped her hands, making Dotty nudge her foal away
from them. "Oh, finally — a filly with a meaningful name."

"Come on, girls." Nora ushered them away from the
stall. "Let's get breakfast on the table."

L
UKE
HERDED THE last horse through the creek. "Let's make camp here and —"

The sound of hoofbeats interrupted Luke. She reached for her
rifle. A silent signal brought Charlie and Phin to her side, and they waited,
riffles raised, for whoever was approaching.

The first horse appeared on top of the hill.

Luke let go of her rifle. The rider's blue uniform was
familiar. She had worn the same uniform many years ago.

Behind the first rider, a dozen more soldiers reined in
their horses.

Two of them urged their horses down the hill while the
others stayed back. A quick glance at the insignia on their uniforms showed
that the young lieutenant was in charge. "Good day," he said.
"Lieutenant Moylan with the Eighth Cavalry."

Luke tipped her hat. "Luke Hamilton from the Willamette
Valley," she said "We're bringing a herd of horses to Fort Boise.
What brings you to Willow Creek? You haven't been sent out to escort us, have
you?"

"Afraid not," the young officer answered.
"We're searching for a band of Indians who have stolen stock and killed
one of our men. Have you had any trouble with Indians?"

Dancer shifted beneath Luke, sensing her tension.

"No," Luke said as calmly as possible. "As
you can see, all of our horses are accounted for."

"So you haven't seen any signs of Indians in the
mountains?" the lieutenant asked.

Next to Luke, Charlie cleared his throat, but he said
nothing.

"None," Luke answered. "Maybe your thieves
joined the bands at the Owyhee River. The mountains aren't very hospitable this
time of year."

Lieutenant Moylan nodded, but the bearded sergeant next to
him still stared at Luke. Had he guessed that Luke was lying? Only long years
of practice kept Luke's mask of casual indifference in place.