Promise Me Spring

PROMISE ME SPRING by Robin Lee Hatcher

Other Leisure books by Robin LeeHatcher:

STORMY SURRENDER

HEART’S LANDING

THORN OF LOVE

HEART STORM

PASSION’S GAMBIT

PIRATE’S LADY

GEMFIRE

THE WAGER

DREAMTIDE

PROMISED SUNRISE

“WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME, RACHEL?” What did she want from him? To love him. To spend her life with him. To be a mother to his children. To be at his side through good times and bad. To grow old together. But she couldn’t say those things, and so she did the only thing she could. She stood on tiptoe, placed her arms around his neck, and kissed him. What she’d meant to be only a tender gesture, a means of telling him how much she loved him, became a fire in her veins, spreading violently through her, leaving her skin tingling and her limbs weak. When he clutched her tightly to him, she could only moan in acquiescence. His mouth moved hungrily over hers and she responded with equal greed.

“No more, Rachel,” he whispered huskily as he swept her feet up from the floor.

“God help me, I can’t resist you anymore.”

To my husband, Jerry, Who continues to be my heart’s inspiration (and so you won’t feel bad because your name isn’t in this one!) * To the “Thursday Night Gals,” Laurie Guhrke, Rachel Gibson, and Sandy Oakes, Special friends, special writers all, For keeping me sane with a frequent dose of reality And plenty of laughter to go with it.

* To my favorite “cheerleaders,” Lori Bright and Marthe Fosser, Because nobody else can give me a shot-in-the-arm like you two.

* And to all the members of Southern Idaho Romance Writers, Because you understand the ups and downs.

LEISURE BOOKS NEW York CITY A LEISURE BOOK July 1991 Published by Dorchester Publishing Co.” Inc.

276 Fifth Avenue New York, NY 10001 Copyright C 1991 by Robin Lee Hatcher All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law.

The name “Leisure Books” and the “I” with design are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co.” Inc.

PROLOGUE

Idaho Territory March 1883

Rachel Harris wasn’t sure exactly when she’d become aware that she was destined to make a difference in the world. She’d simply awakened one morning, filled with a kind of expectancy, and known life held something special, something significant, in store for her. She didn’t know what that something would be, but she would know it when it came. She was certain of that. She’d been waiting and watching for it for years now. But as the stagecoach rocked and creaked its way across the Idaho desert, the biscuit-colored landscape dotted with silver-green sagebrush, Rachel began to doubt her intuition. She’d been certain she would discover her destiny back East. There had been so many opportunities for something special to happen to her. Yet nothing had. Now she was returning to Boise City, back home to live with her sister, Maggie, and her family. She’d missed them all terribly while she was away, but she couldn’t help wondering if she’d made a mistake in returning. If she’d stayed in Washington just a little longer, might she not have found what she’d been waiting for? What on earth could she accomplish in Idaho that would make a difference to anyone?

Chapter One

Boise City September 1883

One thing never seemed to change, whether a person lived in the capital of a great nation or the capital of a distant western territory. Young, unmarried women always discussed the same thing when they got together—eligible men and the prospect of marriage. Rachel allowed her gaze to move among the members of the little social group, three young women who were quickly proving the truth of her silent observation. She had arrived at Mr. and Mrs. Walker’s autumn cotillion only a half hour ago and already she’d heard detailed information about several of the men in attendance.

“But he’s so very wealthy and quite distinguished,” Margaret continued in a stage whisper.

“Perhaps he’s not everything I personally would like a husband to be, but he’s a good catch for Dorothy. He isn’t objectionable to look at, but Dorothy isn’t exactly a beauty, and at her age she can’t hope to make a better match.”

“She’s nearly twenty-four,” Pamela added with great emphasis, making Dorothy sound ancient.

“Have you met Mr. Stephens’ new junior law partner?” Susannah asked, changing the subject to one of more interest to her. She peeked over Margaret’s shoulder toward a tall, fair-haired man standing near the punch bowl.

“Mr. Newcomb. Isn’t he positively the most handsome man here tonight? He’s already claimed two dances on my card. And everyone knows he’s

going to be a successful lawyer someday. Papa says he’s an up-and-coming young man with a bright future.”

“Look!” Pamela interrupted.

“There’s Rodney Parkinson. Do you think he’ll notice me? Oh, if he doesn’t ask me to dance, I’ll simply die.”

Although Rachel tried to concentrate on what the three young women were saying, she was having a difficult time. The topic of conversation bored her almost to tears. She realized that her point of view would be considered radical. She was, after all, rather advanced in age herself, having turned twenty-two last May and still no husband in sight.

But surely, she thought as her attention drifted off in another direction, there were more important things in life than being married—not just married, but well—married, preferably to a wealthy man or at least one with prospects of being wealthy.

“Excuse me,” she whispered absently, then moved away from the three friends who, she supposed, began gossiping about her the moment she left their midst. She looked fleetingly for Maggie or Tucker but found neither of them in sight. She caught a glimpse of Matthew Foreman on the dance floor, an attractive brunette in his arms. Matthew had been the most persistent of her callers at the Branigan ranch since her return to Idaho, but she felt no more desire to encourage his interest in her than she had had for any of the other gentlemen. Hoping Matthew hadn’t noticed her, she turned away. The tall doors leading onto the terrace were open, and she slipped through them. The music and conversations dimmed as she was enveloped by the night. A quarter moon rocked on its back against a sky dotted with stars. The air was crisp but not unpleasant. She walked down a path leading to Mrs. Walker’s gardens, feeling the need for solitude. Is something wrong with me? she wondered as she settled onto a stone bench. Over-educated. That was what most people no doubt had to say about Judge Branigan’s unmarried sister-in-law. And perhaps they were right. She’d had a fine education, but what was she to do with it now? What use was it if the only important thing was for her to snare a husband before she got any older?

How do I make a difference in this world if marriage is my only choice in life? Gavin Blake drove the wagon down the center of Main Street. It had been years since he’d last come to the capital of the territory. The town was growing. There had to be some fine physicians living here. One of them would be able to help Drucilla. If he didn’t think so, he never would have let her undertake this trip. He turned to look at his wife. She looked tired and wan after a week on the trail. He could read the exhaustion behind the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes. She looked as if she’d lost more weight, though there wasn’t an ounce of fat—hardly any meat either—on her gaunt, five-foot, seven-inch frame. I never should have let her come, he thought. But it had been hard for him to deny Dru anything lately. At least the weather had been warm for their trip to the capital, and he’d made her a comfortable bed in the back of the wagon. They’d lain beneath their blankets at night and stared up at the stars and talked about Sabrina’s and Petula’s futures and what Dru wanted for them. Gavin stopped the wagon in front of the Overland Hotel. He set the brake, then looped the ends of the reins around the brake handle before hopping to the ground. He turned, raising his arms and holding them apart.

“Come on. Let’s get you into a nice soft bed for a change.”

“Shouldn’t we go to the newspaper office first?” she asked softly.

“I’ll take care of that later.”

“Gavin, I..”

“You heard me. Come on.” Dru forced a weary smile, acknowledging her defeat.

“I suppose you’re right, but we came all this way to …”

“I know why we came,” he interrupted in a gruff tone. He couldn’t help himself. He felt suddenly angry. It never failed to alarm him when he lifted her down from the wagon and his fingers overlapped around her waist. He remembered her when she was pregnant with Quentin, her body swelling up like a ripe pumpkin, her face round and rosy her eyes shining with happiness. lord, it seemed a lifetime ago. look at all that had happened in the few years since then. First Quentin was stillborn, then Charlie died, and now this. If only he could take her back east to one of those fine hospitals. There must be something someone could do…. “Gavin?” Cool fingers touched his cheek. He knew she could read his mind, see what he was thinking.

“Let’s go inside.” With a nod, he placed a solicitous arm around her back and guided her into the lobby of the hotel. Wanted: Governess and teacher for two young girls on remote mountain ranch. Separate living quarters. Apply Mrs. Blake, Overland Hotel, after 2:00 PM Friday. Rachel set down the paper and stared out the window at the tall poplars, cottonwoods, and willows growing alongside the river. A warm breeze lifted wisps of blond hair across her forehead and caressed her skin with the last breath of summer. A large blow fly buzzed noisily beneath the porch awning, occasionally bumping into the clear glass window, then flying away before returning to try again. Perhaps the fly seemed unusually noisy because the house was so silent. Kevin, Colleen, Tara Maureen, and Colin, Maggie’s four oldest children, were all in school. Sheridan, at four the baby of the family, had gone into town with his mother for some shopping and would no doubt return with a peppermint stick from the mercantile. Rachel left the dining room and wandered into the parlor. Her fingers idly caressed the photographs and knickknacks that filled the room. Memories. Lots of memories. Happy memories too. Why wasn’t she content with the notion of making the same sort of memories for herself, the way everyone seemed to think she should? She paused in front of the oval mirror with its ornate, gold-flecked frame. She stared hard at her reflection. She supposed she was pretty. She’d been told so since she was little. She wasn’t particularly fond of her baby-fine hair—it was as pale as a field of drying wheat and impossible to keep trapped in a chignon—and she wished she had Maggie’s wide gray eyes instead of her ordinary blue ones. But all in all, it wasn’t a bad face staring back at her. She certainly had never lacked for suitors.

She’d turned down several proposals, both here and in Washington. Even James Whittier, her best friend’s husband, had offered for her several years ago. Now James and Fiona—deliriously in love with each other—were the parents of a beautiful baby girl. Myrna Whittier was only a few weeks old, and already she promised to be an auburn-haired, green-eyed beauty like her mother. If Rachel had accepted James’s offer, would she be happy now? Would she have found what she’d been waiting for? Had it been there staring her in the face all the time and she too blind to see it? No. Had she missed her chance by leaving Washington? Was that where she was to have found it? No. She was surprised by the sudden certainty that filled her. It made no sense to feel that way. What could possibly happen to her, stuck away out here on her brother-in-law’s ranch? If she didn’t want to marry one of her gentlemen callers, what else lay in store for her than to stay here, caring for Maggie and Tucker’s children, attending the theater, supporting the charities? She shook her head and walked back toward the dining room, pausing by the window and staring across the yard toward the river.

Bed sheets fluttered in the golden September sunlight. Tucker’s old hound dog lay in the shade of a tall poplar, his tail intermittently slapping the dried grass. Life is passing me by, she thought desolately, and there’s nothing I can do about it. She sighed again, the sound seeming to fill the empty house with its loneliness and futility. Was this it? Had she been wrong in thinking there was more in store for her? Was she resigned to let things continue this way forever? No, she wasn’t. Perhaps she’d been wrong to wait for something to happen to her. Perhaps she had to get out and make it happen. Her heart began to race as she turned away from the window. Her gaze fell upon the folded newspaper lying on the shiny oak table. That was it! Teaching. How better to make a difference in the world than to share all the wonderful things she’d learned, first in school and then under professor Abraham Fielding’s tutelage? And who better to share it with than children who lived far from a school? Rachel crossed the dining room with several quick steps and picked up the paper. Her eyes returned quickly to the brief notice in a lower corner of the page. Wanted: Governess and teacher for two young girls on remote mountain ranch. Separate living quarters. Apply Mrs. Blake, Overland Hotel, after 2:00 PM Friday. She was good with children. She’d helped Maggie with all her nieces and nephews. She certainly knew about living on a ranch. She’d lived on this one since coming to Idaho when she was six. She was qualified to teach, having completed her education in the best finishing school back East, not to mention the years she’d lived with the professor and his family. It would definitely be a complete and total change from the vacuous life she was living now. Did she dare even consider it? Rachel tossed the paper back onto the table as she spun around and swept resolutely out of the dining room. Drucilla Blake awakened slowly from her nap. On days like this, when she wasn’t feeling any pain, it was hard to believe she was dying. She felt tired was all. Very, very tired. She pushed herself up on the pillows, then swept her graying brown hair back from her face as she looked at the watch pinned to the bodice of her dress. One-fifteen. She would have to get freshened up if she was to be ready to meet people at two. A cold feeling suddenly engulfed her chest. She closed her eyes, her fingers still clutching the watch. What if no one came? What if they came and no one was right? It was so important to find the right person. Not just for Sabrina and Petula, but for Gavin too. He had given so much already, and when she was gone, he would still be giving. Dru relaxed her fingers and allowed her hand to fall to her side. It wasn’t right what she’d done. When that old sawbones first told her she was sick and dying, she should have left. She should have taken the children and gone. But where? Where was it she could have gone? Her heart and home were both in Idaho’s mountain country. There wasn’t anywhere else she could go—or anywhere else she wanted to spend what time was left to her. She filled her lungs with a deep breath, then straightened and dropped her legs over the side of the bed. She had no time for feeling sorry for herself. She had come to terms with her illness long ago. She knew Gavin would love and care for the children. She had only this one last detail to take care of and then she would be able to go in peace. Dru rose from the bed and walked toward the bureau. She glanced into the mirror as she picked up the hair brush. She tried not to look at her reflection. Doing so depressed her. She looked far older than her thirty-five years. She ran a hasty brush over her hair, then tucked the graying tresses into a bun at the nape before turning away. She looked presentable, she supposed. That was the best she could hope for. She opened the door to the small sitting room adjoining the bedroom. Gavin was standing at the window, looking down at the busy street below. she paused a moment to look at him. His black hair was shaggy around his shirt collar, badly in need of trimming. She should have seen to that before they left the basin. He turned at the sound of her entrance.

“Did you sleep?” he asked. She nodded.

“Are you hungry?”

“No,” she responded softly.

“I don’t think I could eat anything yet.”

“You barely touched your breakfast.” It was a tender admonishment. Dru simply shook her head and turned toward a nearby chair. She hated to see that look in his gray eyes. It made her feel guilty for all she had put him through, all she had yet to put him through. It wasn’t right that she’d saddled him with her troubles.

“I wonder what the girls are doing this afternoon,” she said, her tone

light and cheerful. Gavin knew her well enough not to press the subject of food any longer. Instead, he moved away from the window, walking with that loose-limbed stride of his, and sat on the small divan across from her.

“Probably out riding with Stubs. They ought to have the cows rounded up by the time we get back.”

“I wish we didn’t have to leave the basin so soon.” Dru imagined the majestic peaks of the rugged Sawtooth Mountains and the log house that lay in their shadows. A strong longing returned to her breast. She didn’t need a doctor to know she wouldn’t see another spring there. Gavin leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees.

“Dru, I want you to see the doctor before we leave Boise.” She offered a faint smile.

“Don’t, Gavin. We both know it won’t make any difference.” Before he could say anything more, they were interrupted by a knock. Dru’s eyes snapped toward the door. Her pulse quickened.

“They’re early,” she whispered, then silently added, Dear God, please bring the right woman.

Chapter Two

Standing beside the buggy, Rachel ran the palms of her hands over her blue-and-white striped skirt. She looked across the street at the Overland Hotel, nervously imagining an interview with Mrs. Blake. The woman would no doubt send her away after just a few questions. It was probably a foolish thing to have done, coming into town in response to that advertisement. It was tempting to climb back into the buggy and turn the horse toward home but she didn’t allow herself to succumb to the temptation. She’d come to apply for the job of governess, and apply she would. Maggie would most surely proclaim Rachel mad for wanting to go off to tend somebody else’s children. If she wanted to do that, Maggie would say, she could stay at home and watch after Maggie’s five rapscallions. Which probably would make better sense than this. But Rachel wanted to do this. And the more she’d thought about it, the more she wanted it. She would be doing this on her own. She would be charting her own destiny. She wouldn’t be wasting her time any longer going to boring cotillions or listening to gossip or shopping for new clothes. She would be accomplishing something worthwhile. And she would be independent. As much as she loved Tucker and Maggie, she longed for her independence. Maggie, of all people, should understand that. Quickly, Rachel wrapped the reins around the hitching rail, absently patted the gelding’s neck, then, with head held high, walked across the street and into the hotel lobby. The clerk behind the desk raised his head as she approached.

“Good day, Miss Harris,” he said, quickly smiling.

“I haven’t seen you in town for a while. Is the Judge with you today? Will you be dining with us?” He looked at her with openly appreciative eyes, then craned his neck to see if Judge Branigan was somewhere in sight.

“No, Mr. Samuels. I’m afraid Tucker isn’t with me.” She returned his look with a half-hearted smile of her own. Mark Samuels had been pestering for permission to call upon her since she was barely out of short skirts. She thought him a terrible busybody and had no intention of encouraging him to snoop into her affairs. Her voice was unusually crisp.

“I’ve come to see Mrs. Blake. Can you tell me what room she’s in, please?” His hopeful expression faded.

“Mrs. Blake?” He glanced down at the registry before him.

“Oh, yes. Mrs. Blake.” His head came up again.

“She’s in room two-ten, but I’m afraid now isn’t a good time to come visiting. She’s busy interviewing for a woman to care for her children. There’s already been three ladies come and gone.”

“Three? But it’s not even two thirty.” What if she’d already hired someone? Rachel hadn’t even had a chance. She at least wanted a chance.

“First one come more’n a half hour ago. Mrs. Blake’s a good friend of yours, I take it?” Rachel was scarcely aware of what Mark Samuels was saying.

“Did you say room two-ten?”

“Yes, but…”

“Thank you, Mr. Samuels.” Squaring her shoulders, she headed for the stairs. Gavin left his chair near the window to answer the knock on the door. He swore this would be the last one. For whatever reasons, Dru had found the first three women unacceptable and had dismissed them after very brief exchanges. He couldn’t get her to say why, other than, “They just weren’t right.” He pulled open the door, expecting to find another woman in her late thirties or early forties with a dour face and reading glasses perched on her nose. That was a rather fair description of the first three applicants, but it was a far cry from the beautiful young woman standing in the hallway. From beneath a bonnet made of plush blue felt and trimmed with a white ostrich feather, a fringe of pale blond hair kissed her forehead and curled in faint wisps around her temples and ears. Her blue eyes, wide and frankly curious as they stared up at him, were the color of a robin’s egg, the same shade as a clear sky on a warm summer day. Her nose was pert and slightly flared. Her mouth was bow-shaped and a delightful shade of pink. He felt a bolt of awareness shoot through him. For a moment, all else was forgotten except the sheer pleasure of looking at her.

“I’m here to see Mrs. Blake?” she said, her voice uncertain as she met his gaze.

“About the position of governess?” It was a little like being doused with a bucket of mountain stream water. Her words brought him back to reality.

“I’m Mr. Blake.” He waved her into the room. As she moved past him, he caught the faint scent of her cologne. It reminded him of a field of wild honeysuckle. Dru lifted a hand and motioned to the chair across from her.

“Come in, Miss…?”

“Harris,” the young woman supplied as she crossed the sitting room.

“Rachel Harris.”

“Please sit down, Miss Harris. I’m Drucilla Blake.” Gavin watched as Rachel settled onto the edge of the chair. Her back was ramrod stiff, her gloved hands clasped in the folds of her blue-and-white skirt. Her

outfit was simple but obviously well-made and costly. This was no penniless spinster in search of much-needed employment. He wondered why she was applying for the position. He closed the door and returned silently to his place by the window.

“I won’t beat around the bush, Miss Harris,” Dru began.

“Gavin—my husband—and I have a small ranch near Challis up along the Salmon River, where we spend most of the year. For the past two summers, we’ve trailed our cows into a remote area known as the Stanley Basin. That’s where you’d be for a few more weeks, then up the Salmon. It’s beautiful country, but you won’t find a lot of fancy parties and such, like you have here in the capital. We live a quiet, simple life, and sometimes it’s a hard one.” When Dru paused, Rachel nodded her head but didn’t speak.

“I’ve got two girls, Miss Harris. Sabrina, she’s nine. Petula’s five. They’re bright and in need of schooling. Have you ever done any teaching?”

“No.” Her chin lifted minutely.

“But I’ve been all the way through school in Boise City, and I went to finishing school back east. And I love children. I know I could teach. I live with my sister, and she has five children of her own. I was a kind of second mother to them.” Dru leaned slightly forward. Her hazel eyes narrowed.

“Why would someone as pretty as you want to go off to the mountains? Are you hiding from something, Miss Harris?” Gavin’s gaze fastened on the petite blonde. He’d been wondering the same thing himself and was curious to hear her reply.

“No, Mrs. Blake, I’m not.” Her voice was strong and firm.

“But I am twenty-two years old and still living with my sister and her family. It’s time that I made my own way. This seemed like something I could do. Something I would enjoy doing.”

“The wages wouldn’t be much. Only a few dollars a month. We’re just getting by as it is. You’d have your own small cabin at the main ranch, and you could take your meals with us. If we hire you, we’d want your pledge that you would stay through spring. At least until the cattle return to the summer range in June. Could you do that?” Again Rachel nodded. Dru’s eyes took on a faraway look. Gavin recognized it. He’d seen her drift off like this before. It was when she was thinking about her girls and leaving them and what would happen to them when she was gone. He’d seen it that first night she’d come to him and told him she was dying. Dru’s voice was soft, almost inaudible.

“Miss Harris, you must know one thing more. I’m not a well woman. I need someone who won’t mind caring for me as well as the children.” Rachel’s eyes widened. As if searching for a proper reply, she turned her head toward the window and looked directly into Gavin’s eyes. Their gazes held for the breadth of a heartbeat, then she turned away once more.

“I’m not afraid, if that’s what you’re asking, Mrs. Blake. I’ve helped nurse my nieces and nephews through the usual childhood illnesses. I’m sure I could learn to do whatever is needed.” She was saying all the right things, Gavin thought. Too right. A man only had to look at her to know she’d been spoiled and pampered, used to having her own way, her every whim satisfied. He knew the truth about her type. She would promise what they wanted to hear now, but do what she wanted when the time came. Heaven only knew why she wanted to leave Boise and live on a ranch miles from nowhere. There had to be some reason she wanted to get away from Boise, perhaps even to hide, and he’d wager it had to do with a man. It always did when a beautiful woman was involved. The tension left Dru’s face as she smiled at Rachel.

“Tell me about you and your family, Miss Harris.” With a sinking feeling, Gavin knew Dru had made up her mind about Rachel Harris. Gavin Blake escorted Rachel to her buggy across from the Overland Hotel. As she lifted the hem of her skirts to climb into the buggy, his fingers cupped her elbow and helped her up.

“We’ll want to get an early start, Miss Harris.” he said.

“Can you be here by eight?” She turned to look at him as she picked up the reins. Steel-gray eyes were studying her in a disconcerting fashion. She got the distinct feeling he wasn’t happy about his wife’s decision to hire her. She wondered why he hadn’t stopped Drucilla if that was how he felt.

“I’ll be here,” she replied firmly. With another piercing look, Gavin stepped away from the buggy. Rachel slapped the reins against the gelding’s rump, and the horse jumped forward, settling quickly into a comfortable trot as they traversed Main Street. What have I done? It had been a strange interview. Not at all what she had expected. After the few preliminary questions, Drucilla Blake had simply encouraged Rachel to talk about herself, about Maggie and the children, about her experiences back East and what had drawn her again to Idaho. She’d thought perhaps the woman was just being friendly and had no intention of hiring her as a governess. She’d been stunned when Dru brought the interview to an abrupt halt, saying she was tired and wanted to rest and could Rachel be at the Ovedand in the morning with whatever things she wanted to bring with her. How was she going to explain this to Maggie? She didn’t even know this woman or her husband. Her husband … Gavin. He had a handsome face with bold, craggy features. A comfortable, lived-in soot of face. Tiny lines around his steely gray eyes. Deep furrows in his sun-bronzed forehead. Dark shadows of a beard just beneath the skin of his cheeks and jaw. Blue black hair, the color of raven’s wings. Tall and broad of shoulder and radiating good health and vitality. What had ever made him marry a woman like Drucilla Blake? She was plain and skinny and… Rachel’s eyes widened, appalled by her own callousness. She was beginning to think like Margaret and Susannah and the others. Drucilla Blake couldn’t help it

that she was sick, and there was much more to loving a person than their looks. In fact, Rachel thought she was going to like Dru very much. She’d better. She was going to be living with her and her husband and their children for almost a year. Before she could wonder again if she was doing the right thing, before she could even consider changing her mind, she had to get home and tell Maggie what she’d done. She clicked her tongue in her cheek and slapped the reins against the gelding’s back. In quick response, the horse broke into a brisk canter.

“I’m afraid your wife is right, Mr. Blake.” The doctor closed the door to the bedroom.

“We can try to minimize the pain with laudanum and morphine, but there’s little else we can do for her.”

“But she’s seemed better for so long. Except for her lack of appetite, I thought.. “A cancer will often go into a period of remission. The tumor, for some reason we don’t understand, will simply stop growing. A patient often thinks it has gone entirely away.”

Gavin rubbed his eyes with the fingers of one hand.

“Maybe it will last a few more years?

When the girls are older …” His words stopped as he met the physician’s grim gaze.

“It could,” the doctor said with a sad shake of his head, “but I wouldn’t pin my hopes on it.”

He picked up his hat from a nearby chair, then turned the knob and opened the door.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Blake.”

The snap of the closing door echoed in Gavin’s head. It had a final, deadly sound to it.

He couldn’t argue with the facts any longer. Dru wasn’t going to get better. No matter what he did for her, she was going to die. She’d known it for a long time and had accepted it, but he’d continued to hold out some hope.

Sinking into the chair by the door, he thought of Sabrina and Petula. What kind of father would he be to them without Dru’s wisdom and guidance? He didn’t know the first thing about it. His own father had been lost in a drunken stupor since Gavin was ten, perhaps even before. As for his mother… Well, he’d quit thinking of her long ago. Whenever he did, he was left with a sour taste in his mouth. Gavin had been on his own since he was fourteen, and he’d liked it that way. He’d never thought he wanted anything different. It had been his friend, Charlie Porter, and Dru, Sabrina, and little Pet who’d shown him what love and home and a family could mean. He’d almost begun to believe in those things. But now it was all gone—or just about. Charlie had died over two years ago, gored by an angry bull, just after Dru lost the baby—the son they’d all been waiting for. And now she was dying and leaving Gavin to raise her daughters. She didn’t know how incapable he was. She didn’t realize that he would most surely fail.

“Gavin?” He looked up to find Dru standing in the doorway to the bedroom. Loose strands of hair streamed limply over her shoulders, and the billowy white nightgown engulfed her bony frame. He supposed she’d never been much to look at, but she’d always been warm and kind and giving, and that had more than made up for whatever beauty Mother Nature hadn’t seen fit to bestow on her.

“I want to stay in the basin as long as we can this year. Let Stubs and Jess take the cows to the Lucky Strike. A few more weeks won’t matter much.”

“It might, Dru. The weather…”

“Please, Gavin. I won’t ask for more than a few weeks.” He rose from the chair and strode across the sitting room, stopping within arm’s reach of her. She was a tall woman, but she seemed small and shrunken to him now. I’m scared, Dru, he thought as he looked into her eyes. I don’t know how to be a father to the girls. As if she understood his thoughts, Dru reached up and touched his cheek.

“You’re going to do just fine by them. They’re going to be prettier than I ever was. And they’ll be smarter too. Miss Harris will see to that. I have a lot of faith in that young woman.”

“You just met her. How can you know anything about her?”

“I have a feeling, Gavin. Please give her a chance.”

“All right, Dru. If it’s what you want.” He took her in his arms and pressed her cheek against his chest. They stood that way for a long time.

“You can’t really mean to do this.” Maggie’s voice was incredulous. Rachel turned from her packing. Her sister was standing just inside the bedroom door. Maggie’s gray eyes seemed even wider than usual as they stared at her.

“Yes, I do mean to do it,” she replied.

“But you have no idea what you might be getting into. You don’t know these people. And just where is this ranch? What if you were to get sick? Is there a town? Is there a doctor?”

“Maggie, I’m not six anymore. I don’t need you to mother me.” She sighed, recognizing how harsh her words must have sounded.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be ungrateful. I know you’re only thinking of what’s best for me. But I want to do this. I have to do this. It’s time I was out on my own.”

“That’s fine, but why like this? Why not move into Boise? I’m sure Tucker could help you find something to do. You could help Harry in his law office. You’d be close to Fiona and the baby if you moved to town, and you could come out here whenever you wanted.” That wouldn’t help, she thought as she turned to resume her packing. It’s not here. Whatever I need isn’t here.

“It’s too dangerous,” Maggie insisted, her voice taking on a stern tone.

“I just can’t let you do it.” Rachel dropped the gown she was folding and whirled around.

“You can’t stop me, Maggie. I’m all grown up. I appreciate everything you and Tucker have done for me. I really do. But it’s time for me to do something on my own. You weren’t even eighteen yet when we joined the wagon train to come out west. You didn’t know anyone either. You had to trust Mrs. Foster when she said we could travel with them in their wagon. You didn’t know where we were going. Not really. There wasn’t any doctor when we all got sick with the measles. You almost

died, but it didn’t stop you from doing what you had to do.” Maggie’s beautiful face registered defeat.

“But I don’t want you to go,” she said, her voice filled with sadness. In unison, they moved forward to embrace each other tightly.

“I know,” Rachel agreed in a whisper.

“I’ll miss you too. Honest, I will. And Tucker and the children. I’ll miss them all. But it’s only until spring. That isn’t so very long. And I’ll write. Mrs. Blake told me the post goes up to Challis every week.” Maggie sniffed as she pulled back.

“I just don’t understand why you need to do this. You have so many gentlemen coming to call and…”

“I have to, Maggie. I can’t explain why. It’s just something I have to do.” Her sister studied her for a long time, staring hard into her eyes, searching for answers and understanding. Finally, she leaned forward and kissed Rachel’s forehead.

“Then God go with you, kitten.” Tears sprang to her eyes. It had been a long time since Maggie had called her by her pet name. It brought back a kaleidoscope of memories from her childhood, all of them filled with Maggie’s image.

“We’ll take you into town in the morning.” With that, Maggie turned and tearfully left the room.

Chapter Three

Unshed tears burned the back of Rachel’s throat as she looked at the gathering of family and friends waiting outside the Overland. With such short notice, she hadn’t expected anyone to even know she was leaving, and considering the early hour, she would never have guessed they would all be there, hugging and kissing her. Tucker’s mother, Maureen Foster, and her husband, David, had come in from Green Willows, their ranch west of the city. They were accompanied by Neal Branigan, Maureen’s youngest son, and his new bride, Patricia. Neal was the closest thing to a brother that Rachel had ever known, and she wished she’d had more time to get to know Patricia. She was certain they would have become close friends.

Fiona Whittier, Tucker’s sister and Rachel’s best and dearest friend since childhood, was there with her baby daughter. Fiona’s cheeks had been streaked with tears from the moment she arrived.

“You’ve only been back six months,” she said with a whimper, making it difficult for Rachel to control her own tears. Maggie and Tucker were there, of course, along with all five of their children, from four-year-old Sheridan to fourteen-year-old Kevin. Maggie had resigned herself to Rachel’s leaving and had promised not to cry, but the strain still showed in the paleness of her cheeks and the set of her mouth. Even Tucker had been inordinately silent all morning. She was going to miss her brother-in-law’s sensitive guidance and quiet wisdom. Standing beside Tucker was Harry Jessup, Tucker’s old law partner. The two men had been friends back in Georgia before the war and had started a law practice together in Boise when they first arrived. With Harry were his twin sons, Beau and Boone, thirteen years old and full of mischief and energy. So many of them. All hugging and kissing her and saying how much they would miss her. She’d been through this years before when she and Tucker left Boise for her trip back east to attend finishing school, but somehow this time seemed different, the good-byes harder to say. It was still a few minutes before eight when Gavin Blake pulled his wagon up in front of the hotel. Rachel felt a strange quiver in her stomach as he hopped down from the wagon seat, landing with catlike grace in the dusty road. He turned his head and their eyes collided. His brows drew together in a frown. Then his gaze swept the large gathering of people surrounding her on the sidewalk. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she lifted a hand in an abbreviated wave.

“Good morning, Mr. Blake.” He stepped up onto the sidewalk and touched the brim of his battered hat.

“Morning, Miss Harris.” His eyes flicked once more over the crowd as silence settled over them.

“You got your things together?” Stepping forward, Tucker said, “I’ve got her trunk in my carriage.” He was wearing his most official expression as he held out his hand toward Gavin.

“I’m Judge Branigan, Rachel’s brother-in-law.”

“Gavin Blake.” His hand clasped with Tucker’s. Rachel had the distinct feeling there was some sort of testing going on between the two men as they stared into each other’s eyes. She held her breath until Tucker released Gavin’s hand and his expression relaxed.

“We can’t say we’re glad to have Rachel leaving us this way,” Tucker said.

“She won’t come to any harm while stayin’ with us.”

“We’re counting on that. Kevin…” He turned his head toward his oldest son.

“Get one of the twins to help you bring Rachel’s trunk over here.” Beau and Boone both jumped forward, racing with Kevin across the street, all of them arguing about who was the strongest, each of them bragging that he could carry the trunk without anyone’s help.

“I’ll get my wife.” Gavin spun on his boot heel and disappeared through the hotel doors. Maggie’s fingers touched Rachel’s shoulder.

“You can still change your mind and come home with us.” It was tempting after seeing the look on Gavin’s face, seeing the cold reception in his eyes. lord, it was tempting. Her bedroom back at Maggie’s was familiar and safe. Her friends and family were always close by whenever she needed them.

“No,” she replied firmly.

“I’m going with the Blakes.” Her comment was followed by a flurry of hugs and good wishes as everyone bade her one more farewell. Fiona had just released her when Gavin and Drucilla Blake came out of the hotel. Dru’s smile was warm and friendly.

“Good morning, Miss Harris. My! Is this your family?” Hazel eyes swept over the crowd.

“Most of them.” Gavin tugged gently on his wife’s arm.

“We’ve got a long trip ahead of us. We’d best go.” He escorted her to the wagon and lifted her up onto the wagon seat. Rachel turned quickly toward Maggie. Her heart was suddenly thundering in her chest. She

felt terribly afraid and incapable of doing what she’d set out to do. Maggie’s arms went around her. She pressed her cheek against Rachel’s and whispered into her ear.

“I was scared too, when we went after the wagon train, but we made it. So will you.”

“Miss Harris…” Gavin’s deep voice was tinged with impatience. Rachel blinked away her tears and turned toward the wagon.

“I’m coming.” Chin held high, she walked away from her sister. Gavin was waiting for her at the rear of his flatbed wagon. As soon as she paused in front of him, he put his hands around her waist and lifted her effortlessly into it. For a moment, she just stared at the wagon bed, the back of it taken up by her trunk, the front portion covered with a tick mattress and blankets.

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable, Miss Harris. It’ll be a while before we stop.” She sat quickly, twisting so she could look over the side of the wagon at Maggie and Tucker. Her fingers clenched the rough lumber that held her in. Gavin sprang up onto the wagon seat beside his wife. He looked at Dru.

“Ready? You need anything ‘fore we go?”

“I’m fine, Gavin. Let’s go home.” With the rattle of harness and braces, the wagon jerked forward, pulling away from the Overland Hotel. Rachel stared back at her family and friends until she couldn’t see them any longer through the blur of tears. When they stopped to rest and eat their midday meal, Gavin announced that he was going to walk about and stretch his legs. That left the women with time alone to get better acquainted. Rachel was eager to ask Dru about the children, but she wasn’t given the chance.

“You stayed back East for several years, Miss Harris,” Dru said as she handed Rachel a sandwich.

“Why was that?”

“An accident mostly. After completing my schooling, I went home with my friend Georgia to visit her parents in Washington. Professor Abraham—that’s what everyone calls Mr. Fielding—is such a remarkable man, and I was always pestering him with questions. Finally, he asked if I would stay and assist him with some historical research he was doing. I was thrilled to be a part of it.” She took a bite of her sandwich, then continued, unaware of the excitement in her voice.

“Professor Abraham doesn’t have those silly notions about education being wasted on a woman. He would talk to me about anything. He treated all my questions as if they had merit, even the ones that didn’t. I had access to any of the books in his library and could read to my heart’s content.”

“Was it all study and work?” Dru asked.

“Oh, no. Professor Abraham and his wife are invited everywhere, and Georgia and I were forever tagging along to parties and balls. And the Fielding home always had interesting guests coming and going. The professor is the confidante of statesmen and successful businessmen from all over the country. I met so many leaders of industry and politicians in the years I was with them, I couldn’t begin to name them all. It was always interesting, always so stimulating.”

“Then why did you come back to Idaho?” Rachel wasn’t certain how to answer. It was a question she’d asked herself many times in the past six months. Why did she come back?

“I don’t know,” she finally said, her voice soft and thoughtful, the excitement gone as she considered the question once again.

“Is there a special man waiting for you in Boise? Someone you plan to marry?”

“No,” Rachel answered firmly. Dru lifted an eyebrow.

“Are you saying you don’t want to ever get married and have a family?”

“Not at all,” Rachel was quick to respond.

“I do want it… when the time is right.”

“You’ve never been in love, have you, Rachel?” The expression on Dru’s face was strangely wistful. She shook her head.

“No, but I’ve seen what it’s like, living with Tucker and Maggie. That’s what I want it to be like for me. I don’t mean to marry someone just because he’s important or wealthy. I mean to be in love with the man I marry.” She felt a bit silly for the emphatic tone of her voice.

“But,” she continued, “the time isn’t right for that yet, so there’s no point worrying about it. I still have things to do.” She laughed at herself.

“I just don’t know what.” Dru grinned back at her.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“I hope so. It sounds absurd, I suppose, but I’ve always had the feeling that something special was going to happen in my life. When I decided to come home, it was because I had a feeling I would find it waiting for me here.” She shrugged.

“If it was, I didn’t find it.” Dru tilted her head slightly to one side as she observed Rachel.

“Perhaps you found it and don’t know it yet.” Rachel smiled and gave a little shake of her head. How could she have found it and not know it? She’d been waiting for that “something” to happen for years. Which was exactly why she was here with Dru now. Because she was tired of waiting and had chosen to go out and make something happen.

“Perhaps,” she said, not wanting to argue a futile point, but certain the woman was wrong. Later that night, Gavin sat beside the dying embers of the campfire and ran his fingers over a worn piece of harness. He would have to do some repairs on it before long. Perhaps, come spring, he’d be able to afford a whole new harness. If he could get the right price for his cows after round-up and if the rest of his herd wintered well, he should be able to… “Mr. Blake?” He glanced up, surprised that he hadn’t heard her approach.

“May I talk to you a moment?” Gavin waved at the log opposite him. She sat down. He noticed the graceful movements of her hands as she smoothed the skirt of her dress over her knees. She lifted a loose strand of pale blond hair and looped it behind her ear. The tip of her tongue moistened her lips as she stared into the red, glowing coals. She looked lovely, despite the long, dusty, tiring day.

“Is there some reason you disapprove of me to teach your daughters, Mr. Blake?” she asked, her eyes suddenly lifting to meet his. “

Is there any reason I should?”

“No… but you do all the same.”

“Dru chose you, Miss Harris. That’s good enough for me.” Her blue eyes widened a fraction, and her head tilted slightly to one side. The slight pucker of her lips told him she thought he was lying. He supposed he was. His fingers tightened on the harness.

“I just don’t think you’re cut out for the place we’re going.”

“Why is that, Mr. Blake?” Irritation caused his voice to deepen.

“Listen, Miss Harris, we don’t have a lot of fancy things. I built the log cabin at our summer range with my own two hands. And the main ranch doesn’t have much more to it. We got a couple of hired hands who help out, and the nearest neighbors in the basin are more than likely a small band of Sheepeater Indians or some of their kin. There won’t be any nice teas to be shared with the womenfolk or dances to go to. Winters can be plenty long, and if you get bored easily, they’ll seem even longer.”

“I can do this job, Mr. Blake,” she insisted. He leaned suddenly forward and grabbed her hand, turning it palm up.

“Look at that lily-white hand. You haven’t done a day’s work in your life. You might’ve been raised on a ranch, but it was a gentleman’s ranch or I miss my guess. That brother-in-law of yours hires on all his help to run the ranch while he plays the judge in town and you sit drinking tea on the front porch. You’re just another spoiled, rich-” She jerked her hand away from him. Her blue eyes were rounded, and she sounded breathless when she spoke.

“That’s not so. We’ve worked hard for everything we’ve got. Tucker built our first house himself, cutting down the trees along the river. I remember just what it was like. We all worked and worked hard. In some ways, it was even harder than the trip west on the wagon train when we were moving every day for months and slept in the rain and walked in the mud and baked in the sun.” She stood up.

“Maybe Tucker does have others running his ranch now, but he’s earned it. And maybe I have been spoiled by his success. Maybe my life the last years has been easier than most, but I’m not afraid of hard work. I can teach your children and I can help take care of your wife.”

“You don’t belong up at the basin,” he growled.

“I’m going to be there, aren’t I, so you and I may as well learn to get along.” With a toss of her head, she turned and hurried toward her bed beneath the wagon. Gavin’s frown deepened as he returned his attention to the harness in his hands. She could say what she wanted. Rachel Harris didn’t belong in the hard life of the Blakes. She would wilt there like a rose without water. He’d be sending her back to Boise by the first snow. He’d be willing to bet on it. He caught a faint whiff of honeysuckle and felt a strange emptiness in his chest. Despite Dru’s frail appearance and admission of ill health, Rachel began to wonder if she’d been wrong about the woman. Every morning Dru was ready to break camp before the crack of dawn. She could scarcely be convinced to rest and have lunch in the middle of the day. And at night, she always insisted they go just one more mile before making camp. Gavin seemed concerned, but he often gave in to her pleas. Rachel, on the other hand, was exhausted and always ready to call it a day long before they actually did. She was hungry for a real meal rather than those hastily prepared over a campfire. She felt wilted and dirty and longed for a bath. A hot bath in the privacy of an upstairs bathroom, like the one at home. Gavin remained taciturn, speaking to her as little as possible. Dru, however, was invariably chatty and friendly. She told Rachel about the Stanley Basin and the beauty of the surrounding mountain ranges. Mostly, though, she talked about her daughters. Her voice was always filled with pride when the topic was Sabrina and Petula. The days seemed both to drag by and to pass all too quickly as the familiarity of Rachel’s home was left farther and farther behind. Still, she couldn’t deny a growing sense of adventure as Dru shared more about their summer range in the Stanley Basin, a valley surrounded by mountains with names like Sawtooth and White Cloud. But despite Dru’s glowing reports of the basin she loved, Rachel wasn’t prepared for the breathtaking panorama that met her gaze late in the afternoon a week after they had left Boise. The valley was tucked, snug and serene, between rugged mountain ranges. A carpet of green grasses waved like the sea beneath a gentle breeze. Late summer wildflowers bobbed their colorful heads. Sage and pine scented the air. Winding its way across the valley floor was a ribbon of water. A thick blanket of pine trees climbed the mountainsides as far as possible, then admitted defeat amidst the jagged crags and towering peaks of the Sawtooth Mountains.

“Is that snow?” she asked as she spied the splotches of white nesting in the shadowed sides of rocky spires.

“Glaciers,” Gavin replied.

“They’re there year-round.”

“Can we see your ranch from here?”

“Not yet,” Dru replied.

“The basin’s northwest of here. We’ll be there tomorrow.” Gavin hopped down from the wagon seat and walked across the narrow dirt road. His thick brows were drawn together as his eyes swept the wooded area. Moments later, he strode quickly back, stopping at the back of the wagon. He pulled a heavy chain from a box in the rear corner, then marched back into the trees. Rachel watched as he rolled up his shirt sleeves before bending over a fallen tree, slipping the heavy links beneath it. His muscles bulged as he leaned forward, pulling on the chain. The tree didn’t budge. She wondered if his shoulders were as muscular as his arms—and knew instinctively that they were. She felt herself blushing as she imagined him without his shirt on. She glanced down at her hands, finding them clenched tightly in her lap. She wasn’t aware of his return until she felt the wagon jerk as he regained

his seat. What on earth was that all about? she wondered as he picked up the reins. But instead of starting forward and making their way down the steep descent into the valley, Gavin turned the wagon around and guided the team off the trail toward the chained log. Curiosity finally got the better of her.

“What are you doing?” she asked as Gavin jumped down from the wagon and walked toward the tree.

“It’s to help check our speed going down.” He picked up the chain and fastened the loose end to the undercarriage.

“It’s a steep grade.” His tone clearly stated he found her question a foolish one, that she should have known the reason, that if she wasn’t a spoiled city girl she wouldn’t have had to ask. He made her mad enough to spit. He was without a doubt the most unreasonable, unfriendly man she’d ever had the displeasure to meet. And she wasn’t going to let him scare her off. She’d prove to him she could measure up to whatever he dished out. After all, she wasn’t entirely ignorant of men. She’d been squired around Washington by some of the most powerful and influential men in the country. She’d sat at supper tables and chatted with brilliant men of science and government. Surely this backwoods cowboy could be properly handled. She would make him like her. She would force him to admit he was wrong about her. If it was the last thing she did, she was going to hear him admit he was wrong. The wagon started forward with a lurch. Rachel’s head snapped back, hitting the front of the wagon. Her right hand flew up, and she grasped the side to steady herself. Behind them, the tree carved a groove in the earth as it was dragged through the needles and grass, finally falling onto the dirt trail. Minutes later, Rachel understood why Gavin had taken the time to weight the wagon. The brake scraped noisily against the wheels. The horses leaned back over their hind legs, straining against the weight of the wagon pushing against them. The narrow track—too primitive to be called a road—wound back and forth across the side of the mountain, dropping swiftly toward the valley floor below.

“Easy, Checker. Whoa now, Patch.” Gavin’s voice was smooth, gentle, calming not only the team of horses but Rachel as well. She twisted to look up at him, seated so close to her back. He was leaning forward, his boots braced against the foot board. The reins were woven through his fingers. Sweat stained the back of his shirt along his spine, and the muscles flexed across his shoulders.

“That’s it, girl. Slow down, Patch.” Watching him, Rachel felt the last of her tension leave her body. Gavin would get them safely to the bottom.

Chapter Four

Patches of brown and white dotted the landscape across a wide sweep of meadowland where cattle grazed along the banks of the river, the lush grasses reaching up to tickle their bellies.

“We’re home,” Dru whispered. Rachel rose to her knees and leaned to one side to see what was ahead. Just as she did so, she saw a horse break away from the cattle and come cantering toward them. The rider waved his arm. Gavin drew back on the reins, stopping the team, and waited for the cowboy to arrive.

“Lord a’mighty, it’s good to see you folks back agin. Them gals o’ yours ain’t stopped asking’ when you’d be back since the day after you left.” Dru’s voice was anxious.

“There’s nothing wrong, is there, Stubs?” The cowboy’s grizzled face broke into a grin as he looked at Dru.

“Nothin’ that their ma being’ home won’t take care of.”

“Where are they now?” she asked.

“Back at the house. Jess and Brina are whippin’ us up some grub for supper. Imagine Pet’s tryin’ to help out. Better git up there so they can throw in a bit more.” Stubs removed his hat and drew his arm across his forehead, glancing toward Rachel as he did so.

“Got your teacher, did ya?” Gavin looked over his shoulder.

“Miss Harris, this is Stubs Martin. He’s the foreman for the Lucky Strike Ranch.”

“How do you do, Mr. Martin.” Rachel stood, her hand on the back of the wagon seat for balance.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Well, doggies. If you ain’t a pretty little thing. You just call me Stubs and we’ll git on fine.” He winked at her.

“Yes, sir. Ain’t she a pretty little thing, Gavin?” Rachel felt the warm blush spreading up from her neck. She fought the urge to turn and look at Gavin, as if it mattered to her if Gavin Blake found her pretty—which, of course, it most certainly did not.

“I see you’ve got the cattle rounded up,” Gavin said, ignoring his foreman’s question. Without pausing, he added, “You’d better sit down, Miss Harris.” He slapped the reins against the horses’ rumps, and the wagon jerked forward, nearly toppling her. He really was the most ill-mannered man. Begrudgingly, she gave him silent credit for the tenderness and concern he showed toward Dru. Beyond that, she found Gavin Blake an insufferable bore and only hoped she would see as little of him as possible once they reached their destination. Stubs fell in beside the wagon, quickly filling Gavin in on what had transpired while the boss and his wife were away. The final count showed they’d lost only a few cattle during the summer, a couple to wolves, the rest more than likely to some of the Indians in the area. The herd had fattened up nicely on the abundant feed available. They would bring a fine price when butchered and delivered to the miners in the area.

“When do we mean to start the drive?” Stubs asked.

“It’s getting’ a bit late in the year.”

“Dru’s asked to stay in the basin for a few more weeks, but I think you’d better drive the cattle out in the next day or two. The buyers will be expecting us.”

“You think you oughta-” Stubs began. Two shrill voices interrupted his question.

“Ma! Ma!” Once again, Rachel got to her knees and leaned over for a better view. Even as Dru reached out to grab hold of Gavin’s arm, he was drawing the wagon to a halt.

“Ma!” Dark brown hair streamed out behind them as they ran. The older

girl was tall and slender. The younger was plump and rosy. Each of them was smiling broadly and waving. Gavin hopped down from the wagon seat, then lifted his wife to the ground. She turned just in time to receive the two girls into her arms.

“Ma, you’re back! You were gone so long.”

“I know, Brina. It seemed like forever to me, too.” Sabrina had her mother’s hazel eyes as well as the same long, narrow face. Her complexion was fair except for the spattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her dress barely covered her knees. She would soon be grown clear out of it.

“Ma ..” Petula tugged on her mother’s sleeve.

“Look.” She opened her mouth. The younger girl’s eyes were a dark chocolate brown and were capped by thick chestnut brows. Her skin was dark, her mouth wide and full. Rachel could see little resemblance to either Gavin or Dru in the child.

“My goodness, Pet. Where did your tooth go?” her mother asked, acting as if she’d never known a child could lose a tooth.

“It came loose when I was ridin’.” Her eyes widened.

“I swallowed it,” she announced gravely.

“Well then, you probably won’t be hungry for supper, will you?” Gavin asked as he swooped the younger child into his arms. Petula promptly threw her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Will too. Mr. Chamberlain’s fixin’ pie for dessert, and I helped.” With his other arm, Gavin lifted Sabrina against his side.

“What about you? Stubs tells me you’re doing the cooking.” She mimicked her sister’s actions by hugging his neck and kissing his cheek. As she pulled back, she nodded solemnly.

“I made the stew.” Rachel couldn’t help noticing the way he grinned at the children. It wasn’t just his mouth. The smile went right to his eyes, making their gray depths sparkle with silent laughter. It was a much nicer look than the one he normally turned on her. He must be a wonderful father. Dru touched Rachel’s hand on the side of the wagon.

“Get down, Miss Harris, and meet the children.”

“Yes of course,” she mumbled, remembering abruptly why she was there. Without waiting for help, she scrambled over the tailgate of the wagon and dropped the remaining few feet to the ground. She turned nervously to face her pupils, feeling as if she was stepping before a firing squad.

“Brina… Pet…” Dru waited as Gavin set the girls on their feet.

“Come meet Miss Harris.” Holding hands, they came forward to stand next to their mother. Two sets of eyes stared up at her, curious and skeptical at the same time. Her throat felt dry.

“Hello, Sabrina. Hello, Petula.” They didn’t say a word.

“I’m glad to meet both of you at last. Your mother’s told me so much about you.” Still no response. Rachel swallowed hard. Her stomach was churning nervously. If the children took a dislike to her as quickly as their father had, she wouldn’t have a prayer of staying on. Petula turned and reached for her mother’s skirt, tugging until Dru leaned down.

“She’s real pretty, isn’t she, Ma?” she whispered.

“Yes, Pet, she is,” Dru answered softly, her gaze lifting to meet Rachel’s.

“Very pretty.” Rachel was still trying to think of something to say when the peace of the valley was shattered by the baying of dogs. She turned to see three brown-and-gray blurs barreling toward them. The first two slid to a halt at Gavin’s feet. The third didn’t stop until he’d jumped up to thrust his muddy paws against Rachel’s shoulders. Thrown off balance, her arms flailed the air in large circles. As if knowing she was trying her best to stay upright, the mangy brute gave her a little push. With a squeal, she fell onto her backside, hitting the hard ground with a thump. Before she could close her mouth, the dog’s long tongue smacked her across the face several times. She spluttered, raising her arm to ward off the beast, and closed her eyes, hoping all the while that it wouldn’t decide she was tasty enough for a bite in place of the lick. She heard their laughter. Particularly his laughter. It was deep and rich and—and insulting!

“Get back, Joker, you idiot. Don’t you know that’s no way to greet a lady?”

Rachel opened her eyes as Gavin dragged the overzealous wolfhound away by the scruff of its neck. Although he’d managed to muffle his guffaws, his eyes were still twinkling with undisguised merriment as he stepped forward again and offered her a hand up.

“He’s your dog, no doubt,” she grumbled as she took hold of his hand. Gavin chuckled.

“No doubt.” He pulled her to her feet in one easy motion.

“I hope you’ll forgive him. Joker’s just a pup.”

“A pup?” She turned to stare at the enormous animal with its large square head and thick, wiry coat.

“He’s nearly a horse!” She brushed at the muddy prints on her bodice, biting back a few choice words about what should be done with the dog.

“Duke. Duchess. Come.” In response to Gavin’s quiet command, the other two dogs sprang to their feet and trotted over.

“Sit down.” Gavin waved his hand at Rachel, as if the dogs could understand what he was saying.

“This is Miss Harris. She’s come to live with us. I expect you to treat her with respect.” He glanced at Rachel again, the sparkle remaining in his steel-gray eyes.

“Miss Harris, meet Joker’s parents, Duke and Duchess.” The larger of the two adult dogs lifted his right paw and cocked his head to one side. Large black eyes perused her. She almost believed the dog did understand what was going on.

“He’s pleased to meet you, Miss Harris,” Gavin said solemnly.

“Go on. Shake his hand.” Rachel glanced over at Gavin, about to refuse, but from the corner of her eye, she could see Sabrina and Petula. They, too, were watching to see how Miss Harris would react. Tugging on her bodice, she straightened her dress, then bent forward and took hold of Duke’s paw.

“How do you do, your grace.” She moved the dog’s paw up and down three times, then let go as her gaze moved to the female wolfhound. She held her skirts and executed a perfect curtsey.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Duchess.” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper.

“But, my lady, that son of yours is a disgrace. You must take him in hand quickly, or there’ll be no redeeming him. He’ll prove himself a fool at court.” The girls burst into laughter as they hurried forward to throw their arms around the giant dogs. Joker pushed his way into the happy group, his tongue lapping wildly in all directions. A warm thrill surged through Rachel as she watched them. They were going to like her. The children were going to like her. Straightening, her eyes met Gavin’s. One eyebrow was slightly arched as he offered a lopsided grin and a brief nod of his head. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized he was acknowledging her success. She felt a new heat spreading through her chest. He has a wonderful smile.

“Come along, girls,” Dru said.

“Let’s show Miss Harris to her room.” Rachel blushed and looked away from him, feeling slightly confused and disoriented by her unexpected thoughts. Petula stepped away from the dogs and came to stand beside Rachel. Her head cocked backward, she stared up at her new governess with solemn brown eyes. Then, without a word, she slipped her small, sweaty hand into Rachel’s and pulled her toward the house. Gavin climbed onto the wagon seat and took the harness into his hands, but he didn’t start the horses forward. He sat thoughtfully, watching the gentle sway of Rachel’s hips as she walked toward the log cabin, one hand holding Petula’s, the other resting on Duke’s shaggy head as he walked beside her. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he remembered the way she’d looked just before Joker knocked her off her feet. Her blue eyes had rounded in surprise. Her mouth had formed a perfect O. He could still hear her tiny grunt as her bottom met earth. He could just imagine what she would have said if Joker hadn’t stopped her with a lap of his tongue. His grin widened. She had spunk. He’d give her that. She could have burst into tears or railed at the dog for ruining her dress. Instead, she’d proved herself a good sport and actually played along with his introductions to Duke and Duchess. He clucked absently to the horses and followed after the others. He drove the team directly to the tall barn, stopping in the shade cast by the evening sun. He hopped down and quickly freed the animals from the wagon and harness, leading them into the corral on the north side of the barn. He tossed the horses some hay, then leaned on the fence and watched them eat.

“What’s botherin’ you, Gavin?” He didn’t look over as Stubs stepped up beside him.

“Is it Dru? Is she feelin’ bad agin?” He stared off in the direction of the mountains.

“No. You wouldn’t even have known she was sick except she doesn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive.”

“Must be the new teacher. Seems bright enough, and she’s sure takin’ to the girls. That’s what Dru was wantin’.” Gavin didn’t reply.

“Don’t think I’ve seen anythin’ as pretty as Miss Harris since we left home. Matter of fact, she kinda reminds me a bit of-” Stubs stopped abruptly, then whispered, “So that’s it.” Gavin turned his head and glared at his foreman. They’d been together a long time. Stubs Martin had been working as a hired hand on the Blake place back in Ohio when Gavin was still just a boy. When they’d run into each other again ten years ago on the cattle trail up from Texas, they’d formed a friendship that had lasted ever since. But Stubs had pushed the bonds of that friendship to the limit with his last comment.

“Don’t say it,” Gavin ground out through clenched jaws.

Stubs held up his hands.

“I wasn’t sayin’ nothin’. Just don’t take something’ out on the girl that ain’t her fault.” With another angry glare, Gavin pushed off from the corral fence and strode toward the house.

Chapter Five

In that moment before consciousness becomes reality, Rachel pressed her face against the pillow and tried to recapture the beauty of her dream. She was at a ball, a marvelous masked ball. Couples in dazzling costumes twirled around a crystal-and-glass ballroom, the women’s gowns sweeping out in wide arcs in time to the music. Rachel was dancing in the arms of a tall stranger, his face hidden behind a black mask.

Eyes like steel stared at her through narrow slits.

Through his fine lawn shirt, she could feel the contracting muscles of his shoulder. He wore an impudent smile on his mouth, as if he was laughing at some private joke. He was holding her closely against his chest, so closely she could feel the warmth of his hard, lean body. So closely, his warmth was becoming hers. Her fingers tightened around his shoulder. Suddenly, he whimpered and… Whimpered? Rachel’s eyes flew open to stare into Joker’s fuzzy face, his shiny black nose mere inches from hers. The dog was lying in her bed and had crowded her over to the very edge of the tick mattress. Before she could move, the wolfhound smacked her with another of his affectionate licks. She lifted her hand to ward him off—and promptly fell onto the floor.

“We’re going to come to terms, dog,” she muttered as she scrambled to her feet.

“Now get off my bed.” He looked as if he was grinning at her as he sat up, his tail slapping the heavy patchwork quilt.

“I said, get down.” She pointed at the floor. Joker immediately leapt from the bed and flopped at her feet, rolling onto his back to expose his belly.

“Oh, no. You’ll get no reward from me, you mangy beast. How’d you get in here anyway? Don’t you belong outside, protecting us from wolves or something?” He whimpered again. Rachel moved quietly toward the door of her small bedroom and eased it open. The main room was still empty.

“Get out,” she whispered, shooting a pointed look at the dog. Tail between his legs and his head slung low, Joker slinked out of her bedroom. She closed the door behind him, but not before she’d heard

the sounds of stirring from the bedroom across from hers. She gazed longingly at the bed. She knew there was no point in trying to get back to sleep if others were up. Besides, she didn’t want them to think her a lazybones, even though it seemed unreasonably early to be up and about. She’d forgotten during her years back East what sort of ungodly hours ranchers and farmers kept. Rachel stepped over to the high, narrow window perched near the ceiling of her room and drew aside the curtain. Dawn hinted at its arrival with a soft, gray light, splashing it against the inside wall of her room. She went to her trunk and pulled out some clean undergarments. She’d hung her dresses the night before on wooden pegs pounded into the log walls of her room. Now she chose one of her favorite day dresses. The fabric was covered with tiny sky-blue flowers against a white background. It had a simple bodice, pointed front and back, and the overskirt was draped back to form short side panniers, with long slender fullness behind. Quickly, she poured water into the chipped porcelain basin of the corner washstand. She splashed her face, then patted it dry with the towel draped across the side of the stand. Stripping out of her long-sleeved white nightgown, she completed her morning ablutions with haste. By the time she was finished, her skin was puckered with gooseflesh from the chill morning air. She pulled on her clothes, remembering wistfully the warmth of her bed—particularly when Joker had been snuggled up beside her.

“Mangy hound,” she muttered, but she was unable to resist the pull of a smile on her lips. As she finished closing the last button of her bodice, she settled onto the edge of the bed and reached for the hairbrush lying on the bedside table. Feeling suddenly sentimental, she ran her fingertips over the silver back of the brush. It had belonged to her mother years ago. Maggie had kept it hidden when their uncle was frantically selling off everything of value from their Philadelphia home, and she had brought it with them when she and Rachel came west. It had been Maggie’s gift to Rachel on her eighteenth birthday. Fingering the intricate design on the silver brush, Rachel wondered what her parents would have thought of her had they lived to see her grow up. Would her mother have understood the restlessness inside her? Would her father have approved of her coming to this mountain ranch to do something on her own? She shook her head, shrugging off the strange musings. It served no more purpose to wonder about what couldn’t be than to wonder about what might have been. With brisk movements, she removed any nighttime snarls while bringing out a soft golden shine in the pale tresses. Then she caught the hair back from her face with a matched pair of ivory combs. A quick glance in the small hand mirror she’d brought from home satisfied her that she looked presentable. Holding herself erect, she opened the bedroom door. Dru was standing over the black iron stove. She twisted her head to glance over her shoulder as Rachel entered the main room of the log cabin.

“Morning. Would you like some coffee? It’s hot.”

“Yes. Thank you.” Dru plucked a tin cup from a shelf above the stove and filled it with the dark brew. She carried it to the rough-hewn table, then settled onto the bench opposite Rachel. As Rachel lifted the cup to her lips, blowing gently to cool the beverage, Dru swept her straggly hair away from her face and smiled.

“It’s good to be home,” she said, satisfaction lacing every syllable.

“It’s not much, but at least it’s got wood floors and it’s sound. Keeps out the wind and the rain. Charlie said I was to have just as good of a house here as at the main ranch.”

“Charlie?” Dru’s smile faded as she stared at her hands, folded atop the table.

“Charlie was my husband. He died the first year we summered the cattle here. Two years ago now. It doesn’t seem so long. Just like yesterday.” A sigh escaped her.

“Pet looks a lot like him.”

“Pet? But I thought…”

“Gavin adopted them when he married me.” She wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, Rachel felt different. But before she had a chance to analyze her feelings, there was a from above. Moments later, the girls scrambled down the ladder from their room in the loft.

“Where’s Pa?” Sabrina asked as her feet touched the floor.

“He’s gone out with Stubs already.” Sabrina’s face fell.

“I wanted to show him the calf I found. I helped Jess rope him.”

“Well, you can show him later. He’ll be back for breakfast.” Dru rose from the table as her daughters approached. She gave them each a hug, kissed both their cheeks, then reached for a bucket hanging on a hook.

“Say good morning to Miss Harris,” she reminded them.

“Mornin,” the girls mimicked with quick glances in Rachel’s direction.

“We’ll work on your manners later,” Dru said with an indulgent smile.

“Now you two gather the eggs and I’ll start frying up some bacon. Go on.

“Is There anything I can do to help?” Rachel asked as the door closed behind Petula.

“Just talk with me. It’s been a long time since I’ve had any real company, especially any womenfolk. Course, there’s not many who want to come into this valley, man or woman, ‘cept for the miners down in Sawtooth City. The Bannock Indians caused an uprisin’ back in seventy-eight. Kept folks out of the area for a time. But when the gold strikes were made south of here, there was a regular stampede. Don’t know how they manage in the winters. They’re brutal. That’s why we don’t stay in the basin year round. Too hard on the cattle. They’d never survive.”

“Why come at all, then? Why not just stay at the Lucky Strike all the time? From what you’ve told me, you’ve got a fine place there with lots of good grassland.” Dru tossed a few pieces of wood inside the black iron stove, then pulled a heavy frying pan from its hook on the wall.

“Well, the feed’s plentiful and unusually good up here.” She glanced

behind her at Rachel, offering a sheepish smile . “But I suppose the real reason is ‘cause I fell in love with the basin first time I saw it. I had a real yearnin’ to live here. So Charlie and Gavin and Stubs come in that first spring and built this house, and then we trailed in our herd. Luckily, it proved out. We took them out of here fatter than we could ever have hoped for. They brought a good price from the miners up in Bonanza and Custer.” Dru’s hands never stopped moving as she talked. Rachel was listening with only half an ear as she watched the woman put fresh-churned butter into the skillet, then add sliced potatoes and onions. The room was quickly filled with delicious odors, causing Rachel’s stomach to growl with hunger. The door opened suddenly, and the children spilled inside, followed by Gavin, Stubs, and Jess Chamberlain. Sabrina carried the bucket over to her mother as the two ranch hands sat down at the table. Gavin crossed to the stove and placed his hand on Dru’s shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” he asked softly.

“Much better,” she replied, turning to look up at him. She smiled.

“I always feel better when we’re here.” Gavin’s fingers gently squeezed her shoulder, then he turned and reached for the dishes on the shelf to the right of the stove. Before he could ask for help, Sabrina and Petula were standing behind him. He handed the plates to the two girls. Rachel felt conspicuous, sitting idle while Dru cracked the eggs over another hot skillet and scrambled them, and her daughters set the table. She knew what Gavin must be thinking of her. She wanted desperately to explain to him that she’d asked if she could help and had been turned down. But she hadn’t the courage even to look at him. Minutes later, everyone was seated around the big table, their heads bowed as Dru whispered a blessing over the food.

“And thank you, Father, for bringin’ Miss Harris to the basin. We ask you to bless her work here and make my girls smart as well as good. Amen.” Rachel’s heart beat rapidly as her stomach jumped. Her appetite had suddenly disappeared. What was she doing in this house full of strangers? Dru was counting on her, but what made her think she could teach those two children anything? As if reading her mind, Dru addressed her from across the table.

“After the men are out from underfoot, I thought I’d show you the books I’ve got tucked away for the girls’ school in’. I’ve taught ‘em their A-B-C’s myself but not much more. What with me being’ sick, their learnin’s sorta been put aside. I don’t want that for my girls.”

“I’d like to see the books,” Rachel answered, her eyes staring down at the eggs and fried potatoes on her plate.

“We’ll wait a day or two to actually start lessons. After the herd’s gone out’ll be soon enough, I figure. In the meantime, the girls and Gavin can show you around the place.” Conversation died around the table as the family and ranch hands settled into the business of eating. With surreptitious glances from beneath a heavy fringe of golden-brown lashes, Rachel studied each individual. Jess Chamberlain was young, younger even than she was. He looked hardly old enough to worry about using a razor on his smooth cheeks. He was long and lanky, much like the proverbial bean pole. When they’d been introduced the night before, he’d blushed scarlet and stammered a greeting. This morning, he had yet to even look her way, his complete attention centered on the food on his plate. Stubs Martin, on the other hand, had already winked at her twice, as if he sought to share some special secret with her. Though not a tall man, he appeared solid as a rock. She supposed he was close to fifty but knew his grizzled jaw and balding pate might make him look older than he really was. Her glance fell on Gavin, and she felt a strange but now familiar flutter in her stomach. There was something about him—was it an aura of indisputable power?—that set her heart racing. It was more than his dark good looks. Much more. Sometimes she was almost afraid when he was near, although she knew without question he was not a dangerous man. Gavin was making short shrift of his breakfast. He was leaning forward over the table, his raven-black hair falling across his forehead and his brows drawn together in a minute frown, as if he was thinking about something that troubled him. Rachel had a strong inclination to ask him what it was, but was thankfully able to curb that desire. As her gaze moved to Drucilla Blake, she found herself wondering once again what had caused a man like Gavin to marry her, a widow with two daughters to raise. Dru had said Stubs and Gavin and Charlie built this cabin more than two years before. Had Gavin been in love with Dru even before her husband died? Rachel dropped her eyes to her plate and took a few bites of her cooling food, mentally scolding herself for such thoughts. What concern was the Blakes’ marriage to her? She was there to teach the children and help Dru in whatever way she could. That was all she was there to do. Gavin’s chair scraped noisily against the wood floor as he pushed away from the table and stood. A split second later, Stubs and Jess rose in unison.

“Pa?” Sabrina said softly. Gavin had already taken a couple of steps toward the door before he stopped, then turned to look at the girl.

“Did you see my calf? I helped Jess rope him.”

“Is that true?” Gavin asked with a raised brow as he looked at his young ranch hand.

“Brina roped a calf?”

“She done all right,” Jess answered.

“He’s in the barn. Will you come see him?” Gavin reached out with one long arm and grabbed his wide-brimmed hat from a peg near the door.

“I guess I can take the time for that.” Sabrina and her little sister jumped up from the table. They were halfway to the door when Petula stopped and whirled around.

“Are you comin’, Ma?”

“Not right now, Pet, but why don’t you take Miss Harris? I’m sure she’d love to see Brina’s calf.” The girl’s gap-toothed smile widened,

then she scurried over to Rachel’s place at the table and held out her small, pudgy hand.

“There’s kittens in the barn, too,” she whispered, “but we don’t want Duke and Duchess to know.” Rachel’s response was automatic.

“No, I should think not.” She took hold of Petula’s hand and rose from her chair, then allowed herself to be led from the house. The barn was warm and filled with earthy scents—hay and straw, dung and sweat. The barn’s roof had a steep pitch, leaving room for only a narrow loft. Sunlight streamed in through the open hay door above, spilling through the cracks in the loft floor to create a swirl of bright light below.

“Over here,” Sabrina called to Rachel as she and Petula entered the barn. Rachel moved toward the stall where Gavin and Sabrina were standing. Inside was a reddish-brown calf with a white-blazed face and enormous brown eyes. It was lying down, its legs curled underneath its body.

“It’s an orphan, and I’ve been takin’ care of it.” Sabrina’s gaze shifted to Gavin.

“It won’t have to be sold yet, will it?” He shook his head.

“He’s a bit young.”

“May I… may I keep him?” Rachel’s eyes moved from the anxious child to the man’s face above her. Unknowingly, she held her breath along with Sabrina, awaiting his decision. Gavin knelt in the straw, one hand on Sabrina’s shoulder. He stared at the calf as it struggled to its feet, curiosity getting the best of it.

“Cows aren’t pets, Brina. We raise them to sell.” Rachel heard the tenderness in his words, sensed the care with which he weighed his decision, “But if you’ll promise to take good care of it through the winter, see that it’s fed and kept clean and stays healthy, whatever money it brings when it does go to market will be yours.” Sabrina screwed up her mouth and squinched her eyes as she gave Gavin’s offer some thought. Rachel half-expected her to burst into tears over not being able to keep the calf, but finally she nodded.

“I’ll take real good care of it I promise. And I’ll share the money with Petula.” Gavin patted her shoulder as he straightened, his gaze meeting Rachel’s. She felt like she wanted to say something, tell him that he’d handled the request very well. She didn’t know why she felt the urge to reassure him, but she did. In that moment of indecision, the chance to speak was snatched from her by an impatient tug on her hand.

“Now come see what I got,” Petula insisted. She was pulled across the barn to a tall ladder leading to the loft. Rachel looked at the contraption with some misgivings. It was a long way to the top, and it had been years since she’d climbed anything that tall. To tell the truth, she’d been afraid of heights ever since Tucker fell down the side of the Snake River Canyon on their way west along the Oregon Trail. She’d been only six at the time, but she’d always believed his accident was somehow her fault. If she hadn’t been playing so near the rim…. “You don’t have to go, Miss Harris,” the deep voice said from behind her.

“Your dress will probably get dirty.” Since concern for her dress was the farthest thing from her mind, his comment made her instantly angry. With an indignant glance over her shoulder, she snapped, “My dress will wash, Mr. Blake. It certainly won’t keep me from seeing whatever it is Pet wants to show me.” She gave a haughty toss of her head before turning to grasp the rungs of the ladder. Petula scampered up the ladder, leading the way to the dusty loft overhead. As soon as Rachel’s feet touched the board flooring—which wasn’t quite as soon as she would have liked—her hand was clasped once again and she was guided toward a far corner. There, nearly hidden in a nest of hay, a gray-striped cat was calmly bathing one of her progeny while the other three mewling kittens happily gorged themselves on their mother’s milk.

“That’s Countess,” Pet said, pointing to the tabby cat.

“Ma thought up her name. Says it’s next best to Duchess.” Rachel leaned forward for a better look at the kittens.

“Duke, Duchess, Countess. Such regal names for all your pets.”

“Dru’s always wanted to go to England,” Gavin explained as he stepped up beside Rachel.

“She’s got this fascination for royalty.” She turned her head and found herself looking into his gray eyes, his face bathed in the morning light spilling through the hay door. Her irritation with him seemed to vanish, and she smiled.

“Would you like to hold one?” Sabrina asked, thrusting a golden kitten between her stepfather and her governess. Rachel took the small ball of fur into one hand, cupping her other hand over it as she brought it close to her face. She closed her eyes as she brushed the kitten against her cheek.

“Perhaps she’ll get to go to England one day still.” She opened her eyes to look at Gavin once again.

“She’s young enough.” She wasn’t sure what it was. There wasn’t really any change in his expression. Still, she knew the moment the words were out of her mouth that she’d said something wrong.

“I’ve got work to do, Miss Harris,” he said abruptly. He turned and headed toward the ladder.

“Brina, you and your sister get inside and help your ma with those dishes.” He didn’t look her way again as he disappeared over the edge of the loft.

Chapter Six

Rachel had forgotten more than just how early ranchers rose in the morning. She’d forgotten how endless the work was and how long the day lasted. Perhaps Gavin Blake was right, she thought as she sorted clothes that first washday she was in the basin. She had been spoiled and pampered. She couldn’t recall ever having to face so large or difficult a task. But she was determined to do her share and not to complain, especially since Dru seemed to accept it as just another chore.

“You weren’t employed to be a maid or a laundress, Miss Harris,” Dru had told her when Rachel insisted she wanted to help.

“No,” she’d agreed, “but I was employed to help take care of you until you’re well and strong again. I know you’re still tired from the trip

up here. I can see it in your face. I’m perfectly able to help, if you’ll just tell me what to do.” Following Dru’s instructions, Rachel put the heavier and dirtier things to soak in lye before dropping them into the copper kettle to boil. She gave the lighter, more delicate articles to Dru to wash by hand in a tub of lukewarm water. Steam filled the kitchen area, leaving Rachel’s face flushed and beaded with moisture. Her blond hair, most of it hidden beneath a scarf, curled in tiny wisps across her forehead. Her skin felt uncomfortably damp between her breasts. Bending over the wash tub, she scrubbed the clothes and linens on the fluted washboard. It wasn’t long before the muscles across the back of her neck and shoulders were complaining of abuse, but she gritted her teeth and kept at it. As each article was completed, she dropped it into another barrel-shaped tub to await rinsing. The children were kept busy hauling clean water in and dirty water out. They chattered and laughed and generally filled the small log cabin with a feeling of happiness. Somehow, it made Rachel’s task seem lighter as she listened.

“Here, Miss Harris,” Dru said as she came around the washtub.

“Let me take over while you get those things rinsed and hung out to dry. It would be a shame to waste the sunshine and days are so short now that autumn is here.” Short? Rachel felt as if they’d already been at it for twenty-four hours, and it wasn’t even noon yet. As far as she was concerned, this day couldn’t be over soon enough. Wringing the water from the clean, rinsed laundry was hard, tedious work. By the time she had her first basket of clothes filled, her hands ached and her skin felt raw and chapped. Mr. Gavin Blake certainly couldn’t say anything about her lily-white hands today, she thought as she lifted the clothes basket and braced it against her hip.

“We’ll help you, Miss Harris,” Sabrina offered. She shook her head.

“Thank you, Brina, but I think you and Pet should spell your mother for a while. She looks tired.”

“We all look tired,” Dru responded wryly. Rachel offered a weary smile of agreement, then went outside. The Stanley Basin was being blessed today with the warm breath of Indian summer. A gentle breeze stirred the trees and long grasses, bringing with it the sweet scent of pine. Rachel found the clothesline stretched between two trees and supported in the middle with a wooden prop. She set the basket on the ground, then placed her hands on the small of her back and bent backward, trying to relieve just a little of the ache that persisted there. When she straightened, she found Gavin leaning against the corner of the log cabin, watching her.

“Not as much fun as a fancy dress ball, is it?” he said, sounding amused. He pushed off from the house and walked toward her. She turned her back toward him and grabbed for the shirt on top of the pile of clothes in the basket.

“I told you before I’m not afraid of hard work.”

“I can see that, Miss Harris.” The serious tone of his voice caused her to look up at him. Was that an apology she saw in his eyes? She looked away quickly, flustered by the intentness of his gaze. She held the shirt against the clothesline and slipped the split wood pin over one sleeve. As she reached to fasten the other sleeve in place, the pin dropped from her fingers and fell into the thick grass at her feet. Did she let go of the shirt and hope it held while she retrieved the other pin, or did she free the one sleeve and hold the shirt until she had both pins in hand? It shouldn’t have been such a dilemma, but she could feel him watching her. For some reason, doing it right became of paramount importance. Her stomach was all aflutter, and her breathing came hard. She wished he would go away.

“Here,” he said.

“Let me get that for you.” He leaned over and picked up the troublesome clothespin, then held it out to her. She didn’t want to look up at him. She was too distressed and afraid he would see it in her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said softly. She closed her fingers around the small piece of wood and tinned steel, careful not to touch his hand.

“Well…” The amused tone was back.

“I just came in for a bite to eat. Better get to it.” He stepped away.

“Mr. Blake.”

He stopped.

“Yes?” Now she looked at him, her heart thundering in her ears.

“Thanks for your help.” There was a pregnant pause before he replied, “You’re welcome, Miss Harris.” As she watched him stride toward the house, she chose not to analyze why she reacted to him this way all the time. It was far better to ignore it and hope it would go away.

“We’re in for a bit of rain, I’d say.” Gavin turned from the window, his gaze falling on the two girls.

“You two better get your animals tended to now.

“Okay, Pa.” Sabrina set aside the square of fabric she’d been trying to embroider.

“Come on, Pet.”

“It’s getting’ cold out. Put on your jackets,” Dru reminded the children as they headed for the door. Gavin crossed to a chair near the fireplace and sat down.

“Where’s Miss Harris?”

“Lying down, I imagine. She insisted on doing just about all of that washin’ by herself today, and then she helped me with supper.” Dru leveled a reproachful gaze on him.

“It’s entirely your fault, you know. She’s tryin’ to prove she’s up to doin’ everything because you’ve made it clear you don’t think she can do anything.”

“Wait a minute, Dru. I never-”

“Don’t argue with me, Gavin. You haven’t been the least bit nice to Miss Harris and you know it. I didn’t want her up here to clean house and wash clothes. I wanted her here to teach the children, to get them to trust and care for her so that when I… when I’m not here, they’ll have a woman they can turn to.” Gavin’s jaw tightened. What made Dru think Rachel Harris would stay once Dru was gone? Did she think that pampered hothouse flower would stick around?

“Gavin, it’s not like you to be unfair.” Unfair? He considered the

charge. Well, maybe. Maybe he should give her the benefit of the doubt. She might prove him wrong. She did dig in to help with the wash today. It could be there was more to her than he’d thought at first. A lopsided smile curved his mouth as he recalled how she’d looked when he’d come in for lunch. She didn’t seem to have any clothes suitable for this life. She’d been wearing a dress of sunshine yellow, the skirt narrow, flounced, and bustled, the bodice fitted, conforming nicely to her pleasantly feminine shape. What she needed, of course, was a simple, loose-fitting blouse and an equally simple skirt without lots of petticoats or bustles or other such nonsense. But there she’d stood in that yellow dress out behind the cabin, her hair hidden beneath a matching yellow scarf. Come to think of it, she’d looked like a wilting sunflower. Her face had been flushed. Her hair had clung to her face in damp wisps. Her hands… Her hands. They’d looked like the hands of a rancher’s wife—red and rough and careworn.

“You’re right, Dru,” he admitted.

“I haven’t been fair.” But then he remembered her as he’d first seen her. Beautiful and rich. She didn’t belong here. He would never believe she belonged here.

“But that doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind about her.” He turned his eyes on the fire. He never should have let Dru talk him into going to Boise to hire a teacher for the children. What was so all-fired important for them to learn that Dru couldn’t teach them? The Blakes sure didn’t have a lot of extra money to be throwing away. The last year had been good to them, but if they wanted the Lucky Strike to be a success, they needed to put everything they made back into it. He was hoping to have his neighbor, Patrick O’Donnell, pick up a new bull for him next summer up in Montana, and a prize bull wouldn’t come cheap. No, it would have been better if they’d never gone to Boise. Rachel Harris didn’t belong with the Blakes. Yet strangely, he couldn’t remember what it had been like before she’d come to stay.

Chapter Seven

Gavin felt the stillness first. He opened his eyes, his body alert. The bedroom he shared with Dru was dark, but he knew instantly that his wife’s bed was empty. His feet touched the cool wood floor as he sat up. He reached for his trousers and slipped into them, then pulled on his boots. Listening for any sound out of the ordinary, he rose and quickly strode across the bedroom. There was a faint glimmer of red coals lingering on the sitting room hearth, shedding just enough light for him to see the open front door. As he stepped outside, the first flash of lightning lit up the sky. Seconds later, the resultant crack of thunder split the silent air. Before the sound had faded, the heavens sparked again and then again.

She was standing in the middle of the yard, halfway between the house and the barn. She was wearing a brown shawl over her white nightgown. Her graying brown hair hung free down the middle of her back. She looked as if a breeze could blow her over. As if in response to his observation, the wind rose, stirring the white fabric around her ankles and revealing bare feet. Gavin walked slowly forward.

“Dru?” She didn’t turn to look at him. Her voice was soft, barely audible above the peals of thunder.

“I could feel it coming. The air was so still. Thick, like you could cut it with a knife. I wanted to see the storm.” Silently, he stood beside her. He thought to put his arm around her shoulders, but something told him she didn’t wish to be held.

“I’ll miss these storms.” She turned to look at him, her face spotlighted by another flash of lightning.

“Do you know how many things I’m gonna miss about being’ here?” He had no reply. He tried to pretend she was talking about leaving the basin, but he knew she wasn’t.

“But I’ll be with Charlie, so I guess I won’t mind so much.” Her fingers lightly touched Gavin’s shoulder.

“It makes the goin’ not so hard when you love somebody the way I love Charlie. Can you understand that?” He couldn’t. He’d tried, but he couldn’t. The wind increased. Dru’s hair billowed out behind her. Black clouds, turned silver by the lightning, rolled overhead.

“It wasn’t right of me to ask you t’marry me, Gavin. You should’ve had a chance to find what Charlie and I shared. If it weren’t for my girls…”

“I wanted to do it,” he replied gruffly.

“I’ll do my best by Brina and Pet. They’ll never want for anything.” Her face was turned up toward the sky.

“Lovin’s the only thing that makes sense in this old world, Gav. Only thing worth livin’ or dyin’ for.” She turned suddenly, piercing him with a shrewd gaze.

“What happened that made you so determined never to love a woman?” His gut tightened.

“I care about you, Dru.” She stepped toward him, placing her hand on his forearm. Her voice was softer now, her look somehow pleading.

“I know you care. You care ‘cause I was Charlie’s wife and we were all family. You care for me as you would a sister if you’d had one. But that’s not the kind of lovin’ I’m talkin’ about, Gavin. Just carin’s not enough for a man like you.”

“I like things just fine the way they are.” Dru leaned her head against his chest, whispering, “No you don’t, Gav. No you don’t.” She’d been awakened by Joker’s scratching at her door. The moment she opened it, the big wolfhound had leapt onto her bed and burrowed under the covers. Suddenly, a loud crack of thunder shook the house. Rachel squealed and was about to close the door and jump into bed with Joker when she noticed the front door was wide open. She rushed across the room, prepared to close it quickly. She saw them standing in the middle of the yard, Dru’s head resting against Gavin’s bare chest, his arms around her back as he stared up at the sky. There was something poignant, something overwhelmingly powerful about the scene that caught at Rachel’s throat and made tears burn her eyes. She took a quick step

backward, then spun around and returned to her room, where she crawled beneath the blankets. She didn’t bother to push Joker off the bed. She felt a sudden need not to be alone. Even that mangy hound was better than nothing—or no one. In her mind, she kept seeing that strange expression on Gavin’s face. Pain. It was filled with pain. She couldn’t imagine a man like Gavin Blake feeling pain of any kind. She wished she could… What? What did she wish she could do? Again in her mind’s eye, she envisioned them—her and Gavin—standing together in the wind, beneath the crashing heavens, the earth shaking beneath their feet. She could feel the muscles of his chest beneath her cheek, hear the rapid beating of her heart, knew the moment she would look up at him and he would bend slowly forward and their lips… Heat turned her cheeks scarlet. She pressed her cool fingers against her flesh and willed the image to go away. She couldn’t be thinking such things about her employer, about another woman’s husband. She wouldn’t allow herself to think such things. But she couldn’t stop herself. She still imagined his arms around her, pressing her tightly against him.

“Stop!” she whispered, squeezing her eyes closed. Joker whined and inched his way up until his muzzle was near her face. Rachel pressed her forehead behind his ear.

“Please go away,” she whispered, but she didn’t mean the dog. Dru listened to Gavin’s steady breathing and knew he was asleep at last. She let a tired sigh slip past her lips. She supposed she should try to sleep, too, but she felt the wasting away of time. She would have eternity to rest. She wanted to live now, while she still could. There was so much she still had to get done. She heard Gavin shift on his cot. She turned her head toward the sound, gazing in his direction even though she couldn’t see across the dark bedroom. Strange. She’d known him for over five years now. He’d been a part of the Porter family, much more than just a friend. Charlie and Gavin had been like brothers. When things had been at their blackest for Dru, he’d been there. He’d been there to help comfort her when Charlie’s son was stillborn. He’d eased her pain when Charlie died not long after. He’d been her rock when they first learned she was dying. Finally, he’d even married her to make sure her daughters had a home when she was gone, given them all his name and the security that went with it.

All this, and still she knew so little about him. If it weren’t for what information she’d pried out of Stubs over the years, she wouldn’t know anything about his past at all. It was Stubs who’d told her that Gavin’s parents had divorced when he was a boy and that he never spoke about his mother. A woman’s instinct had filled in the rest. She knew there was a world of hurt inside the man Gavin had become. She knew he’d chosen to remain detached from women, sworn never to marry. If she hadn’t become ill, he would have kept that promise too. And it was a shame. He had so darned much love to give, but he held it in, never let anyone get too close. Except for Sabrina and Petula. Dru smiled into the darkness. Gavin couldn’t hold his love for the girls in check. He was scared about raising them alone, afraid he didn’t know how to be a father. He didn’t talk about it, but she knew he was scared. She wasn’t worried. She’d seen him acting like a father long before Charlie died. It was the one time he was truly happy, when he was playing with the girls. What he needed now was a woman to share the rest of his love and to love him in return. Her thoughts strayed across the silent house to the other bedroom-Gavin’s room before they’d gone to Boise to hire a governess. She hoped and prayed her instincts had been right about Miss Harris. She wouldn’t have another chance. Dru rolled onto her side and hugged the pillow to her breast as she pictured Rachel. She was incredibly beautiful. Anyone—man or woman—would have to be blind and half dead not to think so. Of course, if looks were all she had, Dru never would have brought her back with them. Rachel Harris had gumption, too, and she was bright and witty. As they’d sat in that room at the Overland Hotel, talking about Rachel’s sister and her husband and their children, Rachel had revealed more about herself than she’d realized. She was a young woman with a lot of love to give to those around her, but she wasn’t out to just marry any man that came along. When she married, it would be for love and forever. Just like her and Charlie. I don’t have much left to do, Charlie, she thought as she closed her eyes. You always said Gavin deserved the best. Well, I think maybe I’ve found her for him. She’s gonna be good with our girls, too. She’ll love ‘em and make sure they don’t forget us. Just a little more time so I can get ‘em pointed in the right direction, and then I can come to you. Just a little more time, Charlie. She drifted off to sleep. Rachel scarcely slept all night—and when she did, she was troubled by strange dreams of Gavin Blake. He seemed to be scowling at her, his expression dark and censuring. An unknown danger seemed to lurk in the steel gray of his eyes. And yet she wasn’t afraid. Rather, she was drawn toward him. When she awakened for the third time, the dream always the same, her heart hammering madly in her chest, she decided it was better not to sleep. She pushed aside the blankets and rose from the bed. The previous night’s thunderstorm had been followed by a drenching rain. The air in her room felt chill and damp, and she shivered as she hurried toward the makeshift dresser. She didn’t waste any time selecting what clothes she would wear. She just wanted to get dressed and get out of this room. She needed a deep breath of fresh air to clear her head. Tying her flowing blond hair at the nape of her neck with a narrow scarf, Rachel slipped from her bedroom and through the sitting room. She lifted the latch with care, trying not to make any

sound in the still house, then pulled open the door. Dawn had painted the lingering storm clouds the color of grapes and poppies and dandelions. Moisture, crystallized by the crisp morning air, sparkled from every tree limb and fence pole and eave. The horses in the corral huddled together, their heads drooping toward the ground, their breath forming small white clouds beneath their muzzles. Rachel wrapped her arms across her chest and hurried forward, not taking the time to return to her room for a wrap. By the time she stepped inside the barn, her teeth were chattering with cold. She paused as the door closed behind her, drawing a deep breath. There. That was better. The quick walk across the yard had cleared her head. It was silly of her to be so disturbed by her dreams. They meant nothing. Just an over-active imagination and probably something she ate.

“Good morning, Miss Harris.” She gasped as she turned toward the deep voice. Gavin was standing inside the stall beside the orphaned calf.

“You’re up mighty early,” he said as he opened the gate and stepped out.

“I .. . I wanted to see Sabrina’s calf.” One brow arched, his face held a clearly dubious expression.

“I had no idea you were so fond of it.” She felt the blush rising from her neck and fought to control it.

“I’m not,” she replied in an indignant tone.

“But Sabrina is, and anything that interests the children interests me.” She moved forward, her head held erect, her eyes avoiding his. As she stepped up beside him, his hand fell upon her shoulder, stopping her. Unable to help herself, she lifted her head to look up at him. His gray eyes stared down at her, seemingly merciless in their perusal. The change was minute, but she would have sworn she saw a softening within the steely depths.

“I believe you mean that, Miss Harris,” he said softly.

“I do mean it, Mr. Blake, or I never would have taken this job.” She glanced at his hand on her shoulder. It was warm. The fabric of her bodice seemed almost nonexistent, as if her flesh and his .. She looked up at him quickly, her eyes wide and uncertain. She didn’t understand why he made her feel this way. Gavin withdrew his hand, the slight scowl returning to his face.

“You’d better get back to the house before you catch cold.”

“It’s not cold in the barn,” she softly replied, her voice quivering. Did he come closer? It felt as if he did, yet she knew he hadn’t moved. Although she never took her eyes from his face, she was intensely aware of the breadth of his shoulders, the strength of his arms. There was a strange roaring in her ears.

“Go back to the house, Miss Harris,” he said in a low voice.

“It’s colder out here than you think.” Her throat felt tight. She swallowed and turned from him.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“I’m afraid you’re right.” She forced her feet to walk slowly, but with her heart, she fled.

Chapter Eight

Rachel looked up from the book she’d been reading. The room was wrapped in silence while the usually boisterous girls concentrated on their studies. Petula was scrunched over her slate, a piece of chalk pinched tightly between chubby fingers. Her mouth was screwed up in concentration as she tried to copy her teacher’s letters. Rachel smiled to herself. The little girl would have the alphabet conquered in no time. Petula was determined and bright and very eager to learn. Her gaze shifted to the opposite end of the table, where Sabrina sat. The tip of the girl’s tongue could be seen in the corner of her mouth as she frowned down at the math figures. She wrinkled her nose, and her freckles seemed to darken as they drew closer together.

Rachel was filled with a wonderful feeling of satisfaction. She had never dreamed she would enjoy teaching so much. If she had, she would have made it her vocation long ago. She didn’t know why so many people regarded teaching as something suitable only for young, as yet unmarried women or aging spinsters who would never marry. It was so exciting to see the children’s eyes light with understanding, to answer their questions, to expand their horizons. There were so many things to share with them. So many wonderful things to share. This must have been why she came here. To discover how she felt about teaching. This must be her destiny. When she returned home in the spring, she thought, she would apply for a teaching position. Her gaze focused once again on her two students. The idea of leaving these girls was not a pleasant one. She’d grown immensely attached to them in the short time she’d been here. And spring would come all too quickly. It wasn’t nearly enough time to teach them all they would need to learn. Not nearly enough time. A door closed softly and Rachel turned her head toward the sound. Dru smiled as their eyes met, but she didn’t speak as she made her way across the sitting room to a chair near the fireplace. She pulled a lap rug over her knees, then leaned back against the chair and closed her eyes. Rachel continued to watch the woman. In the four days since Gavin and the other men had left with the cattle, she had come to realize just how ill Dru was. The moment her husband had ridden away, the strength had seemed to ebb from her. Her face looked older, more tired. Her shoulders were stooped. She smiled less often; only her daughters brought a look of joy into her eyes.

Rachel had wanted to ask Dru exactly what was wrong but hadn’t had the courage. Perhaps it wasn’t as serious as it appeared. Dru was probably merely missing her husband. It was sadness Rachel saw on her face, not stress and pain. Surely that was all there was to it.

“Miss Harris ….” An index finger poked her arm. Rachel turned her head to meet sparkling brown eyes.

“I did ‘em.” She held out the slate.

“I did ‘em all. Just like yours.”

“Well, Pet, these are very good. I had no idea you would learn so fast. Your mother wasn’t exaggerating when she said you were bright.”

Petula’s head cocked to one side.

“What’s exag… exagger…”

“Exaggeration. It means to make things seem bigger or better than they really are.”

“You mean lie?” The girl’s eyes widened. She shook her head, her expression serious.

“Ma wouldn’t never tell a lie.” Rachel laughed as she smoothed Petula’s hair back from her face.

“Oh, I know that. She certainly didn’t lie about you and Brina. You’re both so pretty and smart. And it’s wouldn’t ever tell a lie.”

“Girls?” They all turned at the sound of Dru’s voice.

“I think you could take a break from your lessons and get some fresh air. Why don’t you take Miss Harris for a ride up to the ridge? You might not have another chance, as cold as the weather’s turnin’.” The frown of concentration instantly disappeared from Sabrina’s face as she jumped up from the table.

“Will you come too, Ma?” she asked.

“We could take a picnic lunch.”

“No, darling. I think I’ll stay here and rest. I’m a mite tired today. But I think a picnic’s a good idea for you.”

“we shouldn’t go, Mrs. Blake.” Rachel rose from her chair and stepped toward the fireplace.

“Nonsense. I could use some peace and quiet.” Dru smiled faintly.

“Go on and have some fun. It’s good for the children to get to know you better. I don’t want them thinkin’ that being’ with you always means work. Not when you’ve got so much fun in you to share.” She supposed it made sense, yet she still didn’t feel quite right about it. But the wheels—in the persons of Sabrina and Petula—had been set into motion, and there didn’t seem to be any stopping them. The two girls had already scampered up the ladder to their loft bedroom, moments later returning with britches on beneath their skirts.

“We’ll get the horses into the barn and brush em down,” Sabrina told her.

“Pet and me can do most of it, but you’ll have to help with the saddles. I’m not very good with the cinch.” A shadow of doubt darkened her eyes.

“Can you do that?”

“I’m an excellent horsewoman, Sabrina Blake. I can certainly help you with the saddles. let me change into riding attire, and I’ll be right with you.” The moment the front door closed, Rachel cast a glance toward Dru once again.

“Is there anything I can get you before we go?” Dru shook her head, not bothering to reopen her eyes.

“Just take care of my girls,” she answered softly.

“When I’m not around, just take care of my girls.”

“Mrs. Blake?” Rachel took another step forward.

“Are you certain…” Dru looked at her then.

“Go on,” she said, her voice stronger, more forceful than Rachel had heard in days.

“I’m just going to enjoy my few minutes of peace, all to myself. You get on up to the ridge. It’s our favorite spot ‘round here. Take some of them dried apples and some cheese and bread. You’ll likely all have an appetite by the time you get there.” She smiled warmly at Rachel.

“Go have some fun. Winter will keep us cooped up in the same room soon enough.” Suddenly a ride in the crisp mountain air sounded just like what she needed. She returned Dru’s smile, then hurried to change. Gavin slowed his horse as he approached the log cabin. He’d left Stubs and Jess with the herd along the Salmon River yesterday. They’d be able to get the cows up to the Lucky Strike without his help. Duke and Duchess knew how to work the cantankerous beasts as well as any cow dogs he’d ever seen. They were as good as a half dozen more cowboys. Maybe better. It hadn’t taken much encouragement from Stubs for Gavin to turn around and head back to the basin. He’d been anxious to return. Things had been quiet on the summer range this year, but he still didn’t like leaving the women and children alone for long. The Bannock Indians had caused trouble before, and there were always a few strangers—miners mostly—wandering through. With the men gone with the cattle, there wasn’t anyone there to protect them if trouble came. Rachel stepped out of the cabin, instantly bringing his other thoughts to an abrupt halt. She was wearing a powder-blue wool riding habit with a matching bonnet swathed in a darker blue netting. She looked for all the world like some society debutante about to go riding in a city park. She looked like a woman who always got what she wanted, simply because she was beautiful. He pulled his gelding to an abrupt halt, an old anger welling in his chest. To be honest, it wasn’t because she made him remember things he’d rather forget that bothered him as much as it was the way she’d begun to haunt his thoughts. When he should have been anxious to return to Dru and the girls, it had been Rachel’s face that had continually come to mind. As he watched, she checked the cinch on the rotund mare, then gave it a tug. With a wave of her hand, she motioned the children closer, lifting first Sabrina and then Petula onto the back of the docile steed. He saw her smile up at them, heard her laughter over something Sabrina said. He could imagine the merry twinkle in her eye. He’d seen it often in the few days she’d been with the children. She turned away, moving aside the train of her riding habit with a tiny kick. It was an easy, graceful movement, as he’d come to expect from Rachel Harris. She mounted Dru’s palomino mare with practiced ease, hooking her right knee over the pommel and ignoring the extra stirrup. Fool woman. That was no way to ride a horse out here. If she had any sense, she’d know that. He nudged his gelding forward. Dru came outside just as he was riding into the yard.

“Gavin!” She hurried up to his horse.

“We didn’t expect you back until tomorrow.” She laid her hand on his knee.

“You’re just in time to go with Miss Harris and the girls up to the ridge.” His gaze flicked to Rachel, then back to Dru.

“You coming too?”

“Maybe I’d better stay here.”

“Please come, Pa,” Sabrina urged.

“Yes, please,” Petula chimed in.

“Perhaps your father is too tired,” Rachel interrupted with a soft but firm voice.

“You should let him rest, girls. I’m sure we’ll do fine on our own, and Joker will be with us.” It irritated him that she’d used all his own excuses before he could. And for the same purpose. So he could stay behind. Dru’s voice lowered.

“Go with them, Gav. It’ll be good for the girls to have some time with you.” He heard the slight pleading in her words and knew she was right.

“We won’t be long.”

“Take all the time you want.” Dru smiled.

“Bye, Ma,” Petula shouted as the mare moved forward, guided by Sabrina.

“Have fun,” Dru responded, lifting a hand to wave. He didn’t imagine that spending a few hours in Rachel Harris’s company would be fun. Just looking at her fancy blue dress made him mad. Flashing her finery around Dru and the girls, as if making sure they knew she was different. The less he was around her, the better he’d like it.

“Gavin?” He turned to look back at Dru.

“Give Rachel a chance. Whatever’s stuck in your craw isn’t her fault. There’s a lot about that young woman to like.” He nodded but made no reply as he tightened his heels against the gelding’s ribs and started after the other three. She could feel his gaze on her back, as tangible as a touch of his fingers would be. For some strange reason, she found it hard to breathe, harder still to concentrate on the children’s prattle. Why did he have to come back when he did? She didn’t want him along. Being in his company was always the same—disturbing.

“Look, Miss Harris.”

“What is it, Brina?” She focused her gaze on the girl. Sabrina was pointing toward the tree line, where emerald-green forest turned suddenly to the gray, jutting crags of the Sawtooth peaks.

“The sheep. Up there. See him?”

“Sheep?” Rachel squinted, trying to find what the girl was looking at high above them. At last, she did find it, but the heavy-bodied animal didn’t look like any sheep she’d ever seen. It reminded her more of a short, squat deer with its brown coat and white rump. It could have been a deer except for its head. Even from this distance, she could see the crown of massive, spiraling horns.

“It’s a bighorn, Miss Harris,” Gavin said as he rode up beside her.

“The Sheepeater Indians were named for them ‘cause they make such good eating. I agree with the Indians. The bighorn’s better than mutton. We eat them more often around here than our own cattle. Pretty easy to hunt except when they climb up this high.” She was only partially aware of what he was telling her. He has a very handsome mouth. Rachel felt her breathing quicken once again as she looked away. Whatever was wrong with her to be thinking such things? She didn’t even like the man. How could she, when he’d made it so clear he didn’t like or approve of her? He’d been rude and abrupt with her since the day they first met. But the rapid beat of her heart didn’t slow nor the terrible awareness of how near he was. to h-& Should her horse take a slight step to the left, their boots might even chance to touch. Stop it, she scolded herself, lifting her chin in determination. She drew a deep breath of air into her lungs as she nudged her horse to the right. She concentrated on the terrain around her as the horses picked their way up a heavily treed trail, giant pines towering around them, blocking out the sunlight. The mountain silence was broken only by their passing. She could hear the breathing of the horses and the crunch of their hooves on the deep carpet of dried needles and Joker’s occasional bark as he raced ahead, then returned to circle the horses. The scent of pine was sharp, pungent, delightful. The cool breeze made her cheeks tingle. Slowly, she became aware of the children once again. She listened as they chattered easily, moving from one story to another so quickly she was often confused but definitely entertained. She almost succeeded in forgetting Gavin Blake was even with them. Almost. Gavin thought the expression on Rachel’s face when she looked down at the basin from the ridge made the long trip up the mountainside worth it all. Her blue eyes widened, her mouth opened to release an amazed sigh before curling into an enchanting smile.

“It’s spectacular,” she whispered.

“I never imagined it could be so beautiful. No wonder Dru loves it so.” From the ridge, they had a clear view of the rocky mountain sentinels that surrounded the basin. Through the dense forests, they caught glimpses of the crystal-clear lakes that dotted the area, the icy waters fed by melting glaciers. They could see the winding ribbon of the Salmon River, weaving its way through the tall grasses of the valley floor. The bright colors of autumn were especially apparent from this vantage point. Reds and oranges and yellows were splashed among the forest greens, aspen and birch clapping their leafy hands in the breeze, as if applauding the new season.

“It’s so… so untouched,” Rachel said, her tone almost reverent. Gavin stepped down from the saddle and walked over to her horse. He lifted his hands.

“Let me help you down. There’s a spot over there where you can see even better.” Their eyes met momentarily, then she leaned forward, her hands on his shoulders, allowing him to lower her to the ground. She was light, yet there was something real and solid about her. Not like Dru, who was wasting away so quickly. The light breeze ruffled the net of her bonnet and teased him with whiffs of her honeysuckle cologne. Her eyes looked bright, excited.

“Thank you, Mr. Blake.” It wasn’t until she pulled away that he realized he’d still been holding onto her waist. His hands felt suddenly empty. He rubbed his palms on his trouser legs and turned toward the children’s voices, hoping they could distract him from the odd feeling of loss that suddenly filled him.

Chapter Nine

It wasn’t easy being the oldest. When you’re older, you know things your little sister doesn’t know. Sometimes you hear the adults talking when they think you’re asleep. Or sometimes they think you’re not

smart enough to understand. And sometimes you just know things without anybody telling you anything at all, on purpose or by accident. Like when Sabrina was seven and her pa was gored by the bull. Not Gavin, her new pa, but her real pa, Charlie Porter. She’d heard her ma’s weeping after Mr. Stubs and Mr. Chamberlain brought him in on the back of the wagon, and she’d known he was dying. She hadn’t had to be told. She’d just known. She’d been just as sure of his dying as she was of her ma’s. Nobody ever talked about her ma being sick, of course, but she was. Ma tried to hide it, tried real hard, but Sabrina still knew. Ma wasn’t going to live much longer. That’s what made today so special. Sabrina didn’t have to think of those things. She didn’t have to see her ma getting thinner and weaker. She could pretend for a little while that nobody got sick and died, not Pa or Ma or anybody else. She could pretend that her ma was as healthy and pretty as Miss Harris and that she could run and play games and laugh a lot—just like Miss Harris.

“She’d be plenty scared,” Petula whispered into Sabrina’s ear.

“Think so?”

“She’d probably scream for Pa.” There was a mischievous gleam in Petula’s eyes.

“Let’s see.” Stifling her giggles, Sabrina agreed. The two girls squatted behind the large tree, trying to stay quiet so Rachel wouldn’t know where they were. They waited for what seemed an eternity before they heard her voice calling through the trees.

“Brina! Pet! It’s time to go.” Sabrina squeezed Petula’s hand, excitement racing between them, hazel eyes sparkling, brown eyes twinkling in return.

“Come on, girls. Your mother will be worried.” Her voice was closer this time. Sabrina nodded at her little sister. In unison, they jumped up and raced around the tree and down the path toward Rachel.

“A bear!” Sabrina cried.

“There’s a bear after us!”

“It’s gonna eat us!” Petula shouted. They had expected Rachel to turn and run away with them, calling for their pa’s help. Instead, she grabbed each of them by their hands, drawing them to a sudden halt and forcing them to stand beside her.

“Really?” she said, peering up the trail.

“I’ve never seen a bear before. let’s wait and have a look at him. Is he very big? What color is he?” Sabrina felt a flash of panic, suddenly believing she would see a bear any moment. Why were they just standing there?

“You know, girls,” Rachel whispered without looking at them, her tone ominous, “when you’re planning to scare someone, always make sure they’re not listening on the other side of the tree. It spoils the surprise.” She dropped their hands and tapped Sabrina and Petula on top of their heads.

“Tag! You’re both it.” Lifting the hem of her riding habit, her laughter trailing behind her, Rachel raced off down the trail. The two girls turned startled expressions on each other, then took out after their governess with shouts and laughter of their own. Gavin turned from the horses just in time to see Rachel come running out of the trees. She had removed her hat earlier and now her hair had tumbled free of its pinnings. It flew out behind her like pale gold wings. Her laughter rang like clear bells in a mountain cathedral. Sabrina appeared just as suddenly, her arm outstretched, obviously intent on tagging her governess. Petula’s shouts were heard long before her short legs carried her into the clearing. But Rachel was far too quick for either of them. There was no hope of Sabrina catching her, let alone Petula. Except Joker entered the picture at that exact moment, his excited barks added to the shouts and laughter. The big hound bounded between Rachel and Sabrina, then turned to run a circle around Rachel. She tried to stop, but it was too late. She tripped over the dog just as Sabrina, in hot pursuit, hurled herself through the air. They fell to the ground in a jumble of skirts, then the two of them were tumbling head over heels down the grassy incline, Petula scurrying after them. Gavin sprinted forward, but by the time he reached them, their giggles told him no one was hurt.

“You’re it, Miss Harris,” Sabrina managed to say as she gasped for air.

“Yeah, you’re it, Miss Harris,” Petula parroted. Rachel touched their cheeks with her fingertips, first Petula, then Sabrina.

“I guess so,” she responded breathlessly, smiling all the while. Her face was flushed with color. Her tousled hair was filled with dried grass. There was a smudge of dirt on the tip of her chin, and her grosgrain cravat was all askew.

“Where is he?” she asked, her smile suddenly fading. She glanced up at Gavin, and he thought for a moment she was angry with him. Then she swung her head around.

“Ah! So there you are.” Joker lay on the ground a few feet away. His chin was buried in the grass, and his dark eyes watched her apologetically as his tail slapped the ground in a slow rhythm.

“Benedict Arnold.” Joker whined and inched his way forward.

“Don’t think you’ll win my forgiveness so easily.” Rachel turned her head away, her pert nose pointed into the air. Joker slinked across the remaining distance, then laid his chin on Rachel’s thigh, his ears flat against his head, his eyes pleading for absolution. Gavin found himself waiting with the same rapt attention as the girls. Rachel glanced down at the young wolfhound, one eyebrow cocked, her head tilted to one side.

“This time, you mangy hound,” she said softly as her hand smoothed the wiry hair on top of his head.

“But don’t you turn traitor on me again.” Joker’s tail smacked the ground in double time. Children’s laughter filled the air again as Petula fell on Joker, joined quickly by Sabrina. The oversized pup was on his feet in a flash, jumping away before flinging himself back into their midst. Then he was up and running, the two girls hard on his heels. Rachel clapped her hands together, laughing gaily, her sky-blue eyes sparkling with mischief and pleasure.

It hit Gavin then. Perhaps she wasn’t at all what he’d suspected.

Perhaps she wasn’t spoiled or vain or selfish. She was definitely lovely and vibrant and fun. Maybe Dru was right. There was plenty about this young woman to like. Possibly too much. He held out his hand to her.

“Let me help you, Miss Harris.” She glanced up at him, laughter still lighting her eyes.

“Thank you.” She took hold of his hand, and he pulled her effortlessly to her feet.

“I promise to have a long talk with Joker when we get back to the house.” He leaned closer, his voice falling to a confidential whisper.

“I thought that boy had better manners than to trip a lady.” Rachel’s eyes widened a fraction, her smile faded slightly.

“Yes,” she replied, sounding breathless once again.

“You should do that, Mr.–”

“Gavin. Call me Gavin.” Whatever she might have said was interrupted by the return of barking dog and laughing children. Rachel felt as if she might suddenly explode. Her nerve endings were screaming. It was hard to breathe, and her pulse was racing madly. Her eyes fell on Gavin’s back as he led the way down the mountainside. He rode his horse with an easy grace, his body moving in time with the animal. She could sense his strength even from this distance, felt his alertness as his head turned occasionally from side to side. Call me Gavin. Her heartbeat did a little somersault as she recalled the warm resonance of his voice. It couldn’t be, of course. She couldn’t be feeling this way about Gavin Blake. He turned in the saddle. Their eyes met over the top of the children’s heads. Her heart did another little hiccup. Lord help her! It couldn’t be this. It couldn’t be now. But it was. As clearly as she’d always known she was waiting for something special to happen to her, she knew that this was it. She’d been waiting for this fantastically wretched feeling. She’d been waiting to fall in love. But she was feeling it for the wrong man. She glanced away from him, afraid of what he might see if she continued looking into those steely gray depths. She stared at the slick carpet of pine needles beneath the palomino’s hooves, but her thoughts couldn’t be controlled so easily. She kept remembering the sound of Gavin’s voice, the warmth of his breath on her face as he’d leaned closer, the jaunty look of his black hair as it brushed his shirt collar, the shadow of a beard beneath his tanned skin. What was she to do? Suddenly, the magnificent mountains surrounding the valley had become menacing barriers, allowing no escape from the emotions that threatened to consume her. Maggie, what do I do? She closed her eyes, imagining herself back in the safety of her room at the Branigan ranch.

Her sister would know what to tell her. She’d always been able to count on Maggie. Her sister had raised her, shielded her from their abusive uncle, brought her West across the Oregon Trail and into the safe, loving arms of the Branigan clan. Maggie would be able to tell her what to do, if only she could get to her. Why hadn’t she listened to Maggie when she advised Rachel against coming? Why had she been so blasted stubborn, so determined to come to this wilderness with these strangers? Her fingers tightened around the reins. love might be that special something she’d been expecting, but her destiny couldn’t be with another woman’s husband. She wouldn’t allow herself to feel this way. She would simply have to take control of the emotion. Call me Gavin. It was like the ground dropping out from under her, this feeling he caused within her. She was suddenly afraid she couldn’t control the way she felt. She wasn’t prepared for this. She wasn’t supposed to fall in love with a man who could never be hers. It was wrong. She had no right to feel this way. She would have to leave. Despite her promise to Dru that she would stay through spring, she would have to return to Boise. Because if she didn’t, something terrible was going to happen. Already she could feel her heart breaking.

Chapter Ten

The temperature dropped sharply before the sun reached the horizon. By nightfall, the sky was hidden behind thick black clouds. A stillness blanketed the basin, making every sound inside the log house seem out of place, an intrusion upon nature. Rachel pulled the warm quilt up from the foot of the bed.

“Snuggle close. It’s going to be cold tonight,” she told the two girls, then leaned forward to kiss their foreheads beneath their white nightcaps. She felt a sting in the region of her heart. She was going to miss them. She’d grown to love them in the short time they’d been together. Was it really just over a week since she’d arrived in the basin? Not even ten days, yet she felt as if they’d been together ever so much longer than that.

“Good night,” she whispered as she straightened.

“Miss Harris?”

“What is it, Pet?”

“I’m glad you wasn’t scared about the bear. You’re sure lots of fun.” She swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Thanks, Pet. Good night, Brina. See you in the morning.”

“Night, Miss Harris,” came the two voices in unison. Holding her skirt out of the way, she turned and eased herself onto the ladder leading down from the loft. When her feet touched the wood floor, she breathed a quiet sigh of relief and turned around just as the front door blew open, allowing Gavin entry. His hat and shoulders were dusted with crystals of snow. Gavin closed the door quickly, then removed his hat and slapped it against his leg.

“Good thing we got the herd out when we did. That’s quite the storm blowing in.” His nose and cheeks were red with cold. His shaggy black hair, damp from snow and tousled from his hat, curled against the back of his neck and fell across his forehead. He desperately needed a shave. And he was the most devastatingly handsome man she’d ever seen. Rachel looked toward the fire.

“It was so beautiful today. I never dreamed it could snow.

“Weather’s sudden in these parts.” He shucked off his heavy coat and hung it on the peg near the door.

“Where’s Dru?”

“She was tired and went to bed.”

their eyes met briefly.

“I’ll check in on her,” Gavin said, walking swiftly toward his bedroom. Rachel’s heart continued to race as she crossed the room and moved aside the curtain to peer outside. Tiny snowflakes, blown before an icy wind, had already covered the ground with a light frosting. She couldn’t see the barn or the corral through the blowing snow. She felt isolated from the world, as if all that existed were within these walls. She heard the bedroom door close behind her. Her heart was doing those funny flip-flops in her chest again.

“How’s Mrs. Blake?” she asked without turning around.

“Asleep.” The lid of the wood box creaked as it was opened. She heard the crackle of fire and pitch as new logs were added to the flames. A chair scraped against the floor as it was dragged closer to the hearth. Rachel turned around. He was seated on the edge of the spindle-backed chair, leaning forward, his forearms braced on his thighs. He was staring into the fire, the light dancing across his face, eerie shadows darkening his craggy features. What would it be like to have the right to love this man? She moved away from the window, feeling suddenly chilled so far from the fire.

“It doesn’t snow this early in Boise,” she said softly, a slight quiver in her voice.

“It won’t last long. A few days, week maybe.” He glanced up at her as she settled onto the rocker opposite him.

“A week?” She’d planned to leave. She’d planned to tell them in the morning that she was going home. Gavin raked his fingers through his hair, then nodded.

“Could be longer, but I imagine we’ll be up to the Lucky Strike before the end of October.” He rubbed his hands together as a frown settled across his brow.

“Never should’ve let Dru talk me into staying. No way to get a doctor to her if she’d need one.”

“Gavin…” She leaned forward and lightly touched her fingertips to the back of his hand.

“What’s wrong with Dru?” She was taken aback by the pain she read in his eyes as he looked at her. Despite the strange sensations swirling through her as a result of their touch, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she closed her hand over his.

“Please tell me,” she whispered.

“She’s got a cancer. The doctors we’ve seen … none of ‘em think she’ll live ‘til spring.” If Dru dies, he’ll be free. Rachel pulled her hand away from him as if she’d been burned. She was horrified that such a thought had ever entered her mind. How could she be so selfish when a woman was dying?

“Don’t worry, Miss Harris,” Gavin said sharply.

“It’s not contagious.” He was glaring at her with scorn-filled eyes.

“I never ….. I’m sorry. I was just shocked. I never dreamed she… I… I’m so sorry.” His expression softened a little.

“It’s all right. I guess I thought you knew how sick she was.” There was so much she didn’t know. Most of all she didn’t know what to do with her feelings for him. Even now, she had to fight the urge to throw her arms around him, to kiss his forehead and hold his head against her breast, to comfort him from the pain he was feeling, to love him tonight and forever.

“I have to go,” she said softly.

“Good night.” he responded, looking once more into the fire. That’s not what I meant, Gavin. I meant I have to go. I have to leave this place.

“Good night, Gavin.” She rose and hurried to the safety of her room. Gavin heard the closing of the bedroom door even as he closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers in tiny circles over his temples. Why did he react to Rachel that way? Always expecting the worst from her. But then, with the exception of Dru, Gavin always expected the worst from women. Always had. Well, maybe not always. Just since he was ten. It started to snow early in the morning, and it was soon clear there was a real blizzard in the making. The teacher sent her students home before the storm could get any worse. Gavin was surprised to see the fancy black buggy hitched up in front of the house. Mr. Hannah knew his pa was in Cincinnati and wouldn’t be back until the end of the week. Besides, they always did business at Mr. Hannah’s fancy house in the middle of town. When he went in the house, the parlor was empty. Then he heard strange noises coming from the bedroom. It sounded like his ma was trying to scream but couldn’t. Alarmed, he made his way to the back of the house and pushed open the door. There they were, Mr. Hannah and his ma, in bed together, both naked as jaybirds. When she saw him, his ma cursed at him and ordered him out. He stood and watched, confused and scared, when Christina Blake and Mr. Hannah came out of the bedroom minutes later. His ma was holding a worn carpet bag in her hand. She glared at him for a moment, then walked on by. Gavin jumped up from his chair and strode toward the window. He swept the curtains aside. Already there was close to an inch of snow on the ground with no signs of its stopping. It had been a lot like that the day his mother left to live with Mr. Hannah. His pa’d said Christina Blake always did hate living on the farm. She’d always wanted to be rich, and when Mr. Hannah had come along, there’d been little she wouldn’t have done to become his wife. Gavin’s father hadn’t even tried to stop the divorce, but he’d never gotten over it either. He’d turned to drink and wallowed in self-pity until the day he died. Come to think of it, it had snowed that day too His pa was buried. The farm was lost. There wasn’t anything for Gavin to do but move on. He had no family… except for his ma. And he hadn’t talked to her in four years, not since the day she walked out of the house. With old newspaper, he wrapped up the photo of his ma and pa and him that had always hung on the wall of his parents’ bedroom. With a canvas bag containing all his worldly goods, he set off for the Hannah mansion in the midst of town. He wouldn’t ever forget what she looked like that day. She was wearing a shiny blue-and-white striped gown.

Jewels sparkled at her throat and on her ears. Her pale blond hair was swept up from her neck. She looked absolutely regal. The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her cool blue eyes had perused him as they stood in the entry hall.

“You look like your father. He was a handsome man too.” Gavin handed her the photo wrapped in newspaper. She lifted an imperious brow, then opened the package. She stared at the picture for a moment.

“Too bad he wasn’t as rich as he was handsome,” she said. With an outstretched arm, she held the photo up, then dropped it unceremoniously into a wastebasket. His mother’s gesture had been burned forever into his memory. Even now, nearly twenty years later, it brought the same bitterness to his chest. He’d never forgotten, would never forgive. Rachel resembled Christina Blake a little.

Both of them beautifully blonde and blue-eyed. Both of them classically lovely. There. He’d acknowledged it. Stubs had started to point it out that first day they arrived, but Gavin hadn’t let him say it. He didn’t want to admit he was predisposed to dislike her. She was beautiful and privileged and should have been spoiled and self-centered—just like Christina Blake. Only she kept surprising him, doing and saying things he never would have expected from her. He turned from the window, his eyes moving toward Rachel’s bedroom. A thin spray of light fanned out beneath the door. She was still awake. He remembered the concern in her eyes as they’d sat beside the fire, recalled too sharply the rising desire that had flooded through him. Lord, how he’d wanted her. He’d wanted to kiss that moist, rose-colored mouth. He’d wanted to remove the pins from her hair and see it tumbling around her shoulders as it had up on the ridge. He’d wanted… Gavin made a sound of disgust as he returned to his chair by the fire. Who was he kidding? It wasn’t Rachel who was like his mother. It was him. He was married to Dru and lusting after Rachel. He’d known when he married Dru that they wouldn’t be sharing the intimacies of marriage. They couldn’t risk a pregnancy. It would kill her for sure… and the child too. Besides, Dru was still in love with Charlie. He had agreed with the conditions of this marriage, had even welcomed them. But how could he have known he would meet a woman who would create such a wanting in him? God help me, he thought as he rested his head in his hands. God help me.

Chapter Eleven

By morning there was nearly a foot of snow on the ground, and the white flakes were still drifting to earth, this time without the wind to blow them. As she stood at the window, watching the falling snow, Rachel decided there was no point in telling the Blakes about her decision to return to Boise until it was possible for her to do so. She would just continue instructing the children and helping Dru with the household chores. In fact, she decided, she would take on the lion’s portion of duties so Dru could rest. She hated to think she might be doing so out of guilt, but the thought did occur to her. She was still ashamed of that moment of unbridled hope when she realized Gavin would one day be a widower, a man free to love another woman. Perhaps if she worked hard and took extra special care of Dru, the woman’s health would improve. Perhaps she could make amends for her selfishness.

“You’re up early.” Rachel turned to find Dru standing near the fireplace, her white nightgown hidden beneath a plain brown robe. Her graying hair hung in a single braid over her shoulder, and there were dark circles beneath her hazel eyes.

“So are you,” Rachel responded.

“Did you rest well?” Dru sighed.

“Well enough.” She walked toward Rachel.

“How bad was the storm?” Rachel stepped aside to reveal the snow-blanketed yard. Unexpectedly, Dru smiled.

“That means we can stay even longer.”

“You really don’t want to go, do you?”

“No. I love it here better than anywhere in the world. It’s home.”

“Gavin’s worried.” Dru smiled softly.

“You two talked late last night.” Rachel nodded and headed toward the stove, guilt returning in massive proportions.

“I’ll start breakfast. Why don’t you sit next to the fire and keep warm. Would you like some coffee?”

“Tea, I think. Coffee doesn’t sit well with me anymore.” Rachel busied herself with heating water for tea, then gathered the ingredients for flapjacks and mixed them in a large bowl. As she poured the batter into a hot skillet, the bedroom door opened once again. Gavin’s eyes met hers the moment he stepped through the doorway. She felt a dull thudding in her ears as he nodded at her. She glanced back at the skillet, and when she looked up again, he was pulling on his coat.

“I’ll check on the livestock,” he said to Dru. He opened the door, letting in a gust of wind and a flurry of snow.

“Looks like we’re in for another blow. I won’t be long. Don’t anyone venture out. This looks like it could get nasty.” Be careful, Rachel thought, and felt the heat rush to her cheeks. She had no right to those thoughts. They belonged to Dru. She fought back the threat of tears and forced herself to think of the task at hand. She had breakfast to cook and lessons to give and a house to clean. She hadn’t time for feeling sorry for herself. No sooner was she scooping the first flapjacks from the frying pan than excited voices sounded from the loft.

“Did you see the snow?” Sabrina cried as she fairly skimmed down the ladder.

“I’m hungry!”

“Me too,” echoed her sister, following closely behind. Rachel laughed, her smile returning at the sight of the two girls in white nightcaps and heavy robes.

“Good, because there’s plenty of food here for you.” The children hurried first to their mother, giving her tight hugs and kisses on the cheek.

“Morning, Ma,” they said in unison.

“Good morning, my angels.” Rachel paused to watch, her heart tightening in her breast as she realized how much Dru was losing. Every day, she had to be preparing herself to say good-bye to all the

things, all the people she loved most. Feeling the threat of tears, she returned her attention to the skillet, placing two pancakes each onto two plates and setting them on the table. When she felt she had control of her emotions again, she turned toward Dru.

“Are you ready to eat, Mrs. Blake?” Dru shook her head.

“I’m not hungry this morning.” A wry smile tweaked one corner of her mouth.

“And don’t you think it’s time you called me Dru?” No. If I call you Dru, that makes us closer, and I don’t want to get closer to any of you. It’s already too complicated.

“All right,” she answered softly.

“But I do think you should try to eat something, Dru.” Again the woman shook her head.

“Please?” There was something about the way Dru looked at her, searching with her eyes, that left her feeling unsettled. Did she know what Rachel was thinking, what she was feeling?

“I suppose I could eat one flapjack.” Dru pushed herself out of the rocker and moved slowly toward the table.

“Can we go outside to play, Ma?” Sabrina asked before stuffing a large bite of hotcakes into her mouth.

“Not until the storm is over. When it’s stopped snowing, you can go out.” At that moment, a gust of wind slammed against the house, rattling the windows and whistling beneath the door. Rachel’s head snapped up as a sudden chill spread through her. She set the skillet on the stove and walked over to the window, apprehension growing with each step. There was no earth or sky to be discerned. All was white. The barn was obscured by the billowing snow, driven almost sideways by the wind. She hugged her arms against her chest.

“How will he find his way back?” she said aloud.

“He can’t possibly see.”

“He’ll wait it out,” Dru answered.

“Come have your breakfast, Rachel.” Her words sounded comforting, but there was an odd tightness in her voice.

“Are you sure?” Rachel turned to gaze across the room. Dru nodded.

“I’m sure.” Her glance took in the children, then returned pointedly to Rachel.

“Come and eat,” she said softly. Dru’s silent message was clear. Don’t worry the children. Rachel knew she was right, but it was all she could do to return to the stove and scoop up the flapjacks from the skillet. She kept listening for the latch to lift and the door to open. All she heard was the howling wind.

“What if he did leave the barn for some reason before the wind came up?” Rachel stood once again at the window, watching the snow piling up against the house.

“He might have been checking something in the corral. Or maybe he’s hurt. It’s been over an hour.” Dru saw the concern written on the young woman’s face, a concern that mirrored her own. Common sense told her Gavin was waiting out the storm in the safety of the barn, but she knew all too well how things could go wrong when you least expected it.

“I could go check on him,” Rachel said softly.

“You’d be blown clear away. We’ll just have to wait.” Joker got up from his place by the fire and padded across the room, plopping down beside Rachel. He lifted his face up toward her, whined, then scratched the door with his paw before looking up at her again.

“No, fella,” Rachel responded, her hand stroking his head.

“You can’t go out. Not yet.”

“Ma?” Petula came to stand beside Dru’s chair.

“Is Pa okay?” Her arm went around her younger daughter.

“Of course he is, Pet. He’s just tending the animals.” Rachel turned away from the window. Her chin lifted and her shoulders straightened as she headed across the room.

“Whatever’s wrong with me?” She laughed aloud, then said in a firm voice, “Girls, it’s time for your studies. If we get our work done now, we can play in the snow when the storm blows over. Get your books and slates.” Dru gave Petula another quick hug, then patted the child’s behind as she shooed her toward the table. In a matter of minutes, Rachel had the children poring over their school work, their anxiety fading as they concentrated on other matters. Dru closed her eyes as she set her chair rocking. The children’s voices were comforting as they asked their teacher questions. She listened to Rachel’s replies. The young woman was intelligent and patient. She’d put aside her own concerns about Gavin and made sure the children weren’t worried. She would be good for them. Always. I was right about her, Charlie. She’ll make a good mother for them when I’m gone. And I think she’s already falling in love with our Gavin. She frowned. But he might be a problem. Wish I knew what was troublin’ him so. Did I do wrong in asking’ him to raise our girls once I’m gone? She opened her eyes and gazed out the window at the blizzard raging beyond the glass, worry returning to gnaw at her insides. Gavin groaned as consciousness returned, bringing with it a terrible throbbing in his head. For a moment he was disoriented, but when he turned his head, he felt the straw scratching his face and smelled the pungent odors of the barn. He groaned again and rolled onto his back, his fingers gingerly touching the back of his skull. He opened his eyes, then sat up.

“Damn,” he whispered as the pain increased. He heard a snort behind him.

“If I didn’t need you to pull the wagon, I’d plug you between the eyes right here and now.” The big work horse snorted once again. Gavin twisted toward the animal, which was calmly munching her hay on the other side of the stall. The movement caused hot darts to shoot up the back of his neck.

“Damn,” he swore again. As he pushed himself to his feet, he tried to piece together exactly what had happened. At first, it was hard to concentrate beyond the throbbing in his head, but slowly the memories fell into place. He’d finished tending the horses and Sabrina’s orphaned calf, then checked on Petula’s kittens up in the loft. By the time he’d climbed down the ladder, the snowfall had become a raging blizzard. He’d known he would have to wait it out and had decided to

work on some harness to pass the time. As he was passing old Patch’s stall, the big piebald had kicked at him through the wooden slats, catching her hoof in the broken board. Gavin had entered the stall and worked the animal’s leg free, only to have the horse wheel on him and strike again.

“You’d make great buzzard feed.” The piebald looked at him with bored eyes. A wave of dizziness washed over Gavin, and he stepped backward, leaning his back against the wall as he waited for it to pass. He wondered how long he’d been unconscious. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he started toward the stall gate. His steps were uncertain and wobbly, and there seemed to be a curtain of darkness just beyond his vision, waiting to drop over him at any moment. Just outside the stall, he stopped to rest again. He felt weak and foolish. It should take more than a wallop from Patch to knock the stuffing out of him. Lord knew, it wasn’t the first time he’d been kicked by the cantankerous beast. Yet weak and foolish was exactly how he felt. He wondered if he could make it back to the house. He felt an overwhelming need to lie down until the weakness passed once and for all. Cautiously, he moved forward again, using his hand to balance himself as he grabbed whatever was in reach. The floor seemed to swell and drop beneath his feet, like the rise and fall of the ocean beneath a ship. Unexpectedly, it rose up in a giant wave to meet his face. Rachel tightened the rope around her waist.

“Do you understand the signal then?” she asked as she turned to meet Dru’s anxious gaze.

“Two tugs means to pull me back. That’s only if I can’t find the barn or if I get into some sort of trouble. Four tugs means I’m in the barn. If you get four tugs, just tie off the rope. We’ll use it to find our way back if Gavin thinks we should. Otherwise, we’ll just wait in the barn until the storm’s over.” Dru touched Rachel’s coat sleeve.

“He isn’t going to like it that I let you do this. I’m sure he’s just working in the barn until the weather clears.”

“Probably.” She offered the woman a reassuring smile.

“I’m sure he’ll scold me soundly, and then I’ll be stuck with a man in ill temper until the sun comes out. And it’ll serve me right for being so silly.” Rachel wished she believed what she was saying. It made perfectly good sense, and both she and Dru had used the same logical excuse for Gavin’s tardy return to the house a number of times over the past couple of hours. If she had been the only anxious one, she would have dismissed the nagging feeling that something was wrong. But she wasn’t the only one. Dru felt it too, although she’d tried to hide it for a long time. With a deep breath for courage, Rachel tightened the scarf around her head and pulled open the door. The wind blasted against her. Shards of snow stung her cheeks. She leaned forward and stepped outside.

“I’ll be all right,” she hollered over the wind as she headed in the general direction of the barn. In seconds, the house had disappeared from sight. She was surrounded by nothing but white. She touched the rope around her waist, reassuring herself that she wasn’t alone and lost, then struggled forward, her feet sinking into drifts of snow, not knowing where she was headed. She could have been moving in tiny circles for all she knew. She had no sense of direction left to guide her. There was no up or down, right or left, forward or back, night or day. There was only snow. Snow, snow, and more snow. It was a terrifying feeling.

She was cold. The blowing snow stung her face, and she bent her head forward to avoid the tiny missiles. Already she felt as if she’d been walking for ages. She paused and looked down at the rope. Two tugs and they would pull her back to the house. Just two tugs and she could be warm again, safe within the walls of the sturdy log house. But I still wouldn’t know about Gavin. She pressed forward into the storm. is it really so far from the house to the barn? It hadn’t seemed so before. Perhaps she should turn and try another direction. Perhaps she was headed the wrong way. And then, it was there before her. She reached out and touched the board siding of the barn, working her way along until she found the door. With a hammering heart, she lifted the latch and tugged at the door. Drifting snow had piled up against it, making it impossible to open. She kicked at the snowdrift, then leaned down to dig with her hands. For every inch she swept away, two more seemed to land in its place. Finally, her fingers numb with cold, she was able to clear enough snow to pry open the door and wedge her way through. As she stepped inside the barn, she gave the rope four distinct tugs, then let the door blow closed behind her. She saw him almost immediately, lying face down in the straw.

“Gavin!” With fumbling hands, she loosened the knot on the rope at her waist. Breaking free, she hurried toward the quiet form on the barn floor.

“Gavin? Gavin, what’s wrong?” Rachel knelt in the straw and grasped his shoulders, rolling him onto his back and pulling his head into her lap.

“Gavin?” she said again, whispering this time.

“Gavin?”

Chapter Twelve

“Gonna kill that horse,” he mumbled. Rachel leaned forward.

“What, Gavin? What did you say?” His eyes opened slowly. He looked up at her with a glazed, unfocused expression. But when he spoke, his voice was clear this time.

“I said I’m gonna kill that horse.” And then he grinned, followed by a wince and a groan.

“What happened, Gavin? How are you hurt?”

“Patch tried to knock some sense into me. Caught me in the back of the head with a swift kick.”

“Let me see.” Rachel pulled him into an upright position, then leaned to one side and carefully probed the back of his head. Gavin grunted but didn’t flinch. He reached up behind him to follow her hand over the lump on the back of his head.

“I’ve Never been knocked stone cold before.” Their fingers met, his sliding over the top of hers. Both hands stilled.

Neither tried to pull away. Rachel felt the touch throughout her body. It spread through her veins, hot and churning, warming away the chill of the snowstorm and leaving her feeling as if a new kind of storm was battering her from the inside. Gavin turned his head. His gray eyes met hers, the force of his gaze strong enough to chase the wind from her lungs. He moved his hand away and rose to his feet.

“I guess the storm’s over. How long was I out here?” he asked as he steadied himself by holding onto the top railing of a stall. Rachel dragged in a breath of air and fought down the tide of emotions that raged within.

“You were gone over two hours,” she was finally able to respond.

“We were afraid something must be wrong, so I came looking for you. The storm hasn’t let up at all.” She stood and brushed the straw from her skirt, not daring to look at him again.

“You came out here through that blizzard?” He scolded her as if she was a child.

“Someone had to. We were afraid something was wrong.” Now she looked at him, her chin thrust up in indignation.

“And we were right.” Gavin grunted his displeasure as he turned to walk across the barn to the door. Reaching it, he picked up the length of rope hanging through it, then looked back at Rachel.

“I had it tied around my waist so I wouldn’t get lost. I told Dru to tie it off to the house once I signaled that I’d found the barn. That way we could follow the rope back to the house from here.” He tipped his head to one side. It seemed to be a silent acknowledgement that she’d done something right. But it didn’t last long. He looked away almost immediately. Placing his shoulder against the door and still holding onto the rope, he lifted the latch and tried to open the door. It barely budged, opening only far enough to let in a gust of icy wind and a flurry of snowflakes. Rachel moved forward.

“I cleared a pathway so I could open the door. It couldn’t be covered over already.” She stopped as he turned around.

“We’ll just have to wait it out. If we can’t get the door open when the storm stops, we can always get out through the loft window.”

“Through the loft?” Her voice came out in a small squeak.

“The snow won’t get that deep, will it?” Gavin gave a short laugh.

“Not this time of year, no. I’ll just lower you down with a rope and then follow after you. Nothing to it.” Rachel sat down on a nearby storage bin, her frantic heart causing the blood to pound in her ears. She turned her head so she could see the long ladder leading up to the loft and imagined an even longer drop down to the ground afterward. She swallowed hard as her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Outside, the storm raged on. Gavin closed the loft window. He’d never seen a snowstorm like this one, at least not so early in the year. You could expect them in January, but never in October. He headed toward the ladder, stopping on the edge to look down. Rachel was still seated on the storage bin, her arms hugging her body. Even from up here he could see her shivering. He knew she had to be plenty cold. Her dress had gotten soaked with snow as she’d fought her way through the drifts to get to the barn, and there was no fire to help dry her out once she got here. But she hadn’t complained once. He turned and lowered himself down the ladder. As his feet touched the floor, he looked toward her.

“No sign of it stopping yet.” She nodded, misery written on every inch of her pretty face.

“Come here,” Gavin said, motioning with his hand. She gave him a puzzled look.

“We need to warm you up. Come on.” She rose from the bin and moved toward him, her arms still folded tightly across her chest. When she reached him, he placed an arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the stall holding Sabrina’s calf. He opened the gate, allowing them entry.

“Wait here,” he told her, then walked away. From the small tack room at the back of the barn, he grabbed several saddle blankets. On his return trip, he took the lantern from its usual high hook and carried it with him to the stall.

“Hold this,” he said, handing her the lantern. With his boot, he kicked straw into a pile in the corner, then leaned forward to make a nest in the center of it. He placed one of the blankets on the bottom, smoothing out the wrinkles as best he could before turning toward Rachel.

“Take off that wet skirt and toss it over the gate to dry,” he said.

“Your drawers will just have to dry on you.” Her eyes rounded, and her golden eyebrows rose on her forehead.

“Come on. We need to get you warmed up before you take sick. I promise not to look until you’re under the blankets here.”

“Mr. Blake, I can’t .. .” He took a step toward her. His voice was low when he spoke.

“Don’t argue with me, Rachel. I know what’s best. Look at you. You’re shivering so hard your teeth are about to rattle.” His hand closed over hers on the lantern handle.

“I’ll take this while you get out of those wet things.” When she tipped her head back to look up at him, he felt a sudden jolt in his belly. Everything tightened inside him. The desire to hold her, to kiss her, returned with a fury. His blood raced hot through his veins, stirring up a wanting that would take a will of iron to deny. The pounding in his head became a throbbing in his loins.

“Do as I say,” he said harshly, jerking the lantern free of her hand as he turned around. He filled his lungs with air, then let it out slowly as he fought for control. Most men would probably laugh at him. He had a wife who couldn’t satisfy his sexual needs and desires. He should be free to take release with another woman. But his word meant more to him than that. He’d promised to be Dru’s husband—and in Gavin’s book, that meant he’d promised to be faithful too. He heard the rustle of straw.

“Are you covered up?”

“Yes.” He turned toward her. Her legs were drawn up toward her chest and hidden beneath the two remaining saddle blankets. Her eyes seemed

wider and bluer than ever, her face pale even in the yellow glow of the lantern light.

“That’s better,” he mumbled as he hung the lantern on a hook just inches above her head. He turned up the flame as high as it would go, then sat down beside her, his left arm around her back.

“Come here.” He pulled her close against his side. The blustering wind whistled around the corner of the barn. A horse blew dust from its nostrils. Another stomped its hoof. The calf rose, turned in a tight circle, and lay down again, his soft brown eyes staring at the pair in the corner of his stall. Gavin felt the isolation creeping into his marrow. It was as if they were the only two people alive in the world. One man. One woman. Alone together. He felt the rise and fall of her chest. Was her breathing too rapid? He lifted his right hand and began rubbing the length of her arm, ostensibly to warm away the chill she’d taken. But he knew the truth was he just wanted to touch her, to go on touching her, to touch far more than he was able to through her heavy coat. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the stall wall and prayed for a little more self control. She hurt. She ached everywhere. But it was a different kind of pain from anything she’d ever felt before. It couldn’t be described. It was an emptiness, but more than that. It burned, like a fire in her veins, but was more than that too. She yearned to move closer to him, longed to pull away from him. She felt torn in a thousand different directions all at the same time. Rachel lost track of time. It could have been minutes that passed; it could have been hours. His hand continued to stroke her arm. She could feel his warm breath on her hair, could hear his heartbeat through his coat and shirt. He knows what I’m feeling. Her pulse quickened with fear and anticipation. If she should look up into his eyes, she knew with a woman’s instinct that she would see her own confusion and desire mirrored in eyes of gray. She longed to do just that. She longed to see what was written there, to speak aloud the things she was feeling. But she couldn’t. To do so would give them life. To do so would make them stronger, and she couldn’t allow that to happen. Not ever. Heaven help her, she had to get away from him soon. But still she didn’t move. She stayed within the circle of his arms, waiting out the storms—the one outside and the one within her heart. Silence. Rachel lifted her head from Gavin’s shoulder. She stared toward the door as she whispered, “It’s over.” He felt it too. Not just the cessation of wind, but an end to the right to hold her. He wasn’t ready for it yet. He didn’t want to release her. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to… His arm slid from her back.

“I’ll have a look,” he said as he got to his feet.

“Stay here.” He knew there was no point in trying to open the barn door. The drifts would be too high against it. He climbed the ladder to the loft and opened the loft door. The sky was a silver-gray. A few snowflakes fell in lazy circles toward the earth, the fury of the storm spent. In the west, strips of blue showed between breaks in the clouds. Tall pines lifted emerald arms above a world of ivory-white. Smaller trees and brush bent low beneath the heavy weight of snow. As he gazed toward the house, the door opened. Dru, wrapped in a fur-lined coat and a thick scarf, appeared in the opening.

“We’re all right,” he called to her.

“Stay there.” She looked up at him, and he could see the relief on her face even from that distance.

“We can’t get the barn door open yet.”

“I’ll get the girls. We’ll dig out a path for you.”

“No,” he called back.

“Stay inside. We’ll come down from here. I’ll dig it out later. Dru lifted an arm to acknowledge that she’d heard him.

“All right.” Gavin returned the wave and watched as the door closed. Guilt, like a thick cloak, weighted his shoulders. She was a good woman. She was the first and only woman he’d known since boyhood that he’d felt he could trust. She didn’t deserve the flash of resentment he’d felt when he knew the storm was over. He ran his fingers through his hair as he turned from the door, his thoughts jumbled and confused. All his points of reference, all his firm beliefs, had been shaken and many of them discarded. He didn’t seem to know right from wrong anymore. Worse yet, he didn’t seem to care. With quick strides, he moved to the edge of the loft and glanced down at Rachel. She stood in the middle of the stall, her skirt primly back in place. She was staring up at him with a strange look on her face, a look that made his heart twist in his chest.

“Put out the lantern and come on up. We’ll have to go out from up here.” She didn’t move, only continued to look up at him with wide eyes of blue.

“Hurry up,” he growled as he turned away, unable to bear the look any longer. Her reply was nearly inaudible.

“I’m coming, Gavin.”

Chapter Thirteen

No matter what she had to do, she had to stop this insanity before it went any further. She couldn’t allow herself to go on feeling this way about Gavin. And if she was right, if he knew what she was feeling, if there was any chance he might respond to her attraction to him, she had to make sure it ended now. If that meant making him hate her, then that was what she must do.

“It never snows this early in Boise.” Rachel emitted a long sigh as she stared out the window for the third time in the last half hour. Darkness and silence had fallen early over the snow-coated basin.

“I missed the Horace Clive ball again this year. The weather’s almost always warm for the ball.” She turned away from the window, casting a wistful gaze at the two girls seated at the table.

“Do you know what a ball is? It’s a dance, and all the women are dressed in beautiful gowns and the men in fine suits.” She sighed dramatically. Sabrina and Petula gazed over the top of their school

books, waiting expectantly for her to continue . “Tell us more,” Sabrina encouraged.

“Mr. Clive is a very respected man in the Boise Valley. He was there when we first arrived in Idaho, and my sister, Maggie, got to go to the ball that year. In fact, it’s where Tucker, my brother-in-law, proposed to her and she said yes. I was only six, but I remember just how she looked that night. Her gown was silvery-blue and there were little puffed sleeves on her arms right here.” She pointed to the spot on her upper arms.

“The dress had a big skirt, held out by lots of stiff petticoats. Well, maybe they weren’t petticoats. Maybe she had a hooped skirt. Dresses were so different back then.” Rachel crossed the room and sat down across from the children. She closed her eyes, resting her chin in the palms of her hands, elbows on the table.

“My first ball gown was very different from Maggie’s. It was apple green and embroidered with red poppies, and it had a square neck, edged with white lace. I wore long white gloves that had gold bands at the wrists. The vogue was for long trains then, and my first ball gown had a very long one, indeed. I felt so grown up in it, especially when I was dancing. A lady held those long trains in one hand as she danced. It looked very elegant. I danced and danced and danced that night. Mr. Clive had an orchestra up in a loft above the ballroom, and they hardly ever stopped playing. You can’t imagine how wonderful that first ball was for me. It was magic.” She’d gotten so caught up in the telling of the story she nearly forgot why she’d told it. She opened her eyes and glanced around the room, her gaze briefly meeting both Dru’s and Gavin’s. Then she looked back at the two girls across from her.

“Every year is wonderful. The men are so gallant, so debonair. And there are so many of them, all wanting to dance with you.” She sighed again.

“All those years I was back East, attending school and living with the Fieldings, I looked forward to going to Mr. Clive’s ball again. I wish I could have been there this year.” Sabrina leaned forward.

“Do you suppose, when I’m old enough, if I was to be in Boise City, I could go to the ball? Do you think anybody’d want to dance with me?” Rachel wasn’t prepared for Sabrina’s question. Her purpose had been to let Gavin think she was terribly homesick, not to make his daughter long for things she couldn’t have. She looked at Sabrina’s long, narrow face. The girl would never be truly pretty. But she had a generous, loving heart—like her mother—that carried a beauty of its own. She reached a hand across the table and clasped Sabrina’s.

“If you lived in Boise, you would most assuredly be invited. And you would be the belle of the ball, too.”

“I don’t know how to dance,” Sabrina confessed in a whisper, her hazel eyes wide with worry.

“Oh my,” Rachel responded with a frown.

“That is a problem. We must fix it immediately. Put your book down and stand up.” Moving briskly around the room, Rachel shoved chairs back against the walls, clearing a wide space in the middle of the room. Satisfied with her accomplishments, she turned toward Sabrina.

“Come here.” In moments, she’d instructed the child how to stand, how to hold her partner’s hand, how to follow the man’s lead.

“You must always smile while you’re dancing, as if you know a secret that your partner doesn’t know,” she ended, then began to move to the imaginary music, drawing Sabrina along with her.

“Just relax and enjoy. That’s the most important part.” Sabrina gripped Rachel’s hand as if it was a lifeline. She kept stumbling over her own feet. Rachel laughed.

“Relax, Brina. Dancing is supposed to be fun.”

“I’ll never get it,” the girl answered, barely controlling tears.

“No one gets it right the first time. It’s easier when you see others dancing.”

“Will you show me with Pa?” Rachel stopped abruptly.

“Well, I-”

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Dru said, drawing Rachel’s gaze. Rachel hesitated.

“Maybe it would be better if you just danced with your pa,” she told Sabrina.

“He’ll know how to lead a dance much better than I.”

“Please show me,” Sabrina pleaded. She heard his steps on the wooden floor. Her heart was yammering in her chest. Oh lord! This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

“May I, Miss Harris?” Her mouth was so dry she could scarcely speak.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t.” She turned and looked up into Gavin’s darkly handsome face.

“Your head-”

“It quit aching hours ago.” He held out his arms for her. She stepped into them. They fit her like a fine kid glove. They seemed to be made for holding her. He began to sway slowly from side to side, then, as he hummed a soft melody, they began to twirl around the room. Rachel stared up into his eyes. She felt mesmerized by the look in the steely gray depths. She knew she should look away but was helpless to do so. They spun to a halt in the middle of the sitting room. Her skirts swished around her ankles, then stilled. Rachel drew her hand from his as she stepped backward.

“Thank you for the dance, Miss Harris.” Gavin bowed his head.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered. Suddenly, Dru and the girls were applauding.

“That was wonderful. Beautiful,” Dru cried. Gavin was still staring at her with dark, enigmatic eyes, causing her breath to catch in her throat. She was frightened by the swirling emotions that threatened to engulf her. Frightened by the wanting that heated her to the core of her soul. Rachel turned quickly away from him, breaking the spell.

“Your turn, Brina. Dance with your father.” Still shaken by his touch, Rachel walked stiffly to the table and sat down. She fought for composure, praying that there was no trace left on her face of her confused emotions. Hearing the laughter, she looked up to find father and daughter whirling at a mad pace around the room. Dru and Petula were trying to sing but kept breaking into giggles. Dru’s face was flushed with color and her eyes sparkled merrily. I don’t belong here.

But, God help her, it was where she wanted to be. As suddenly as the temperatures dropped and the blizzard arrived, warming winds came to melt the snowfall. Water dripped from the eaves of the house and barn. Brown, muddy spots of earth appeared in the yard. In a few days, all traces of the snow would be gone, and they would be able to leave the basin. Gavin tossed another rake of hay over the side of the stall, then leaned on the top rail as the black gelding buried his nose in the feed, searching for the most delectable shoots.

“We’ll be on our way out in a couple of days, fella,” he said aloud. Scamp’s ears twitched.

“Yeah. Guess it makes no difference to you.” He shoved off from the rail, turning toward the barn door. He’d be busy the next day or two, closing things up, getting the place ready for winter. Then they would load up and leave, head back to the Lucky Strike. It was time. Past time. They needed to get out of this valley. They needed to get out, see some other people, say howdy to their neighbors. Things were too close here, too secluded. He needed to keep busy, get his mind back to the business of ranching instead of thinking so much on… He didn’t allow himself to finish that train of thought. It could only cause trouble. Gavin walked across the yard, opened the cabin door, and stepped inside. He took off his coat and hung it on the nearest peg.

“It’s warming up out there,” He said as he turned around. Dru was seated in her rocking chair near the fireplace, a bundle of mending on the rug near her feet, needle and thread in her hands.

“We’ll be out of here in a couple of days or so.” She nodded, but it was easy to see the thought didn’t make her happy. As he walked toward her, he said, “Spring will be here before you know it.” She smiled sadly up at him, her hands falling idle in her lap.

“I always loved to see spring come. It’s so beautiful here when the wildflowers are in bloom.” He rested his hand on her shoulder, squeezing his fingers in wordless acknowledgment.

Rachel’s bedroom door opened, drawing their attention. She stepped into the sitting room wearing a gray cashmere walking outfit that displayed her delicate figure to perfection. It was amply bustled and flounced and totally preposterous for the rough log cabin. Preposterous but positively beautiful. “where are the girls?” she asked. Dru set aside her mending.

“Outside playing.”

“May I speak with the two of you a moment?” Rachel moved across the room, the hem of her dress swishing against the floor as she walked.

“Of course,” Dru replied. Rachel’s hands were folded in front of her. Gavin could see that her fingernails were biting into her flesh. Her expression was strained, and she was obviously avoiding looking at him.

“I did a lot of thinking last night after I went to bed,” she began.

“I just don’t think I can be happy up here. I’m very fond of Brina and Pet. Please understand that. They’re wonderful children and bright and easy to teach.” She was talking very fast, her words beginning to run together.

“But you see, I miss my family, and I began thinking about the ball and the other winter activities that I’ll be missing in Boise. With Tucker being a judge, we get invited to so many wonderful parties. And the theater season is always grand and …” She glanced up at him at last, her words dying away. Color flared in her cheeks before she dropped her gaze back to her folded hands. He’d been right about her after all. She couldn’t cut it up here. Things were too tough for her. She wanted her fancy dresses and her balls and parties and all the wonderful things money could buy.

“I think I should return to Boise as soon as we’re able to leave the basin,” she ended softly. Gavin stepped away from Dru, turning toward the door as he did so.

“You’ll have to wait for the stage in Challis.” He slipped his arm back into his coat sleeve.

“I’ll check on the girls.” He slammed the door behind him. Rachel felt the door slamming in her heart as well as hearing it with her ears. She wished she could retreat to her room and have a good cry, but she couldn’t. Not quite yet.

“I’m sorry, Dru. I thought I could do this, but I was wrong.”

“Sit down, and let’s talk a while.”

“I can’t help it.”

“Sit down, Rachel,” Dru insisted gently. She sat on the edge of the chair nearest Dru. She unconsciously continued to twist and wring her hands in her lap. Dru emitted a short sigh.

“When you took this job, you promised to stay through spring. I’m afraid I must hold you to that.”

“But I ..”

“I’m very ill, Rachel, and I’m going to get worse. My daughters love you. They’re going to need you more than you know. You can’t leave them now. They’ve suffered too much already. Please … keep your promise to me and to them.” It was so unfair. Dru didn’t know what she was asking, and yet, Rachel couldn’t find the words to deny her the heartfelt request. She had promised she would stay through spring. She knew that Dru was very ill. Dying even. How could she go away and leave Sabrina and Petula to face that alone? Gavin will need me too. Guilt stabbed at her heart.

“Dru, you don’t understand. I really think…”

“I understand much more than you think, my dear. Please. You must stay. For everyone’s sake.”

“All right, Dru. I’ll stay.” The journey to the main ranch, located twenty miles out of Challis, was a long and tiring one. There was no wagon road to follow, just an invisible path along a series of creeks and rivers, cutting through the mountains and valleys. Gavin led the way on his black gelding, picking his way among the trees, climbing hillsides, crossing creek beds, and selecting campsites. Sabrina and Petula followed on Princess. The docile mare seemed oblivious to the closed basket, holding an unhappy Countess and her mewing kittens, that was strapped to her saddle. Dru followed behind her children, riding her own palomino mare. She said little during the day. It seemed to

Rachel that the woman grew weaker by the hour, and she knew the trip was taking longer than normal to accommodate plenty of rest stops. The journey seemed all the longer for Rachel because of her plodding steed. Patch, the cantankerous old work horse, was her only choice of transportation, short of walking all the way out. Her sidesaddle wouldn’t fit the animal’s broad back, and she felt precarious riding astride the draft horse. But the big mare’s teammate, Checker, had an even broader back and more wretched gait, although she did have a somewhat more pleasant disposition; she followed behind on a lead rope, tethered to Patch’s saddle horn, oblivious to the wooden cage holding several squawking chickens that was strapped across her back. The two milk cows and Sabrina’s orphaned calf trotted along beside them, kept in line by a rambunctious Joker. The young wolfhound seemed to have learned a few things from his parents, but his enthusiasm got him into trouble a time or two with Patch. More than once, as Joker chased the calf between the two work horses, Patch sent a swift kick in his direction, nearly unseating Rachel. Luckily for Joker, he was faster than the horse, but his antics didn’t go far toward endearing the mutt to Rachel. Twilight was already spreading a gray mantle over the serene countryside as Gavin led his tired band of travelers into the yard of the Lucky Strike, six days after departing the Stanley Basin. Rachel was too weary to take more than a cursory glance about her before sliding from Patch’s broad back with a sigh of relief. She leaned momentarily against the horse, waiting for strength to return to her legs. She ached from head to toe and wanted nothing more than a hot bath to soothe her sore muscles.

Stubs and Jess Chamberlain appeared out of the bunkhouse. Stubs exchanged a few words with Gavin about the trail drive out of the basin as he lifted the girls down from Princess’s back. Gavin nodded absently.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Take care of the livestock, will you, Stubs?”

“Sure thing.” Gavin’s voice softened.

“Just hold onto my neck,” he said as he held his arms out toward Dru. Rachel watched as Dru slipped from the saddle into Gavin’s strong embrace. The woman’s head nestled into the curve of his shoulder and neck, her fingers laced behind him. She looked terribly small and fragile. Gavin turned and his gaze collided with Rachel’s. The gentle tone disappeared.

“I’ll need your help,” he said abruptly, then strode up the porch steps and into the ranch house. Rachel didn’t know which she wanted more—to be furious at him for his tone of voice or to burst into tears of frustration. But she hadn’t the strength for either. Besides, she thought as she pushed herself away from Patch and started after Gavin, it was what she’d wanted. She’d purposefully set out to make him see her as shallow and selfish. And it appeared she had succeeded. all too well.

Chapter Fourteen

Rachel sat up in her bed, her blankets tucked snugly around her. She stared at the cold black iron stove across the room from her. Perhaps it wasn’t going to be so wonderful having a cabin all to herself if it meant having the fire go out every night. Well, it wasn’t going to get any warmer in here unless she did something about it. With a swift motion, she threw back the covers and hurried over to the stove. She filled its darkened belly with wood and kindling, thankful for the tiny bit of warmth she felt emanating from the coals in the bottom. By the time she’d struck her fourth match, her teeth were chattering so hard her face hurt. But, at last, the fire took hold. She waited just long enough to make sure it was going to keep burning, then hustled back to her bed and leapt beneath the quilts. Impatient though she was, it wasn’t long before the fire began to take the chill from the room, and she was able to relax and survey her surroundings. She’d been too tired last night to care what the small cabin looked like. As long as it had a bed, she was satisfied. In the pale light of morning, she was pleasantly surprised by her new lodgings. The cabin had only a single room, but it was a comfortable size. In addition to the stove and the bed, there was room for a table and chairs, as well as a sideboard for dishes and a cupboard for storing food supplies. There were curtains over the lone window, no doubt hung there by Dru, and a rag rug covering the board floor. It had been Gavin’s home before he married Dru. Her pulse quickened. It had been Gavin’s bed before he married Dru. A strange heat spread through her loins. An aching heat. She snuggled down beneath the covers and closed her eyes. She forced herself to take several slow, deep breaths as she silently lectured herself. She couldn’t allow herself to think such things. Besides, she was mistaken about her feelings for Gavin Blake. He was an attractive man—there was no denying that—but her feelings for him were no different than what she felt for Dru and her daughters. They were a nice family who’d had their share of heartache and hard times. She liked them all and wanted to do her job well for them. That was all there was to it. All there would ever be. And once spring came, and Gavin was ready to take his family and his cattle back into the basin, Rachel would return to Boise. She would most likely marry one of Boise’s up-and-coming men of business. They would have a fine home on Main Street or Grove and she would entertain the good women of the city and she would raise a family and she would be happy. That had no doubt been her destiny all along. Look what had come of her silliness, thinking that something special, something unique was in store for her. Look what had come of her leaving home, of her trying to make something extraordinary happen. What had ever made her think that she deserved more than the next person?

“Silliness and bother,” she said aloud, her voice echoing in the silence of the cabin.

“That’s all this is. I’m homesick.

Nothing more.” With a sweep of her hand, she tossed her tousled blond locks behind her shoulder and once more lowered her feet over the side of the bed. She hadn’t time for lollygagging in bed. Dru shouldn’t have to worry about preparing the family’s breakfast. Rachel had been hired to do a job, and it was time she got to it. She dressed with haste. She intentionally didn’t fuss with her hair in front of the mirror, being satisfied to simply tie it back from her face with a ribbon. She slipped into her coat, then opened the door to the chilled mountain air. Ribbons of smoke curled skyward from the chimneys of both the main house and the bunkhouse, and there was the delicious odor of frying bacon lingering in the air. Tardy again. Feeling chagrined, she hurried toward the ranch house. She knocked on the front door and waited for the command to enter. It was Gavin’s voice that called to her. As she came through the door, he looked up from his place by the stove. Pork sizzled and spat from a frying pan as he flipped it with a fork.