Promise Me Spring

The horses plodded along, plowing through occasional snowdrifts, while the dogs raced ahead, then came back to see what was keeping horses and riders so long. The skating pond was frozen solid, as Gavin had known it would be. The wind had swept most of the snow from the crystal-smooth surface, and it didn’t take him long to finish the task, using a broken tree limb from a nearby pine tree.

Petula shivered inside her coat.

“Why couldn’t Miss Harris come with us?”

“She’s busy,” Gavin answered without looking at her.

“What am I gonna do while you skate? I’m cold.”

“I told you. I’ll carry you.” Gavin leaned over to strap on the blades.

“What if you fall? It’ll hurt my arm.”

“For cryin’ out loud, Pet! I’m not going to fall.” Great teardrops clung to her lower lashes as she stared at him with wide brown eyes. Her lips were pressed tightly together and her chin quivered. Gavin sighed.

“I’m sorry, Pet. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just thought it would be fun to get out of the house. We haven’t done anything together for a long time. I thought you’d like to come skating. I promise to be real careful so you won’t get hurt. I’m a good skater, remember?” Petula sniffed and dashed away her tears as she nodded.

“But I still don’t see why Miss Harris couldn’t’ve come,” she added in a whisper. Rachel turned slowly, her eyes moving over the airy main room of the ranch house. There wasn’t anything fancy about it. The furnishings were plain and simple and sparse, but they were also solid and built to last. Dru had made the rag rugs that covered the wood floors and the pillows that rested against the backs of the chairs.

Gavin’s own hands had fashioned the large table and the sideboards. Rachel was leaving a few of her own touches. She’d made the curtains hanging in the children’s bedroom, and the dried flower arrangement on the table was hers too. She wondered if Gavin wanted them out of his sight along with her. She decided to leave them. Perhaps, in time, he wouldn’t think so badly of her and would be glad to have them. Or perhaps he didn’t even know she’d made them. Joker brushed his head beneath her hand. She looked down at the scruffy-looking animal.

“Why didn’t you go with the others?” she asked, kneeling beside the dog.

“Mangy hound.” She scratched his ears.

“You’ve been a thorn in my side from the day we met.” She buried her face in his wiry coat and fought back the tears. The door opened behind her, and she heard Stubs’ footsteps on the floor.

“Got your trunk loaded on the sled.” She rose from the floor.

“You take care of everybody for me, Joker,” she whispered. She completed her circle, her eyes continuing to caress each nook and cranny of the log house.

“All right, Stubs. I’m ready.” She walked past him and out to the waiting sled, climbing onto the wagon seat without waiting for the cowboy’s assistance. She pulled the hood of her cloak up over her head and clutched it tightly beneath her chin. She refused to turn her head to look at Stubs when he joined her on the seat.

“Where to, Miss Harris?” Disapproval was clear in his clipped question.

“Challis.” There was a pause.

“But I thought–”

“I’m going to catch the stage for home.”

“The wedding’s to take place in Boise?”

“I broke off the engagement with Mr. O’Donnell yesterday. There isn’t going to be any wedding.”

“Does Gavin know that?” Rachel turned her head and met the man’s direct gaze.

“It wouldn’t make any difference if he did. May we please get started? I want to be gone before he returns with the children. There’s no point in upsetting them more than necessary.” He opened his mouth as if to speak, then clamped it shut. With a shake of his head, he slapped the reins, and the team surged forward. More than anything else, Rachel wanted to twist on the wagon seat and look back at the house and outbuildings. She wanted to memorize every board, every window. Very soon, memories would be all she would have. But she resisted. If she looked back, she would fall apart. Joker’s barking announced his arrival. He galloped beyond, then circled the trotting horses and wagon bed, returning to Rachel’s side of the sled. His long tongue lolled out the corner of his mouth as he ran beside them.

“Go back, Joker,” Rachel shouted at him.

“No point in tellin’ him t’git. He’s taken a particular likin’ to you. Prob’ly senses you’re goin’. I’ll bring him back home with me. Won’t do him no harm to follow us into town.”

She remembered the first time she’d seen the unruly hound. She remembered the way he’d jumped up on her, soiling her blouse and pushing her to the ground. She remembered Gavin’s laughter. Your dog, no doubt, she’d said to him. Lord, she was even going to miss that stupid dog.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Yes, ma’am. Sometimes the stage is getting’ through now, but it’ll be Saturday ‘fore the next one is due in. Might be here. Might not. Can’t never tell this time o’ year.”

“Saturday?” Rachel stared at the man behind the counter.

“But that’s four days.”

“Yes’m. Reckon it is at that.”

“Rachel?” Stubs’ hand touched her shoulder.

“Why don’t I just take you back to the Lucky Strike? I’ll bring you into town on Saturday.” She swung around to look at him.

“No,” she said emphatically.

“I can’t go back with you.”

“Well, I don’t take too well to leavin’ you alone in town. The man’s right. Never can tell about the stage in the winter. It can get snowed in by one of the passes. You could be here for a couple weeks even.”

“Weeks?” she repeated softly. She mentally calculated the amount of money in her reticule.

“Come on, then.” Stubs took hold of her elbow.

“Let me take you back.”

“No. I am not going back to the ranch, and that’s final. You may take me to the hotel. I will be perfectly all right until the stage arrives.”

“Obstinate fools, the both of you,” he muttered as he escorted her out of the stage line office. Stubs couldn’t understand how much she

longed to return with him to the Lucky Strike, but she’d said her good-byes, however privately, and couldn’t bear to go through it again. And Gavin? He would be furious if he should find her there. No, she would have to stay in Challis and wait. There wasn’t anything fancy about the hotel Stubs took her to, but it was clean and affordable and far enough away from the nearest saloon to remain reasonably quiet at night. Stubs was still frowning as he stood in the door of her hotel room.

“What’re you gonna do about getting’ your trunk to the stage? It’s too heavy for you to drag over there.”

“I’m sure I can hire someone to take it over for me. Please don’t worry about me anymore, Stubs. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not so sure.” She felt her self-control slipping. In another moment, she would burst into tears in front of him, and she didn’t want that.

“I’m going to lie down now and rest. Thank you again.”

He touched the brim of his hat.

“It’s been a pleasure, Rachel.”

“Good-bye,” she managed to whisper.

“Take care of everyone for me.” The door closed behind him. Rachel sank onto the bed. The sob she’d been holding in all day tore its way up from her chest, and she curled into a tight ball in the center of the bed and gave herself over to tears. He’d done it for her own good as well as his. He’d had to be cruel. He hadn’t had any choice. They weren’t good for each other. Hadn’t been from the start. They would only have made things worse if she’d stayed even one more day. This way, at least, she could have the rich husband she wanted. Perhaps Patrick would never know what had happened. She’d been a virgin. Why had she thrown her virtue away on him? Wasn’t she smart enough to know it could ruin everything for her? She could be pregnant with his child even now. What if she and Patrick still didn’t plan to wed until summer? Everyone would know what she’d done. Why had she come so willingly to his bed? Rachel walked along the boardwalk toward the hotel as dusk fell over the town. She had to pass several saloons on her way back from the restaurant, and she’d already had to skirt two scrubby-looking men who were well into their cups despite the earliness of the hour. She wondered if a drink of whiskey might be the cure for what ailed her. Could alcohol heal a broken heart? And even if it couldn’t, she wouldn’t care as long as it brought her just a few hours of oblivion, a short respite from the pain. But, of course, she didn’t dare go into a saloon, nor did she really want to find solace in drink. She just wanted to get back to Maggie. Maggie would help her make sense of it all.

“Rachel!” She stopped and turned at the familiar voice.

“Sure but I never thought to see you in town,” Patrick said as he strode across the street and stepped up onto the sidewalk.

“What are you…?” He stopped abruptly as he looked down at her face.

“Rachel, my lovely, what’s wrong?”

“I’m going home,” she answered. A sudden crash of glass and wood sounded from a nearby saloon.

“Here. Let’s get you off the street.

“Tis not safe for you t’be out alone at night. What’s Gavin thinkin’? Where is he?” She felt too tired for explanations.

“Gavin’s not with me. I’m alone.” The truth of those words cut her like a knife.

“I’m all alone,” she repeated.

“Rachel…” His big hands closed gently over her arms.

“Tell me what’s happened.” She lifted her chin in a show of mock strength.

“I’ve left the Lucky Strike. I’m going home to Boise as soon as the stage comes. Until then, I’m staying at the Gumbel Hotel.”

“Come on, then.” He started walking, pulling her along with him.

“I’ll not have you stayin’ alone. You’ll come with me to Killarney Hall. Pearl will see you have a hot bath and a good night’s sleep, and then you can tell me all about it.”

“I’m going home.”

“Fine. If it’s to Boise you’re determined to go, I’ll see you get there myself.”

“Oh, Patrick.” She felt the threat of tears returning.

“I can’t let you ..”

“There’s no letting to it. I’ll have my way in this, and there’ll be no argument from you.” Petula’s wan face was streaked with tears.

“Can I lay down, Pa? I don’t feel like doin’ school work today.”

“Sure. Go ahead,” Gavin answered, feeling as miserable as the little girl looked.

“I think I’ll go with her,” Sabrina said as she closed the history book she’d been reading. They’d been like this for three days now, ever since they’d returned from the skating pond and found that Rachel was gone. He’d made up some story about her needing to be at Killarney Hall to get ready for her wedding. It sounded like a lame excuse even to him, and he doubted if either of the girls believed him. Sabrina had said Miss Harris would never leave without saying good-bye to them unless something terrible happened. Petula had kept asking if they couldn’t go to Mr. O’Donnell’s to make sure she was all right. She hadn’t taken his negative response well. It seemed to Gavin that everywhere he looked, he could still see signs of Rachel. There were the curtains at the windows and the flowers on the table and the dresses that the children wore and even the buttons on his shirt. The reminders were relentless, and he knew he missed her as much as the children did. He more than missed her. He needed her. He’d been a fool not to admit it to himself sooner. Maybe if he had, she would have been engaged to him instead of Patrick O’Donnell. After all, she’d seemed happy enough here with the children. He couldn’t give her the things Patrick could, but he could promise she wouldn’t ever be in want. And Sabrina and Petula would give her plenty of love. Ah, hell! Who was he kidding? Why would she choose him when she could have a life of ease with Patrick? And why would he want her? She’d shown her true self when she’d come to his bed while intending to marry another. He’d been right about her all along. So why didn’t he feel right about her? Why did he feel like the one in the wrong? Why did this sense of

foreboding persist? Finding no answers, Gavin put on his coat and went outside. The air was crisp, the sun brilliant. Icicles dripped from the eaves, and the snow was mushy underfoot. He found Stubs in the barn, repairing Patch’s stall railing.

“Look what that piece of buzzard meat did last night,” Stubs said as Gavin approached him.

“I swear I’d like t’take a two by four and put it right between her eyes.”

“I’ve thought of it myself a time or two.” Stubs drove a nail through the board.

“Got us a bit of a thaw today. Stage oughta make it up from Boise after all.”

“You expecting something?”

“Not me.” Stubs straightened.

“Just be glad to know Miss Harris isn’t stayin’ in town alone anymore.” Gavin stiffened.

“What are you talking about? Isn’t she at Patrick’s?”

“Nope. Had me take her to town to try to catch the stage, but she had to wait a few days.” He sent a hard glare toward Gavin.

“Seems she broke off her engagement with Mr. O’Donnell the day I took her callin’ on him. Day before she left here.”

“Broke off? But I thought…”

“Seems to me you ain’t done enough of the right kind of thinkin’, Gav. My guess is you sent that girl away when what everybody wanted most was for her to stay for good. You included.” He scratched his head.

“You most of all.”

“Why didn’t you tell me where you’d taken her?”

“I shouldn’t’ve had to.” Please, Gavin. You must let me explain. What had he done? She’d been going to tell him about Patrick, but he wouldn’t let her. Oh, God. She’d looked at him with love in her eyes, and he’d been too blind, too stupid to see it for what it was. He’d been so sure she would prove him right about women, he hadn’t noticed she’d been teaching him all along how wrong he was. He spun toward his saddle, perched on a saddle tree near the barn door. In several quick strides, he’d picked it up, along with the blanket and bridle, and was walking toward Scamp’s stall. Wordlessly, he entered and began saddling the black gelding.

“Goin’ somewhere?” Stubs asked.

“Where’s she staying?”

“The Gumbel.” Gavin led the gelding out of the stall and headed toward the door.

“Yeah?” He opened the door, then swung up onto the saddle.

“You bring her back. She belongs here.”

“I mean to do my best, Stubs.” Bundled beneath fur-lined lap robes, Rachel watched as the snowy landscape slipped away. Patrick had tried to convince her to stay at Killarney Hall just one more night, but she’d insisted that either they left at once or he took her back to Challis where she could meet the stage. Finally, he’d given in and they had departed. Rachel was going home to Boise, but her heart had yet to leave the Lucky Strike.

Chapter Thirty

Despite his promise to Stubs, Gavin returned home without Rachel. In Challis, he’d found that Patrick had taken her to Killarney Hall. He rode quickly to the O’Donnell place, only to learn that Patrick and Rachel had left for Boise that morning.

“He’s only seeing her home, Mr. Blake,” Pearl had told him.

“Rachel hasn’t changed her mind about marrying him, although Patrick did his best to make her see the light.” As night fell over the Lucky Strike, Gavin sat staring into the fire. He would leave the next morning. He would go after her, and somehow he would convince her to return with him. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do it, but he was going to do it. Sabrina wandered out of her bedroom around midnight, complaining of a sore throat. When he touched her forehead, he found her burning with fever. Petula too sickened during the night. Stubs left for the doctor before dawn.

“Influenza,” Dr. Forester said in a low voice as he turned toward Gavin two hours later.

“Both of them. I’d heard there was an outbreak up in the camps, but I was hoping we wouldn’t see it here.”

“Is it serious?”

“Influenza’s always serious, Mr. Blake.” The doctor led the way out of the children’s bedroom.

“We’ll have to do what we can to break the fever. Get lots of fluids into them. They’re both strong girls. With God’s grace, we’ll see them through this.” Dr. Forester’s meaning was clear. They could die. Both of them. Rachel, I need you. But Rachel wasn’t there. She didn’t know the children were sick. He would have to get through this without her. But so help him, when this was over, he was going after her. He was going to make sure they went through the rest of their lives together. Patrick didn’t like the look of her. Rachel seemed to grow more and more pale with each passing day. She slept much of the time. When not asleep, she stared blankly into space, the expression on her beautiful face heartbreaking to behold. He’d traded his sleigh for a sturdy carriage once they left the snowy terrain behind, and he’d pushed the team of horses to the limits of their endurance, covering as much ground as possible between sunrise and sunset every day. But it still wasn’t fast enough to suit him. He was anxious to get her home to her sister. Patrick stopped the team on the crest of the ridge above the river valley. Boise City, their destination, sprawled between the snow-capped mountains and the tree-lined river. He turned in his seat and laid his hand on Rachel’s shoulder.

“Rachel? Wake up, my lovely.

“Tis home you are. Her eyes opened.

“Home?” She straightened and looked down at the capital city.

“I’m home,” she whispered. But her expression seemed to grow even more sad as she gazed into the valley.

“Home…”

“You’ll have to guide me to your sister’s.” Rachel pointed to the west of town.

“That way.” Patrick jiggled the reins and the team started forward.

“I’ve not been to Boise in some time.

“Tis grown and that’s the truth. Seems like a fine place.” Rachel nodded.

“I look forward to meeting Judge Branigan. He’s a fine and honest man, so I’ve heard.

“Tis not many that can be said of. And I’m eager to meet your sister too. If she’s anything like you, she must be a lovely woman.” Again she nodded. He wondered if she heard what he was saying or if he was

just talking to hear himself think. * Maggie slowed the buggy as it swung into the drive leading to the house. A strange carriage was standing near the hitching post. She wondered who might be calling so late in the afternoon.

“Who’s here, Mama?” Sheridan asked.

“I don’t know.” She felt an odd sense of apprehension. She stopped the horse and climbed out of the buggy. Sheridan hopped down from the other side and raced up the porch steps ahead of her.

“Sarah?” Maggie called as she opened the front door. The housekeeper was nowhere in sight.

“Who are you?” Sheridan demanded in the forthright manner of an almost-five-year-old as he stood in the archway leading to the parlor. Her gaze was drawn instantly in that direction. The stranger rose from the sofa, his hat in his hands. The expression on his face brought another surge of foreboding.

“Mrs. Branigan?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“I’m Patrick O’Donnell.” She wasn’t sure if she felt relief or not. She’d received Rachel’s letter, telling of her engagement to the Irishman, but she’d been troubled by the tone of the missive. It hadn’t read like a young woman in love.

“Sheridan,” she said softly, her hand on the boy’s shoulder, “why don’t you go to the kitchen and see what Cook is fixing for supper?”

“But I want to-” “Do as I say, Sheridan. I think she was baking cookies when we left.”

“With icing?” The boy hurried off toward the back of the house, shucking off his coat as he went. Maggie turned back toward her guest.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. O’Donnell. Rachel didn’t tell me you’d be coming to Boise when she wrote to me. I’m pleased to have a chance to get to know you. Won’t you have a seat? Can I get you something warm to drink?” He glanced toward the stairway leading to the second floor.

“I’ve brought Rachel back to Boise, Mrs. Branigan.” Maggie’s face broke into a smile.

“Rachel? She’s here?” She turned in the direction of his gaze, hoping to see her sister coming down the stairs.

“Mrs. Branigan…” His voice had an ominous tone, drawing her eyes back to him.

“She’s not well.”

“Where is she now?”

“I believe your housekeeper was seeing her to bed.” Maggie whirled away and raced up the stairs. She was met by Sarah outside Rachel’s bedroom. Sarah put her finger against her lips.

“She’s asleep, ma’am. I’ve sent for the doctor.”

“The doctor? Sarah, what’s wrong?” The housekeeper shook her head slowly.

“I’m not sure, Mrs. Branigan. She just seemed to collapse the minute she come through the door.

Perhaps the gentleman downstairs can tell you more.” Maggie turned the knob and opened the door, then moved silently across the bedroom. Rachel’s pale yellow hair spilled over the white pillowcase, and her fingers were curled around the edge of the blankets. She looked hardly more than a child to Maggie and frightfully frail. She sat on the edge of the chair beside the bed.

“I never should have let you go up there,” she whispered as she stared at her sister’s beloved face.

“I knew something would go wrong. I just knew it.”

“I won’t give you false hope, Mrs. Branigan. Your sister is a very sick young woman.” Dr. Weick rubbed his fingers across his furrowed forehead.

“What are you saying, doctor?” Maggie whispered.

“Are you saying my sister could die?”

“I’m afraid so, ma’am.” The doctor opened the door to Rachel’s bedroom.

“I’ll be back to check on her in the morning. Be sure you keep the children away from this room. Influenza is highly contagious, and it’s especially dangerous for the little ones.” Maggie turned around to stand at the foot of Rachel’s bed. She couldn’t believe that her sister’s life could be in danger. She was too young. She had so much before her. Love. Marriage. Children. Rachel moaned and turned her head on her pillow from side to side.

“Please… Let me explain…” Maggie moved around to the side of the bed. She leaned forward, taking hold of Rachel’s hand.

“Kitten, it’s Maggie. You’re home. Everything’s going to be all right now.”

“Gavin…” Rachel murmured.

“Please, Gavin…” Maggie straightened, a frown etching two vertical lines between her eyebrows.

“Get well, Rachel,” she whispered.

“Then you can tell me about Gavin.” The door eased open, and Sarah’s head poked through the opening.

“Mr. Branigan is home, ma’am. He’s in the parlor now with Mr. O’Donnell.”

“Mr. O’Donnell? Oh, my! I completely forgot he was here.” The door finished opening to allow the housekeeper entry.

“I’ll sit with Rachel while you go down, ma’am. It’ll take the two of us to see her through this. I already told Mr. Branigan that he’s not to come in this room until the danger’s passed.”

“Thank you, Sarah. What would I ever do without you?”

“That’s something you’ll not have to know, God willing.” Sarah’s smile was subdued.

“Now go on down to your husband. He’s mighty worried.” Maggie glanced at Rachel, then left the bedroom. She could hear the men’s muted voices as she walked toward the stairs, but she was stopped by the opening of Colleen’s door.

“Mother? Will Aunt Rachel be all right? Can I see her?”

“No, darling, I’m afraid you can’t see her. She has influenza. It’s very serious, and any of us could take ill from it. You’ll have to help keep everyone away from her room until she’s well again.” Tara Maureen appeared at her older sister’s side.

“I heard Sarah telling Cook that Aunt Rachel could die.” She would have to ask Sarah to be more careful about what she said, Maggie thought as she looked into her middle child’s wide green eyes.

“We’ll ask God in our prayers to spare her.” She smoothed Tara Maureen’s auburn hair back from her face, thinking how like Tuccker’s mother she looked. The girl had always been especially close to her Aunt Rachel.

“We mustn’t worry. We must keep our hopes up.”

“Will you tell her we love her?” twelve-year-old Colleen asked.

“Of course, dear.” She kissed her daughters on their cheeks.

“Now I must go downstairs and see your father. I’m sure he’s worried,

too, and I haven’t had a chance to speak with him yet.” She felt the tension mounting as she walked toward the stairs. It was just becoming real to her what the doctor had said. Not only could Rachel die, but the children were in danger too. How could this happen so suddenly? How could life be so easy and carefree one moment and so threatened with calamity the next?

As always in a time of crisis, Maggie hurried toward the shelter of Tucker’s arms. She knew that within his embrace she would find the strength to face whatever lay ahead of them. It had always been so.

Chapter Thirty-One

It was hot. So hot. And her throat burned. It hurt whenever she swallowed. And the coughing. Sometimes, she thought she wouldn’t be able to draw in another gasp of air for the coughing. There was a heavy weight on her chest, crushing the life from her. Why didn’t Gavin come? She’d called and called for him, and still he didn’t come. Why was he leaving her alone with these strangers? Gavin, let me explain. But he wouldn’t. He hated her. He didn’t care if she lived or died. I love you, Gavin. Even she didn’t care if she lived or died.

“Here. Drink this, Rachel.” She felt the fingers slip behind her head, easing her up from the pillow even as a glass was pressed against her lips. The tea was warm and felt good as it glided down her sore throat. She opened her eyes to see the kindly woman who was so tenderly administering to her. It took a moment for her eyes to focus.

“Maggie?” The word came out a hoarse croak.

“Yes, Kitten. It’s me.”

“Why are you here? Where’s Gavin?”

“You’re home, Rachel. Mr. O’Donnell brought you. Don’t you remember?” Her memory was fuzzy. It was difficult to recall anything.

“Patrick’s here?” She closed her eyes.

“He’s in town at the Overland. He didn’t want to leave until he knew you would recover. He’s a nice man.” Rachel didn’t reply. The cobwebs were beginning to clear, allowing the memories to return with sharp clarity. The night in Gavin’s bed. His scorching rejection of her. The nights in the Gumbel Hotel while waiting for the stage. The ride to Killarney Hall in Patrick’s sleigh. Her insistence on returning to Boise, and Patrick’s insistence on bringing her. But mostly she remembered Gavin—the way he’d looked, the way he’d sounded when he said he wanted her off the Lucky Strike. She’d given him her heart, her body, her soul, and he had despised her gift of love. She groaned and turned her head toward the wall. Why hadn’t she died? She should have died. This hurt too much. She couldn’t bear it. She couldn’t.

“You rest now, Kitten,” Maggie said softly as her fingers brushed Rachel’s forehead.

“We’ll talk more later.” Rachel nodded. She wanted Maggie to leave before the hot tears fell from beneath closed eyelids. She couldn’t talk about it. Not to anyone. It was her private shame, her personal heartache. She couldn’t share this, not even with Maggie.

“I’ll be goin’ back to the ranch tomorrow, now that I know the lass is out of danger.”

“I’m afraid she isn’t up to company as yet, Mr. O’Donnell. Don’t you want to wait until she can see you? I know she’ll want to thank you for everything you did.”

““Tis not me she wants to see,” he replied in a solemn tone.

“But I would like a few words with you, Mrs. Branigan, before I go.” Maggie motioned the big man into the parlor.

“Of course, Mr. O’Donnell. You’re always welcome.” Patrick twisted his hat in his hands as he sat across from her. He reminded her a little of Tucker’s cousin, Keegan, the most Irish of the Branigan clan. Keegan had always had a big heart and usually a smile to match. She imagined that Patrick did too—most of the time.

“I told you Rachel had called off our engagement before I brought her back to Boise. I think you must know I love the lass and would do my best to make her happy. But I never could do it. She’s lost her heart elsewhere.”

“Gavin Blake,” Maggie murmured.

“So she’s told you.”

“No. I—I just guessed.”

“Mrs. Branigan-”

“Why don’t you call me Maggie?” He nodded and gave her an appreciative smile.

“Maggie, I’m not sure what happened between Rachel and Gavin that sent her back here. Not sure I’d want to know. But ‘tis easy to see the wrong of her being’ here when she belongs up north. And ‘tis something’ that shouldn’t be. Gavin loves her and she loves him.” Maggie sat up a little straighter.

“Are you sure of that?”

“As sure as I’ve ever been of anything. I knew all along that Rachel didn’t love me, but I was hopin’ she would with time. Then I saw the way it was between them, and I knew it wouldn’t happen.” Maggie recalled Gavin Blake from their one and only meeting as tall and darkly handsome. Tucker had taken his measure and not found him wanting. Maggie had noted his gentleness with his wife. His wife … That was the thing that troubled Maggie the most. Mrs. Blake had passed away only two months before. Did Gavin truly love Rachel or had he only turned to her in his grief? And just how much had he turned to her? She thought of the way Rachel had called for Gavin in her fevered sleep. It was more than influenza that had made her sister ill. It was a problem with her heart. Patrick rose abruptly from the sofa, placing his hat over his bright shock of red hair.

“I’ll be on my way.” He headed out of the room. Maggie followed after him. When he turned at the door, she offered him her hand.

“Thanks again for all you did. You’re always welcome in our home, Mr. O’Donnell.”

“Patrick. The name is Patrick.” He grinned.

“Patrick,” she repeated, mirroring his smile.

“Maggie…” His hand tightened around hers.

“About Rachel and Gavin … You may think I’m filled with blarney, but I think they were fated to be together. Don’t be hard on her for.. .” He seemed to search for the right words, then shrugged.

“Tell the lass I’ll be lookin’ forward to seem’ her again.” Maggie watched as he walked down the steps and climbed into his carriage. He

waved as he picked up the reins, and she returned the motion before closing the door against the January chill. She turned and gazed up the stairs. She wished she could be as sure as Patrick O’Donnell about what the fates had ordained. As soon as Sabrina and Petula were out of danger, Gavin’s thoughts returned to Rachel. He knew he had to go after her. He knew he had to tell her how wrong he’d been and how much he needed her. He might not be able to win her forgiveness, but he had to try.

He wasn’t sure if he cared much for these feelings. It had started with Dru, teaching him to trust just a little bit. Then it had been the two girls, wriggling their way into his affections with laughter and smiles and tears. And finally, there was Rachel, penetrating what was left of his resolve to remain detached. It had been a whole lot easier when he’d kept his feelings in check. He hadn’t had anything at risk. People could come and go from his life without it bothering him one way or another. But no more. Rachel, the children—they were his life. Such were Gavin’s thoughts when the loud pounding sounded on the door. He left the bedroom doorway, where he’d been standing and watching the children sleep. He strode quickly toward the door, hoping to stop the racket before it woke the girls. Almost immediately after he pulled open the door, Patrick’s meaty fist grabbed him by the collar and jerked him outside.

“Sure but I think I should knock some sense into that fool head of yours, Gavin Blake! I thought you a better man than this. You think I can’t guess what it is you’ve done? ‘you think I wouldn’t like to break your neck in two? Shame on you, man. If you weren’t a friend o’ mine-” Gavin pried Patrick’s fingers free from his shirt collar.

“Did she come back with you, Patrick?”

“Come back with me?” the Irishman exclaimed.

“Faith, she was lyin’ at death’s own door when I got her to Boise. I have only her sister’s word that she’s getting’ well again.” Gavin’s stomach dropped, and it was his turn to grab the other man’s shirt.

“What are you talking about?”

“The doctor called it the influenza. But if you’d’ve bothered to come after her like you should have, you’d have known it for yourself.” Gavin released his hold on Patrick’s shirt and turned toward the house.

“Brina and Pet have been sick with it, too. We nearly lost Pet last week. I couldn’t leave them.”

“Sorry, mate, I didn’t know.”

“Come inside. I’ve got coffee on the stove.” Patrick followed him into the house, closing the door behind him.

“The wee lass—is she—”

“Dr. Forester says she’s going to be fine. Sabrina too. I’ve been waiting for him to say they’re completely out of danger so I can leave.” Gavin turned from the stove, coffeepot in hand.

“I have some business in Boise City to see to.”

“You have at that,” Patrick agreed. He sat down at the table and accepted the cup of coffee from Gavin’s hand.

“Why not let them come stay at Killarney. It would bring Pearl a joy to have them there. And me too.” Gavin couldn’t help frowning as he looked across the table.

“So, you’re wonderin’ why I would do such a thing for the worthless likes of you.

“Tis not because you’re my friend, though you are. If I thought keepin’ you away would win her for myself, I would do it. But it wouldn’t. She would have you or no one.”

“She told you that?” Gavin leaned forward, forearms resting on the table.

“Faith and begorra! Do you think she would tell me such a thing? I’ve got eyes, man. I could see it for myself.” A faint glimmer of hope began to shine in Gavin’s heart.

“Do you think there’s a chance she’ll forgive me?”

“Not if she’s got any sense in that pretty head o’ hers.” Gavin feared Patrick was right. Patrick grunted in disgust.

“Would you give up with such little discouragement? You’ll have to go through more than that, I fear. When she’s over the hurt, there’s going to be fury to replace it.” Gavin nodded. He might not know much about women, but he knew Patrick was right about that. And he deserved her anger. He deserved everything he could imagine she might think about him or say to him. But if there was any hope she might still love him after what he did, he would gladly face the furnaces of hell to win her back.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The large parlor windows gave Rachel a clear view of the tall cottonwoods and poplars that lined the river. Sunlight streamed through the bare winter branches, revealing deserted bird nests and the tree house Tucker and Kevin had built one long ago summer. Rachel smiled as she remembered the way father and son had scrambled up the boards they had pounded into the tree at intervals, and the way Maggie had stood down below, telling them she would tan the hide of the first one who fell and broke something. She twisted on the sofa and lowered her legs to the floor, allowing her gaze to move slowly about the room. It felt good to be downstairs again, good to be surrounded by so many familiar things. She’d been wrong to ever want to leave. She’d been wrong to think she should go out and make her own future. She belonged here. Not with. She cut that thought short, as she always did. She refused to think of him. Refused to let him enter her mind for even a second. He’d been a mistake and nothing more. Nothing more. What had ever made her think she could love such a man? He’d been rude to her from the very start. It meant nothing to her that he’d been tender with Dru, that he was so wonderful with the children. She didn’t even remember those hours with him in the barn, while he held her and shared his warmth as the blizzard raged outside. She couldn’t recall that afternoon up on the ridge when they ran and played with the children, laughter ringing through the trees. She’d already forgotten the blue-black of his hair, the steel-gray of his eyes, the broadness of his chest and the strength of his arms. She had no memory of the night

she’d spent in his bed, feeling his hands run over her skin, tasting his lips upon hers, reveling in the power of his body as he swept her away on tides of passion. No. She wouldn’t allow his name to even cross her mind. She’d forgotten the man existed. Rachel returned her gaze to the window. There wasn’t a trace of snow on the ground. Only if she looked to the top of the mountains could she see any of the white stuff. It seemed strange when she’d been surrounded by so much of it up at… Luckily, a diversion arrived at that moment, stopping that train of thought. A carriage came rolling down the drive and stopped directly in front of the window.

“Fiona!” She rose from the sofa and walked to the window. She raised a hand to wave at her friend even as the auburn-haired beauty stepped down from the vehicle. Fiona returned the wave, then reached back into the carriage, straightening a moment later with what appeared to be a bundle of blankets in her arms. Sarah appeared in the parlor doorway.

“What’s the ruckus?” Then, with knuckles resting on her ample hips and her mouth pursed, she added, “And what are you doing off that couch? You sit down before I have to send you back to your room. You know what the doctor said about getting your rest so you wouldn’t have a relapse.”

“It’s Fiona. She’s come calling, and she’s got the baby with her. Open the door, Sarah, and let them in.” Moments later, she was embracing Fiona while Sarah stood beside them, unwrapping the infant.

“I wanted to come sooner,” Fiona said as they released each other, “but Dr. Weick forbade it.”

“Of course you couldn’t come. You had little Myrna to think of. Oh, let me see her.” Sarah stayed stubbornly in place.

“Not until you sit down, miss.” Rachel sighed and rolled her eyes in Fiona’s direction, but she did as she was told. Fiona unbuttoned her coat while Sarah handed the smiling child to Rachel.

“Oh, Fiona, she’s beautiful. She’s got your hair and eyes, too.”

“She wouldn’t dare not have them,” Fiona replied with a laugh.

“Her father demanded that any girls we had should have my coloring.”

“How is James?”

“He’s as wonderful as always.” Rachel smiled across at her friend.

“And he makes you happy. I can tell just by looking at you.” Fiona fairly beamed in response. Rachel didn’t need her friend’s glowing confirmation. They had known each other too long not to be able to sense each other’s moods. Perhaps that was why Fiona knew hers so quickly. The young mother’s green eyes narrowed as she perused Rachel.

“What happened to bring you back so soon?” She shrugged.

“I was homesick. I missed Maggie and Tucker and the children. And you and James, too.” She kissed the baby’s forehead.

“And look what I missed while I was away. Myrna is half-grown already.”

“Hardly,” Fiona replied.

“But she’s not the little baby she was when you left. She’ll be six months old tomorrow.”

“Six months already?” Fiona was silent for a while before saying gently, “Rachel .. . you can tell me whatever it is. I’ll understand.” Rachel swallowed the lump in her throat.

“How could you, Fiona? Even I don’t understand.” She drew a deep breath.

“Things just didn’t work out the way I thought they would. That’s all.” It was a long, cold journey from the central mountain country to the capital of the territory. It gave Gavin many hours to relive in his mind the events of the past few months. His mood became more and more grim. There were times he was tempted to turn around and go back to the Lucky Strike. Surely nothing he could say or do would ever convince Rachel Harris to forgive him, let alone to agree to marry and spend her life with him. He hadn’t done one single solitary thing to deserve her love. But he didn’t turn back. He couldn’t. Maggie had waited long enough for Rachel to come to her. It was time she took matters into her own hands.

“If she’s too stubborn to admit she loves him,” Tucker had told Maggie during the night, “she comes by it naturally. Seems to me her sister was much the same way.” Maggie couldn’t argue with him. She’d been only seventeen when she fell in love with Tucker—and he with her—and she’d nearly thrown their love away because of her stubborn pride. Seventeen years later, she was as much in love with her husband as ever, and she thanked the good Lord every day for bringing her to her senses in time. She couldn’t imagine what life would have been like without Tucker and the children. She didn’t want to imagine it. Maggie knocked on Rachel’s bedroom door, then opened it.

“Is it too late for a visitor?” Rachel put down the book she was reading.

“Of course not.”

“We’ve had hardly a moment to ourselves since you’ve been feeling better, between Tucker and the children and all your friends calling to see how you’re doing.”

“It is rather nice to have a moment of quiet.” Maggie sat down on the chair beside Rachel’s bed and took hold of her sister’s hand.

“You don’t know how relieved I am to see you looking strong again.”

“I’m just glad no one else got sick.” Rachel shook her head slowly.

“I never would have forgiven myself if I’d given it to the children.” Maggie squeezed the fingers within hers and leaned forward, her voice lowering.

“I think it’s time you told me what happened.”

“You sound like Fiona.” Rachel sighed as she looked away.

“But I’m not Fiona. I’m Maggie.” Rachel continued to avoid meeting her gaze.

“All right. Let me tell you what I do know.” Maggie released Rachel’s hand as she sat back in the chair, folding her arms in front of her.

“You are in love with Mr. Blake. No, don’t try to deny it. I already know it’s true. What’s more, I suspect that you’ve spent at least one night in Mr. Blake’s bed.” Color flamed in Rachel’s cheeks.

“I thought as much.” Maggie wore her most determined mothering glare.

“Now talk to me.” Such a melancholy look covered Rachel’s face that it made Maggie want to cry. At the very least, she wanted to hold and comfort her younger sister. But she kept her resolve to be firm and

waited for Rachel to tell her what had happened in the months she’d been away.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with him. I can’t think why it happened. He wasn’t even very nice to me at first. He thought I was just some silly rich girl who wouldn’t be able to handle the work. But I proved him wrong.” A sad smile lifted the corners of her mouth, then disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“I tried to leave when I realized what I was feeling. I knew it was wrong. He was Dru’s husband, and she was my friend. But Dru wouldn’t let me go. She held me to my promise to stay until they took the cows back to the basin in the spring.” Rachel’s blue eyes took on a faraway look.

“Maggie, you should see the basin. The mountains take your breath away. And it’s so green with pine trees, and the aspen and birch trees and the wild flowers are all so beautiful. You can’t imagine it. You just can’t.” Rachel’s hands, folded atop the quilt, were clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white. She lifted her gaze to meet Maggie’s, and her eyes were glimmering with unshed tears.

“Oh, Maggie,” she whispered.

“I should have come home then. I knew I loved him, and I knew it was wrong. I should have come home.” Maggie’s resolve nearly faltered. She wanted so badly to scoot onto the bed beside Rachel and offer comfort.

“He kissed me the night before Dru died. He came to tell me he was sorry for being short-tempered with me, and then I was suddenly in his arms. It was as much my fault as his.” She sighed.

“I think we both felt that if we hadn’t done it, Dru might have lived. Of course, I know that wasn’t true. Dru hadn’t been well for so long. But I guess what you feel doesn’t always make sense. It’s just what you feel.” She choked back a sob.

“But, oh Maggie, I loved him so very much.” Rachel turned away from her older sister and slipped out of bed. On bare feet, she padded across to the window. She swept back the curtains with one hand to look outside.

“And you don’t love him any longer?” Maggie gently prodded. She didn’t turn away from the window.

“I don’t know. No. No, I don’t think I do anymore. I couldn’t.”

“If you loved Gavin so much, why did you agree to marry Mr. O’Donnell?” Maggie thought she already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from Rachel. She wanted to make sure she understood everything before she tried to help her sister.

“Because I thought he would protect me from doing anything else wrong. I felt so guilty for loving Gavin. And I felt guilty because I knew he wasn’t married any longer. He was a widower. There wasn’t anything wrong with my loving a widower, but it was almost like being glad Dru had died.” Her voice fell to a whisper.

“But I wasn’t glad. God knows, I wasn’t glad. I loved her, too.” Rachel let the curtain fall back into place.

“Patrick was so good to me after the funeral. Gavin pulled away from everyone, and I was left alone to care for the children. Patrick was just always there. He was good and kind and I knew he loved me and so I said yes when he proposed. And that wasn’t fair to him either. I made such a mess of everything.” Maggie patted the quilt.

“Get back in bed, Rachel, before you take cold.” She wondered if she’d made a mistake to ask about Gavin so soon. Rachel nodded absently but didn’t move from the window.

“I thought Gavin loved me, at least a little, even though he couldn’t say it. When Stubs told me what had happened back in Ohio, I understood better why he acted the way he did. I realized then that I couldn’t marry Patrick, no matter what happened with Gavin. And Patrick understood. I guess he knew I was in love with Gavin all along.” Finally, Rachel drifted back to the bed. She crawled beneath the covers and pulled them up close beneath her chin. Her face looked pale, and the shadows of illness beneath her eyes seemed more pronounced.

“It was my fault,” she continued in a whisper.

“I waited for him and when he kissed me and asked me… I wanted him, Maggie. I didn’t try to stop him. I loved him, and I thought… I thought he must love me.” A lengthy silence stretched between them. Maggie watched as a series of emotions passed across Rachel’s face, heartbreaking emotions, nothing held back to hide the pain.

“He told me to get out the next morning. He said he wanted me off the Lucky Strike. He wouldn’t even let me say good-bye to the children.” This time, Maggie followed the urge to hold and comfort Rachel. She pressed her sister’s face against her shoulder and let her cry out the hurt. In the meantime, she indulged herself in her own orgy of loathing. How could that man have done this to her sister? How could he have been so cruel? She would take great pleasure in seeing him whipped within an inch of his life. Boiling in oil would be too good for him. She would gladly pluck the chickens to be used to tar and feather the no-good blackguard. He was undoubtedly the most despicable man she would ever have the misfortune to meet. She should have known it when she first laid eyes on him. She never should have allowed Rachel to go away with him. Thank heaven she wouldn’t ever have to see him again. But, of course, Maggie knew that he couldn’t be as bad as all that, especially since Rachel still cared more than she would admit. Her sister could deny it all she wished, but she was definitely still in love with Gavin Blake. And Rachel wasn’t some silly-headed nitwit who wore her emotions on her sleeve or whose head was turned by any handsome man to come down the pike. Rachel was not the sort of girl to fall in love without the man being worthy in some way. There was more than one side to this story, and Maggie knew it wouldn’t be complete until she’d heard Gavin’s side too. As Maggie smoothed the silky blond hair back from Rachel’s face, she had the feeling that she would have her chance to find out the other side of the story soon enough. Perhaps it was only wishful thinking, but something told her

that she would be seeing Gavin Blake before long. She prayed she was right.

Chapter Thirty-Three

It wasn’t difficult to find out where the Branigan ranch was located. Everyone in Boise seemed to know the judge and his family and were more than happy to give him directions. Once on his way, it hadn’t taken him long to get there. Gavin pulled Scamp to a halt at the end of the winding drive that led to the Branigan home. It was a sprawling gray clapboard house, built for a large family, two stories tall with a veranda wrapped around three sides. Just the kind of place Gavin could imagine Rachel growing up. The log house at the Lucky Strike paled in comparison. He felt the familiar surge of doubt. He nudged the black gelding with his heels, and they moved forward. He wasn’t about to turn back now.

He dismounted near the front door and twirled the reins around the hitching post before taking the steps two at a time. He paused on the porch, removing his hat and smoothing back his hair. He’d taken the time to clean up in town, paying for a bath and a shave, but he feared that no matter what he did he wasn’t going to be welcome. Taking a deep breath, he knocked at the door and waited. There was a slight commotion from the other side of the door before it was yanked open. Two boys, approximately the same ages as Sabrina and Petula, looked up at him.

“Hello. I’m here to see Rachel Harris. Is she in?”

“Who’ve you?” the youngest asked. Before he could reply, he heard another voice, this one feminine.

“Colin. Sheridan. Ask whoever is there to come in. It’s too cold to make them stand outside.” The door swung wide and he caught a glimpse of emerald skirts on the stairway. A moment later, the woman wearing those skirts materialized beside the door. He knew the moment she recognized him. The smile vanished from her mouth and her gray eyes narrowed.

“Mr. Blake.” He nodded.

“Mrs. Branigan. I’ve come to see Rachel.” She stepped back into the foyer.

“Come in.” She motioned toward the parlor.

“Have a seat. I’ll have Cook prepare some tea.”

“Don’t go to any bother for me,” Gavin answered, feeling uncomfortable.

He hadn’t given any thought to facing her family. That had been stupid of him, but he’d been on his own for so many years, he didn’t think about families and sisters and brothers. He should have known that she would come back to Boise and tell Maggie everything that had happened. Everything? Had Rachel told her sister everything? From the look he’d seen in Maggie’s eyes, he guessed Rachel hadn’t held anything back.

“Colin,” Maggie said, still standing in the entry hall, “go up to Aunt Rachel’s room and tell her she has a visitor. Ask her to come down. Sheridan, go with your brother.” She turned and entered the parlor. Maggie moved with a kind of natural grace and had an air of confidence about her. She was beautiful, like her sister, although their coloring was different. It was easy, looking at her, to imagine what Rachel would look like in another ten or fifteen years. Of course, if Rachel married him, she wouldn’t have the life of ease her older sister had. She wouldn’t be free to sit in an elegant house and let the cook prepare supper. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to ask her to give up so much, even if she did love him. Perhaps Dru had been wrong about that being the most important thing. Perhaps… “Please be seated, Mr. Blake. We may have a few moments to wait. Rachel hasn’t been down today and isn’t dressed.” She sat on a rose-colored sofa across from him.

Not dressed? He glanced toward the stairs. It was midafternoon. Was Patrick wrong about Rachel getting well? Could she have had a relapse?

“Rachel has been ill since she returned home,” Maggie answered, as if he’d asked the question aloud.

“Patrick told me, but he thought she was over the worst. Is she—is she going to be all right?”

“You needn’t worry, Mr. Blake. She’s doing much better. Now. Why don’t you tell me what’s brought you to Boise?” Gavin knew from the sound of her voice that Rachel was in no danger and his concern vanished. He met the woman’s direct gaze with one of his own.

“I wanted to see Rachel.”

“All that way in the middle of winter for a visit?” The question was asked in an innocent voice, but he wasn’t fooled.

“I want her to come back to the ranch with me. We need her.” For the first time, Maggie flashed a genuine smile. As she rose from the sofa, she said, “I doubt it will be easy to convince her to return with you, Mr. Blake.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.” He stood.

“You’ll have to.” She stepped away from him.

“Excuse me while I see about the tea.” Rachel was tempted to tell Colin to send down her regrets. Ever since her talk with Maggie the previous night, she’d been overwhelmed with lethargy. She didn’t want to see or talk with anyone. She just wanted to be left alone. Still, she supposed it wouldn’t hurt her to at least make an appearance, since someone had been kind enough to come out to see her. Perhaps it was Fiona and Myrna. She would love to see the baby again. She dressed in a simple day dress of yellow linen and tied back her hair at the nape with a ribbon. She pinched her cheeks, hoping to give them a little color. Then she left her room and descended the stairs. As she stepped beneath the archway of the parlor, she came to an abrupt halt. She felt as if the wind had been knocked from her. There he stood, so tall, so gloriously handsome, his black hair unruly as usual. He needed a haircut weeks ago. He was watching her with those intense gray eyes of his. He looks tired.

“Hello, Rachel.”

“Gavin.” She hated the breathless sound of her voice. She didn’t want him to know what seeing him again was doing to her. She didn’t even want to acknowledge it to herself.

“Where’s Maggie?” He took a step toward her.

“She went to see about some tea.”

“What are you doing in Boise?”

“I came to see you. We need to talk.” The anger came, sudden and

unexpected, a fury so great she felt on fire with it.

“I don’t think we have anything to talk about, Mr. Blake.”

“We do, Rachel. I made a mistake. If you’d just give me a chance to explain.” She gave a sharp laugh.

“Explain what?” She stepped forward, her chin thrust high in the air as she glared up at him.

“Nothing you could say would make any difference to me.” He winced as she flung his own words back at him. The strength born of anger disappeared as quickly as it had come, and Rachel sank into the closest chair.

“We haven’t anything to talk about. Go back to the Lucky Strike.” Gavin moved toward her. He stopped only a foot away, towering over her, but she refused to look up. She was too tired to look up. She didn’t want to fight with him. She just wanted him to go away. He knelt down on one knee, bringing himself to her eye level. She inhaled, surprised by his action. Or perhaps it was the expression on his face. Almost afraid. Somehow vulnerable. Nothing like the Gavin she’d grown used to seeing.

“I was wrong, Rachel. I hurt you because I wanted you to leave.

“I—I didn’t understand. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” she repeated softly, feeling the hurt of his rejection all over again.

“The girls miss you. They need you.” He paused.

“I need you.” She shook her head, scarcely hearing him.

“I would have come sooner, but Pet and Brina were sick. They had the influenza, like you.

There’s been an outbreak of it up in the mining camps.” Rachel covered her mouth as she gasped.

“Oh no! Are they-”

“They’re well now, but they want you to come back with me.” It wasn’t fair of him. He was using her concern for the children against her.

“It’s better if they don’t see me again,” she replied bitterly.

“They would only have to see me leave again later.” His voice deepened, hardened.

“All right. What about your promise to Dru? She hired you to take care of her girls until we returned to the basin. You made a promise to her, even as she lay dying.” He stood.

“And if it’s me you’re worried about, I promise not to—not to make any more improper advances. You’ll be safe while you’re there. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not afraid of you or your advances, Mr. Blake.” She rose from the sofa.

“And you needn’t remind me of my promise to Dru. You’re the one who threw me out, if you’ll recall.” She spun away and hurried toward the doorway.

“Rachel-” For some reason, she stopped, turning back to look at him.

“I’ve gone about this all wrong. I want to make it right with you. You don’t understand. It’s not easy for me to put it into words.” It was only guilt that had brought him here. Guilt and the need for a woman to watch his children. She wished she could hate him, but she couldn’t. She loved him. She loved him as much as she’d ever loved him, but she swore he would never hear those words falling from her lips. She might be a thousand kinds of a fool for loving him, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it. Once again she turned her back on him.

“It doesn’t matter, Gavin. We both made a mistake. That’s all. All right. I forgive you. Does that make you feel better? Now you can go back to the ranch with a clear conscience and quit bothering me.” With shoulders erect and head held high, she walked toward the stairway and the sanctuary of her room.

“I’ll be back, Rachel,” Gavin called after her.

“I promise you, I’ll be back.”

“Tucker, we’ve got to do something!”

“What is it exactly you think we can do, Maggie? Rachel isn’t a child. She’s got to make up her own mind.” Maggie stood at the window and stared up at the starry sky.

“But she’s so in love with him. He’s been out here every day for the past week, and she refuses to see or talk to him. Then she cries herself to sleep. She’s determined to make him pay for hurting her, and she’s only hurting herself. He loves her, too. He loves her very much. I know. I can feel it. I can see it.” Tucker slipped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest.

“You should be an expert on knowing when a man is in love,” he whispered.

“You’ve lived with one long enough.” His lips nuzzled her earlobe.

Maggie closed her eyes, a smile flitting across her mouth. She did know about how wonderful it was to be in love and loved. That’s why it was so important to her that Rachel didn’t throw it all away out of pride and stubbornness, and she said as much to Tucker.

“Okay. I understand that,” he replied.

“But that still doesn’t tell me what we can do to help. If she won’t see him, she won’t see him. I think we should just let the two of them work it out.” Maggie’s eyes widened and she twisted in his arms.

“Tucker, what if she’s pregnant?”

“Wait a minute.” He stepped back from her, his hands gripping her arms.

“You mean to tell me .. .” His face darkened with anger. She hadn’t meant to reveal all of Rachel’s secrets. Some things were better kept just between sisters. But when the thought occurred to her, it had just slipped out.

“I’ll see him in jail,” Tucker muttered.

“No, Tuck, you mustn’t.” She moved back into his embrace.

“Jail would keep them apart. I want them together. They should be married.” And that’s when the ideal plan occurred to Maggie Branigan.

Chapter Thirty-Four

“I won’t take no for an answer, Rachel. You’re going with me. We’ll have lunch with Tucker. He’s expecting us.”

“Oh, Maggie. I’m too tired to go into town.” Rachel wasn’t about to admit the real reason she wanted to stay home. She was afraid she might run into Gavin. She didn’t want to see him. With each passing day, it had become more and more difficult to refuse him when he came to call.

“Well, you’re going,” Maggie said firmly.

“I’ll not have you sitting and moping your life away. It’s time you got out and socialized. After lunch, we’ll stop and see Fiona. Now put on something pretty. I’ll meet you downstairs in half an hour.” Rachel could tell from the tone of Maggie’s voice that it wouldn’t do

any good to argue.

When her sister made her mind up, it was nearly impossible to change it. Besides, she thought as the bedroom door closed behind Maggie, maybe it would do her good to get out. The weather had been unseasonably warm this week, and a buggy ride in the fresh air might be just what she needed to pick up her spirits. Yes, it might be just exactly what the doctor ordered.

“I’m Mr. Blake,” Gavin told the clerk.

“Judge Branigan sent for me.”

“I’ll tell him you’re here, sir.” The young man rose from his desk and disappeared into the adjoining office. Gavin remained standing as his eyes perused the waiting area. The leather upholstered furniture was large and impressive. Dark wood paneling rose to a high, ornate ceiling. The room smelled faintly of cigar smoke. He wasn’t sure exactly why he’d been summoned here, but he had a few suspicions. There was a strong likelihood that the judge meant to order him to quit pestering Rachel. He had no intention of following such orders and could very well land in jail for his refusal. Of course, there was the remote possibility that Judge Branigan might be willing to help him. Gavin sensed that Maggie understood that he loved her sister. Perhaps the judge believed it too.

“You may go right in, sir,” the clerk said as he reappeared. He stepped back, holding the door open for Gavin to pass through.

“Thank you.”

The judge’s chambers were even more vast and impressive than the outer office. The walls were lined with books from ceiling to floor. Burning wood crackled in a wide-mouthed fireplace, throwing dancing fingers of light across the ornate rug spread before the hearth. A massive oak desk stood before tall windows cloaked in heavy brocade draperies. Judge Tucker Branigan sat in a high-backed chair behind the desk.

“Come in, Mr. Blake. You may close the door, Sedgewick. See that we’re not disturbed.”

“Yes, sir.” The door closed behind Gavin. Tucker motioned toward a chair opposite him.

“Have a seat, Mr. Blake.” Gavin strode across the room and sat down in the indicated chair. He rested his hat on his knee as he leveled a curious gaze on the judge. He would guess that Tucker wasn’t more than five or six years his senior, yet he had a great air of confidence and authority about him. What’s more, he commanded a sense of trust. Gavin began to relax. Tucker drew a cheroot from a redwood box on his desk. He motioned with his hand, offering the same to Gavin, but Gavin declined with a shake of his head. As Tucker ran his fingers over the cheroot, his gaze narrowed, never wavering from Gavin’s face. Then he struck a match and lit the thin cigar. Exhaling a cloud of bluish smoke, Tucker said, “I suppose you know my wife’s taken an interest in you, Mr. Blake.”

“She’s been very kind to me, under the circumstances.”

“Maggie loves her sister a great deal and wants to see her happy. She seems to think you could make her happy, given a chance.”

“I’d like to think I could.”

“My sister-in-law has the same stubborn streak as my Maggie, I’m afraid. Sometimes they don’t see what’s best for them, even when it’s as clear as the nose on your face. Sometimes they have to be forced to see it. Do you understand what I’m saying, Mr. Blake?”

“I suppose so,” Gavin answered, although he wasn’t sure that he did. A light rapping on the door interrupted them. The door eased open just enough for the clerk to show his head.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Mrs. Branigan insisted I let you know she was here.” Tucker stood.

“Of course, Sedgewick. Show my wife in.” He walked around the desk and headed for the door.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Tucker. Mr. Sedgewick didn’t tell me you had someone with you. We’ll just wait in ..”

“It’s all right, Maggie. Come in. Gavin rose and turned in time to see Rachel entering the room. She was wearing something dark blue and shimmery and a bonnet with matching blue feathers over ringlets of blond curls. She stopped the moment their eyes met. The color drained from her cheeks. He tried to speak, but his voice caught in his throat.

Rachel took a step or two backward, as if to retreat, but Tucker caught her arm and drew her into the office.

“I’m glad you’re here,” the judge said.

“My talk with Mr. Blake concerns you. Sit down, Rachel.” He guided her to one of the chairs near the fire. Gavin remained standing, continuing to watch her, only vaguely aware of Maggie sitting in a chair near her sister.

“Sit down, Mr. Blake.” Tucker’s voice had changed. It had deepened, harshened. As soon as Gavin had retaken his seat, the judge continued, “I don’t think there’s any point in beating around the bush. It’s come to my attention that you took liberties with my sister-in-law while she was living with you and your family up north.” Rachel gasped, but Gavin kept his gaze locked on Tucker’s implacable face.

“Rachel is as dear to me as one of my own daughters. She’s been with me since she was six years old. It’s my duty to protect her from harm and scandal. I’m sure you understand my concern over such behavior. If word of this got out, her reputation would be in shreds. And I may as well be blunt…” He turned his eyes on Rachel, directing his next question at her.

“Do we know that there won’t be a child resulting from this—this indiscretion?” Gavin twisted in his chair to look at Rachel. Her blue eyes were wide and rounded. Her mouth was parted, as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t. The silence stretched without a denial.

“I was afraid of that,” Tucker continued, his gaze swinging back to Gavin.

“But even if that isn’t the case, I’m afraid we must demand that you do the honest thing by my sister-in-law, Mr. Blake. I believe we can arrange for the wedding to take place without much delay, just in case there is that added… complication.” This wasn’t what he’d wanted. He didn’t want Rachel to be forced into marriage. He wanted her to come willingly. Gavin jumped up.

“Judge Branigan-”

“I think, under the circumstances, you should feel free to call me Tucker.” He also rose from his chair. He rested his knuckles on the desk and leaned forward.

“Let me make this clear to you, Gavin. You have no choice in this. If you refuse to marry Rachel, I will see that you’re ruined. A judge’s power stretches far, and I will use it if I’m forced to. Maggie and I insist that you do right by Rachel.” Was it something in Tucker’s voice or a subtle expression in his eyes? Something caused Tucker’s words of just minutes before to echo through Gavin’s head. Sometimes they don’t see what’s best for them, even when it’s as clear as the nose on your face. Sometimes they have to be forced to see it. Do you understand what I’m saying, Mr. Blake? Yes, he did understand. Now. Gavin sat down.

“All right. I’ll marry her.” Rachel stared at her hands in her lap. Could she be pregnant with Gavin’s child? When was her last monthly flow? Not since before she was ill. Not since before..

Gavin’s baby. Gavin’s son. He would have his father’s black hair and gray eyes, of course. And he would be tall and strong like his father too. Wouldn’t his sisters adore him! She could just imagine Sabrina and Petula leaning over the cradle, talking and fussing over him. A baby… Good heavens! What was she thinking? It wasn’t possible. They’d only shared that one time together. Surely… “All right. I’ll marry her.” Her head snapped up as Gavin’s voice intruded on her thoughts and she realized what Tucker had been saying. He was forcing Gavin to marry her. And Gavin was agreeing to it! Her traitorous heart knew a moment of joy. She would be Gavin’s wife. She would live with him and Sabrina and Petula. She would bear his children. She would… She rose from her chair, her chin held high.

“Do I have anything to say about this?” The men turned to look at her.

“What if I don’t wish to marry Mr. Blake? We don’t—” she steeled herself against the warm flush moving up her neck—“we don’t know that there’s a child.” Maggie spoke for the first time.

“Tucker is right, my dear. We can’t take a chance. If there is to be a child, it would already be difficult to conceal its untimely arrival, but it might be possible, with you living so far from Boise. Besides, even if you are not expecting, if word of this should ever get out, your chances of marrying well would vanish forever.” Rachel couldn’t believe this was happening. Tucker was forcing Gavin to marry her. Maggie was in agreement, concerned that her sister wouldn’t be able to find a suitable husband now that she was “ruined.” And Gavin had acquiesced under only slightly veiled threats of losing his ranch, perhaps going to jail. And no one cared a whit about what she felt or wanted.

“I won’t do it,” she said emphatically, her gaze moving from Maggie to Tucker to Gavin.

“If she won’t have me-” Gavin began.

“You’re not getting away with this so easily, Mr. Blake,” Tucker said.

“I warned you.” It all seemed so unreal. The gravity of Tucker’s voice shook her to the core. He meant it. He would ruin Gavin. And it was as much her fault as his. Instinctively, she knew she could have stopped him from making love to her. He never would have forced himself on her. He’d given her ample opportunity to stop it from happening. And now he would be the one who was punished. What would happen to the children if he went to jail or lost his ranch? It would be because of her. She couldn’t let that happen to them. Her eyes met Gavin’s. She couldn’t let it happen. No matter how much she tried to tell herself he might deserve it, she couldn’t let it happen.

“If there’s no other choice,” she whispered, “I’ll marry him.”

She wasn’t aware of the pleased smiles exchanged between Tucker and Maggie. The minister had arrived. The guests were gathered in the parlor. In a few minutes, Rachel would descend the stairs and become his bride. He wished he’d had some time alone with her, just a moment to tell her that he was a willing participant in this marriage. It had seemed logical in the judge’s chambers to make her think he was only doing it to protect himself. It didn’t seem so logical any longer. But there hadn’t been a chance to talk with her. He’d spent the same amount of time with Rachel in the ten days since he’d agreed to this marriage as he had in the days between his first visit to the Branigan home and that fateful meeting in Tucker’s office. Which amounted to exactly no time with her at all. He glanced toward the stairs, wondering how much longer it would be before Rachel appeared on the second floor landing. She should know how he felt. She should know that he wanted her for his wife. Maybe you love her. Love her? No. He’d decided long ago never to allow that emotion to surface for a woman. He wanted her. She was the most desirable creature he’d ever seen. He admired her. She was intelligent and had grit and stamina and wasn’t afraid to face life head-on. He liked her. She could make him laugh with her delightful sense of humor, and she was warm and caring with the children.

But love? The word wasn’t even part of Gavin Blake’s vocabulary. Except, of course, he loved the children. There was no avoiding loving those two. But that wasn’t the same thing. Maybe he’d loved Dru, but that had been different too. She’d been his friend. She’d been in need. There hadn’t been any risk in loving Dru. Loving Rachel would be a terrible risk, especially if she didn’t love him in return. She had loved him once. He’d seen it in her eyes, if only he hadn’t been too blind to recognize it. But what if she could never love him again? What if she was trapped into this marriage and grew to hate him for what he’d done? No, he couldn’t love her. But he could let her know he wanted her to be his wife. He wanted her with him, not just to take care of the children, not just because she could be carrying his child, not just to keep house and help him with the ranch and to make her

brother-in -law happy. He wanted her with him just to be with him. Rachel stared at her reflection in the mirror. Swirls of white satin floated over and around her. Delicate lace edged her throat and wrists. Pearls studded the cap of her veil and the train of her gown. She could stop the wedding, of course. She could tell Maggie that she wasn’t pregnant. Her monthly flow had come and gone during the past ten days. There was no reason to go through with this travesty. Outside of the four of them, who would ever know of Rachel’s indiscretion? Perhaps, should she decide to marry in the future, her husband would guess. But if he loved her, he would forgive her. Only she didn’t want another man’s forgiveness, and she didn’t want to be another man’s wife. She sighed and moved away from the mirror, stopping beside the open window. Although March was still a week away, there was the fresh scent of spring in the air and a renewed strength in the sun. The trees beside the river were full of birds, and the first new colt had arrived in the Branigan barn only three days before. She took a deep breath, hoping against hope that it would clear the confusion from her head and heart. She loved him and he’d hurt her. She was glad he’d come to Boise, yet furious with him for his reasons. She wanted to be his wife, but hated the way it was happening. She could stop it if she wanted. So why didn’t she? She heard the door opening.

“I’ll be ready in a moment, Maggie,” she said without looking behind her. Gavin’s deep voice surprised her.

“It’s not Maggie.” Rachel turned slowly. He looked different in the fine dress suit and silk hat. He was as handsome as ever, but she realized that she much preferred him in his denim trousers and boots, his black hair tousled by the wind. He was like the country he’d chosen to live in, strong and enduring, bending beneath strong winds like a mighty tree, but refusing to break. He was silent as his gaze caressed her, starting with the filmy veil covering her hair and moving leisurely to the train of her gown that formed a satin pool around her feet. Her breathing slowed as she tolerated—no, delighted in—his perusal. Finally, his eyes returned to her face.

“We have to talk, Rachel.” So, it would be Gavin who called an end to it after all. She should have known it wouldn’t be up to her.

“There are things I should have said and didn’t, and you’ve got a right to hear them before you come down those stairs and agree to be my wife.” Her reply was nearly inaudible.

“What things?”

“I want you with me, Rachel. I don’t know what kind of husband I’ll be to you. I’ll do my best not to hurt you, my best to provide for you. I can’t promise you an easy life. You know what it’s like up there. You’ve seen it for yourself.” He fell silent. Rachel looked into the depths of those familiar steel-gray eyes and felt her heart give.

“Is that all you came to say?” She waited, longing to hear the words, longing to say them herself.

“I came up here to ask you to be my wife. Not because you were forced into it, but because it’s what you want.”

I love you, Gavin.

“Yes, I’ll be your wife. Not because I was forced into it, but because it’s what I want.” Tell me you love me, Gavin. Say the words. He placed his hand on the doorknob.

“I hope I’ll never make you sorry, Rachel. I’ll do my best.” He turned, his hand twisting the knob.

“Gavin…” He glanced over his shoulder.

“There’s no baby. I’m not pregnant.” Now was his chance to change his mind. Now he could make a run for the hills. She had given him his out. Would he take it? His smile was gentle.

“There’ll be plenty of time for babies.” And then he was gone.

“And by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife.” Her heart racing, Rachel turned toward Gavin. His hands lifted the veil, and their eyes met. Her husband. It seemed unreal. Like a dream. She was afraid she would awaken and find it all gone. He cupped her face in his hands as he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips. Time seemed to stop. The guests, the minister—all disappeared except for the two of them. I was right, she thought as he kissed her. That day up on the ridge, that first moment she’d realized she loved Gavin. This was what I’ve been waiting for all along.

Chapter Thirty-Five

It had been in a hotel room much like this that she had first seen Gavin Blake. As Rachel crossed the sitting room toward the window, she remembered the way she’d felt when she first looked into his eyes, that jolt of awareness of another human being such as she’d never felt before. If she had been aware that day of what the next few months would bring, would she still have taken the job as governess? She turned and looked at Gavin as he carried her valise across the sitting room to the bedroom. Yes! her heart replied to her silent question. Yes! When he returned from the bedroom, their eyes met. Her stomach fluttered in response. For so long her love for Gavin had been forbidden. She wasn’t sure what to do now that it was allowed.

“I’ve ordered some supper for us,” Gavin said.

“I noticed you didn’t eat anything after the ceremony.” She wasn’t sure she could eat anything now. He came toward her, stopping within arm’s reach.

“You never looked more beautiful than you did today.” She flushed with pleasure.

“I’d better add some fuel to that fire. It’s getting cold outside. You can feel it through the windows.” He turned away from her. As he walked across the room, he removed his suit coat and tossed it across the nearest chair. His tie and collar were the next to go. Watching him, she wondered if all brides were as nervous as she was on their wedding nights. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what was ahead of her. In fact, the knowing brought a rush of anticipation that warmed her throughout. Still, she felt awkward, not sure what to do or what to say. And so she remained standing beside the window, the town beyond

the glass bathed in the darkness of night. He sensed her nervousness and wondered if she had any idea that he was nervous too. It seemed a cowardly, unmanly thing to admit, even to himself. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in a hotel room with a woman, and it definitely wasn’t going to be the first time he’d bedded a woman either.

But this time it was different. This time he was with his bride. They lingered over the supper that was brought up to them, neither of them eating much as their eyes met and parted dozens of times across the mahogany table. The mantel clock chimed the hour, the quarter hour, the half hour, and still they remained at the table. She was beautiful. She looked so exquisite, sitting there in her rose-colored gown. Did he have the right to take something so fine and delicate to the high country, to a life of hard work and few pleasures? Was it possible that she had freely chosen that life over the one she’d known here, over the one she could have had with Patrick O’Donnell—or had she really had a choice? She was young and innocent. She couldn’t possibly know what she’d done in marrying him. She’d felt remorse over their night of passion, and that had colored her judgment. She’d told him she was marrying him of her own free will, but society and her family were pressuring her all the same. She would come to regret her decision. Eventually, she would choose to leave him. And, God help him, he couldn’t bear the thought of life without Rachel. A calm overtook Rachel, and she was no longer afraid. That same sense of destiny that had washed over her at the wedding, a certainty that here was where she belonged, returned. This was right. She had no reason to be nervous.

She placed her napkin beside her plate as she rose from her chair. She walked around the table, coming to stand beside Gavin. She held out her hand to him. He took it and stood. Then, as naturally as if they’d been doing it for a lifetime, she moved into his arms, tipping her head to accept his mouth upon hers. A sweet yearning began in the secret most part of her, a longing to be a part of the man she loved. It seemed that the only way she could convey to him the depths of her feelings was to be joined with him in the most intimate of acts, to share herself—body, soul and spirit. She leaned into him, her hands moving over the smooth fabric of his shirt, feeling the ridge of his spine with her fingertips. She parted her mouth and gently nibbled on his lower lip, then ran her tongue along it. When she opened her eyes and leaned back from him, she found him watching her with a smoky gaze, a look that set her blood on fire. The yearning for him was no longer tender and sweet. It was demanding, unrelenting, a furious storm raging through her limbs and igniting her loins.

“Gavin.” His name came out in a hoarse whisper, conveying the aching need. His fingers began to play with the buttons on the front of her bodice, slipping them free one at a time. When the last one escaped its loop, he pushed the dress from her shoulders. His hands brushed the length of her arms, causing gooseflesh to rise and her breath to quicken.

She saw his gaze move to the swell of her bosom above her corset. She had a decadent urge to be free of the binding garment, to have him gazing upon her bare breasts, to feel his mouth playing with the sensitive flesh. A surge of such terrible wanting hit her that she swayed forward into his arms. He held her, kissed her, pulled the pinnings from her hair and set it free to tumble down her back. And, finally, when she was able to stand freely once again, he continued to disrobe her. Article by article, her clothing fell away, until she stood before him, naked beneath his adoring gaze. For a long time, he didn’t touch her, merely looked. She felt the warmth of the fire upon her skin, felt the heat of her blood in her veins. She reached forward, laying her hand upon his chest, and then she was helping divest him of his shirt and trousers. She was both delighted and horrified by her boldness. When he stood as naked as she—but so gloriously, obviously male—he pulled her once again into his embrace, his mouth claiming hers in renewed hunger. She let her head fall back as her fingers tangled themselves in his black locks. His hands explored her body until the wanting, the need, the desire became paramount to everything else in the world. At that moment, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to their marriage bed. She lay nestled in the curve of his shoulder, her long blond curls mingling with the black hair on his chest. Gavin stared down at it, oddly touched by the sight, as if it signified something deep and meaningful. Rachel moaned in her sleep and snuggled closer to him. He supposed he should reach for the blanket and cover her, but he wasn’t ready to quit looking at her just yet. Rachel Blake. His wife. It seemed impossible that she should have chosen to marry him. Moreover, it seemed impossible that it should mean so much to him, that he could want it so very much. Gavin Blake, the man who’d decided long ago to be a loner, a man with no attachments. And here he was with wife, children, ranch, friends, neighbors. He smiled to himself. Perhaps it would make sense to him later. He had other things to think about now. Like the way she looked, lying on her side, her leg thrown over his, her hand lying on the flat of his belly. Like the smell of her honeysuckle cologne, faint, fresh, and wild. Like the paleness of her skin in comparison to his. Like the ripe fullness of her breast pressed against his ribs. Like the way she responded to his kiss, his touch—inexperienced yet eager, hesitant yet somehow brazen. His wife. Her head pulled back from him, her eyes open but glazed with sleep. She smiled languidly, sending a shock of desire shooting through him.

“I fell asleep.” Her voice was husky, amused.

“Not for long,” he responded, drawing her closer to him.

“There was something I meant to tell you.” He felt himself grow hard with passion.

“Later,” he mumbled as he cupped her breast and teased the nipple with his fingers.

“Tell me later.” Exhausted, sated, replete, they lay in a tangle of sheets and blankets, a fine shimmer of sweat glowing on their skin, the night air quickly cooling them as the fire of their union faded. Gavin reached for the mass of blankets and shook them, then yanked the covers over the two naked bodies. His feet were left out in the open, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t the energy or the inclination to get up and straighten the bedding.

“Gavin?”

“Hmmm?” Her voice was filled with awe and wonder.

“Is it like this for everyone?”

“No,” he answered truthfully. She tilted her head. Her eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of the bedroom.

“Will it always be this way for us?” His arms tightened around her. He kissed the crown of her head, overwhelmed by the possessiveness that gripped his heart.

“Better, Rachel. I hope it will always get better.” Rachel couldn’t believe it could get better. She’d never imagined the “woman’s duty” she’d heard about in whispers could be anything so wonderful as this. She sighed and closed her eyes, sublime happiness filling her.

“Wasn’t there something you meant to tell me?” he whispered in her ear. His voice was teasing.

“Before I interrupted you.”

“Oh, yes…” She nestled closer as another sigh escaped her lips.

“I love you, Gavin.” She smiled and drifted off to sleep, leaving Gavin to ponder her words in the silence of night.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Rachel stood in the middle of her old bedroom, saying a silent farewell to her childhood. At twenty-two, it had been many years since she’d been considered a child, yet there was a part of her that had always known she could return to the safety within these walls. But now everything was changed. She was a woman. In pledging herself to Gavin, promising to love, honor and obey, she had left childish things behind forever. There was no turning back.

“Feel a little strange?” Rachel turned to face Maggie, standing in the door of her room. She nodded.

“For me too.” Her sister took a few steps forward. She lifted her hand to cup Rachel’s chin.

“You’re happy.” It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact, tinged with relief.

“Yes.” Rachel smiled.

“I’m happy.” They hugged one another, swaying slowly from side to side.

“It wasn’t so hard seeing you go,” Maggie whispered, “when I knew you were coming back.”

“It’s not far away. We’ll come visit. You’ll come up to the basin in the summer. And we’ll write. We’ll write often.”

“Of course we will.” But each knew that it wouldn’t be so easy. Months would go by, perhaps years, between visits. Life was fragile. Anything could happen. Rachel blinked away the gathering moisture as she pulled back from Maggie’s embrace.

“I love him, Maggie. Thank you for… well, for making me see it.”

“I was afraid you were going to make the same mistake I nearly made. You’re every bit as stubborn as I ever was. You were so young, you couldn’t possibly remember, but I refused Tucker’s proposal many times, even though I loved him. I was determined not to give my life over to a man. I was so afraid of losing my independence. You know what I found, Rachel?” She shook her head.

“Loving someone as I love Tucker is the greatest freedom of all.” Maggie hugged Rachel again, then turned away, flicking at her eyes with her fingertips.

“Be kind to each other. Be patient and giving. Don’t hold grudges and don’t expect the other one to be perfect. Everything else will work out if you just don’t give up on each other.” Rachel blew her nose on her handkerchief.

“What will you do with this room?” she asked to change the subject.

“Well…” Maggie turned once again, this time wearing a slightly sheepish grin.

“I guess we’ll make it Sheridan’s room. He won’t want to be in the nursery… when the new baby arrives.”

“Maggie, you’re not…” She grabbed her sister’s hands.

“Oh, Maggie! That’s wonderful. When?”

“August.” Rachel kissed Maggie’s cheek.

“I’m so happy for you.”

“Say in there,” Tucker said as he entered the bedroom, followed by Gavin.

“We’ve got to get a move on if you’re going to catch the stage.” Rachel released Maggie’s hands only to turn her exuberant attentions on her brother-in-law.

“Maggie just told me about the new baby,” she said as she threw her arms around his neck.

“It’s wonderful news.”

“We had to do something to fill the hole you’ve left in the family. Of course, a new baby can’t take your place, Kitten—just help ease the loneliness a bit.” She felt the sting of tears once again. Tucker was the closest thing she’d ever had to a father, and she loved him dearly. She was going to miss him. She was going to miss them all. As if he sensed her growing melancholy, Gavin stepped forward to place an arm around his wife.

“We really do have to go.”

“I know,” she whispered.

“I know.” She took one more quick glance around the room.

“Don’t worry about the rest of your things. We’ll send them to you,” Tucker promised. Gavin eased her toward the door.

“Come on, Rachel.” As painful as the parting was, when she turned to look at her husband, she felt a rush of expectation for the future. She was embarking on a new life. She would be making her own memories with her own family. It was good. It was right. It was time.

“I’m ready,” she replied. Together, they walked from the room. Rachel’s trunks were strapped to the top of the stagecoach. Gavin’s horse was tied at the back. Another series of quick good-byes were said outside the stage depot, and then they were on their way. The stage from Boise had two other passengers besides the Blakes. Joseph Cohen, a grocer, was traveling to Bonanza City to open a shop with his son. Margaret Freedman was on her way to Ketchum to stay with her daughter, who was expecting her first child. Both Mr. Cohen and Mrs.

Freedman exchanged those bits of information shortly after departure. Then Mr. Cohen pulled his hat forward and promptly fell asleep. Mrs. Freedman chattered amiably about her daughter and son-in-law, about her first grandchild, and about how dreadful it was for her only child to be living so far away. Eventually, she ran out of things to say and fell silent, her eyes falling closed and her double chin bobbing against her ample breasts. Rachel smiled at Gavin, then laid her head on his shoulder, thankful for the silence at last. She wondered, if they were alone, what they would find to talk about. What was it going to be like, married to this man? Would he discuss the business of ranching with her? Would he consider her opinions important? She decided she was grateful for the other occupants of the coach. There would be time enough later to feel their way into this new relationship. She would rather savor the memory of their two nights at the Overland Hotel. At least she knew what to expect from the physical side of marriage. Her smile increased as she closed her eyes and, like her coachmates, drifted off to sleep. They rented a horse and sleigh in Challis and headed for Killarney Hall to pick up the children. Rachel couldn’t get over the change that had overtaken the area during her absence. She had come to think of the land only in terms of white layers of snow, but in the six weeks since she’d left, a harbinger of spring had arrived in the form of Chinook winds, slowly melting away the worst evidence of a harsh winter.

“We haven’t seen the last of it yet,” Gavin said, reading Rachel’s mind.

“We’ll see snow in March and maybe in April too. But if it seems long here, it’s worse in the Stanley Basin. I don’t envy those miners in Sawtooth City and whatever other camps have popped up in the last year or two.” He chuckled.

“I have to admit, even I got spoiled by the warm weather down in Boise City.”

“It was nice, wasn’t it?” The sleigh crested the ridge, and Killarney Hall came into view. Rachel’s stomach did a sudden flip-flop.

“Do you suppose they’ll forgive me for leaving the way I did?” she asked, her voice quavering.

“They love you. They’ll forgive you.”

“I want to be a good mother to them.”

“You will be,” he assured her.

“Oh, Gavin, I’m so nervous.”

“Don’t be. It’ll be fine. You’ll see.” It seemed so easy for him to be self-assured. He wasn’t the one who had married the girls’ pa so soon after their mother’s death. He wasn’t the one who had up and left without so much as a good-bye. Why hadn’t it occurred to her sooner that they might not be as happy to see her as she was going to be to see them? But it was too late now. She would have to make the best of it. The sleigh sped down the gentle slope and hurried toward the large stone structure, Rachel’s anxiety growing with each passing minute. Gavin had just lifted her from the sleigh when the door opened and Patrick appeared on the veranda. Her mouth went dry as her eyes met his. He grinned and came down the steps to meet them.

“Sure and aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, my lovely.” He picked her up and hugged her.

“I never would’ve thought you’d be so much improved so soon. You look in the pink of health.”

“Careful how you manhandle my wife, O’Donnell,” Gavin said gravely.

“Your wife, is she?” Patrick set Rachel back on her feet and backed away from her.

“Then that’s what the spot o’ color is doin’ in those lovely cheeks.

“Tis the blush of happiness.” He thrust out his hand toward Gavin.

“Then ‘tis my congratulations you’ve got, Gavin Blake. I’m glad you had the sense to marry her. I’d not have given you another chance.”

“How are Brina and Pet?” Rachel asked, her face flushed with embarrassment.

“They’re fit and full of vinegar and anxious to have their father back. Wait ‘til they see you, Rachel. There’ll be no containin’ their joy then.” She wished she was as confident of her reception.

“Come in from the cold. I’ll send Crandal for the wee lasses. They’ll be playin’ in the schoolroom this time o’ day.” Gavin’s hand settled in the small of her back as they climbed the steps behind Patrick. A quick glance at Gavin’s face increased her uneasiness. It was set in hard, remote lines, a look she hadn’t seen in many days now. * Gavin’s gaze took in the opulence of the entry hall as they made their way to the salon. Everywhere he looked there was evidence of wealth and grandeur. What, he wondered, was Rachel thinking as she looked at her surroundings? Was she remembering that all this could have been hers? Was she sorry for her decision? Might she have married Patrick eventually if Gavin hadn’t followed her to Boise? He glanced at Patrick, who was grinning and still chattering as they waited for the children. Patrick’s love for Rachel was written all over the big man’s face. Would the day come when she wanted that love? I love you, Gavin, she’d whispered on their wedding night. He tried to comfort himself with the memory, only he was too aware that she hadn’t repeated those words in the days since. What if he wasn’t able to keep that love alive? He would kill the man who tried to steal Rachel from him. The realization struck him like a blow to the solar plexus, and he knew it was true. Unlike his father, who had given himself over to drink, Gavin would hold onto what was his. He had only to glance at Rachel to know he couldn’t face life without her.

“Pa!”

“Pa!” He swung around and knelt in time to catch the girls, one in each arm, as they hurled themselves at him.

“Look at the two of you. Lord almighty, I’ve missed you.”

“We missed you, too, Pa,” Sabrina said, hugging his neck.

“Look, Pa,” Petula interrupted.

“My arm’s all better.” She bent and straightened it several times just to prove it. Then, in unison, the girls wriggled free of his embrace, turning their eyes on Rachel.

“Have you come back to stay, Miss Harris?” Sabrina asked in the blunt manner of a nine-year-old. Gavin rose and went to stand beside Rachel,

placing his arm around her back.

“We have a surprise for you, girls, and we hope you’ll be happy about it. Rachel and I were married last week.” There was a pregnant silence. Finally, Petula asked, “Does that make you our ma now?” He felt a slight tremor pass through Rachel before she knelt, facing the youngest girl at eye level.

“I would like very much to be your mother, Pet, but I don’t mean to take your ma’s place. I know I couldn’t do that, even if I wanted to. We all loved her too much. Perhaps you could call me Mother instead of Ma.” Another lengthy silence followed.

“I don’t know if I could ever explain why I left the way I did,” Rachel continued, “but I want you to know it had nothing to do with you children. I love you very much, and leaving you was the hardest thing I ever did.”

“Was it ‘cause you couldn’t marry Mr. O’Donnell?” Sabrina asked.

“Is that why you left?” Rachel inhaled.

“Yes. That was part of it.”

“Do you love our pa?” She sighed as a tiny smile curved the corners of her mouth.

“Yes, Brina. I love your pa. Very much.” Gavin wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d expected from the children, but his chest swelled with pride as he heard Rachel telling them how much she loved him. Moments later, the two girls were giving Rachel a hug and kissing her cheek.

“We’re glad to have you back … Mother,” he heard Petula whisper. Life seemed pretty good to Gavin Blake. She was home. Truly home. It surprised Rachel how right it felt, walking in the door of the ranch house at the Lucky Strike and knowing this was her home. It suddenly seemed to her that she’d only been visiting Maggie for a few weeks, and now she was back where she belonged. She watched as the men carried her trunks through the main room and into Gavin’s bedroom. Their bedroom. Again, it had a feeling of rightness. On his way back out of the bedroom, Stubs winked at her. She smiled in return, grateful for his silent approval. Stubs and Jess stayed in the house for a while, updating Gavin on things that had happened while he was away. The girls slipped off to their bedroom, unpacking their valises from their stay at Killarney Hall. As Rachel listened to the sound of the men’s deep voices, she wandered into Gavin’s bedroom. Our bedroom, she reminded herself again. She looked at the large four-poster with its heavy patchwork quilt. Except for summers in the basin, this would be where she spent her nights for the rest of her life. She would conceive babies, God willing, in this bed, and she would give birth to them here as well. This would be where she would lie in her husband’s arms and they would plan out their future. She ran her fingers over the smooth wood of one of the posts, then leaned her forehead against it. Everything would be complete if only he would tell her he loved her, she thought, hating the stab of sadness that marred the perfection of this moment.

“Rachel?” She turned, still holding onto the post. Gavin closed the door.

“You all right?” He moved a step closer. She nodded. He must have read something in her expression.

“You don’t mind that this was Dru’s room, do you?” She hadn’t even thought of it until he mentioned it.

“It was her bedroom. Not ours. We shared the room but not…” He paused.

“Our marriage … well, it was just a technicality so I could adopt Brina and Pet.” It was a moment before Rachel realized what he was saying. He was telling her she was his only true wife. She was glad for the knowledge. But it wasn’t enough to take the thin edge of pain away. Only his love could do that. Somehow, she had to break through the barrier to his heart. Somehow… Chapter Thirty-Seven

Days flowed into weeks and weeks into first one month and then two. It was a magical time for Rachel. Life on the Lucky Strike hadn’t changed in her absence. The work was always there, waiting to be done, and much of it was hard and back-breaking. She’d done it all before, but now it was her home, and somehow that made it different. Gavin often caught her humming as she scrubbed floors or bent over the big tubs on washdays or cooked meals for a hungry family. Nights were even more magical. They made love often, and she found that he hadn’t lied to her. It did get better. She became more confident in her response to him. She slowly learned the unique power she wielded as a woman and secretly reveled in it.

Often they lay awake a long time after making love, talking about the children, about the ranch, about their hopes and dreams. Rachel told him what little she remembered of her troubled childhood in Philadelphia with her Uncle Seth. She detailed the journey West on the wagon train as recalled through the eyes of a child. She shared some of her experiences in the finishing school and told anecdotes about the people—politicians and society matrons and businessmen—she’d met during her years in Washington and Philadelphia. Little by little, with her gentle encouragement, Gavin revealed bits and pieces of his life, too. But he never talked about his boyhood in Ohio, never mentioned either of his parents. She heard about the rough years as the fourteen-year-old boy left home and grew into a man while learning to be a cowboy in Texas. She heard stories of the hot and dusty trail drives and long nights in the saddle, of the lightning storms, the drenching rains, the droughts, the stampedes. He told her about the months he’d spent in the gold camps, surrounded by people possessed by gold fever, the ridiculous wealth of a few, the abject poverty of many. During those hours in his arms, Gavin often told her she was beautiful. He frequently said he was glad she was his wife. She waited, always hopeful, to hear those three precious words, but they didn’t come. Still, Rachel felt herself becoming more and more a part of his life and he of hers, and she was happy.

There was a subtle change in the way the children reacted to her. They

had always been close. With Dru’s tender guidance, Rachel had learned to love the girls even as Sabrina and Petula learned to love their governess. But now there was a bonding that went deeper than what they’d had before. Rachel felt it every time she heard one of them call her Mother. And when the day came that she first suspected there was to be another child calling her Mother, she felt an indescribable joy. She kept the secret nestled deep in her heart and anxiously waited until she could be sure it was true. Gavin pumped the bellows. Sweat poured down his face, back, and chest as the heat of the fire blasted him. He pulled the iron from the forge and pounded it against the anvil, carefully shaping it to fit Checker’s big hoof. The barn doors were thrown wide, allowing the late April sunshine entrance, along with a delightfully fresh breeze. Spring was always a busy time of year at the Lucky Strike as they prepared for round-up and the annual drive into the basin. This year was no different. Except that, this year, Rachel was with them. Gavin grinned as she entered the barn, carrying a tray with sandwiches and something cold to drink. He dropped the horseshoe into the bucket of water and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm as the hiss of steam filled the air.

“If you won’t come in when you’re told, you’ll have to eat in the barn.” Her tone was scolding, but her rebuke was diluted by her smile. He took the tray from her and set it near the bellows.

“Suits me, long as I’ve got such pretty company.” With a boot braced against the bottom rail, he leaned his back against the stall and took a bite from the roast-beef sandwich.

“Mmmm.” She gave a saucy little toss of her head and turned away.

“Well, you’ll have to get along without the pretty company, Mr. Blake. Mrs. Blake has far too much work to get done. There’s bread in the oven, and you’re the one who has to eat it if it burns to a crisp.” He considered letting the horse go unshod and the bread bake to a cinder while he carried the impertinent lady to their bedroom. It wouldn’t be a bad way to spend an afternoon. As Rachel reached the doorway, she lifted her hand to shade her eyes.

“We’ve got company.” Gavin took another quick bite, then a gulp of milk before walking over to join her.

“It’s Patrick!” She lifted an arm to wave toward the approaching buggy.

“And Pearl!” She hurried out into the sunshine, waiting for her friends to arrive. Gavin wasn’t as eager to greet their visitors. They hadn’t seen Patrick since their return from Boise, and that had suited Gavin just fine. Those same nagging suspicions, forgotten these past few weeks, returned as strong as ever. What if Rachel should realize she didn’t love him? What if she regretted not having the life of ease Patrick could offer her? He reached for his shirt and slipped into it, then walked out of the barn. Patrick hopped out of the buggy and immediately grabbed Rachel’s hands as he gazed down at her face.

“Look at you, lass. Sure if your happiness hasn’t made you prettier than ever.”

“It’s good to see you, Patrick. We’ve missed you.” Patrick released her and turned to help Pearl from the buggy. The two women hugged each other as Patrick stepped toward Gavin. Gavin hid his irritation and shook Patrick’s offered hand.

“Pearl’s been after Shane or me to bring her callin’ for weeks now. I decided we’d given you enough time alone, and here we are.” He grinned and slapped Gavin lightly on the back.

“Come inside, Patrick,” Rachel called.

“I’ll fix you something to eat. There’s fresh bread in the oven about ready to come out.” Patrick patted his stomach and grinned.

“That’s temptin’, lass. Do I look like a man who could refuse such an offer?”

“There’s never a moment the O’Donnell men aren’t hungry,” Pearl said as she and Rachel led the way into the house. Patrick started after them, then turned and looked back at Gavin.

“Are you comin’, mate?”

“No. I’ve got work to do.” He spun on his heel and strode back to the barn, ignoring Patrick’s questioning gaze.

He stripped off his shirt. Damn! Why did they have to come today? Why did he have to come at all? He lifted the horseshoe from the water bucket, then picked up Checker’s leg and held the iron against the large hoof. It was a good fit. He should be pleased. But his mind wasn’t on shoeing the old work horse. It was on Patrick and Rachel, together in the house. Rachel couldn’t understand why Gavin still hadn’t returned from the barn. It shouldn’t have taken him that long to finish with the shoeing. Checker had been the last horse he had to do. He’d told her so himself. So why was he ignoring Patrick and Pearl? Because of the weather and the distances to be traveled, they’d had few enough guests come calling since the wedding, and Rachel thought Gavin should be as tickled as she was to see their friends.

“Sure but I think I’d better stretch my legs after such a meal,” Patrick said as he rose from the table.

“Maybe I can give Gavin a hand.” A tiny frown furrowed Rachel’s brow. She hoped Patrick would be able to figure out why Gavin was acting so strangely. Pearl helped clear away the dishes, oblivious to Rachel’s quandary.

“That was a wonderful lunch, Rachel. It’s been so long since I’ve cooked a meal, I’d probably poison the whole family if I tried. The cook won’t let me poke my nose inside the kitchen. She thinks I’m too young to have a single notion of what must be done to care for the O’Donnell men.”

“I bet you’d do just fine, given the chance,” Rachel replied.

“I didn’t know much when I first went up to the basin. I used to help with the cooking now and then when I was little, but Dru was the one who really taught me how to get around in the kitchen.” Pearl stopped and turned to look at Rachel.

“Dru was a special person. Is it hard? Fillin’ her shoes?” She blushed.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s all right.” Rachel laid a hand over Pearl’s.

“We all miss her. Gavin, the children, me. All of us . But Gavin and I… well, we have something different, something uniquely ours.”

“You’re real happy, aren’t you?”

“Very.” Pearl returned to her chair beside the table and sat down.

“I was sorry you didn’t marry Patrick. I wanted you for my sister. That place needs more women in it. But I can see it wouldn’t have been right. You belong here with Gavin.”

“Patrick will find the right woman someday. You’ll see.”

“I sure hope you’re right,” Pearl replied with a little shake of her head.

“I’m surprised you’re not getting’ fat, Gavin, with a wife who can cook like that.” Gavin threw another forkful of hay into Patch’s stall, replying with a noncommittal grunt.

“Thought I’d come out and offer you a hand.

Give Rachel and Pearl time alone for some woman-talk. A man’s not welcome when two females put their heads together. So what can I do out here for you, Gavin, until I’m welcome inside again?” Gavin glanced toward Patrick. The Irishman was leaning his shoulder against the barn door, his stance jaunty, his face bright with a grin. His shirt was white and starched, his black trousers smoothly creased, his red hair slicked back in place. At the moment, Gavin couldn’t think of any way Patrick could help him without getting his fancy duds mussed. It shouldn’t bother him so much. Patrick had always been wealthy, yet they’d become friends. He’d never been envious or jealous before. But it was different now. Patrick had been engaged to Rachel. Patrick had kissed Rachel and held her in his arms. Patrick could give Rachel things that Gavin never could. His fingers tightened around the handle of the pitchfork, and he jabbed it into the stack of hay. Patrick wandered in, blithely ignoring Gavin’s sour mood.

“Faith and begorra! Would you look at this fine lass.” He turned to see Patrick leaning over a stall gate. Unable to help himself, he set the pitchfork aside and walked over to join Patrick. The palomino mare stood in the center of her stall, gently bathing the newborn filly with her tongue.

“Just arrived yesterday,” he told Patrick.

“Dru would’ve been pleased. She always did want a colt out of this mare. This little gal is Sunshine’s first foal. The spittin’ image of her dam.”

“That she is.” He glanced sideways at Patrick.

“My wife’s birthday’s coming up. I thought Rachel might like to have the filly.” Patrick didn’t look his way. ““Tis a fine gift from a husband. Fine gift.” Sure. A fine gift. But not what Patrick could have given her.

“Gavin, what’s wrong with you?” Rachel demanded as she closed the bedroom door.

“I’ve never seen you so churlish.”

“Maybe I just don’t like people coming and staying for so long when there’s work to be done.” Gavin removed his shirt and tossed it across a chair.

“It’s only a few more weeks before we’ll be driving the cattle up to the basin. We don’t have time for lounging like some folk. If I could afford a houseful of servants and a dozen cowboys, I could spend my day visiting too.” She listened to him in stunned silence, still not understanding why he was angry. Finally, she stepped away from the door.

“But it’s nice to have friends come calling.” He paused in his undressing and leveled a dark look at her across the bed.

“Tired of my company, Mrs. Blake?” he asked. Then he turned, sat on the bed, and pulled off his dusty trousers. She was shocked first, then her own temper flared.

“It wouldn’t take long for anyone to be tired of your company when you’re in such a sour mood. Did you notice Brina’s and Pet’s faces at supper? They thought they’d done something wrong.” He sighed but remained silent. Rachel skirted the bed and came to stand beside him, her anger forgotten. She placed her hand on his bare shoulder.

“Is this something I just have to expect in the spring? Are you always like this?” She leaned over and nuzzled the back of his neck.

“If so, I’ll have to find some way to sweeten you up.” Gavin shook his head as he stared at the floor, unaffected for once by her caress.

“There’s always so much damn work.”

“It gets done.”

“No matter how many good years we have, it’ll never be enough so you don’t have to work so hard.” It was Rachel’s turn to sigh.

“Haven’t we talked about this before, Gavin? I don’t mind the work.”

“You should mind.” He twisted his head, his gaze meeting hers.

“I got to thinking, having Patrick here. If you’d married him instead of me, you’d be the one going visiting while somebody else did the work. Someday you might wish you had married him.”

“Is that what this is about?” She threw up her hands in exasperation.

“I married the man I wanted to marry. Can’t you accept that?” She wished she could tell him she wasn’t like his mother, that she had married him “until death do you part.” But she wasn’t supposed to know about Christina Blake, and so she kept silent.

“I’ll check on the bath water,” she said as she turned toward the bedroom door. She felt a sadness settling over her. This was the closest they’d come to an argument in all these weeks. She’d gotten spoiled, she supposed. No married couple got along one hundred percent of the time. Everyone fought occasionally. She shouldn’t be afraid to disagree with Gavin. This thing with Patrick and being afraid she would leave him—it was all tied up with the way his mother left his father. That was why he couldn’t admit to loving her. He was afraid to love. A man so strong, so brave in every other way, but when it came to his heart, he was a coward. She dragged the washtub into the kitchen and began filling it with steaming hot water, all the while wishing she was smarter about men. There had to be some way she could help him see that her love was enduring, that it was forever. But how? How did she break down those barriers? Patience, she thought as she heard the bedroom door opening. She had to have patience. He was acting like a damn fool, and he knew it. Rachel was his wife. She’d

broken off with Patrick of her own accord. She’d willingly accepted his proposal. He had no reason to doubt her sincerity. She loved him. She’d told him so in more ways than mere words. Gavin stood in the bedroom doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist, watching as she dumped a kettle of boiling water into the tub. The steam was causing her hair to spring into curls around her face and ears. Her cheeks were delicately flushed, and a fine mist made her skin glow in the lamplight.

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting,” he said softly.

“I guess I’m just tired.” Her smile was wistful.

“Your bath is ready. Get in. It’ll make you feel better.” She was right. A hot bath to soothe his tired muscles would make him feel better. He crossed to the tub, dropped the towel on the floor, and stepped into the water, sinking down into the tin bath until all but his head was submerged. He closed his eyes and felt his muscles begin to relax. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there before he heard her moving about the kitchen. He opened his eyes in time to see her lifting another kettle of hot water from the stove.

“Move your feet,” she instructed. He pulled his knees toward his chest and watched as she poured the water into the bath. She set the kettle on the floor beside the tub and swirled the added hot water with her hand. Her fingers brushed against his leg, and he felt a prickle of awareness. Her touch always did that to him. Turning away for a moment, she picked up a bar of soap and came to kneel beside him. She glanced toward him, her expression uncertain, as if asking permission. When he made no response, she lifted his arm and began to move the soap over his skin, slowly working up a lather. He’d never had anyone bathe him before. It was more intimate, more pleasurable than he might have imagined. Her touch was light, almost nonexistent, yet he would have sworn he could feel her heartbeat through her fingertips. She moved slowly, causing him to shift and lift with only the gentle pressure of her hand or glance of her eyes. He was unaware of the cooling water. A new, more enjoyable tension replaced the old. He could get use to such treatment, especially when he could feast his eyes on Rachel, her dress damp and clinging to her breasts.

“You know what you need, Gavin?” Rachel whispered, breaking the silence with her husky voice.

“What?” He could think of one very particular thing he needed, thanks to her ministrations.

“You need a dunking.” With that, her hands landed on top of his head and she pushed him beneath the water. He came up sputtering.

“What was that for?”

“Your hair must be wet before I can wash it,” she answered in feigned innocence.

“And do you know what you need, Rachel Blake?” He raised an eyebrow but hid the wicked grin that would have hinted at his intent.

She shook her head.

“You need a dousing.” He grabbed her before she had a chance to move away, pulling her into the tin bath with him. Water splashed over the sides of the tub and spread across the kitchen floor, but neither Gavin nor Rachel were aware of the mess they had made. Nor would they have cared if they’d known.

Chapter Thirty-Eight Gavin rode out with Stubs and Jess at the crack of dawn that May morning, as they had every morning for the past week. The round-up had started. The spring counting of the calf crop. The branding. It was hard work that didn’t wait for birthdays or anything else. Rachel wasn’t sure if Gavin had remembered today was her birthday. She suspected he had, since he’d told her he would try to be back earlier than usual. But she really didn’t care if he’d forgotten. She had the best gift of all already, and she was going to surprise him with it when he got back. She smiled as her hand lingered over her flat stomach. She was certain now that she was pregnant. She’d missed two monthly flows. By her calculations, she would be holding Gavin’s child by Christmas. Who would have thought she would be wishing for the season of snow when spring had only just begun? She pulled the cake from the oven and set it aside to cool, then tasted the soup that had been simmering for an hour. She glanced at the clock on the mantel. Would she have time to change her clothes and fix her hair before he got back? She wanted to look her very best when she told him the joyous news. Rachel wandered across the main room and opened the door, stepping outside. An azure canopy spread from horizon to horizon without a single cloud to mar its blue perfection. The cry of a falcon, circling overhead, was added to the buzz of a bumblebee hovering over the flowers that bordered the south side of the house. She could hear the children’s laughter coming from the barn loft. She knew they were busy planning a birthday surprise of their own. She hugged herself, as if to contain the happiness that was close to overflowing. It all seemed so perfect, too wonderful to be believed. She saw the horse and rider from some distance away. She recognized Patrick and was ashamed for wishing he hadn’t come. She knew Gavin’s insecurities about Patrick hadn’t been swept away simply by the two of them making love in a bathtub, and neither of them had mentioned the Irishman’s last visit again. She drew a deep breath and silently scolded herself. You’ve got no reason to be unkind to Patrick. He’s your friend and Gavin’s too. Gavin’s got to realize it. That’s all. She waved as the horse trotted into the yard.

“Hello, Patrick.”

“Hello, lass. It’s a beautiful day for a birthday, and I’ve come to wish you a happy one.”

“Thank you.” Patrick dismounted.

“I’ve also come to speak with your husband about a matter of some importance.”

“He’s not here, but I expect him in the next hour or so.”

“Would you mind my waitin’? “Tis rather important that I speak to him.” Rachel wondered what could be so important but decided against asking. If he wanted her to know, he would tell her. She opened the door.

“Of course I don’t mind if you wait. Come inside. I’ve a cake to frost.” Patrick stood in the middle of the main room, his eyes moving slowly over the interior of the house before returning to Rachel.

“You’ve made the place feel like a home again.

“Twas that way when Charlie and Dru and Gavin first lived here. Always a happy place.” She wished she could ask him to tell her more, but again she refrained. It didn’t seem right to ask Patrick the things her husband should tell her. She would have to be satisfied with waiting. Perhaps it wasn’t even important for her to know. After all, she and Gavin were building a new life, one entirely their own. And when their child ……. Her gaze drifted off into space as her hands slipped to her stomach in that centuries-old manner of pregnant women, a cradling, protective gesture. This child was this product of the joy she shared in Gavin’s arms. She couldn’t help but believe it would at last convince her husband not only of her love for him but his love for her. Surely he would be able to put the pain of his past behind him, once and for all.

“Faith and begorra!” Rachel was brought abruptly back to the present. She found Patrick watching her and wearing a smile as bright as the sun itself.

“There’s to be a wee Blake come winter, or my name isn’t Patrick O’Donnell. Gavin must be burstin’ with pride.” She lowered her eyes, blushing profusely.

“He doesn’t know yet. I’m going to tell him today. How did you know?”

““Tis written all over your face, lass.” Patrick’s long strides brought him across the room.

“Sure but ‘tis wonderful news.” She looked up.

“Thank you, Patrick. I’m glad you’re still my friend.” Her voice lowered.

“You know I never meant to hurt you.”

““Tis forgotten. Was my fault in any case. Only a blind man couldn’t’ve seen how you felt. Now, will you let a friend congratulate the new mother and wish her well?” Rachel nodded and was quickly enveloped in his embrace. It was a little like being hugged by a bear, but it was warm and unthreatening. They remained silent for a long time, Rachel feeling a new sense of peace, glad that her foolishness hadn’t cost her a dear friend. It was Patrick who finally broke the silence.

“You deserve all the happiness life can bring, lass. All the happiness and more. And you’ll have it now. I promise you that.”

“Thank you,” she whispered again as she stepped back. And then she realized that the door was open. She turned her head, her gaze clashing with Gavin’s. Dread turned her blood to ice in her veins as she stared into gray eyes filled with contempt.

“Gavin…” She reached for the dry sink to steady herself.

“I’m back early.” His voice was like granite.

“And glad I am,” Patrick proclaimed, moving away from Rachel.

“There’s a matter I must discuss with you. I’ve been waitin’ for your return.” Gavin continued to glare at his wife.

“So I see.” Rachel didn’t know that she’d ever felt such fear. She knew how Patrick’s hug must have looked to Gavin. It must have confirmed everything he’d believed would happen. She wanted to say something to reassure him but couldn’t do it in front of Patrick. And so she remained silent. There was a faint buzz in his ears, a dull ache in his chest. As he looked at Patrick, he vacillated between wanting to kill the Irishman and wanting to die himself. ““Tis the matter of the bull from Montana. I’ll not be goin’ up that way after all. I’m leavin’ for Ireland in the mornin’.”

“Ireland?”

““Tis a family matter. It may be two years or more ‘fore I return to Idaho. I know that I promised to take a look at O’Malley’s bull when I went up there this summer, but I’ll not be goin’ now.

“Tis sorry I am not to help a friend, but there’s no way out of it for me.” Gavin thought he probably should say something appropriate, like sorry to see you go or hope you have a safe journey, but at the moment, he just couldn’t do it.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make the trip up there myself.”

“Well…” Patrick shifted and cleared his throat. ““Tis growing late, and I’ve a long ride back to the hall. I’ll be sayin’ good-bye.” Rachel moved from her spot in the kitchen, coming to stand not far from Gavin’s side. Her voice was soft and quavery.

“We’ll miss you, Patrick.”

“Sure and I’m hopin’ ‘tis true, lass. Be happy … and take care of all the Blakes.” Gavin sensed that Patrick was saying more than just what those simple words indicated. He glanced from Patrick to Rachel and back again, unable to decipher the secret meaning. Patrick turned from Rachel and thrust out his hand.

“Gavin.” He stared at Patrick, the anger still rolling through him. Only after a lengthy deliberation did he extend his arm and clasp the proffered hand.

“Good-bye, Patrick.” The Irishman’s grip was firm. Again, Gavin sensed the man was trying to communicate something to him this time, and this time with his eyes. But Gavin wasn’t willing to try to understand. He pulled his hand free and stood waiting for the man to leave. Patrick placed his wide-brimmed hat over his hair. He glanced quickly toward Rachel.

“Don’t be a stranger at Killarney. Pearl still feels overwhelmed by the O’Donnell men and is eager for female company.” With that, he left, closing the door behind him. An oppressive silence permeated the house. Rachel felt as if it would smother her. She willed her legs to move, to carry her toward the nearest chair. With great effort, they obeyed. Gavin, however, didn’t budge—except for his dark, stormy eyes. They followed her—unrelenting, unyielding, unforgiving. Say something! her mind screamed.

“Suppose,” he said, as if in answer to her silent bequest, “you tell me what was going on here.”

“Going on?” Her words were nearly inaudible.

“Was it a lovers’ farewell?” Rachel gasped.

“You know that isn’t true.”

“Do I? What would you have me think, walking in and finding you in his arms? What would have happened if I hadn’t returned when I did?”

“Nothing.” She rose slowly, her voice growing stronger.

“I didn’t even know he was leaving for Ireland.” His fists clenched at his sides.

“You should have married him, Rachel. You wouldn’t have been forced to deceive me then.”

“I haven’t deceived you. I didn’t want to marry him. It was you I wanted.” Even as she protested, she knew he was beyond hearing.

“It’s worse than I expected,” he continued.

“You couldn’t even be faithful for a few months. What was Patrick doing here? Was he asking you to go with him? Was that what those secret glances were about?”

“Gavin, you must listen to me. Patrick came to see you, not me.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Anger, fear, frustration, and defeat mingled in a confused mass in her chest.

“Why don’t you go with him? It’s not too late. You could probably still catch him.” Then anger submerged all her other emotions. Without even realizing what she was doing, she slapped him. The sound echoed in her ears. Her palm stung. She was breathing hard, as if she’d been running for a great distance.

“Maybe I should leave. Maybe I should just go now and get it over with. You’re always going to be waiting for it to happen, aren’t you? If not with Patrick, with someone else. Maybe I should leave.” There wasn’t even the slightest change in the expression on his face.

“Maybe you should. You only promised to stay until spring.” He might as well have run a knife through her heart. The pain was the same. A hurt gasp escaped her lips as she whirled around and headed for the door.

“You can probably catch him,” Gavin repeated in that same toneless voice. She stopped dead still. Anger drained from her, leaving her tired and broken. She turned her head to look at him.

“All I’ve wanted was to make you happy, Gavin Blake. Tell me. Won’t you ever realize how much I love you?” As she turned away, she added, “I’m not the same sort of woman as your mother. I never was.” She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. She was surprised to find that the sun still shone, that flowers still bloomed, that birds still sang in the treetops. How did spring dare to reign in bright glory when all her world was dark? She walked toward the barn. She supposed, if she hurried, there was still time to reach town before nightfall. In a few days she could be back in Boise. And then maybe she would return to Washington. She could work for the professor again. She could return to her studies. She stopped and looked back at the house. Once again, her hands touched her stomach where even now a new life grew. Washington wasn’t where she belonged. This was. Running away wasn’t the answer. Perhaps it was time for her to listen to Gavin’s heart instead of his words. How long was it after she’d gone before he heard what she’d said? Really heard. I’m not the same sort of woman as your mother. I never was. And then he began to see and hear it all. He began to understand what it was he had done.

He’d been so afraid she would one day leave him that he’d made it happen. He’d driven her away so he wouldn’t be surprised later. He’d forced the fulfillment of his own expectations. No, Rachel wasn’t like his mother. She never had been. She never would be. And Gavin had known it too. All I’ve wanted was to make you happy, Gavin Blake. Won’t you ever realize how much I love you? Yes. Yes, he realized it. He realized it now—when it was too late. Gavin sank down onto a chair and lowered his forehead onto the palms of his hands, his elbows resting on the table. The weeks and months with Rachel all came back to his mind. The joy and laughter, the tears and sorrow. He saw it all. And he saw so clearly her steadfastness, her love for a man who didn’t trust it, didn’t deserve it. He had the world in his hands and had thrown it away. All that remained was the emptiness.

“What a fool I’ve been,” he said aloud.

“I loved her too.”

“It’s not too late to tell her.” His breath caught. He raised his head, afraid to look, afraid his mind was playing tricks on him.

“It’s not too late, Gavin, unless you let it be.” He rose from the chair and slowly turned. And there she was, standing by the open door, her brilliant blue eyes watching him, her pale cheeks streaked with tears. Waiting. Waiting for him to say what was in his heart.

They came with ease, those words he’d never spoken.

“I love you, Rachel Blake. Stay with me. I love you.” She had done it at last, this slip of a girl, this woman, his wife. As he crossed the expanse of room that separated them and gathered her into his arms, the protective wall around Gavin’s heart finally crumbled in defeat, falling beneath the power of her love.

Epilogue Gavin’s son arrived on Christmas Day, 1884. As a blizzard raged outside the sturdy log walls, Nicholas Tucker Blake slipped from the protection of his mother’s womb into the safety of his father’s arms. Moments later, his lusty cries filled the Lucky Strike ranch house.

“It’s a boy,” Gavin proclaimed loudly, knowing the girls were waiting, along with Stubs and Jess, on the other side of the bedroom door. Then, more softly, “Hello, Nick.” With care, he tied string around the umbilical cord, then cut the cord with a sharp knife. He bathed the protesting child with warm water before wrapping him in a soft blanket. Finally, he lifted his gaze toward his wife.

“We have a son, Rachel.” She smiled.

“I know.” The long labor had left her beautiful face marked with fatigue, yet there was an inner glow emanating from Rachel such as he’d never seen before. She held out her arms.

“Let me see him.” Gavin carried the bathed and swaddled infant to the side of the bed. Carefully, he placed him into his mother’s arms, then he leaned low and kissed her brow. The sudden depth of emotion that welled within him made speech impossible. He wished he could thank her for all that she’d given him. Not just a son but a full heart, a heart made complete with love. He hoped she understood. Rachel stared for a

long time at the baby, smoothing the dark, fuzzy hair on his head, counting his fingers and toes, kissing the tip of his tiny nose. The pain of giving birth was already forgotten. There was no room for anything but joy.

“He looks like you,” she whispered.

“Do you think so?” Gavin’s voice was husky with emotion.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Just like all our other sons will look.” She glanced up. As their eyes met, she imagined the future stretching out before them. There would be more children to fill the Blake house. From their mother, they would learn their numbers and letters and a thirst for knowledge. From their father, they would learn a love for the land and a respect for nature. From both of their parents, they would learn a joy for living, loving, and giving.

Gavin knelt beside the bed.

“I love you, Rachel Blake.” She marveled at what power those words contained. She sighed happily, contentment spreading through her like warm honey.

“I love you, Gavin. Now and always.” He leaned forward and kissed her. Perhaps, she thought as Gavin’s lips lingered over hers, the difference she’d been destined to make in this world could be found right here in this room. Perhaps changing the heart of just one man was the greatest destiny of all.