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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” she whispered.

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

Chapter Eight

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

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

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

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

“I did ‘em.” She held out the slate.

“I did ‘em all. Just like yours.”

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

Petula’s head cocked to one side.

“What’s exag… exagger…”

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

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

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

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