“Oh!” As the wagon jerked out of the rut, the startled sound brought him abruptly back to the present. He glanced to the right and found Rachel gripping the wagon seat as the rear wheel fell into the same deep cut in the earth, then pulled out of it again.


“Sorry,” he mumbled. Her left hand rose to her black velvet hat with its fur-lined brim and cluster of ostrich tips. She pushed at its crown, as if to make sure it was still secure after the jostling it had been through. It didn’t seem to matter where she was or what she was doing or what she was wearing. Rachel Harris always managed to look beautiful. Even now, with wisps of hair spilling free from beneath that preposterous hat, he couldn’t remember when he’d seen anyone more beautiful. Wouldn’t she be even more beautiful without the hat, with her hair tumbling freely about her shoulders, with her face slightly flushed from… “Are we nearly there?” He nodded as he looked away, damning himself for his wayward thoughts. Did it take no more than a pretty face to make him forget the difference between right and wrong? Silently, he cursed himself for ever allowing Dru to talk him into that trip to Boise City. Shoot! He could’ve tutored the girls himself. He wouldn’t have been as good at it as Rachel was, but he could have managed. It would have been better for all of them without an outsider like Rachel Harris around. A small grunt escaped his companion as the wagon wheel dropped into another rut. He hid a grin, finding some perverse satisfaction in her discomfiture. It was easier to blame his inner turmoil on her than to face the truth of his feelings. Rachel let out a silent sigh of relief as the wagon rolled down the main street of Challis. The trip into town had seemed hours long.

Gavin hadn’t spoken more than a half dozen words the entire time, and the few he’d spoken had sounded distinctly churlish.

She straightened on the wagon seat and allowed herself a look around. In comparison with Washington or Philadelphia, the town would hardly have been considered civilized.

Even compared to Boise City—scarcely two decades old itself—it was small and rustic. Yet she felt strangely at ease as her gaze swept from a mercantile store, past a saloon, over a dry goods store, beyond the livery stable, and finally rested on a Chinese laundry. It was a little like coming home after a long trip abroad.

What a silly thought!

Rachel shook her head as the wagon drew to a halt in front of the Challis Mercantile. Gavin wrapped the reins around the brake handle, then hopped to the ground and walked around to the opposite side. Wordlessly, he held out his right hand to her.

She paused a moment before slipping her gloved fingers into his. Her insides seemed to jump at the moment of contact, but she managed to hide her inner pandemonium by averting her eyes, staring hard at the planks of wood that made up the sidewalk outside the mercantile. It wasn’t until he released her hand that she was able to draw another breath.

“Gavin! Sure and I’m glad to see you’re back.”

Rachel turned with Gavin toward the deep male voice with the soft Irish burr.

The man who stepped up onto the narrow boardwalk was well over six feet tall, with a massive chest and shoulders. He was wearing a stylish suit coat and trousers and shiny leather boots. Rachel hadn’t seen anything finer since she was back East. He looked strangely out of place in this remote mountain town. As he doffed his felt derby, revealing a shock of carrot-red hair, he flashed a grin in her direction.

“And I see you’ve brought a bit o’ beauty out o’ the basin with you.” His laughing green eyes never left her face.

“Sure if I’m not thinkin’ I should be summerin’ my cattle there too.”

“Hello, Patrick.”

“Faith and begorra!” He paused a few moments.

“Have you lost your manners? Introduce me to the young lady before I have to do it myself.” Rachel glanced quickly from the man called Patrick to Gavin and then back again. In comparison with the stranger’s friendly smile, Gavin’s look was dark and decidedly inhospitable.

“I can see I’ll get nowhere waitin’ for my friend here to do me the honor of an introduction.” A large hand clad in a fine kid glove reached out and took hold of her fingers.

“Patrick O’Donnell, at your service.

“Tis proud I am to make your acquaintance.” His smile broadened.

“Now if you’d be so kind as to tell me your name, I’d be forever in your debt, lass.” She couldn’t help herself. His smile was as irresistible as the open appreciation written across his pleasant, if not handsome, features. She tilted her head slightly to the side as she looked up at him.

“Rachel Harris,” she replied, returning his smile.

“Sure and I should have known. A name that would make the angels in heaven rejoice.” He bowed low and kissed the back of her hand. Gavin made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat.

“Ignore the blighter,” Patrick said as he slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and drew her toward the door of the mercantile.

“Now tell me. What has brought you to our fair community, Miss Harris?”

“I’m working for the Blakes at the Lucky Strike.”

“Then you’re here for a stay?” Patrick asked, pulling open the door and ushering her through. As she moved passed him, he offered an exaggerated wink. ““Tis the luck of the Irish that made me a neighbor to Mr. Blake. Tell me, Miss Harris, what is it you do for the likes of this disagreeable mate o’ mine?”

“I’m teaching the Blake children.”

“A teacher? What a fine and noble trade. I’d wager my mother’s own jewels that you’re a fine one, too.” Gavin stepped up beside her and claimed her other arm.

“You’ll excuse us, Patrick,” he said gruffly.

“Miss Harris and I have some business to see to.” Patrick lifted an eyebrow, but the twinkle in his eyes never faltered.

“Sure and I can see he has want of you to himself,” he said to Rachel in a stage whisper, “but I know now where to find you. Good day, Miss Harris.” He nodded to Gavin.

“Good day, mate.” As the door swung closed behind him, Rachel let out

a deep breath, feeling just a little wind-blown by the brief encounter.

“If you’ve got the list, Miss Harris, we’ll get done what we came to town for.” If anything, he sounded even more surly than before. Killjoy, she thought angrily as she pulled the list of shopping items from her reticule. Yet, for some strange reason, she felt elated by his sour mood, knowing instinctively that it had something to do with the way Mr. O’Donnell had looked at her.

Chapter Fifteen

“Don’t be silly. I’m feeling as strong as an ox today. We’ve been home several weeks now and I’ve not gotten to go visiting once. I have no intention of missing Pearl Johansen’s wedding, and it’s time you met some of our friends and neighbors, Rachel.” Rachel watched helplessly as Dru pulled her best dress over her head. Three weeks of rest had done wonders for the woman, but she was far from being as strong as an ox. Perhaps as feisty as one of Countess’s kittens would be a more accurate comparison.

“Now we’d better hurry or we’ll miss the wedding. Stubs and Jess have already left.” Dru fastened the last button up the front of her autumn-plaid bodice, then glanced toward Rachel once again.

“Will you help me with my hair?” Rachel shook her head even as a smile curved the corners of her mouth.

“Gavin isn’t going to like this. I was supposed to convince you to stay home.”

“I know.” Dru grinned in return, then settled onto a stool in front of the dresser mirror.

“But it doesn’t do any of us any good to just sit around waiting for me to die.” Rachel sucked in a startled breath. Dru’s hazel eyes met Rachel’s in the reflection of the mirror.

“There’s no point in dancin’ around the truth any longer. We all know what’s coming. And my stayin’ in bed all the time isn’t going to change a thing.” She twisted to look directly at Rachel.

“I’d rather live right up to the end, Rachel. I don’t want my girls’ last memories of me to be lyin’ in bed, lookin’ old and tired and sick. Can you understand that?”

“Sure,” she whispered, her throat tight as she fought hot tears. She made a big production out of picking up the brush and selecting a ribbon from a box on the dresser while she gained control of her emotions.

“Now,” she said as she straightened, “how would you like your hair, Mrs. Blake?”

“Anything you can do to make it look halfway pretty will do.” Rachel ran the brush through the fine gray-brown hair, wishing there was something special she could do.

“I know!” she exclaimed suddenly as she dropped the brush onto the dresser.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.” She rushed out of the bedroom and across the sitting room, not even pausing long enough to pull on her coat before rushing outside and toward her own cabin. She scarcely noticed the cold. She was too excited. She pushed things aside in the wardrobe, then rummaged through her trunk, tossing things out onto her bed until she found it.

“There it is.” She pulled the hair ornament from its box.

“Perfect,” she whispered. She felt surprisingly light-hearted as she hurried back to the main house. Dru was still sitting at her dressing table, wearing the same surprised expression that had appeared when Rachel rushed out of the bedroom.

“Look. Isn’t it wonderful? It goes perfectly with your dress.” Rachel held up the spray of satin tiger lilies, the orange flowers interspersed with burnt-sienna leaves of the same shiny fabric. Rich brown ostrich feathers completed the ornament. Dru held out her hands, cradling the satin and feathers as if they were fragile glassware.

“This is much too fine for me to wear, Rachel. I’m not the right sort for it. It’s meant for someone young and pretty like you. And what if I lost or damaged it? I couldn’t ever repay you.”