“Those were all the eggs. We’ve been out and collected them and there won’t be any more until tomorrow. And Ma said she’d like an egg for breakfast. She hardly ever eats any more, but she wanted something this morning, and now Pet’s ruined Ma’s breakfast.” The younger girl’s sobs increased.

“I .. . I ….. didn’t mean … mean to.” Rachel pushed tangled brown hair away from the child’s face as she knelt beside her, unmindful of the hem of her dress mixing with the gooey mess on the floor. She kissed Petula’s cheek.

“Hush, now. Shhh. Your mother will understand. We’ll make her a grand breakfast, something she’ll like much better than eggs.”

“Wh .. ….. what?” Petula sniffed then rubbed her sleeve beneath her nose. - “why don’t I go ask her?”

“But then she’ll know what Pet did,” Sabrina interrupted in the same high-handed tone. Rachel turned her head, casting a meaningful glance toward the older girl.

“Do you think your mother wouldn’t understand about a little accident?” Sabrina bowed her head.

“No,” she mumbled.

“No,” Rachel repeated.

“Of course not. Now, help Pet clean this up, and I’ll go see what we can tempt your mother’s appetite with.” The set of Sabrina’s shoulders was still slightly mutinous, but she nodded her head as Rachel rose from the floor.

“Miss… Miss Harris?” Petula stuttered, still trying to control her tears.

“I… I ruined your dress too. Look.” She pointed at the egg stains on Rachel’s skirt. It was one of her favorite day dresses, a pale blue wool, and it did, indeed, look ruined. But Rachel managed to conceal her dismay as she calmly reached for a cloth lying on the dry sink and wiped away what she could.

“It’ll wash,” she told Petula, her voice light.

“It’s not important.” And she knew as she spoke the words that they were true. Petula’s feelings were far more important than any dress. For the few minutes it had taken to deal with Petula’s crisis, Rachel had forgotten her own problems, but as soon as she reached the door to Dru’s bedroom, they came rushing back. Dru was more than an employer. She was Rachel’s friend. She was sick and dying, and Rachel had come

so close to betraying her. How could she face her? She leveled her shoulders, drew a deep breath, and pushed open the door.

“Dru?” The room was shrouded in shadows.

“Is everything all right out there?” Dru’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Yes.” Rachel crossed the room with measured steps.

“Just a little tiff between sisters. I’ve seen it before with my nieces and nephews.” She stopped beside the bed.

“I’m afraid there won’t be any eggs for breakfast.”

“It’s not important,” Dru replied with a shallow sigh.

“I doubt I could have eaten it anyway.” Rachel’s eyes had adjusted to the dim light of the room by this time, and she stared down at the woman in the bed. It seemed to Rachel that Dru had withered away overnight.

“Dru, please. You must try to eat something.” She leaned forward, touching the papery skin of Dru’s arm.

“Perhaps later. What I’d like is for you to sit with me a while. Would you do that for me, Rachel?” A shiver of fear raced down her back.

“If you’d like.” She reached for the chair against the wall.

“Wait.” Dru’s voice seemed even weaker.

“Help the girls with their breakfast first. Then come back. I’ll just close my eyes and rest for a while. I’m so terribly tired today.” He was a coward and he knew it. Gavin reminded himself of that fact numerous times as he rode Scamp across the acres of grassland that made up the Lucky Strike. There was little a cattleman could do in the winter except pray and hope that the blizzards and freezing temperatures didn’t last too long, that the calves didn’t drop too soon, that the wolves and coyotes didn’t strike too often. There wasn’t anything he could accomplish by spending the day in the saddle, chilled to the bone by the icy November winds. But he was a coward and he knew it. He couldn’t face Dru this morning, not while Rachel’s image was still burned into his brain, not while he longed to taste her lips, feel her soft flesh beneath his hands; not while desire to possess her raged in his body. He jerked back on the reins, bringing the gelding to a sliding stop. He pushed his hat back on his head and rubbed his fingers across his forehead. What sort of spell had that blonde witch cast over him? Never once in his thirty-three years had he been so obsessed with a woman. He’d known his share and found out he could get along well enough without them in his life, at least any particular one for any particular length of time. When he’d felt the need of a woman, he’d found the saloon girls in any town were sufficient. He could spend a few hours with them, finding release within the soft warmth of their bodies, then forget them. Perhaps that was what he needed now. Perhaps he needed to head up to Bonanza City or Custer, somewhere far enough away that Dru—and Rachel—would never hear of it. For a few dollars and a little time, he could rid himself of this obsession. He’d been abstinent too long. But even as he thought it, he knew it was useless. He knew he would return still wanting Rachel Harris. And not just her body. He wanted to sit with her while she read to the children. He wanted to watch her brushing her hair by candlelight. He wanted to race with her through another mountain meadow, hear her laughter as she tripped over Joker’s clumsy feet. He wanted her completely, totally, absolutely, unconditionally. And with all he was, all he’d ever believed, he knew it was wrong to want her. As long as he had a wife, it was wrong. He dug his spurs into Scamp’s black sides and sent the horse hurtling forward at a mad pace, afraid to think any longer, afraid of where his thoughts were leading him. After preparing the children’s breakfast, Rachel went to her cabin and quickly changed out of her soiled gown. Upon her return to the main house, she found Dru fast asleep. Knowing that Dru always read to the children from the Bible on Sunday mornings, Rachel sat down with them near the fireplace and read several parables from the Gospel of John. More than once she paused in her reading, feeling a terrible hypocrisy. Thou shalt not covet. Could God ever forgive her the rebellion of her heart? Rachel returned to Dru’s bedroom throughout the morning, but every time, she found the woman sleeping. She couldn’t bring herself to wake her, not when she could see so clearly the fatigue written on her face. Several times, she stepped outside, her gaze sweeping over the valleys and mountains, never admitting to herself what she was watching for. Once, she saw Stubs come out of the bunkhouse, his coat collar pulled up against the cold. He raised a hand and waved to her before entering the barn. She shivered as a lonely wind whistled through the trees, then turned and went back inside. It was shortly after noon that a knock sounded on the door. The girls were in their bedroom, involved in cutting out scraps of cloth for doll dresses, so Rachel went to answer the door herself, certain that it was Stubs. When she pulled the door open, she was surprised to find Patrick O’Donnell’s giant frame filling up the opening.

“Good day, Miss Harris,” he said as he pulled his hat from his head.

“I hope I’ve not come at a bad time?”

“Not at all, Mr. O’Donnell. Please. Do come in.” She opened the door wide to admit him. There seemed to be something almost awkward about the big man today. Rachel sensed his nervousness even as she reached to take his hat.

“Won’t you have a seat?” She motioned toward the chair near the fireplace.

“I’m afraid Gavin isn’t here at the moment.”

“It’s not Gavin I’ve come to see.” Rachel’s eyes widened as she looked at him. He’d flirted with her the day they met, and at the wedding he’d monopolized much of her time. But it wasn’t until now that she took his interest seriously. Perhaps it was that schoolboy look on his face or the way he was pressing his fingers together, turning them white at the tips.

“I see,” she replied softly, sinking into another chair. She liked

Patrick O’Donnell. Despite his size, she sensed a gentleness about him. He had a fine face, not truly handsome, but pleasant. She imagined his broad nose had been generously freckled when he was a boy, though there was no trace of them now. His mouth was full, the hint of a grin lingering in the corners, even now when he was serious. His green eyes promised mischief. She’d enjoyed his company yesterday. He’d always been the gentleman. And he’d made her laugh often. She wasn’t quite sure why she was silently cataloging Patrick O’Donnell’s assets. At least, not consciously. But somewhere deep inside, in a secret corner of her heart, she realized that here might be an answer to her quandary. This man could be her shield. This man could protect her from herself, from her own sinful desires. If she were to turn her affections upon him, she needn’t fear being around Gavin any longer.

“I’m glad you came, Mr. O’Donnell. Would you care for some coffee? There’s plenty and it’s fresh.”

“I’d like it very much.” He grinned, all traces of nervousness disappearing.

“I’d find even more pleasure, Miss Harris, if you could bring yourself to call me Patrick.” As she rose from her chair, she returned his smile.

“I should like that, Patrick. And you must call me Rachel.” She could see Charlie. He was waiting for her, smiling, his arms open wide. He was surrounded by light—warm, comforting light. When she reached him, there wouldn’t be any more pain. She wouldn’t be tired any longer. She could laugh again. She could run through the woods and fall down with Charlie in the grass. She could be happy. He beckoned for her to hurry. I’m coming, Charlie. But something held her back. Something was unfinished. Soon, Charlie. Soon. She made her way back through the darkness she’d come part-way through. It was an arduous, tiring journey, but at last she made it. Dru awakened to find Rachel at her bedside.