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.”