“Brina roped a calf?”

“She done all right,” Jess answered.

“He’s in the barn. Will you come see him?” Gavin reached out with one long arm and grabbed his wide-brimmed hat from a peg near the door.

“I guess I can take the time for that.” Sabrina and her little sister jumped up from the table. They were halfway to the door when Petula stopped and whirled around.

“Are you comin’, Ma?”

“Not right now, Pet, but why don’t you take Miss Harris? I’m sure she’d love to see Brina’s calf.” The girl’s gap-toothed smile widened,

then she scurried over to Rachel’s place at the table and held out her small, pudgy hand.

“There’s kittens in the barn, too,” she whispered, “but we don’t want Duke and Duchess to know.” Rachel’s response was automatic.

“No, I should think not.” She took hold of Petula’s hand and rose from her chair, then allowed herself to be led from the house. The barn was warm and filled with earthy scents—hay and straw, dung and sweat. The barn’s roof had a steep pitch, leaving room for only a narrow loft. Sunlight streamed in through the open hay door above, spilling through the cracks in the loft floor to create a swirl of bright light below.

“Over here,” Sabrina called to Rachel as she and Petula entered the barn. Rachel moved toward the stall where Gavin and Sabrina were standing. Inside was a reddish-brown calf with a white-blazed face and enormous brown eyes. It was lying down, its legs curled underneath its body.

“It’s an orphan, and I’ve been takin’ care of it.” Sabrina’s gaze shifted to Gavin.

“It won’t have to be sold yet, will it?” He shook his head.

“He’s a bit young.”

“May I… may I keep him?” Rachel’s eyes moved from the anxious child to the man’s face above her. Unknowingly, she held her breath along with Sabrina, awaiting his decision. Gavin knelt in the straw, one hand on Sabrina’s shoulder. He stared at the calf as it struggled to its feet, curiosity getting the best of it.

“Cows aren’t pets, Brina. We raise them to sell.” Rachel heard the tenderness in his words, sensed the care with which he weighed his decision, “But if you’ll promise to take good care of it through the winter, see that it’s fed and kept clean and stays healthy, whatever money it brings when it does go to market will be yours.” Sabrina screwed up her mouth and squinched her eyes as she gave Gavin’s offer some thought. Rachel half-expected her to burst into tears over not being able to keep the calf, but finally she nodded.

“I’ll take real good care of it I promise. And I’ll share the money with Petula.” Gavin patted her shoulder as he straightened, his gaze meeting Rachel’s. She felt like she wanted to say something, tell him that he’d handled the request very well. She didn’t know why she felt the urge to reassure him, but she did. In that moment of indecision, the chance to speak was snatched from her by an impatient tug on her hand.

“Now come see what I got,” Petula insisted. She was pulled across the barn to a tall ladder leading to the loft. Rachel looked at the contraption with some misgivings. It was a long way to the top, and it had been years since she’d climbed anything that tall. To tell the truth, she’d been afraid of heights ever since Tucker fell down the side of the Snake River Canyon on their way west along the Oregon Trail. She’d been only six at the time, but she’d always believed his accident was somehow her fault. If she hadn’t been playing so near the rim…. “You don’t have to go, Miss Harris,” the deep voice said from behind her.

“Your dress will probably get dirty.” Since concern for her dress was the farthest thing from her mind, his comment made her instantly angry. With an indignant glance over her shoulder, she snapped, “My dress will wash, Mr. Blake. It certainly won’t keep me from seeing whatever it is Pet wants to show me.” She gave a haughty toss of her head before turning to grasp the rungs of the ladder. Petula scampered up the ladder, leading the way to the dusty loft overhead. As soon as Rachel’s feet touched the board flooring—which wasn’t quite as soon as she would have liked—her hand was clasped once again and she was guided toward a far corner. There, nearly hidden in a nest of hay, a gray-striped cat was calmly bathing one of her progeny while the other three mewling kittens happily gorged themselves on their mother’s milk.

“That’s Countess,” Pet said, pointing to the tabby cat.

“Ma thought up her name. Says it’s next best to Duchess.” Rachel leaned forward for a better look at the kittens.

“Duke, Duchess, Countess. Such regal names for all your pets.”

“Dru’s always wanted to go to England,” Gavin explained as he stepped up beside Rachel.

“She’s got this fascination for royalty.” She turned her head and found herself looking into his gray eyes, his face bathed in the morning light spilling through the hay door. Her irritation with him seemed to vanish, and she smiled.

“Would you like to hold one?” Sabrina asked, thrusting a golden kitten between her stepfather and her governess. Rachel took the small ball of fur into one hand, cupping her other hand over it as she brought it close to her face. She closed her eyes as she brushed the kitten against her cheek.

“Perhaps she’ll get to go to England one day still.” She opened her eyes to look at Gavin once again.

“She’s young enough.” She wasn’t sure what it was. There wasn’t really any change in his expression. Still, she knew the moment the words were out of her mouth that she’d said something wrong.

“I’ve got work to do, Miss Harris,” he said abruptly. He turned and headed toward the ladder.

“Brina, you and your sister get inside and help your ma with those dishes.” He didn’t look her way again as he disappeared over the edge of the loft.

Chapter Six

Rachel had forgotten more than just how early ranchers rose in the morning. She’d forgotten how endless the work was and how long the day lasted. Perhaps Gavin Blake was right, she thought as she sorted clothes that first washday she was in the basin. She had been spoiled and pampered. She couldn’t recall ever having to face so large or difficult a task. But she was determined to do her share and not to complain, especially since Dru seemed to accept it as just another chore.

“You weren’t employed to be a maid or a laundress, Miss Harris,” Dru had told her when Rachel insisted she wanted to help.

“No,” she’d agreed, “but I was employed to help take care of you until you’re well and strong again. I know you’re still tired from the trip

up here. I can see it in your face. I’m perfectly able to help, if you’ll just tell me what to do.” Following Dru’s instructions, Rachel put the heavier and dirtier things to soak in lye before dropping them into the copper kettle to boil. She gave the lighter, more delicate articles to Dru to wash by hand in a tub of lukewarm water. Steam filled the kitchen area, leaving Rachel’s face flushed and beaded with moisture. Her blond hair, most of it hidden beneath a scarf, curled in tiny wisps across her forehead. Her skin felt uncomfortably damp between her breasts. Bending over the wash tub, she scrubbed the clothes and linens on the fluted washboard. It wasn’t long before the muscles across the back of her neck and shoulders were complaining of abuse, but she gritted her teeth and kept at it. As each article was completed, she dropped it into another barrel-shaped tub to await rinsing. The children were kept busy hauling clean water in and dirty water out. They chattered and laughed and generally filled the small log cabin with a feeling of happiness. Somehow, it made Rachel’s task seem lighter as she listened.

“Here, Miss Harris,” Dru said as she came around the washtub.

“Let me take over while you get those things rinsed and hung out to dry. It would be a shame to waste the sunshine and days are so short now that autumn is here.” Short? Rachel felt as if they’d already been at it for twenty-four hours, and it wasn’t even noon yet. As far as she was concerned, this day couldn’t be over soon enough. Wringing the water from the clean, rinsed laundry was hard, tedious work. By the time she had her first basket of clothes filled, her hands ached and her skin felt raw and chapped. Mr. Gavin Blake certainly couldn’t say anything about her lily-white hands today, she thought as she lifted the clothes basket and braced it against her hip.

“We’ll help you, Miss Harris,” Sabrina offered. She shook her head.

“Thank you, Brina, but I think you and Pet should spell your mother for a while. She looks tired.”

“We all look tired,” Dru responded wryly. Rachel offered a weary smile of agreement, then went outside. The Stanley Basin was being blessed today with the warm breath of Indian summer. A gentle breeze stirred the trees and long grasses, bringing with it the sweet scent of pine. Rachel found the clothesline stretched between two trees and supported in the middle with a wooden prop. She set the basket on the ground, then placed her hands on the small of her back and bent backward, trying to relieve just a little of the ache that persisted there. When she straightened, she found Gavin leaning against the corner of the log cabin, watching her.

“Not as much fun as a fancy dress ball, is it?” he said, sounding amused. He pushed off from the house and walked toward her. She turned her back toward him and grabbed for the shirt on top of the pile of clothes in the basket.

“I told you before I’m not afraid of hard work.”

“I can see that, Miss Harris.” The serious tone of his voice caused her to look up at him. Was that an apology she saw in his eyes? She looked away quickly, flustered by the intentness of his gaze. She held the shirt against the clothesline and slipped the split wood pin over one sleeve. As she reached to fasten the other sleeve in place, the pin dropped from her fingers and fell into the thick grass at her feet. Did she let go of the shirt and hope it held while she retrieved the other pin, or did she free the one sleeve and hold the shirt until she had both pins in hand? It shouldn’t have been such a dilemma, but she could feel him watching her. For some reason, doing it right became of paramount importance. Her stomach was all aflutter, and her breathing came hard. She wished he would go away.