“You know, girls.” Miss Harris leaned down, her tone ominous. “When you want to play a trick on someone, make sure they’re not listening on the other side of the tree. It spoils the surprise.” She dropped their hands and tapped Sabrina and Petula on the tops of their heads. “Tag! You’re both it.”
Lifting the hem of her riding habit, her laughter trailing behind her, Miss Harris raced away from them. Sabrina turned a startled expression on her sister, then took out after their governess.
Gavin turned from the horses in time to see Emily run out of the trees. She had removed her hat earlier and now her hair had tumbled free of its pinnings. It flew out behind her like pale gold wings, and her laughter rang like bells in a mountain cathedral.
Sabrina appeared a moment later, intent on catching her governess. Petula’s shouts were heard long before her short legs carried her into the clearing. But Emily was too quick for either of them.
Joker evened the field. The young hound bounded into Emily’s path. She tried to stop, but it was too late. Over the dog she went. Sabrina, in hot pursuit, fell onto her governess, then the two of them tumbled head over heels down a grassy incline. Seconds later, Petula threw herself after them.
Gavin hurried forward, but by the time he reached them, their giggles told him no one was hurt.
“You’re it, Miss Harris,” Sabrina said.
“Yeah, you’re it, Miss Harris.”
Emily’s cheeks were flushed, and her tangled hair was decorated with dried grass. A smudge of dirt accented the tip of her chin. “Where is he?”
Gavin thought she meant him and almost answered her.
Then she swung around. “Ah! So there you are.”
Joker lay on the ground a few feet away, his head flat against the ground, a paw on either side of his muzzle, a look of contrition in his dark eyes. His tail slapped the ground in a slow beat.
“Benedict Arnold.”
Joker whined and inched his way forward.
“Don’t think you’ll win my forgiveness so easily.” Emily turned away, her nose pointed into the air.
The dog slinked across the remaining distance and placed his chin on her thigh. His whimper pleaded for absolution.
Gavin stepped forward, wondering how she would respond.
“This time, you mangy hound.” She stroked the wiry hair on top of dog’s head. “But don’t you turn traitor on me again.”
Joker sat up and barked.
Laughter filled the air again as the girls each gave the dog a tight hug. Then Joker was up and running, Sabrina and Petula racing after him.
Gratitude washed over Gavin. It was good to see the children acting carefree. He might not want Emily Harris around, but he had to concede that the girls and Dru liked her. She had brought happiness back into the Blake home.
He moved to stand above Emily. “Let me help you up.” He took her by the hand and pulled her to her feet. “I’m afraid Joker’s antics may have ruined your dress.” He pointed to a ragged tear in her sleeve.
She inspected the damage, then shook her head. “It will mend.” With her eyes, she sought out the girls, who were by then rolling in the grass with Joker. “It’s worth it.”
An odd sensation twisted in his chest, a feeling he didn’t much like nor wish to understand. “Like I said, we need to be heading back.” He turned toward the horses. “We’ve been up here too long as it is.”
On the ride down the mountain, Emily found herself watching Gavin as he led the way. He rode his horse with a relaxed ease, but she suspected he was alert for hidden dangers. There was something about him that made her feel protected.
In fact there were many reasons to like Gavin Blake, his gentleness with his wife and his affection for his stepdaughters chief among them. If only he weren’t so cantankerous with her. She’d given him no reason to be. None at all.
There had been a moment, when he’d helped her to her feet up on the ridge, that she’d almost felt she had earned his approval. Or at least a little respect. But then he’d spoken to her in that same abrupt and clipped manner of his. The manner he only seemed to use with her. She felt so frustrated she wanted to scream.
Miserable, impossible man.
Guilt pierced her heart. It wasn’t right to think that way about another person, no matter how he had offended her. Christ called her to love her enemies, and from all appearances, Gavin Blake fit that bill. No matter how he treated her, she mustn’t respond to him in kind. If he sued her for her coat, she must give her cloak as well. If he smite her one cheek, she was told to offer him the other one.
You will not drive me away with your brusque behavior and ill humors, Mr. Blake. Before the spring, you will acknowledge you were wrong about me. Before I go home, you will realize that your wife hired the right person for the job. So help me, you will.
Gavin stopped his horse when they reached the valley floor. Sabrina nudged her horse into a trot, and she and Petula giggled as they rode past him. Emily wasn’t sure if she should do the same or not, but as she drew close, he clucked to his horse and fell in beside her.
“We’ll leave for the main ranch in a couple more weeks,” he said, his gaze searching the clear blue sky. “Weather’s going to change soon.”
“You would rather go now, wouldn’t you?”
A frown furrowed his brow. “Yes. I’m worried about Dru. She doesn’t look good. I’d rather we were home.”
Again Emily wanted to ask what was wrong with Dru. Again she bit back the question. It should be up to Dru to tell her.
“How did you all get along while I was gone?” he asked, intruding on her thoughts.
“Fine. The children are working hard at their lessons. They’re inquisitive, both of them, and they’re a great help to their mother.”
“Dru’s brought them up well.” His voice cracked with emotion. “I’ve never known a better mother than she is.”
Emily was tempted to reach over to him, to cover his hand where it rested on the pommel, to tell him everything would be all right. But it wasn’t her place to try to comfort him. And it surprised her that she wanted to do it anyway.
Ten
The temperature took a sharp drop before the sun set. By nightfall, the sky was hidden behind low-slung clouds. Stillness blanketed the basin, making every sound inside the log house seem an intrusion upon nature.
Emily pulled the warm quilt up from the foot of the bed. “Snuggle close,” she told the girls. “It’s going to be cold tonight.” She leaned down to kiss their foreheads, their hair hidden beneath white nightcaps. How had they claimed her heart so completely in such a short time?
“Miss Harris?”
“What is it, Pet?”
“I’m glad you wasn’t scared about the bear. You’re lots of fun.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Thanks, Pet. Good night, Brina.”
“Night, Miss Harris.”
Holding her skirt out of the way, she climbed down the ladder from the loft. Her fear of heights always caused her to breathe a sigh of relief when her feet touched the floor again. As she turned around, the front door swung open before Gavin. His hat and shoulders were dusted with snow. He frowned when he saw her, and even from across the room, she could see concern in his eyes.
“Good thing we got the herd out when we did. That’s quite the storm blowing in.” He removed his hat and slapped it against his leg. “I don’t like the looks of it.”
Again she felt that desire to offer him respite from his many worries. But what could she say? What had she the right to say?
He shucked off his heavy coat. “Where’s Dru?”
“She went to bed already. The girls too.”
Gavin met her gaze a second time. “I’d better check on her.”
After he went into the bedroom and closed the door behind him, Emily crossed to the window, moving aside the curtain with her hand. Snowflakes, chased by an icy wind, had carpeted the yard with a thin blanket of white. The barn was hidden from view
by the blowing snow. How was it possible it could change so abruptly? Only this afternoon they had been riding with the warm kiss of sunshine on their faces.
She heard the bedroom door close a second time and knew that Gavin had returned to the living room. “How’s Mrs. Blake?” she asked, her back still to him.
“Asleep.”
The lid of the wood box creaked open. She heard the crackle of fire and pitch as new logs were added to the flames. A chair scraped against the floor. She let the curtain fall into place and turned. Gavin sat on the spindle-backed chair, leaning forward, his forearms braced on his thighs. He stared into the fire, the firelight dancing across his face. Light that revealed the worry that was still in his eyes. She moved toward the fireplace, drawn by its warmth — and by the man beside it.
“It doesn’t snow this early in Boise,” she said softly.
“It won’t last long. A few days, a week maybe.” He glanced up as she sat on the rocker opposite him.
“A week?”
Gavin raked his fingers through his hair. “Could be longer, but I imagine we’ll be up to the Lucky Strike before the end of October.” A frown furrowed his brow. “I never should’ve let Dru talk me into staying. No way to get a doctor to her now if she needs one.”
“Mr. Blake . . .” She hadn’t wanted to ask, had wanted to wait until the information was offered. But now she felt she had to know. “What’s wrong with Dru?”
Pain and defeat filled his eyes, and her heart ached in response. He looked vulnerable in this moment, so unlike the man whose dislike for her was evident at every turn. For the third time today, she wished she could offer solace. She wished she could ease his anxieties.
“She’s got a cancer. The doctors we’ve seen . . . none think she’ll live much longer.”
Tears burned her throat. Emily had feared it was something bad, but she hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t known Dru’s illness was fatal. It made her irritation with Gavin seem small and petty. No wonder he was concerned with hiring the right person to tend his daughters. They would soon be motherless. No wonder he was moody. So would she be in his place. She’d judged him too harshly.
“I thought you knew,” he added. “I thought she’d told you.”
“No, she never told me. I knew she was ill but not how serious it was.” She released a soft breath. “I should have guessed, but I didn’t. I’m so sorry, Mr. Blake.” She reached out and touched the back of his hands, folded between his knees.
He looked up at her, and something tightened and twisted inside Emily’s chest. Something in his eyes. Something in the way he watched her. Her breathing felt suddenly labored as she drew back her hand.
“I’ll pray for her,” she whispered as she rose from the chair. “And for you and the children.” She moved away from him, hurrying toward the safety of her room.
Before the door swung closed behind her, she heard him say, “Thank you, Miss Harris.”
Gavin closed his eyes and rubbed his fingers in tiny circles over his temples, his head throbbing.
He never should have agreed to stay in the basin, despite Dru’s wishes. He’d told Emily Harris that the snow wouldn’t last long, but he could be wrong about that. And if he was? That didn’t bear thinking about.
Women. He never should listen to them. Never. Not even to Dru.
Agitated, he rose and went to the window. By this time, there was more than an inch of snow on the ground, and the storm showed no sign of letting up.
Like the falling snow swirling before the windowpane, unwelcome memories from his boyhood sifted through his mind. Twenty years had passed, and yet he could still hear his mother’s voice as she’d screamed at his father, “I hate you, and I hate everything here.I’m leaving with Mr. Hannah and I’m never coming back.” Snow had fallen on that day too. It had blanketed the carriage that carried her away.
His mother was as good as her word. She didn’t return to the farm. Her hatred must have run deep, for she never asked to see her son again, never even wrote him a letter. Not long after she was granted a divorce, she married her lover, the wealthy Mr. Hannah. Gavin’s father turned to whiskey for comfort and drank himself into an early grave.
In the years it took his father to die, Gavin learned to hate the woman who gave birth to him.
He remembered another snowy day not long after he buried his father. The farm was lost, anything of value sold. With nothing to hold him there, Gavin wrapped the framed photograph of his parents on their wedding day in an old newspaper and — carrying all his worldly possessions in a canvas bag slung over his shoulder — made his way to the city where his mother lived.
He couldn’t have imagined her home if he’d tried. It was a mansion, and she was a pillar of society. It seemed enough money and distance could make people forget that she’d deserted a good husband and her only son for this life she lived. Or perhaps society didn’t know and didn’t want to know.
He remembered every detail of how she looked that day. She wore a blue gown, jewels sparkling at her throat and on her ears, and her cool eyes perused him for the longest time before she said, “You look like your father.”
Gavin handed her the photo wrapped in newspaper.
She lifted an imperious brow, then opened the package. Her expression didn’t change a bit as she stared at the photograph. At last she said, “Too bad he wasn’t as rich as he was handsome.” Then she dropped the frame unceremoniously into a wastebasket.
Gavin had never forgotten nor forgiven what his mother did. He never would.
And because Emily somewhat resembled Christina Blake —blonde, blue-eyed, and beautiful — he resented her too.
There. He’d acknowledged it. That’s why he didn’t want to like her. That’s why he didn’t like any beautiful woman, especially if they were wealthy. Trouble was, Emily was nothing like his mother. She kept surprising him, doing and saying things he never would have expected from her.
He turned from the window, his gaze moving toward Emily’s bedroom. A thin spray of light fanned out beneath the door. She was still awake.
His mouth felt suddenly dry. His breath quickened as he recognized what he felt. He not only liked her against his will — he wanted to be with her.
He made a sound of disgust in his throat as the realization washed over him. It wasn’t Emily, with her beauty and privileged lifestyle, who was like his mother. He was the guilty one. He was like his mother — married to Dru and desiring Emily. The discovery sickened him. It didn’t matter that his was a marriage in name only, that he’d married in order to provide for two girls who would soon be orphaned. No matter the reason for the vows he’d given, he was still married, and he didn’t mean to forget it.
No matter how many things Emily said or did to surprise him.
Eleven
By morning there was at least a foot of snow on the ground, and snowflakes continued to fall.
As Emily stood at the window, watching the falling snow, she wondered when they would be able to leave. It looked like winter was here to stay. What would that mean for Dru? She needed a doctor. No wonder Gavin had been reluctant to honor his wife’s request.
Lord, please grant this family a miracle. They will all be so lost without Dru. Extend her life beyond what the doctors have told them.And Father, if it is your will to call her home to heaven, help me to help them deal with their loss. May I be of some small comfort to them.
She thought of Gavin, sitting by the fire, his face creased with tension. She recalled the moment she’d covered his hands with her own, and she felt that same strange disturbance in her chest. The sensation that had made her leave his presence in such haste.
Lord, grant me wisdom.
“You’re up early.”
Emily turned to find Dru standing outside her bedroom, clothed in nightgown and robe. Her hair hung in a single braid over her shoulder. Dark circles marred her eyes.
“So are you. Did you rest well?”
Dru sighed. “Well enough.”
She crossed the room. “How bad was the storm?”
Emily stepped aside to reveal the snow-blanketed yard. “It isn’t over yet.”
“This will keep us here awhile.”
“You don’t want to leave, do you? You would stay all winter if you could.”
“It’s true. I love it here more than anywhere in the world. It’s my true home.”
“Mr. Blake is worried. About the weather and about you.”
“You two talked last night.”
Emily felt a stab of guilt — almost as if she’d done something wrong. Utter foolishness. “I’ll start breakfast. Why don’t you sit next to the fire and keep warm. Would you like some coffee or would you prefer tea?”
“Tea, I think.”
Emily put the kettle on the stove, then gathered the ingredients for flapjacks while she waited for the water to come to a boil. Minutes later, she carried a cup of brewed tea to Dru.
“Thank you, Miss Harris. You’ve been very kind to me. I’m thankful God brought you to be with us.”
“It’s I who should thank you,” she replied. “I adore Brina and Pet and have discovered how much I love teaching. I wouldn’t have, apart from this opportunity.” She turned toward the kitchen.
That was the moment Gavin stepped out of the bedroom. His gaze met briefly with hers and then moved to Dru. “I didn’t expect you to be up this soon,” he said to his wife.
Dru lifted the cup in her hand. “Miss Harris made me some tea.”
His eyes — filled with the familiar chill he often directed at her — returned to Emily, and he gave her a nod. “I’ll check on the livestock.” He crossed the room, pulled on his coat, and opened the door, letting in a gust of wind and a flurry of snow. “We’re in for another blow. Don’t anyone venture out. This looks like it could get nasty.” He exited without a backward glance.
What was wrong with him? He hadn’t been rude to her last night. Why did he have to be so now? Why couldn’t he treat her with the same kindness he showed his wife?
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