Robin Lee Hatcher (23 page)

She gasped softly as she spun toward the table, a hand over her heart. Gavin sat in one of the chairs, a darker shadow in the dark room.

If he knew he’d startled her, he didn’t let on. “How’s Pet? Is she keeping you up?”

“No.” She drew a steadying breath. “She’s sleeping all right.”

“I broke my nose when I wasn’t much older than Pet. Fell out of the loft in the barn. My pa didn’t bother with sending for a doctor. He just grabbed hold of me and shoved the bone back into place. Hurt like the dickens. A broken arm’s gotta be worse.”

With the fire growing hotter, Emily closed the stove door. “She’ll be over the worst of it in a day or two.”

“It’s good that you’re here. She’d be lost without you. Both Pet and Brina would be lost without you.”

She wished she could see his face and considered lighting the lamp. No. Better to leave them in the dark. Better she not be able to look into his eyes. Better that he couldn’t read her emotions.

“They love you, Miss Harris.”

“And I love them.”

“They’ll miss you when you go.”

And I’ ll miss them. I’ ll miss you, Gavin.
Her heart beat so fast she wondered if he could hear it from the other side of the kitchen. “I’m going to have a cup of tea. Would you like some?”

He was silent awhile before answering. “Thanks. I would.”

A match struck. The lamp on the table came to life, chasing shadows into the corners.

Emily forced herself not to glance behind her. Instead, she took down two cups and placed them on the worktable, then reached for the tin that held the tea. Not until the water in the kettle had come to a boil and the tea had been steeped did she look in Gavin’s direction. “Would you like milk and sugar?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m fine with it as is.”

She carried the two cups to the table, setting one before him before moving to the opposite side of the table and sitting on the chair. Outside the wind continued to moan and the house to creak. Here in the kitchen they were warm and cozy.

Gavin seemed content with the silence between them, and Emily didn’t rush to fill it with her own voice. Instead, her thoughts drifted back to her own childhood, to the loneliness and fear she had known living with her Uncle Seth. She’d taken her fears with her when she and Maggie joined the wagon train, bound for Oregon, but Tucker Branigan had somehow reached through her anxiety. He’d been able to make her laugh, sometimes even through her tears. That’s how Gavin was with his stepdaughters.

Sabrina and Petula would be fine when Emily left this house to marry Patrick. Gavin loved them, and although he seemed to think he wasn’t up to the task of fatherhood, she believed he would always do well by them. They were happy children, despite the loss of their father and mother. Did Gavin know it was because of his love for them, his steady nature, that they weren’t afraid all the time, that they could laugh despite their sorrows? If he didn’t know, he should.

“Mr. Blake?”

“Yes?”

“Brina and Pet love you. God was good to bring you into their lives.”

Gavin stared into the cup held between his hands. “You believe God had a hand in all of this?”

“Yes.”

He looked at her across the table. “So did Dru. She had a strong faith.”

“I know.”

“My mother called herself a Chris tian.” His voice hardened. “But I never saw her live what she supposedly believed.”

“Not everyone who calls Jesus ‘Lord’ shall enter into the kingdom of heaven. We must do the will of the Father.”

Conviction tightened her heart. She couldn’t be doing God’s will, loving one man and planning to marry another. How on earth would she ever put things to right?

Twenty-Two

Sipping the bitter coffee in the tin cup, Gavin tipped the chair back on its two hind legs until it leaned against the bunkhouse wall.

“Jess oughta be in tomorrow.” Stubs filled his tin cup with whiskey. “Unless last night’s storm forces him to hole up in the line shack.”

Gavin grunted his response, only half-listening to his old friend.

“How’s Pet? She doin’ okay?”

“She’s hurting some, but that won’t last long.”

“How ’bout Brina? She was pretty shook up over the little one’s fall.”

“She’s fine. Miss Harris is keeping them occupied with crafts or schoolwork or something.”

“She’s a fine young woman, Miss Harris is. Good with those girls.”

Gavin hadn’t come to the bunkhouse to talk about Emily. In fact, he’d come here to try to forget her for a while. His gaze shifted to the whiskey bottle in the center of the table. This was one of those times he wished he hadn’t sworn off liquor for good. It might be a relief to drink himself into oblivion, the way his father had done every night for the final years of his life. Which was the very reason Gavin wouldn’t give in to the temptation.

“You know” — Stubs rubbed his grizzled chin, his expression pensive — “I been thinkin’ how rare it is that a man meets just the right girl for him. It’s been my observation that most folks settle for something less. Like you and Dru. A nicer woman I’ve never known, but if she hadn’t been ailing and needed a pa for her girls, you two wouldn’t’ve tied the knot. You’d’ve gone on as friends.”

Gavin didn’t care for the direction Stubs was going, but he said nothing to stop him.

“You gave that woman all the caring she could’ve asked for. She was lucky to have you, as her husband and friend. Yes, sir. Lucky, she was. And Dru knew it too, don’t think she didn’t.”

“She deserved better than I gave her.”

“You’re too hard on yourself, Gavin.” Stubs shook his head. “Way too hard. There’s all kinds of love in this world. All kinds. Kind you got for them girls you adopted. Kind you had for Dru. I reckon there’s even the kind you have for an old coot like me. Yes, sir. All kinds.”

Gavin closed his eyes, wishing his friend would stop talking.

“Dru never stopped lovin’ or missin’ Charlie, but she loved you in her own way too. And you know what she wanted most for you? She wanted you to find what she and Charlie had. Told me so herself. Told me that after she was gone, she hoped you would marry again, but that you’d do it for love next time.”

Gavin let out a long sigh. “I know, Stubs.” He thought of Emily, the way she’d looked in the middle of the night, sitting across the kitchen table from him, lamplight illuminating her pretty face, reflecting in the pale hair that fell about her shoulders. “But sometimes the things a man wants can’t ever be his.”

“Sometimes,” Stubs agreed softly, then added, “and sometimes they can be.”

January 2, 1884

Dearest Sister,

I hope this letter finds you well. Please give my love to
Tucker and to my darling nieces and nephews. I have missed
you all so much, especially on Christmas when I knew you
were all gathered around the tree. I could see each one of you
so clearly in my mind. It was almost as if I were right there
with you. Almost but not quite.

I am sorry I haven’t written in several weeks. So much
has happened since my last letter to you that I hardly know
where to begin.

Christmas was not as dreary an affair as I feared it might
be, thanks to one of our neighbors, Mr. Patrick O’Donnell.
I told you about the wedding that we attended at his home
outside of Challis in November. Mr. O’Donnell made certain
the Blake children had a tree with trimmings and gifts to
open on Christmas morning. He has been a good friend to
this bereaved family.

I am thankful I can tell you that Mr. Blake’s grief over his
wife’s death seems to have eased somewhat. He is attentive to
his children once again. I have always enjoyed watching Mr.
Blake with Sabrina and Petula, and the girls adore him. I
am reminded of how kind Tucker was to me as a child. I must
have tried his patience far more than I knew, and yet Tucker
never showed me anything but love. That’s how Mr. Blake is
with these girls. They are blessed to have him as their father.

Petula took a tumble while we were out in the sleigh
yesterday, New Year’s Day, and broke her arm. Oh, how it
frightened me when it happened. The poor dear was in quite a
lot of discomfort last night, but seemed much improved today.
The doctor set her arm in a splint, which isn’t at all comfortable,
and has advised us to keep her as quiet as possible for the
next few weeks. As I write this letter, she is napping on the sofa
near the fireplace, having fallen asleep while playing with her
favorite doll. For now at least she is following doctor’s orders.

Her big sister is sitting on the floor nearby, reading her
McGuffey’s Reader. Sabrina is very bright and a good student.
I wish I had brought more books with me when I came from
Boise, for I fear she won’t be challenged for long by the ones
we have here.

I heard talk while in town in December that a school may
open in the fall. That would be a blessing to all the families in
the area. Perhaps I will apply for the position as teacher.

Emily worried her lower lip as she pondered what to write next. No, not what to write, for it had to be said, but how to word it.

That last sentence must take you by surprise, dearest
Maggie, learning that I might not return home to stay this
summer. But there is a reason for it. Mr. O’Donnell has proposed
marriage, and I have accepted his offer. I cannot leave
the Blakes for a few more months as I promised Dru that I
would remain as the children’s teacher and governess until
spring when the cattle return to the Stanley Basin. Therefore,
Patrick and I won’t marry until at least June. I know that you
will like him when you meet him. Of course, I want the wedding
to be held in Boise, and I trust you will want the same.

Tears welled unexpectedly as she imagined her wedding, surrounded by her loving family. What would Maggie think if Emily confessed she wasn’t in love with Patrick? She would ask her to reconsider. Maggie would ask her why she didn’t love him. And so she wouldn’t make any confessions. She was determined to love the man who loved her. Surely God would want her to honor her promise to wed just as he would want her to honor her promise to stay with the Blake children until spring.

Maggie, I ask that you please pray for me. In most every
way, I am happy and content with my life here. But I have
spent little time in prayer and rarely take the time to read
my Bible. I feel cut adrift from the Lord, yet seem unable to
change the pattern of the things I do or the things I think that
cause me to feel that way. I want to know, I need to know,
that I am in God’s will, but I cannot seem to hear him. He
feels so far away.

I see that Petula has begun to stir so I must close this letter
and prepare it for the post. I trust that the stagecoach will still
make it to Challis despite the snow we have received. Please
write to me as soon as you can. I long for news of you all.

With love, your ever-devoted sister,

Emily

Twenty-Three

Gavin pulled on his coat. “I’ll be gone for several days. Stubs will be here if you need anything. He’ll milk the cows and feed the chickens and livestock, so you won’t have to worry about those chores.”

Emily tamped down the fear she’d felt since he told her he was riding out to check on the herd. She told herself it was worry about being solely responsible for the girls, but she was more afraid for Gavin. Afraid he might get caught in another blizzard. Afraid he might get lost or hurt. Afraid she might never see him again.

“In weather like this, the cattle can just bunch up and wait to freeze or starve to death. Jess might need a hand.”

“Where will you stay at night?”

“There’s a number of line shacks on this range. I’ll sleep in one of them.” A frown drew his brows together. “Will you be all right on your own?”

“Of course.” Oh, what a liar she was. “The girls and I will be fine.”

“Duke and Duchess are coming with me.” His hand rested on the latch. “Joker will stay here. He might not be very smart, but he’d let you know if something was amiss.”

She nodded.

“I figure I’ll be back by Sunday, but don’t worry if I’m not. No telling what I’ll find when I get out there.”

I’ ll worry every moment you’re away.
“I won’t.”

He wrapped a wool scarf that Dru had knit for him around his neck, pulled his hat down low on his forehead, and opened the door. For a fleeting moment, he glanced back at her. Then he was gone, the door closed behind him.

Emily felt the emptiness close in around her. Sunday seemed a decade away.