Robin Lee Hatcher Page 4

  The fingers of her left hand tightened on his shoulder, and he whimpered.

  Whimpered?

  She opened her eyes and found herself staring into Joker’s fuzzy face, his shiny black nose mere inches from hers. The dog was beside her in the bed, crowding her to the edge of the mattress. Before she could move, the wolfhound slapped her with another of his affectionate licks. She lifted her hand to ward him off — and promptly fell to the floor.

  “We’re going to come to terms, dog.” She stood, hands on hips. “Now get off my bed.”

  His tail slapped the heavy patchwork quilt.

  “I said, get off.” She pointed at the floor.

  Joker stepped down from the bed and flopped at her feet, rolling onto his back to expose his belly.

  “Oh, no. You’ll get no reward from me. How did you get in here anyway? Don’t you belong outside, protecting us from wolves or something?”

  He whimpered again.

  Emily moved toward the door of her bedroom and eased it open. The main room was empty. “Get out,” she whispered. Tail between his legs and head slung low — she almost felt sorry for him — Joker obeyed. Sounds from elsewhere in the house met her ears a second before the door snapped closed.

  She glanced at the bed with longing. Oh, for another hour of slumber. But there would be no return to sleep now, not with the household stirring. She didn’t want them to think her a lazybones.

  Emily walked to her trunk and pulled out clean undergarments. She’d hung her dresses the night before on wooden pegs pounded into the log walls of her room. Now she chose one of her favorite day dresses and laid it on the bed. The sky-blue gown had a simple bodice, pointed front and back, and an overskirt that was draped back to form short side panniers with fullness behind.

  After removing her long-sleeved nightgown, she completed her morning ablutions with haste. A chill in the morning air didn’t invite her to linger.

  She fastened the last button of her bodice and settled onto the edge of the bed, reaching for the hairbrush on the bedside table. The brush had belonged to her mother. Maggie had kept it hidden when their uncle was selling off everything of value from their New York home, and she had brought it with them when they came west on the wagon train. It had been Maggie’s gift to Emily on her eighteenth birthday. Fingering the intricate design on the silver brush, she wondered if her parents could see her from heaven. Would they be proud of the woman she’d become?

  Tears pricked her eyes. How she wished she could remember her mother and father. But she’d been so young — only a year old — when they died. What memories she had of them belonged to Maggie first. They’d become hers as her sister told her the stories, over and over again through the years. When their uncle had one of his cruel moods, they used to hide from his wrath, and Maggie would tell her stories of their parents, of their mother’s beautiful hair, of their father’s great laugh, of how very much they’d loved Maggie and Emily.

  Her thoughts turned to Dru. She wasn’t well, but at least she was here with her daughters. Sabrina and Petula wouldn’t have to take another person’s word about the love their mother felt for them. They would know it firsthand. Fortunate girls.

  On the heels of that thought came shame. How awful to feel envious. Maggie had raised her, loved her, protected her. Emily couldn’t have asked for more. She gave her head a shake, chasing away her thoughts. She had too much to do to spend her time woolgathering in her bedroom.

  With practiced movements, she brushed her hair, caught it back from her face with a pair of ivory combs. A quick glance in the small hand mirror she’d brought from home told her she was presentable.

  She finished tidying her room, then found Dru in the kitchen, standing over a black iron stove.

  “Good morning, Miss Harris. Would you like some coffee? It’s hot.”

  “Yes. Thank you. I would like some.”

  Dru plucked a tin cup from a shelf above the stove and filled it with the dark brew. She carried it to the rough-hewn table, then settled onto the bench opposite Emily. “It’s good to be home. This cabin isn’t much, but it’s got wood floors and keeps out the wind and rain. Charlie wanted us to have as good a house here as at the main ranch, but he said this would do until he and Gavin could build it.”

  “Who’s Charlie?”

  The woman stared at her hands, folded atop the table. “Charlie was my husband. He died two years ago, up in Challis.” She stared toward the fireplace at the far end of the main room, and Emily saw the quickly hidden expression of grief that crossed her face. “Pet looks a lot like him. Everyone says so.”

  “But I thought . . . Gavin isn’t her father?”

  “No.” She returned her gaze to Emily. “When Gavin and I married, he adopted my daughters.”

  If Emily hadn’t seen Gavin and Dru together, if she hadn’t heard them talking, seen the tender way he treated her and the affection in her eyes when she looked at him, she might have thought Dru was still in love with Charlie . . .

  Before she could sort things out in her mind, the girls climbed down the ladder from their room in the loft.

  “Where’s Pa?” Sabrina asked as her feet touched the floor.

  “He rode out with Stubs at daybreak.”

  Sabrina’s face fell. “I wanted to show him the calf I found. I helped Jess rope him.”

  “Well, you can show him later. He’ll be back for breakfast.”

  Dru rose from the table as her daughters approached. She gave them each a hug, kissed both their cheeks, then reached for a bucket hanging on a hook. “Say good morning to Miss Harris.”

  “Morning,” the girls said in unison.

  “Here’s the bucket. You two gather the eggs, and I’ll fry the bacon. Hurry now.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Emily asked as the door closed behind them.

  “Just talk with me. It’s been a long time since I’ve had another woman to visit with the way we’ve been doing this past week.”

  “Aren’t there any other women in the area?”

  “A few up in Sawtooth City. The sort who follow the miners from gold rush to gold rush, if you understand my meaning. But we’re the only ranchers who summer our cattle here.”

  “Why only for the summer?”

  “Winters are too harsh. There are four mountain ranges that circle this valley, and they hold the cold in. We’d lose too many of the herd if we stayed.” She shook her head. “Not that we don’t have hard winters at the Lucky Strike. I don’t want you thinking that. But it’s much worse here.”

  “Why come at all, then? From what you’ve told me of the Lucky Strike, it sounds like you would do well enough there.”

  Dru tossed a few pieces of wood inside the stove, then pulled a heavy frying pan from its hook on the wall. “I suppose the real reason is because I fell in love with this place the first time I saw it. I had a yearning to live here. So Charlie, Gavin, and Stubs came in that first spring and built this cabin, and then we trailed in our herd. The cattle thrived that summer, and they brought a good price when we sold them to feed the miners in Bonanza and Custer.”

  Dru worked as she talked, putting butter into the skillet, then adding sliced potatoes and onions. The room soon filled with delicious odors, and Emily’s stomach began to growl.

  Not long after, the door opened, and the girls spilled inside, followed by Gavin, Stubs, and Jess Chamberlain. Sabrina carried the bucket of eggs to her mother as the two ranch hands sat down at the table.

  Gavin crossed to the stove and placed his hand on Dru’s shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better this morning.” She smiled at him. “I always feel better when we’re here.”

  Gavin’s fingers squeezed her shoulder before he turned and reached for the dishes on the shelf to the right of the stove. Before he could ask for help, Sabrina and Petula joined him, and he handed the plates to the two girls.

  Emily felt uncomfortable, sitting idle while Dru cracked the eggs over a
nother hot skillet and her daughters set the table. She knew what Gavin must think of her. She wanted to explain that she’d asked if she could help and had been turned down, but she feared doing so would only make her look worse in his eyes.

  Thankfully it wasn’t long before everyone was seated around the big table, their heads bowed as Dru blessed the food. “And thank you, Father, for bringing Miss Harris to stay with us. We ask you to bless her work and make her feel at home with our family. Amen.”

  Emily’s heart plummeted in response to the prayer. What if she failed as a teacher and governess? What if Gavin Blake was right about her?

  As if reading her mind, Dru addressed her from across the table. “After the men are out from underfoot, I’ll show you the school primers I bought for the girls. Brina reads well and is very good with her numbers, but Pet’s only started to learn her ABCs.”

  “I’d like to see the primers.” Emily glanced at the girls. “I brought some books with me too. Some of them were my nieces’ favorites when they were your age.”

  Dru said, “That’s wonderful. Isn’t it, girls?”

  Sabrina and Petula nodded.

  Emily returned her gaze to Dru. “Shall I give them their first lessons today?”

  “I think we should wait a day or two. After the boys leave with the herd will be soon enough. In the meantime, you and the girls can get better acquainted.”

  Conversation died as everyone turned their attention to breakfast. As she ate, Emily surreptitiously studied the others at the table.

  Jess Chamberlain looked to be about her age. Long and lanky, he was what people called a beanpole. He never looked up from his plate. Unless she missed her guess, Jess was shy around females.

  Stubs Martin, on the other hand, had winked at her twice since sitting down at the table. Though not a tall man, he was built like a rock. She supposed he was close to fifty but knew his grizzled jaw and graying hair might make him look older than he was.

  Next, her glance fell on Gavin. He was handsome enough, she supposed, although not as good-looking as many of her past suitors. But when he smiled and laughed with the girls, she found herself thinking he was the most handsome of all.

  Too bad all she ever garnered was his frown.

  Watching the family interaction, though, she wondered — why had Gavin married Dru so soon after the death of his friend? Had he been in love with her even before Charlie died? And if Gavin was as surly with others as he’d been with Emily, she was surprised that Dru agreed to marry him at all.

  She lowered her gaze to her plate, silently scolding herself. She was here to teach and look after the children, not to speculate on their parents’ marriage. Gossip was an ugly pastime, even in one’s own mind.

  Gavin’s chair scraped against the floor as he pushed away from the table and stood. A split second later, Stubs and Jess rose too.

  “Pa?” Sabrina said as he turned from the table, plate and utensils in hand.

  He stopped and looked at the girl.

  “Did you see my calf? I helped Jess rope him.”

  “You roped a calf?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jess said. “She done all right. I reckon she’ll be ridin’ with us regular in another year or two.”

  “He’s in the barn, Pa. Will you come see him?”

  Gavin carried his dirty dishes to the washbasin. “I guess I can take the time for that.” He grabbed his hat from a peg near the door. “Let’s go.”

  Sabrina, her father, and the other men went outside, trailed by Petula who stopped at the door and asked, “Are you coming, Ma?”

  “Not right now, Pet. I need to do the dishes first. But why don’t you take Miss Harris? I’m sure she’d love to see Brina’s calf.”

  “Shouldn’t I stay and help you?”

  “No.” Dru shook her head. “I think you should go with the children.”

  Petula smiled, showing her missing tooth, as she returned to the table and held out her hand to Emily. “There’s kittens in the barn too, but we don’t want Duke and Duchess to know.”

  “I should think not.” She took hold of Petula’s hand and allowed herself to be led from the house.

  The barn was warm and filled with earthy scents — hay and straw, dung and sweat. Sunlight streamed through the open hay door in the loft, creating a swirl of light below.

  “Over here,” Sabrina called.

  They moved toward the stall where Gavin and Sabrina stood.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.

  “He’s an orphan.” Sabrina’s gaze shifted to Gavin. “He won’t have to be sold yet, will he?”

  Her father shook his head. “He’s a bit young.”

  “May I . . . may I keep him, Pa?”

  Gavin knelt in the straw, one hand on Sabrina’s shoulder. “Cows aren’t pets, Brina. We raise them to sell. You know that.”

  Emily heard the tenderness in his words. He loved this child. There was no mistaking it. Sabrina and Petula might not be his by blood, but they were certainly his by heart.

  “But if you’ll promise to take good care of him through the winter, see that he’s fed and kept clean and stays healthy, whatever money he brings when he does go to market will be yours.”

  Emily half-expected the girl to burst into tears, but she didn’t. “I’ll take real good care of him. I promise. And I’ll share the money with Pet.”

  Gavin patted her shoulder as he stood. “That’s a good plan, Brina. Sharing’s always a good thing.”

  He seemed a different man from the one who had escorted Emily from the hotel a week earlier. Less gruff. Less disagreeable. More prone to smile.

  Petula tugged on her hand. “Now come see what I got.”

  Emily was pulled across the barn to a ladder that led to the loft. She looked at it with misgiving. She was terrified of heights. Had been since she was a child. Could she climb to the loft without falling?

  Petula obviously didn’t share her fear. She scampered up the ladder like a monkey up a tree. No hesitation. No doubt.

  “You don’t have to go up, Miss Harris,” Gavin said. “You’d probably get your dress dirty.”

  Ah, there was the Gavin she knew. She heard the challenge in his voice, knew he still thought his wife had made a mistake in her choice of governess. It was unfair of him and it made her angry.

  “My dress will wash, Mr. Blake.” She grasped a rung on the ladder. “It certainly won’t keep me from seeing whatever it is Pet wants to show me.”

  She began to climb. Don’t look down. Don’t look down. As soon as she reached the loft, she whispered a prayer of thanks to God for her safe ascent.

  “Over here. Come look.”

  She joined Petula in the corner near the hay door. There, nearly hidden in a nest of straw, a gray-striped cat bathed a kitten with her tongue while three more nursed at her belly.

  “That’s Countess,” Petula said, pointing to the cat. “Ma thought up her name. Says it’s next best to Duchess.”

  Emily leaned forward for a better look. “Duke, Duchess, Countess. Such fancy names for all your pets.”

  “Dru’s always wanted to visit England.”

  She looked behind her to see Gavin standing on the ladder, his head and shoulders above the loft floor.

  “She’s got a fascination for royalty,” he finished.

  Petula asked, “Would you like to hold one, Miss Harris?”

  Emily took the proffered kitten into one hand, cupping her other hand over it as she brought it close and brushed its fur against her cheek. “Perhaps you and Dru will get to go one day. My sister and her husband visited England and the Continent a number of years ago and had a wonderful time.” She turned toward him again. “It was the honeymoon they never had.”

  One look at Gavin told her she’d said the wrong thing. His eyes grew cool and his expression hardened like flint.

  “Brina — ” he started down the ladder — “you and
your sister get inside and help your ma with the dishes. Right now. We’ve dawdled enough for one morning.”

  Six

  “You weren’t employed to be a laundress, Miss Harris.”

  Emily looked up from the clothing she was sorting and gave Dru a smile. “No, but I was employed to help care for you until you’re well again. You’re still tired from the trip back from Boise. I can see it in your face so don’t bother to deny it.”

  Following Dru’s instructions, Emily put the heavier and dirtier things to soak in lye. Afterward, she dropped them into the copper kettle to boil. The more delicate articles were given to Dru, at her insistence, to wash in a tub of lukewarm water.

  Steam filled the kitchen, leaving Emily’s face beaded with perspiration. Wisps of hair — all of it that wasn’t hidden beneath a scarf — curled across her forehead and nape, sticking to her skin. Bent over the washtub, 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 complained, but she gritted her teeth and kept at it. As each article was completed, she dropped it into a barrel-shaped tub to await rinsing. The girls were kept busy hauling clean water into the house and dirty water out.

  “Here, Miss Harris.” Dru 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. Days are short now that autumn’s here.”

  Short? This day felt like an eternity, and it wasn’t yet noon. Perhaps Gavin Blake had been right about her. She might not have what it took to live on a ranch like this one. Her brother-in-law’s good fortune had given her a life of privilege, and she’d grown soft because of it. Over time, those early years after they’d settled in Idaho had become romanticized in her mind.

  Wringing water from the clean laundry took longer than she’d imagined it would. By the time she had her first basket filled with clothes, her hands hurt, the skin raw and chapped. Gavin couldn’t call them lily-white today.