Robin Lee Hatcher (26 page)

Your nieces and nephews miss you, Sheridan most of all.
And Matthew Foreman has asked about you several times
since you left Boise. That poor young man is completely besotted
with you, and I don’t believe he has given up hope, despite
your refusal of him.

The weather here in the valley has been mild this winter.
A number of storms have blown through, but the snow hasn’t
lingered more than a few days at a time. However, the mountains
are coated in white and look quite lovely.

I will close now and hope that this letter will reach you
without great delay. I send my love along with Tucker’s and
the children’s. We are counting the weeks until you are home
again.

Your loving sister,

Maggie

The last words were difficult for Emily to read through the tears welling in her eyes. After setting the letter aside, she dried her cheeks with her handkerchief.

“Bad news, Miss Harris?” the postmaster asked.

“No, Mr. Hutchens. I’m just a little homesick is all.” She gave him a tremulous smile. “My sister wrote the letter less than three weeks ago. The roads must be much better than they were.”

“That they are. That they are.”

Emily put the mail into her pocketbook and rose from the bench. “Good day to you, sir.”

“And to you, Miss Harris. Tell Gavin that me and the missus are thinking of him and how sorry we are for his loss.”

“I’ll do that.”

The chime sounded above her head again as she left the post office.

Gavin rode into the yard at the Lucky Strike in the afternoon, eight days after he’d departed. He hadn’t accomplished much after Jess drove the herd toward home. In the remaining days, Gavin had found only a half dozen stragglers hiding in the draws and gullies of the foothills. The rest of the time he’d spent wrestling with memories of his mother and father and trying to figure out what to do about his feelings for Emily Harris, now that she was engaged to another man. Should he talk to her, tell her he was falling in love with her, that he couldn’t stop thinking of her? Or was the better thing to leave her be? If she loved Patrick, why complicate things for her? Staying silent, keeping his distance seemed the honorable thing to do. If he’d ever had a chance to earn Emily’s affections, he was too late now.

He was in the barn, loosening the cinch on his gelding, when Stubs joined him there.

“Right good to see you back, Gavin. The girls missed you.”

He grunted an acknowledgment that he’d heard the cowpoke’s words but didn’t look up.

“Reckon they’d have been out here already, but they’ve gone to town with Miss Harris.”

He yanked the saddle off the horse’s back and turned toward Stubs. “Did Patrick take them?”

“Yep. Went in that fancy sleigh of his. About an hour or so ago. Maybe more.”

“Has he been over here a lot while I was gone?” He dropped the saddle onto a rack.

“Every couple days or so.” Stubs cocked an eyebrow. “Problem with that?”

Gavin shook his head. “Just wondering.”

“I expect him and Miss Harris have lots to talk about, what with planning a wedding come the spring.”

“I expect so.” He ran a brush over the gelding’s back.

Stubs cleared his throat. “You know, Gavin. I think you oughta — ”

“I know what you think, Stubs. It isn’t going to happen.”

“Are you — ”

“Just leave it be, old friend.”

Silence, then, “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.” Gavin tossed the brush into a bucket and led the horse into a stall where he could be watered and fed.

“Sure but you’re looking more sad now, love, than before you went into the Post Office.” Patrick put his index finger beneath Emily’s chin and tilted her head up so their gazes would meet. “Was there bad news in your letter?”

“No.” She shook her head, at the same time drawing a step away from her fiancé. “No bad news. I just miss my sister.”

“Of course you do. Have you thought of taking a trip to Boise when the roads are better? We could go together. Introduce me to the family.”

“I couldn’t possibly do that, Patrick. I can’t leave Brina and Pet.”

“Gavin could spare you for a couple of weeks.”

She shook her head again. “No. I promised Mrs. Blake that I wouldn’t leave until the cattle are taken back into the basin.”

Patrick studied her awhile in silence, a silence that made her squirm on the inside, uncomfortable with what he might read on her face, see in her eyes. But she didn’t look away, no matter how much she wished to.

It was Petula who rescued Emily, stepping in between the two adults. “Look what I bought, Miss Harris.” She held up a box. “It’s a set of checkers for Pa. He’s got a board but some of the checkers got lost so he couldn’t play no more.”

“That’s ’cause you were playing with the checkers outside when you weren’t supposed to,” Sabrina said. “You’re the one who lost them.”

Emily gave the older girl a warning glance, then bent down to look Petula in the eyes. “That’s very nice of you to spend your nickel on your pa.”

“It wasn’t the whole nickel. I got a peppermint stick too. But just one, like you told us.”

“Good girl.” Emily ran a hand over Petula’s hair before turning toward Sabrina. “And what did you buy with your nickel?”

“A Scholar’s box, to keep my pencils and eraser in.” Like her sister before her, she held up her purchase for inspection. “It’s almost exactly like the one you’ve got at home, Miss Harris.”

“Very nice. It is a lot like mine. Only yours has a lock. Mine doesn’t.”

Patrick laid a hand on her shoulder. “Your supplies are already in the sleigh. Shall we have that cake now?”

“Yes!” the girls cried together.

“It will spoil all of our suppers.” Emily smiled despite herself. Who could not respond in kind when looking at the joy written on Sabrina and Petula’s happy faces?

And besides, what did it matter if they spoiled their supper this once? It wasn’t as if she needed to do much cooking with Gavin away.

Twenty-Six

“Pa’s home!” Sabrina cried as the sleigh pulled into the yard.

Emily’s heart thundered in her chest, and she wondered if Patrick would guess she was as excited as the children to know Gavin was home again.

Sabrina and Petula were out of the sleigh the instant it stopped. They dashed across the yard to the barn where their father stood in the open doorway. He lifted them both, one in each arm, holding them close to his sides.

Somehow, Emily forced herself to do nothing more than wave at him, acknowledging his return. Then she allowed Patrick to help her from the sleigh and the two of them carried the purchases into the house.

“Sure and the lasses are glad to have their da at home.”

Emily set her basket on the kitchen table. “Yes, they’ve missed him a lot. A week is a long time when you’re their ages.”

“Dru knew they would be in good hands with Gavin after she was gone.”

“Yes.”

Patrick turned her to face him. “They’ll not lack for anything when you’re no longer their governess.”

Tears burned her eyes but she fought them back, swallowing hard. “Of course not. He loved them long before my arrival.”

“It won’t be as if you can’t see them whenever you wish, Emily, once you’re living at the hall as my wife. It’s not all that far to the Lucky Strike.”

That’s where Patrick was wrong. She wouldn’t be able to see the children whenever she wanted, because seeing them would mean seeing Gavin too. And she didn’t think her heart would be able to bear that. Perhaps, in time . . .

Patrick shook his head as he chuckled softly. “It is clear there’ll be no cheering you up, my girl, no matter what I say. So I will take my leave of you and you can read your sister’s letter a second time.” He drew her close and kissed her.

When their lips parted, Emily put her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For being so kind and understanding.” She drew away from him. “You’re the kindest of men, Patrick O’Donnell.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you all along.” He grinned, a look that brought a smile to her own lips. Who could resist the famous O’Donnell charm? Even when she knew Patrick was talking blarney. “Ah, there’s your smile,” he said — and leaned down to kiss her again.

Cold air swirled into the room, and Emily took a step back to look in the direction of the kitchen door.

Gavin locked gazes with her for a fraction of a second before closing the door, turning, and shrugging out of his coat. When he faced them again, he said, “The girls tell me I’m indebted to you, Patrick.”

The Irishman waved off Gavin’s thanks. “Next time I come over, I’ll have to challenge you to a game of checkers.”

“You’ll lose if you do.”

Patrick chuckled again. “We’ll see.” He looked at Emily. “I’ll see you soon.”

She walked with him to the front door and remained on the stoop, hugging herself against the cold, until he was back in the sleigh and driving from the yard. After a quick wave farewell, she reentered the house.

“You shouldn’t have let Patrick give them money,” Gavin said, standing in the kitchen doorway.

She stiffened at his gentle but definite reprimand. “It was only a nickel apiece.”

“Nickels can be hard to come by around here, depending on the price of beef on the hoof.”

She could have told him that she had tried to dissuade Patrick, albeit not very hard. Instead she said, “I hadn’t the heart to deny them. I’m sorry. I’ll know better next time.”

Silence stretched between them. Not that Emily’s head wasn’t filled with things she would like to say. Words she wanted to say but couldn’t. Words she had no right to speak aloud.

“I’d better gather my things and take them to my cabin. Now that you’re back, I’m not needed in the girls’ room at night. Pet is sleeping peacefully again.”

“I appreciate the care you’ve given the girls, Miss Harris.”

How formal they were with each other. How distant. Whatever they might have had seemed irrevocably lost.

Emily nodded as she crossed the parlor. She passed close enough to Gavin that he could have reached out and stopped her. Close enough that she might have turned and stepped into his arms. But he didn’t reach out and she didn’t turn. She moved right by him and into the children’s bedroom.

She had spent two and a half weeks in this bedroom — from the first night of Petula’s accident — sleeping on a less-than-comfortable cot. Little by little, more of her belongings had migrated from her one-room cabin and into the main house. Now it was time to return them to the place they belonged — to the servant’s quarters. For that’s all she was, really. Just the governess and teacher and occasional cook and maid. Just that, when she wanted to be so much more.

January 20, 1884

Dearest Maggie,

I was so glad to receive your letter. Even more delighted
that it reached me so soon. In under three weeks. I’m hopeful
that means you have also received my last letter to you. I
have been quite homesick for many more reasons than I could
express on paper.