Robin Lee Hatcher (27 page)

Mr. Blake was away for just over a week, so I was in
charge of his house as well as the children. We got on rather
well, I believe. Of course, we were not completely alone. One of
the ranch hands was here, taking care of the outside chores.

Petula is getting better and has adapted to using only one
arm. Much better than I could do, I am sure. For the most
part, Sabrina is a kind and attentive sister, but sometimes she
gets irritated. I suppose she is jealous of the extra attention Pet
receives because of her injury.

As I write this letter, Mr. Blake and the children are
playing checkers (father against daughters). The game pieces
were a gift from Petula, which she gave him upon his return
from the range several days ago. They cost four cents at the
local mercantile. I don’t think I’ve ever considered what could
be bought for under a nickel before.

Patrick suggested that he and I come to Boise for a brief
visit, but I told him I could not leave the children. I promised
Mrs. Blake that I wouldn’t. Not until spring. But when the
time comes, I know you will like Patrick. He is such a good
man.

You would like Mr. Blake too, and you would adore his
daughters. As do I.

Your loving sister,

Emily

Twenty-Seven

“Mr. Martin? May I speak with you a moment?”

Emily wasn’t sure why she was finally following Dru’s request. Whatever it was that the woman had wanted her to know about Gavin, it couldn’t be of any importance now. Emily was engaged to Patrick, and Gavin didn’t much care, one way or another. Still, she’d awakened this morning with the need to know, with the need to hear whatever Stubs would tell her, if for no other reason than to honor a dying woman’s wish.

Stubs lowered the horse’s hoof to the ground and peered at Emily from beneath the brim of his battered hat. “What’s on your mind, Miss Harris?”

Emily stepped into the stall where he was working. “I . . . I wanted to ask you about Mr. Blake.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “What about him?”

This was more difficult than she’d expected. “Before she died, Dru . . . Mrs. Blake . . . told me to ask you about Mr. Blake. She said you were to tell me everything, including the things she never knew.”

“She did, huh?”

“Yes. It seemed important to her.”

Stubs leaned his back against the stall rails and bumped his hat off his forehead with his knuckles. “What about you, Miss Harris? Is it important to you?”

She wished she could say no. Her life would be so much simpler if it weren’t. “Yes.” Emily didn’t dare look at Stubs while she waited for his response. She feared he’d guessed too much about her feelings already.

“Would you mind walkin’ with me to the bunkhouse? I could use a cup of coffee.”

She nodded her assent, and together they left the barn. A cold wind whipped at her skirts, sending a chill up her spine and along her arms. She hugged herself, wishing Stubs would walk a little faster. But as with his speech, Stubs took his own good time.

Once inside the bunkhouse, Emily sat on the bench on one side of the table in the center of the room while Stubs stoked the fire in the pot-bellied stove.

“Coffee?” he asked without turning around.

“No, thank you.”

He poured himself a cup, then turned from the stove. “I wasn’t more’n fifteen when I went to work for Timothy Blake — that was Gavin’s pa. My folks were gone, and I didn’t have a place of my own or nowhere to go. Gavin’s pa was a nice enough fella back before he took to drinking, but he never had two nickels to rub together.”

Stubs brought his coffee to the table and sat opposite her. “Gavin was about three when I first got there. Cutest little tyke you ever saw. And Mrs. Blake, Christina . . .” He shook his head and whistled through his teeth. “What a beauty she was. Stopped men in their tracks, she did. Timothy worshipped the ground she walked on, and that ain’t no exaggeration. But she hated that farm and she hated being poor. Hated her husband too, even though he treated her like she was a queen. She didn’t pay Gavin no mind either. Never wanted to hold him or be with him. Cold, that woman was. Real cold.”

Emily felt her heart breaking for the little boy whose mother didn’t love him.

“You remind me a bit of Christina. Not that you look like her, but you’ve got the same color of hair and eyes and are about the same height. Don’t suppose Gavin ever told you that, did he? No, he wouldn’t tell you that.”

“But I’m no great beauty.”

“And that there’s the main difference. I’ve never seen you put on airs. You don’t seem to know you got the power to break a man’s heart with a toss of your head or a casual glance. Christina knew the power she had, and she used it. She wanted to be rich, and she wanted off that farm. Didn’t matter to her that she had a husband and a little boy.”

Emily recalled Gavin’s gruff behavior toward her when she was first hired. Was this why? Because she resembled his mother?

“I can’t say for positive, but I think Gavin found his ma and her rich lover together while his pa was away. Guess there wasn’t any reason for her to sneak around and pretend after that. She left the farm in Mr. Hannah’s company, bold as you please. Just up and walked off and left her husband and son. Gavin was about ten, maybe twelve years old at the time. She never saw her boy again ’til after his pa died. Mr. Hannah’s money bought her a divorce and even respectability, and she wanted no reminders of her old life, not even from her own flesh and blood.”

“Poor Gavin.”

“Timothy Blake drank himself to death, but I left long before that happened. Gavin told me his pa didn’t care what happened to the farm after his wife left. Just let it go to rot. Gavin did his best to do what needed done, but he was just a boy still.”

Emily swallowed the hot lump in her throat.

Stubs took several sips of coffee before he continued. “Christina soured Gavin good on women. I suppose he didn’t want to come home one day to find his woman in bed with another man.”

“How could she do that to her family?”

“Promises didn’t mean nothing to Christina Blake. She was beautiful and selfish and cared only for herself.” Stubs shook his head. “Easy to understand why Gavin decided he’d never marry.”

“But he married Dru.”

Stubs smiled. “That was different. Charlie was Gavin’s friend. Closest thing he could’ve had for a brother. They were like this.” He held up two crossed fingers. “After Charlie died, it fell to Gavin to look out for the family. He was glad to do it too. He loved Dru and the little girls. And lookin’ out for them would’ve been good enough if Dru hadn’t got the cancer. When she knew she was dyin’, she asked Gavin to marry her so her girls would have a pa when she was gone. She didn’t want them to be orphans.”

“But he loved her. You said so, and I could see it whenever they were together.”

“Sure he loved her. We all did. Couldn’t help but love her.”

Emily agreed with a nod and a wistful smile.

“But Dru and Gavin didn’t have a real marriage,” Stubs said.

Emily recalled what Dru had said to her once, not long before her death —
He married me because I asked him to, not out of some
great passion.

“I’m thinkin’ she hoped he’d learn to love you the way she’d loved Charlie. But I guess that ain’t possible now, you being engaged to marry Mr. O’Donnell and all. He’s a good sort. I’ve seen how attentive he’s been to you since Dru died. No wonder you’ve come to care for him.”

She did care for Patrick. But not enough. Not nearly enough.

“Thank you for telling me all of this.” She rose from the bench.

Stubs gave her a questioning look. “What’re you gonna do now, Miss Harris?”

She walked toward the bunkhouse door. “I’m going to try to make things right.”

Pulling the collar of her coat up to cover her ears, Emily hurried from the bunkhouse to her cabin. Once inside, she sat on the foot of her bed and stared at the floor.

How do I make things right? How can I unravel the mess I’ve
made of things?
She covered her face with her hands.
How do I make
things right?

Thoughts raced through her mind. Thoughts of Dru. Thoughts of the children. Thoughts of Gavin. And finally, thoughts of Patrick.

Patrick. She lowered her hands and straightened. Nothing could be made right until she broke her engagement to Patrick. No matter what else happened, she couldn’t marry him, hoping she would learn to love him. She couldn’t marry him feeling as she did about Gavin. It wasn’t fair to any of them. Most of all, it wasn’t fair to Patrick. He deserved better.

Through the kitchen window, Gavin saw Emily leave the bunkhouse and walk to her cabin, her coat collar pulled up against the cold. She hadn’t spent much time in the main house since his return with the strays. While she never neglected the children or failed to give them their lessons, it was clear she had no intention of remaining in his company any longer than necessary.

Which was for the best. That was what he wanted. Wasn’t it? If she was to marry Patrick, better he stay clear of her. Better he concentrate on changing his feelings.

He was about to turn around when a sleigh pulled into the yard. It looked like Harvey Ball’s pair of matched roans in the traces, but it definitely wasn’t Harvey holding the reins. The driver was a stranger to Gavin. Or was he? There was something vaguely familiar about him.

The man got out of the sleigh, then helped the woman who had been seated at his side to disembark. They both wore fur hats and heavy winter coats. Stylish ones. Not the sort of thing a person ordered from the mail-order catalog or bought at the local mercantile.

As the couple moved toward the house, Gavin left the kitchen and walked to the front parlor door, opening it before they could knock.

“Mr. Blake,” the man said when their eyes met.

“Yes?”

“I’m Tucker Branigan and this is my wife Maggie. We met last September in Boise.”

“Oh, yes. Forgive me. I didn’t recognize you.” He took a step backward. “Won’t you come in?”

“Thank you.” The couple moved past him into the parlor.

“Brina,” Gavin called. When his daughter appeared in the bedroom doorway, he said, “Run get Miss Harris. Tell her that her sister and brother-in-law are here.”

“We hate to intrude,” Maggie Branigan said. “We would gladly go to Emily’s cabin, but we weren’t sure — ”

“It’s no intrusion.” Gavin held out his hands. “Let me take your coats and then you can sit down near the fire.”

“That’s kind of you.” She removed her fur hat.

“Emily didn’t tell me you were expected. She’ll be glad to see you.”

Tucker Branigan helped her wife out of her coat. “We didn’t tell her we were coming. We wanted to surprise her.”

Maggie nodded, then said, “May I say that we were sorry to hear of your loss. Emily was very fond of your wife.”

“Thank you.” Gavin took their coats and hats and carried them into his bedroom, placing them on the bed. As he turned again, he heard the kitchen door close.

“Maggie! Tucker!”

He stopped in the doorway to his room and watched as the sisters embraced.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Emily’s voice cracked with emotion. “But the roads. They must be awful. I’m surprised you got through.”

Tucker said, “The passes were open, and there’s not as much snow to the south.”

“How long will you stay? Where are you staying?”

Maggie laughed, and Gavin was struck how very much like Emily’s laugh it sounded — and how much he’d missed hearing her laughter lately.

“We took a room at the boarding house in town, and we plan to stay a few days at least. Perhaps more.”

Gavin hadn’t seen Emily look this alive, this happy, in weeks, and he had to admit it warmed his soul to see it.

He moved into the parlor and motioned toward the chairs. “Please, everyone. Sit down. Make yourselves comfortable.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Sabrina and Petula watching the adults. “Come here, you two, and meet Emily’s family.”

“Oh, yes.” Emily motioned them to stand before her, then placed her left hand on Petula’s left shoulder and her right hand on Sabrina’s right shoulder. “Maggie and Tucker, these are my students. Pet and Brina, this is my sister and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. Branigan. They’ve come up from Boise for a visit.”

Gavin wanted to remember them just like this — Emily, Sabrina, and Petula. They looked like a family. A happy family. Almost like a mother and her daughters.

Maggie leaned down to meet the girls at eye level. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Emily has bragged on you a great deal in her letters. You must both be very well-behaved and smart.”

Sabrina and Petula exchanged glances and giggled.

Emily sat beside her sister on the sofa and the two embraced again. Then Emily asked after her nieces and nephews.

“Everyone is well. Sheridan misses you. We all do. But you know that.”

“And Fiona and her baby?”