sound in the still house, then pulled open the door. Dawn had painted the lingering storm clouds the color of grapes and poppies and dandelions. Moisture, crystallized by the crisp morning air, sparkled from every tree limb and fence pole and eave. The horses in the corral huddled together, their heads drooping toward the ground, their breath forming small white clouds beneath their muzzles. Rachel wrapped her arms across her chest and hurried forward, not taking the time to return to her room for a wrap. By the time she stepped inside the barn, her teeth were chattering with cold. She paused as the door closed behind her, drawing a deep breath. There. That was better. The quick walk across the yard had cleared her head. It was silly of her to be so disturbed by her dreams. They meant nothing. Just an over-active imagination and probably something she ate.
“Good morning, Miss Harris.” She gasped as she turned toward the deep voice. Gavin was standing inside the stall beside the orphaned calf.
“You’re up mighty early,” he said as he opened the gate and stepped out.
“I .. . I wanted to see Sabrina’s calf.” One brow arched, his face held a clearly dubious expression.
“I had no idea you were so fond of it.” She felt the blush rising from her neck and fought to control it.
“I’m not,” she replied in an indignant tone.
“But Sabrina is, and anything that interests the children interests me.” She moved forward, her head held erect, her eyes avoiding his. As she stepped up beside him, his hand fell upon her shoulder, stopping her. Unable to help herself, she lifted her head to look up at him. His gray eyes stared down at her, seemingly merciless in their perusal. The change was minute, but she would have sworn she saw a softening within the steely depths.
“I believe you mean that, Miss Harris,” he said softly.
“I do mean it, Mr. Blake, or I never would have taken this job.” She glanced at his hand on her shoulder. It was warm. The fabric of her bodice seemed almost nonexistent, as if her flesh and his .. She looked up at him quickly, her eyes wide and uncertain. She didn’t understand why he made her feel this way. Gavin withdrew his hand, the slight scowl returning to his face.
“You’d better get back to the house before you catch cold.”
“It’s not cold in the barn,” she softly replied, her voice quivering. Did he come closer? It felt as if he did, yet she knew he hadn’t moved. Although she never took her eyes from his face, she was intensely aware of the breadth of his shoulders, the strength of his arms. There was a strange roaring in her ears.
“Go back to the house, Miss Harris,” he said in a low voice.
“It’s colder out here than you think.” Her throat felt tight. She swallowed and turned from him.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I’m afraid you’re right.” She forced her feet to walk slowly, but with her heart, she fled.
Chapter Eight
Rachel looked up from the book she’d been reading. The room was wrapped in silence while the usually boisterous girls concentrated on their studies. Petula was scrunched over her slate, a piece of chalk pinched tightly between chubby fingers. Her mouth was screwed up in concentration as she tried to copy her teacher’s letters. Rachel smiled to herself. The little girl would have the alphabet conquered in no time. Petula was determined and bright and very eager to learn. Her gaze shifted to the opposite end of the table, where Sabrina sat. The tip of the girl’s tongue could be seen in the corner of her mouth as she frowned down at the math figures. She wrinkled her nose, and her freckles seemed to darken as they drew closer together.
Rachel was filled with a wonderful feeling of satisfaction. She had never dreamed she would enjoy teaching so much. If she had, she would have made it her vocation long ago. She didn’t know why so many people regarded teaching as something suitable only for young, as yet unmarried women or aging spinsters who would never marry. It was so exciting to see the children’s eyes light with understanding, to answer their questions, to expand their horizons. There were so many things to share with them. So many wonderful things to share. This must have been why she came here. To discover how she felt about teaching. This must be her destiny. When she returned home in the spring, she thought, she would apply for a teaching position. Her gaze focused once again on her two students. The idea of leaving these girls was not a pleasant one. She’d grown immensely attached to them in the short time she’d been here. And spring would come all too quickly. It wasn’t nearly enough time to teach them all they would need to learn. Not nearly enough time. A door closed softly and Rachel turned her head toward the sound. Dru smiled as their eyes met, but she didn’t speak as she made her way across the sitting room to a chair near the fireplace. She pulled a lap rug over her knees, then leaned back against the chair and closed her eyes. Rachel continued to watch the woman. In the four days since Gavin and the other men had left with the cattle, she had come to realize just how ill Dru was. The moment her husband had ridden away, the strength had seemed to ebb from her. Her face looked older, more tired. Her shoulders were stooped. She smiled less often; only her daughters brought a look of joy into her eyes.
Rachel had wanted to ask Dru exactly what was wrong but hadn’t had the courage. Perhaps it wasn’t as serious as it appeared. Dru was probably merely missing her husband. It was sadness Rachel saw on her face, not stress and pain. Surely that was all there was to it.