“Come on. Let’s get you into a nice soft bed for a change.”
“Shouldn’t we go to the newspaper office first?” she asked softly.
“I’ll take care of that later.”
“Gavin, I..”
“You heard me. Come on.” Dru forced a weary smile, acknowledging her defeat.
“I suppose you’re right, but we came all this way to …”
“I know why we came,” he interrupted in a gruff tone. He couldn’t help himself. He felt suddenly angry. It never failed to alarm him when he lifted her down from the wagon and his fingers overlapped around her waist. He remembered her when she was pregnant with Quentin, her body swelling up like a ripe pumpkin, her face round and rosy her eyes shining with happiness. lord, it seemed a lifetime ago. look at all that had happened in the few years since then. First Quentin was stillborn, then Charlie died, and now this. If only he could take her back east to one of those fine hospitals. There must be something someone could do…. “Gavin?” Cool fingers touched his cheek. He knew she could read his mind, see what he was thinking.
“Let’s go inside.” With a nod, he placed a solicitous arm around her back and guided her into the lobby of the hotel. Wanted: Governess and teacher for two young girls on remote mountain ranch. Separate living quarters. Apply Mrs. Blake, Overland Hotel, after 2:00 PM Friday. Rachel set down the paper and stared out the window at the tall poplars, cottonwoods, and willows growing alongside the river. A warm breeze lifted wisps of blond hair across her forehead and caressed her skin with the last breath of summer. A large blow fly buzzed noisily beneath the porch awning, occasionally bumping into the clear glass window, then flying away before returning to try again. Perhaps the fly seemed unusually noisy because the house was so silent. Kevin, Colleen, Tara Maureen, and Colin, Maggie’s four oldest children, were all in school. Sheridan, at four the baby of the family, had gone into town with his mother for some shopping and would no doubt return with a peppermint stick from the mercantile. Rachel left the dining room and wandered into the parlor. Her fingers idly caressed the photographs and knickknacks that filled the room. Memories. Lots of memories. Happy memories too. Why wasn’t she content with the notion of making the same sort of memories for herself, the way everyone seemed to think she should? She paused in front of the oval mirror with its ornate, gold-flecked frame. She stared hard at her reflection. She supposed she was pretty. She’d been told so since she was little. She wasn’t particularly fond of her baby-fine hair—it was as pale as a field of drying wheat and impossible to keep trapped in a chignon—and she wished she had Maggie’s wide gray eyes instead of her ordinary blue ones. But all in all, it wasn’t a bad face staring back at her. She certainly had never lacked for suitors.
She’d turned down several proposals, both here and in Washington. Even James Whittier, her best friend’s husband, had offered for her several years ago. Now James and Fiona—deliriously in love with each other—were the parents of a beautiful baby girl. Myrna Whittier was only a few weeks old, and already she promised to be an auburn-haired, green-eyed beauty like her mother. If Rachel had accepted James’s offer, would she be happy now? Would she have found what she’d been waiting for? Had it been there staring her in the face all the time and she too blind to see it? No. Had she missed her chance by leaving Washington? Was that where she was to have found it? No. She was surprised by the sudden certainty that filled her. It made no sense to feel that way. What could possibly happen to her, stuck away out here on her brother-in-law’s ranch? If she didn’t want to marry one of her gentlemen callers, what else lay in store for her than to stay here, caring for Maggie and Tucker’s children, attending the theater, supporting the charities? She shook her head and walked back toward the dining room, pausing by the window and staring across the yard toward the river.
Bed sheets fluttered in the golden September sunlight. Tucker’s old hound dog lay in the shade of a tall poplar, his tail intermittently slapping the dried grass. Life is passing me by, she thought desolately, and there’s nothing I can do about it. She sighed again, the sound seeming to fill the empty house with its loneliness and futility. Was this it? Had she been wrong in thinking there was more in store for her? Was she resigned to let things continue this way forever? No, she wasn’t. Perhaps she’d been wrong to wait for something to happen to her. Perhaps she had to get out and make it happen. Her heart began to race as she turned away from the window. Her gaze fell upon the folded newspaper lying on the shiny oak table. That was it! Teaching. How better to make a difference in the world than to share all the wonderful things she’d learned, first in school and then under professor Abraham Fielding’s tutelage? And who better to share it with than children who lived far from a school? Rachel crossed the dining room with several quick steps and picked up the paper. Her eyes returned quickly to the brief notice in a lower corner of the page. Wanted: Governess and teacher for two young girls on remote mountain ranch. Separate living quarters. Apply Mrs. Blake, Overland Hotel, after 2:00 PM Friday. She was good with children. She’d helped Maggie with all her nieces and nephews. She certainly knew about living on a ranch. She’d lived on this one since coming to Idaho when she was six. She was qualified to teach, having completed her education in the best finishing school back East, not to mention the years she’d lived with the professor and his family. It would definitely be a complete and total change from the vacuous life she was living now. Did she dare even consider it? Rachel tossed the paper back onto the table as she spun around and swept resolutely out of the dining room. Drucilla Blake awakened slowly from her nap. On days like this, when she wasn’t feeling any pain, it was hard to believe she was dying. She felt tired was all. Very, very tired. She pushed herself up on the pillows, then swept her graying brown hair back from her face as she looked at the watch pinned to the bodice of her dress. One-fifteen. She would have to get freshened up if she was to be ready to meet people at two. A cold feeling suddenly engulfed her chest. She closed her eyes, her fingers still clutching the watch. What if no one came? What if they came and no one was right? It was so important to find the right person. Not just for Sabrina and Petula, but for Gavin too. He had given so much already, and when she was gone, he would still be giving. Dru relaxed her fingers and allowed her hand to fall to her side. It wasn’t right what she’d done. When that old sawbones first told her she was sick and dying, she should have left. She should have taken the children and gone. But where? Where was it she could have gone? Her heart and home were both in Idaho’s mountain country. There wasn’t anywhere else she could go—or anywhere else she wanted to spend what time was left to her. She filled her lungs with a deep breath, then straightened and dropped her legs over the side of the bed. She had no time for feeling sorry for herself. She had come to terms with her illness long ago. She knew Gavin would love and care for the children. She had only this one last detail to take care of and then she would be able to go in peace. Dru rose from the bed and walked toward the bureau. She glanced into the mirror as she picked up the hair brush. She tried not to look at her reflection. Doing so depressed her. She looked far older than her thirty-five years. She ran a hasty brush over her hair, then tucked the graying tresses into a bun at the nape before turning away. She looked presentable, she supposed. That was the best she could hope for. She opened the door to the small sitting room adjoining the bedroom. Gavin was standing at the window, looking down at the busy street below. she paused a moment to look at him. His black hair was shaggy around his shirt collar, badly in need of trimming. She should have seen to that before they left the basin. He turned at the sound of her entrance.