“Keep a five-year-old quiet for six weeks?” Gavin asked incredulously. He might not have much experience as a father, but he’d learned enough to know that was nearly an impossible request. Dr. Forester chuckled as he pulled on his coat.
“Do the best you can, sir.” He turned toward Rachel, standing just outside Petula’s bedroom.
“The laudanum should help her sleep for several more hours. Watch the clock and don’t give her more until I said.”
“I’ll be careful, doctor. Thank you.” The doctor turned toward Patrick.
“Well, Mr. O’Donnell, since you insisted on bringing me here, I’m afraid you’ll have to drive me back to Challis as well. But if you don’t mind, could we try a more sedate speed? I’m an old man.” Patrick nodded.
“I’ll be happy to do that for you.” He glanced past Gavin toward Rachel.
“I’ll be back in a day or two to look in on the wee lass. You take care o’ yourself, Rachel.” Gavin thought the man would have liked to say more, if the moment and place had been more private. As it was, he simply nodded again and pushed his hat over his red hair as he followed the doctor out the door. Gavin went with them and waited until they’d pulled out of the yard before going back inside. He found Rachel and Sabrina sitting in the bedroom beside Petula’s bed, Sabrina in her governess’s lap.
“Please stay in here tonight, Miss Harris,” Sabrina said as he stepped into the room.
“You can sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.” When Rachel didn’t answer immediately, she added, “Please, Miss Harris. I don’t wanna be alone. Please.”
“You won’t have to sleep on the floor, Brina,” Gavin interrupted.
“I’ll set up a cot for you.” Light blue eyes widened as they met his gaze, eyes clouded with worry.
“I’ll move your things over from the cabin. I imagine you’ll want to stay in here for a while.” Rachel nodded, then turned her eyes back toward the bed while her fingers tenderly stroked Sabrina’s hair. Wordlessly, Gavin headed for the cabin.
“Rachel, may I have a few words with you before you retire?” She lay the damp cloth across Petula’s forehead, then glanced toward the
doorway where Gavin stood.
“Of course,” she responded softly. As she straightened, she looked toward the cot near the window. Sabrina, too, was fast asleep, her mouth open and one arm thrown above her head. It had taken some doing before the older girl relaxed enough to fall asleep. Her fears that something worse would happen to Petula had increased as the night grew later, and Rachel had nearly despaired of reassuring her that everything would turn out all right. Taking a steadying breath, she returned her attention to the matter at hand. Gavin wanted to speak with her. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. He was standing beside the fireplace, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers.
“Sit down, Rachel.” She was inclined to believe it was more than likely bad news that had dictated this meeting.
“I’ve been thinking about my behavior lately,” he began, “and I owe you an apology. Whatever … whatever’s been wrong between us, I’d like us to call a truce. For the sake of the children if nothing else.” She remained silent, but her heart was pounding furiously in her chest. His eyes were the color of granite, his face set like stone.
“We’ll forget what happened.” Forget? It would be impossible for her to forget, especially when she was so close to him.
“It’s already forgotten,” she said with more conviction than she felt.
“I’d like very much for us to get along while I’m here. The children need us both to help them get over the loss of their mother. It would be nice if we could get along in a civilized manner.” She should have been an actress, she thought, the way she spoke those lines. She almost believed them herself. Gavin stepped toward her, stopping within arm’s reach. His eyes searched her face. Rachel lifted her chin and met his gaze with cool control. Finally, he extended his hand toward her.
“Truce?” he asked.
“Truce.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
A blizzard blew in from the northwest during the night. Rachel wouldn’t have thought it possible for more snow to fall, but fall it did. The wind howled through the canyons and valleys, bending trees before its relentless fury. The temperature plummeted. Roads became impassable. Rachel awakened to Petula’s small voice calling for her mother as she tossed restlessly in her bed. She pulled on a robe and went to sit beside the child.
“Hush, Pet. It’s all right.” Petula opened her laudanum-glazed eyes.
“Where’s Ma?” Not knowing how to answer, Rachel gathered the girl into her arms and rocked her to and fro.
“You’ve been dreaming,” she whispered. Gavin appeared suddenly in the doorway.
“What’s wrong?” He was wearing trousers over his long johns, the top of his undergarment open at the throat to reveal a light furring of dark chest hair. His hair was rumpled, his chin covered with black stubble. His feet were bare. Rachel felt slightly winded by the sight of him.
“Just a dream,” she managed to reply. Petula raised her head from Rachel’s chest.
“Pa, I hurt.”
“I bet you do.” He crossed the room to stand on the opposite side of the bed.
“That must have been some fall you took. Almost as good as the time I fell out of the barn loft and broke my nose.” He sat on the bed, and Petula slipped from Rachel’s arms into his.
“You broke your nose?” Petula asked.
“Right here.” He touched the slight bump on the bridge of his nose.
“My father held my head and shoved it back into place or else I’d have looked mighty funny now.”
“Did it hurt?”
“Something awful.”
“Mine too.” The child laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.
“Mine too.” They have their father back. Rachel’s heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. They sat in silence for a long time, listening to the wind wailing around the corners of the house. Rachel continued to stare at the man and child, drawing immense enjoyment from the simple scene. Perhaps what made it so special was that she felt a part of it too.
Realizing that Petula had fallen asleep, Gavin kissed the top of her head, then raised his eyes toward Rachel. There was nothing cool or remote about his gray eyes this morning, she thought. They seemed warm and intimate and friendly. She smiled in response and self-consciously smoothed back the disheveled mass of hair from her face.
“You look mighty pretty when you first wake up, Miss Harris,” Gavin said softly. Her heart started a mad thumping in her chest. Is this part of the truce? she wondered. And then, You look mighty handsome yourself, Mr. Blake.
“Well…” He laid Petula back on her pillow.
“Guess I’d best check on the animals.”
“You can’t go outside. There’s a blizzard raging.” She could hear the thudding of her heart in her ears now.
“You might not make it to the barn this time.” The look in his eyes told her he was remembering the last blizzard—those hours he’d held her in his arms—just as she was.
“Guess you’re right. I’d better stay inside.” Surely he could hear the crazy pounding too.
“I’ll get dressed and fix you some breakfast.” His gaze slid down over her loose hair to the opening at the front of her robe, then back again. His voice sounded husky.
“Yes. You get dressed.” He rose and was gone in an instant, closing the door behind him.
* She was a good cook, Gavin thought as he stretched back in a chair after supper that night. His belly was full after two helpings of the beef and vegetable stew. And cooking wasn’t her only skill. He’d watched her throughout the day, realizing how much she’d done for them in recent weeks. She was constantly there for the children, caring for them, teaching them, playing with them. She’d even made them each a new dress out of fabric she’d found in Dru’s old chest. And she hadn’t done too badly for a city girl used to store-bought clothes. He glanced her way. There she was, wearing another of those ridiculously fashionable outfits of hers, looking like she was ready to go calling on a society neighbor or for a walk in the park, and yet her lap was covered with socks to be darned.