“Was it ‘cause you couldn’t marry Mr. O’Donnell?” Sabrina asked.
“Is that why you left?” Rachel inhaled.
“Yes. That was part of it.”
“Do you love our pa?” She sighed as a tiny smile curved the corners of her mouth.
“Yes, Brina. I love your pa. Very much.” Gavin wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d expected from the children, but his chest swelled with pride as he heard Rachel telling them how much she loved him. Moments later, the two girls were giving Rachel a hug and kissing her cheek.
“We’re glad to have you back … Mother,” he heard Petula whisper. Life seemed pretty good to Gavin Blake. She was home. Truly home. It surprised Rachel how right it felt, walking in the door of the ranch house at the Lucky Strike and knowing this was her home. It suddenly seemed to her that she’d only been visiting Maggie for a few weeks, and now she was back where she belonged. She watched as the men carried her trunks through the main room and into Gavin’s bedroom. Their bedroom. Again, it had a feeling of rightness. On his way back out of the bedroom, Stubs winked at her. She smiled in return, grateful for his silent approval. Stubs and Jess stayed in the house for a while, updating Gavin on things that had happened while he was away. The girls slipped off to their bedroom, unpacking their valises from their stay at Killarney Hall. As Rachel listened to the sound of the men’s deep voices, she wandered into Gavin’s bedroom. Our bedroom, she reminded herself again. She looked at the large four-poster with its heavy patchwork quilt. Except for summers in the basin, this would be where she spent her nights for the rest of her life. She would conceive babies, God willing, in this bed, and she would give birth to them here as well. This would be where she would lie in her husband’s arms and they would plan out their future. She ran her fingers over the smooth wood of one of the posts, then leaned her forehead against it. Everything would be complete if only he would tell her he loved her, she thought, hating the stab of sadness that marred the perfection of this moment.
“Rachel?” She turned, still holding onto the post. Gavin closed the door.
“You all right?” He moved a step closer. She nodded. He must have read something in her expression.
“You don’t mind that this was Dru’s room, do you?” She hadn’t even thought of it until he mentioned it.
“It was her bedroom. Not ours. We shared the room but not…” He paused.
“Our marriage … well, it was just a technicality so I could adopt Brina and Pet.” It was a moment before Rachel realized what he was saying. He was telling her she was his only true wife. She was glad for the knowledge. But it wasn’t enough to take the thin edge of pain away. Only his love could do that. Somehow, she had to break through the barrier to his heart. Somehow… Chapter Thirty-Seven
Days flowed into weeks and weeks into first one month and then two. It was a magical time for Rachel. Life on the Lucky Strike hadn’t changed in her absence. The work was always there, waiting to be done, and much of it was hard and back-breaking. She’d done it all before, but now it was her home, and somehow that made it different. Gavin often caught her humming as she scrubbed floors or bent over the big tubs on washdays or cooked meals for a hungry family. Nights were even more magical. They made love often, and she found that he hadn’t lied to her. It did get better. She became more confident in her response to him. She slowly learned the unique power she wielded as a woman and secretly reveled in it.
Often they lay awake a long time after making love, talking about the children, about the ranch, about their hopes and dreams. Rachel told him what little she remembered of her troubled childhood in Philadelphia with her Uncle Seth. She detailed the journey West on the wagon train as recalled through the eyes of a child. She shared some of her experiences in the finishing school and told anecdotes about the people—politicians and society matrons and businessmen—she’d met during her years in Washington and Philadelphia. Little by little, with her gentle encouragement, Gavin revealed bits and pieces of his life, too. But he never talked about his boyhood in Ohio, never mentioned either of his parents. She heard about the rough years as the fourteen-year-old boy left home and grew into a man while learning to be a cowboy in Texas. She heard stories of the hot and dusty trail drives and long nights in the saddle, of the lightning storms, the drenching rains, the droughts, the stampedes. He told her about the months he’d spent in the gold camps, surrounded by people possessed by gold fever, the ridiculous wealth of a few, the abject poverty of many. During those hours in his arms, Gavin often told her she was beautiful. He frequently said he was glad she was his wife. She waited, always hopeful, to hear those three precious words, but they didn’t come. Still, Rachel felt herself becoming more and more a part of his life and he of hers, and she was happy.
There was a subtle change in the way the children reacted to her. They
had always been close. With Dru’s tender guidance, Rachel had learned to love the girls even as Sabrina and Petula learned to love their governess. But now there was a bonding that went deeper than what they’d had before. Rachel felt it every time she heard one of them call her Mother. And when the day came that she first suspected there was to be another child calling her Mother, she felt an indescribable joy. She kept the secret nestled deep in her heart and anxiously waited until she could be sure it was true. Gavin pumped the bellows. Sweat poured down his face, back, and chest as the heat of the fire blasted him. He pulled the iron from the forge and pounded it against the anvil, carefully shaping it to fit Checker’s big hoof. The barn doors were thrown wide, allowing the late April sunshine entrance, along with a delightfully fresh breeze. Spring was always a busy time of year at the Lucky Strike as they prepared for round-up and the annual drive into the basin. This year was no different. Except that, this year, Rachel was with them. Gavin grinned as she entered the barn, carrying a tray with sandwiches and something cold to drink. He dropped the horseshoe into the bucket of water and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm as the hiss of steam filled the air.
“If you won’t come in when you’re told, you’ll have to eat in the barn.” Her tone was scolding, but her rebuke was diluted by her smile. He took the tray from her and set it near the bellows.
“Suits me, long as I’ve got such pretty company.” With a boot braced against the bottom rail, he leaned his back against the stall and took a bite from the roast-beef sandwich.
“Mmmm.” She gave a saucy little toss of her head and turned away.
“Well, you’ll have to get along without the pretty company, Mr. Blake. Mrs. Blake has far too much work to get done. There’s bread in the oven, and you’re the one who has to eat it if it burns to a crisp.” He considered letting the horse go unshod and the bread bake to a cinder while he carried the impertinent lady to their bedroom. It wouldn’t be a bad way to spend an afternoon. As Rachel reached the doorway, she lifted her hand to shade her eyes.
“We’ve got company.” Gavin took another quick bite, then a gulp of milk before walking over to join her.
“It’s Patrick!” She lifted an arm to wave toward the approaching buggy.
“And Pearl!” She hurried out into the sunshine, waiting for her friends to arrive. Gavin wasn’t as eager to greet their visitors. They hadn’t seen Patrick since their return from Boise, and that had suited Gavin just fine. Those same nagging suspicions, forgotten these past few weeks, returned as strong as ever. What if Rachel should realize she didn’t love him? What if she regretted not having the life of ease Patrick could offer her? He reached for his shirt and slipped into it, then walked out of the barn. Patrick hopped out of the buggy and immediately grabbed Rachel’s hands as he gazed down at her face.