“Look at that lily-white hand. You haven’t done a day’s work in your life. You might’ve been raised on a ranch, but it was a gentleman’s ranch or I miss my guess. That brother-in-law of yours hires on all his help to run the ranch while he plays the judge in town and you sit drinking tea on the front porch. You’re just another spoiled, rich-” She jerked her hand away from him. Her blue eyes were rounded, and she sounded breathless when she spoke.
“That’s not so. We’ve worked hard for everything we’ve got. Tucker built our first house himself, cutting down the trees along the river. I remember just what it was like. We all worked and worked hard. In some ways, it was even harder than the trip west on the wagon train when we were moving every day for months and slept in the rain and walked in the mud and baked in the sun.” She stood up.
“Maybe Tucker does have others running his ranch now, but he’s earned it. And maybe I have been spoiled by his success. Maybe my life the last years has been easier than most, but I’m not afraid of hard work. I can teach your children and I can help take care of your wife.”
“You don’t belong up at the basin,” he growled.
“I’m going to be there, aren’t I, so you and I may as well learn to get along.” With a toss of her head, she turned and hurried toward her bed beneath the wagon. Gavin’s frown deepened as he returned his attention to the harness in his hands. She could say what she wanted. Rachel Harris didn’t belong in the hard life of the Blakes. She would wilt there like a rose without water. He’d be sending her back to Boise by the first snow. He’d be willing to bet on it. He caught a faint whiff of honeysuckle and felt a strange emptiness in his chest. Despite Dru’s frail appearance and admission of ill health, Rachel began to wonder if she’d been wrong about the woman. Every morning Dru was ready to break camp before the crack of dawn. She could scarcely be convinced to rest and have lunch in the middle of the day. And at night, she always insisted they go just one more mile before making camp. Gavin seemed concerned, but he often gave in to her pleas. Rachel, on the other hand, was exhausted and always ready to call it a day long before they actually did. She was hungry for a real meal rather than those hastily prepared over a campfire. She felt wilted and dirty and longed for a bath. A hot bath in the privacy of an upstairs bathroom, like the one at home. Gavin remained taciturn, speaking to her as little as possible. Dru, however, was invariably chatty and friendly. She told Rachel about the Stanley Basin and the beauty of the surrounding mountain ranges. Mostly, though, she talked about her daughters. Her voice was always filled with pride when the topic was Sabrina and Petula. The days seemed both to drag by and to pass all too quickly as the familiarity of Rachel’s home was left farther and farther behind. Still, she couldn’t deny a growing sense of adventure as Dru shared more about their summer range in the Stanley Basin, a valley surrounded by mountains with names like Sawtooth and White Cloud. But despite Dru’s glowing reports of the basin she loved, Rachel wasn’t prepared for the breathtaking panorama that met her gaze late in the afternoon a week after they had left Boise. The valley was tucked, snug and serene, between rugged mountain ranges. A carpet of green grasses waved like the sea beneath a gentle breeze. Late summer wildflowers bobbed their colorful heads. Sage and pine scented the air. Winding its way across the valley floor was a ribbon of water. A thick blanket of pine trees climbed the mountainsides as far as possible, then admitted defeat amidst the jagged crags and towering peaks of the Sawtooth Mountains.
“Is that snow?” she asked as she spied the splotches of white nesting in the shadowed sides of rocky spires.
“Glaciers,” Gavin replied.
“They’re there year-round.”
“Can we see your ranch from here?”
“Not yet,” Dru replied.
“The basin’s northwest of here. We’ll be there tomorrow.” Gavin hopped down from the wagon seat and walked across the narrow dirt road. His thick brows were drawn together as his eyes swept the wooded area. Moments later, he strode quickly back, stopping at the back of the wagon. He pulled a heavy chain from a box in the rear corner, then marched back into the trees. Rachel watched as he rolled up his shirt sleeves before bending over a fallen tree, slipping the heavy links beneath it. His muscles bulged as he leaned forward, pulling on the chain. The tree didn’t budge. She wondered if his shoulders were as muscular as his arms—and knew instinctively that they were. She felt herself blushing as she imagined him without his shirt on. She glanced down at her hands, finding them clenched tightly in her lap. She wasn’t aware of his return until she felt the wagon jerk as he regained
his seat. What on earth was that all about? she wondered as he picked up the reins. But instead of starting forward and making their way down the steep descent into the valley, Gavin turned the wagon around and guided the team off the trail toward the chained log. Curiosity finally got the better of her.
“What are you doing?” she asked as Gavin jumped down from the wagon and walked toward the tree.
“It’s to help check our speed going down.” He picked up the chain and fastened the loose end to the undercarriage.
“It’s a steep grade.” His tone clearly stated he found her question a foolish one, that she should have known the reason, that if she wasn’t a spoiled city girl she wouldn’t have had to ask. He made her mad enough to spit. He was without a doubt the most unreasonable, unfriendly man she’d ever had the displeasure to meet. And she wasn’t going to let him scare her off. She’d prove to him she could measure up to whatever he dished out. After all, she wasn’t entirely ignorant of men. She’d been squired around Washington by some of the most powerful and influential men in the country. She’d sat at supper tables and chatted with brilliant men of science and government. Surely this backwoods cowboy could be properly handled. She would make him like her. She would force him to admit he was wrong about her. If it was the last thing she did, she was going to hear him admit he was wrong. The wagon started forward with a lurch. Rachel’s head snapped back, hitting the front of the wagon. Her right hand flew up, and she grasped the side to steady herself. Behind them, the tree carved a groove in the earth as it was dragged through the needles and grass, finally falling onto the dirt trail. Minutes later, Rachel understood why Gavin had taken the time to weight the wagon. The brake scraped noisily against the wheels. The horses leaned back over their hind legs, straining against the weight of the wagon pushing against them. The narrow track—too primitive to be called a road—wound back and forth across the side of the mountain, dropping swiftly toward the valley floor below.
“Easy, Checker. Whoa now, Patch.” Gavin’s voice was smooth, gentle, calming not only the team of horses but Rachel as well. She twisted to look up at him, seated so close to her back. He was leaning forward, his boots braced against the foot board. The reins were woven through his fingers. Sweat stained the back of his shirt along his spine, and the muscles flexed across his shoulders.
“That’s it, girl. Slow down, Patch.” Watching him, Rachel felt the last of her tension leave her body. Gavin would get them safely to the bottom.
Chapter Four
Patches of brown and white dotted the landscape across a wide sweep of meadowland where cattle grazed along the banks of the river, the lush grasses reaching up to tickle their bellies.
“We’re home,” Dru whispered. Rachel rose to her knees and leaned to one side to see what was ahead. Just as she did so, she saw a horse break away from the cattle and come cantering toward them. The rider waved his arm. Gavin drew back on the reins, stopping the team, and waited for the cowboy to arrive.
“Lord a’mighty, it’s good to see you folks back agin. Them gals o’ yours ain’t stopped asking’ when you’d be back since the day after you left.” Dru’s voice was anxious.