Chapter Six
Rachel had forgotten more than just how early ranchers rose in the morning. She’d forgotten how endless the work was and how long the day lasted. Perhaps Gavin Blake was right, she thought as she sorted clothes that first washday she was in the basin. She had been spoiled and pampered. She couldn’t recall ever having to face so large or difficult a task. But she was determined to do her share and not to complain, especially since Dru seemed to accept it as just another chore.
“You weren’t employed to be a maid or a laundress, Miss Harris,” Dru had told her when Rachel insisted she wanted to help.
“No,” she’d agreed, “but I was employed to help take care of you until you’re well and strong again. I know you’re still tired from the trip
up here. I can see it in your face. I’m perfectly able to help, if you’ll just tell me what to do.” Following Dru’s instructions, Rachel put the heavier and dirtier things to soak in lye before dropping them into the copper kettle to boil. She gave the lighter, more delicate articles to Dru to wash by hand in a tub of lukewarm water. Steam filled the kitchen area, leaving Rachel’s face flushed and beaded with moisture. Her blond hair, most of it hidden beneath a scarf, curled in tiny wisps across her forehead. Her skin felt uncomfortably damp between her breasts. Bending over the wash tub, she scrubbed the clothes and linens on the fluted washboard. It wasn’t long before the muscles across the back of her neck and shoulders were complaining of abuse, but she gritted her teeth and kept at it. As each article was completed, she dropped it into another barrel-shaped tub to await rinsing. The children were kept busy hauling clean water in and dirty water out. They chattered and laughed and generally filled the small log cabin with a feeling of happiness. Somehow, it made Rachel’s task seem lighter as she listened.
“Here, Miss Harris,” Dru said as she came around the washtub.
“Let me take over while you get those things rinsed and hung out to dry. It would be a shame to waste the sunshine and days are so short now that autumn is here.” Short? Rachel felt as if they’d already been at it for twenty-four hours, and it wasn’t even noon yet. As far as she was concerned, this day couldn’t be over soon enough. Wringing the water from the clean, rinsed laundry was hard, tedious work. By the time she had her first basket of clothes filled, her hands ached and her skin felt raw and chapped. Mr. Gavin Blake certainly couldn’t say anything about her lily-white hands today, she thought as she lifted the clothes basket and braced it against her hip.
“We’ll help you, Miss Harris,” Sabrina offered. She shook her head.
“Thank you, Brina, but I think you and Pet should spell your mother for a while. She looks tired.”
“We all look tired,” Dru responded wryly. Rachel offered a weary smile of agreement, then went outside. The Stanley Basin was being blessed today with the warm breath of Indian summer. A gentle breeze stirred the trees and long grasses, bringing with it the sweet scent of pine. Rachel found the clothesline stretched between two trees and supported in the middle with a wooden prop. She set the basket on the ground, then placed her hands on the small of her back and bent backward, trying to relieve just a little of the ache that persisted there. When she straightened, she found Gavin leaning against the corner of the log cabin, watching her.
“Not as much fun as a fancy dress ball, is it?” he said, sounding amused. He pushed off from the house and walked toward her. She turned her back toward him and grabbed for the shirt on top of the pile of clothes in the basket.
“I told you before I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“I can see that, Miss Harris.” The serious tone of his voice caused her to look up at him. Was that an apology she saw in his eyes? She looked away quickly, flustered by the intentness of his gaze. She held the shirt against the clothesline and slipped the split wood pin over one sleeve. As she reached to fasten the other sleeve in place, the pin dropped from her fingers and fell into the thick grass at her feet. Did she let go of the shirt and hope it held while she retrieved the other pin, or did she free the one sleeve and hold the shirt until she had both pins in hand? It shouldn’t have been such a dilemma, but she could feel him watching her. For some reason, doing it right became of paramount importance. Her stomach was all aflutter, and her breathing came hard. She wished he would go away.
“Here,” he said.
“Let me get that for you.” He leaned over and picked up the troublesome clothespin, then held it out to her. She didn’t want to look up at him. She was too distressed and afraid he would see it in her eyes.
“Thank you,” she said softly. She closed her fingers around the small piece of wood and tinned steel, careful not to touch his hand.
“Well…” The amused tone was back.
“I just came in for a bite to eat. Better get to it.” He stepped away.
“Mr. Blake.”
He stopped.
“Yes?” Now she looked at him, her heart thundering in her ears.
“Thanks for your help.” There was a pregnant pause before he replied, “You’re welcome, Miss Harris.” As she watched him stride toward the house, she chose not to analyze why she reacted to him this way all the time. It was far better to ignore it and hope it would go away.
“We’re in for a bit of rain, I’d say.” Gavin turned from the window, his gaze falling on the two girls.
“You two better get your animals tended to now.
“Okay, Pa.” Sabrina set aside the square of fabric she’d been trying to embroider.
“Come on, Pet.”
“It’s getting’ cold out. Put on your jackets,” Dru reminded the children as they headed for the door. Gavin crossed to a chair near the fireplace and sat down.
“Where’s Miss Harris?”
“Lying down, I imagine. She insisted on doing just about all of that washin’ by herself today, and then she helped me with supper.” Dru leveled a reproachful gaze on him.
“It’s entirely your fault, you know. She’s tryin’ to prove she’s up to doin’ everything because you’ve made it clear you don’t think she can do anything.”
“Wait a minute, Dru. I never-”
“Don’t argue with me, Gavin. You haven’t been the least bit nice to Miss Harris and you know it. I didn’t want her up here to clean house and wash clothes. I wanted her here to teach the children, to get them to trust and care for her so that when I… when I’m not here, they’ll have a woman they can turn to.” Gavin’s jaw tightened. What made Dru think Rachel Harris would stay once Dru was gone? Did she think that pampered hothouse flower would stick around?
“Gavin, it’s not like you to be unfair.” Unfair? He considered the
charge. Well, maybe. Maybe he should give her the benefit of the doubt. She might prove him wrong. She did dig in to help with the wash today. It could be there was more to her than he’d thought at first. A lopsided smile curved his mouth as he recalled how she’d looked when he’d come in for lunch. She didn’t seem to have any clothes suitable for this life. She’d been wearing a dress of sunshine yellow, the skirt narrow, flounced, and bustled, the bodice fitted, conforming nicely to her pleasantly feminine shape. What she needed, of course, was a simple, loose-fitting blouse and an equally simple skirt without lots of petticoats or bustles or other such nonsense. But there she’d stood in that yellow dress out behind the cabin, her hair hidden beneath a matching yellow scarf. Come to think of it, she’d looked like a wilting sunflower. Her face had been flushed. Her hair had clung to her face in damp wisps. Her hands… Her hands. They’d looked like the hands of a rancher’s wife—red and rough and careworn.
“You’re right, Dru,” he admitted.
“I haven’t been fair.” But then he remembered her as he’d first seen her. Beautiful and rich. She didn’t belong here. He would never believe she belonged here.