by Jody Hedlund
“She took the horse?”
“And the pup.”
His mind spun as he tried to digest the news. “She might be fishing—”
“I’ve checked everywhere. She’s nowhere near.”
He scanned the river, the banks, and the distant bends both ways. Where would a little girl like Astrid go? And why?
Greta closed her eyes and wavered again.
He slipped his arm around her, and thankfully she leaned into him, his lack of shirt no longer of concern. “Hey now. Maybe with the loss of the cattle, she decided to go to Fairplay to hunt for gold again.”
“No. This time she’s angry at me. She pleaded with me last night to be able to stay here. She doesn’t want to go to Denver, even if the hospital there can make her better.”
“So she reckoned if she ran away, she could get out of leaving?”
“It’s possible. Especially since she knows that if we don’t go soon, we won’t be able to travel through the mountain passes.”
Did Astrid think she could hide for a few days? Out in the wilderness? By herself? Wyatt’s blood turned cold. Not only were there wild animals to think about, but the weather was unpredictable and the temperatures most nights fell below freezing.
“We need to find her.” He started toward the cabin, guiding Greta.
“Where do you think she went?” Greta picked up her pace to keep up with him.
“I’ll ride to town first and check if anyone’s seen her.”
“I’ll go. You have to sleep.”
“I ain’t gonna be able to rest until she’s found.”
“Please, Wyatt—”
“I’m going, and nothin’s gonna stop me.” He’d failed his family when they needed him most, and he wouldn’t fail Greta now.
When they reached the cabin, she made him sit down for coffee and a meal while she fed and groomed his horse. He and Judd had worked all night and all day, butchering each steer and then lugging the slabs of beef to the river in the north pasture so the freezing water would keep the meat fresh until they carted it to the surrounding mining towns to sell.
Judd was still at it and had finally ordered him to go. Even though Wyatt hadn’t said anything, Judd had probably sensed the anxiety growing within him all day. Either that or he’d noticed the frequent glances Wyatt had cast in the direction of the homestead.
He’d expected Greta to ride out and finish helping them long ago, especially with the way she’d protested when he’d made her leave earlier. As hours passed without her showing up, he’d worked himself into a frenzy and almost hadn’t stopped to wash himself up at the river before riding on to the cabin.
At the sight of her on the river path, he’d nearly wept with relief to see she hadn’t left him yet. And now all he could do was pray that once they found Astrid, Greta would give him a chance to speak his piece.
By the time he was done with the meal and changed clothing, he had a fresh burst of energy and was ready to head to Fairplay.
“I want to go with.” She held the reins as he climbed up into his saddle.
“I’ll be able to ride a whole lot faster and search more places by myself.” He settled himself and adjusted his hat. “Besides, someone’s gotta stay and let Judd know what happened.”
As she passed the reins up to him, he wrapped his hand around hers.
Tears pooled in her eyes, and she glanced away, blinking rapidly.
“And I reckon you need to be here if she comes back.”
Greta nodded and bit her lower lip.
He squeezed her fingers, wishing he could reassure her that everything would be okay. But he’d lived in the mountains long enough to know the wild land sometimes demanded a steep payment for living there. And he just hoped this wasn’t one of those times.
“Pray.” He released his hold and slapped the reins. “Pray hard.”
Greta watched the horizon until the sun dipped behind the mountain peaks and the chill of darkness crept in around her. Even then she sat on a bench outside the cabin, wrapped in her shawl, and refused to go inside. The lantern on a stump next to her allowed her to work on the mending, but she couldn’t concentrate, her heart aching too much at the thought of Astrid being somewhere cold and alone and in danger.
She tried not to think about the cougar poised above Astrid, ready to pounce, and how Astrid had been unaware of the danger so close. But the image kept surfacing nonetheless. Astrid was foolishly fearless at times and was just a child who couldn’t possibly survive on her own.
“Oh, God,” Greta whispered, lowering an old pair of Wyatt’s trousers to her lap, the ripped knee only halfway patched. Her prayer stuck in her throat as it had since Wyatt had ridden away urging her to pray.
God was surely weary of all her problems. Why would He want to hear from her again, with one more trouble?
At the opening of the barn door and the sight of lantern light, she shook off her melancholy and stood. Judd was awake and would need supper. When he’d ridden in from the butchering during the late afternoon, he’d been almost too weary to dismount from his horse. After she explained what had happened with Astrid and where Wyatt had gone, he nodded gravely.
Though he’d wanted to ride out and search, she encouraged him to rest first. He barely made it to the barn before he collapsed into a mound of hay and fell asleep.
Now as he limped toward her, his steps were hurried, his horse saddled and in tow.
She wasn’t about to let him go anywhere without having something to eat. Before he could say good-bye, she picked up the lantern, entered the cabin, and headed straight to the stove, where she’d kept a pan of fish and potatoes on the back burner.
A moment later, the door opened and his uneven steps thumped against the floor. “I’m heading out.”
“No.” She hurriedly scooped a spoonful of potatoes onto a plate. “Sit and have a meal first.”
He hesitated.
She crossed to the table and put the plate down, then returned to the stove and poured him a mug of coffee. When his footsteps resumed and the bench scraped, she breathed out her relief.
“I’ve already made enough extra work for Wyatt.” She brought him the coffee. “I don’t want to cause trouble for you too, not after last night.”
He paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth. His white hair stuck on end and his clean shirt was buttoned haphazardly. And although his forehead was creased with extra worry lines, his eyes regarded her as kindly as always. “Ain’t no trouble.”
She laughed lightly, almost bitterly, at his statement. “I’ve been nothing but trouble to everyone, even to the Lord himself.”
Judd studied her face for a moment before resuming his meal.
The weight of Astrid’s running away pressed upon her again, and she wanted to go back outside where she could take up her vigil for Wyatt’s or Astrid’s return. Instead, she found herself in front of the window, staring through the dusty pane to the dark grassland.
“The way I see it,” Judd said after the scraping of his plate turned silent, “a team of oxen can carry more together than apart.”
“That’s true.” She kept her focus on the west, her body aching for the need to see Wyatt galloping home with Astrid trailing behind.
“We all got troubles we’re carrying.”
She shifted her attention back to Judd. “You have troubles?”
“Yep. Too many to count.” He took a swig of coffee.
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
He set his cup down on the table and twisted it around.
In all the weeks she’d known him, he never complained about anything. And though he was the quiet sort, she hadn’t taken him for a man with a broken past. But maybe she’d been wrong. Now she waited, hoping he sensed that she cared enough to listen if he wanted to talk.
“Being here and having a family again—” he wiped his sleeve across his mustache—“it’s like having an ox by my side.”
Had he lost his family? She assumed he�
�d lived a wanderer’s life and moved around too much to settle down, but maybe he’d once had a wife and children.
“With Wyatt and now you and Astrid—” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat—“the load’s lighter.”
“Not with Astrid and me. We’re bound to make things harder, not easier.”
“Nope. From where I’m sitting, that little girl is the good Lord’s gift to every person she meets.”
“Really?”
“Yep.” He lifted his mug and took another swig, the swallow slow and pronounced.
Astrid did have a special way of bringing joy to people with her enthusiasm, optimism, and unconditional love. Perhaps that easy acceptance had been just what Judd needed to ease the burdens he was carrying from his past, whatever those might be.
“And from where I’m sitting,” Judd said, “God don’t consider us trouble any more than you consider that girl trouble.”
“Astrid can be quite the handful.”
“But I reckon you’d rather she come to you with her problems than run away.”
“Very true.”
“The good Lord wants us to do the same. He says: ‘Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee.’”
Was it true God wanted her to come to Him with her concerns rather than keeping them to herself or trying to solve the problems on her own?
For so long, every time she prayed, she’d felt like she was disturbing God. Maybe He was waiting—even wanting—her to come to Him and let Him bear the burdens with her.
At the sound of pounding hooves, Greta flung open the door and stepped into the doorway. She strained to see through the blackness until a rider’s form came into view.
Wyatt.
She searched around and behind him, desperate to see Astrid. But he was alone.
Chapter 23
At the first light of dawn, they headed toward the eastern foothills.
Wyatt pulled in a deep breath, his thoughts stuck on Astrid and where she might have gone. He hadn’t witnessed any evidence of her riding to Fairplay. No one in town had seen the little girl, and none of the men in the mining camp had come across her.
He’d been mighty grateful when Steele and a dozen others had offered to form search parties and head out at daybreak, one group heading north toward Alma and another aiming for Buckskin Joe. Wyatt had promised to send word if Astrid came back during the night. And all the ride back to the homestead, he’d prayed she’d be there, that she’d gotten cold and hungry and decided to come home.
But only Judd and Greta had greeted him with disappointment because he was alone. He’d had a hankering to pull Greta into his arms and comfort her right then and there, but he’d been too blamed full of frustration at himself for failing her, for not protecting Astrid, and for not being able to keep their family together the way he should have.
Ahead, the eastern sky was a rust-colored red along the fringes of the mountains where the sun was gaining momentum. Though he hadn’t ever taken Astrid to the hills east of his land, she’d heard him and Judd jawing about that area plenty enough to know what it was like. Maybe she’d gone into the woods where she figured she’d find shelter for herself and the horse.
With the cold nights, miners weren’t prone to roam away from their campfires, and wild animals would wait to forage until the warmer sunshine of daytime. Even so, desperation nagged him worse than a rattler in a woodpile.
Greta was pale and silent behind him as he led the way, riding hard across the pasture. He wanted to reassure her that with everyone searching, they’d find Astrid. But he couldn’t promise her that any more than he could promise her that taking Astrid to the hospital in Denver would help.
The honest truth was that nothin’ was certain. Like Judd said, they lived in a broken world and hardships were a part of life. About the only thing they could do was persevere, stick together, and pray for the good Lord to make them stronger through it.
And even if he was still tempted to throw his hands up and admit defeat—the way Brawley wanted him to—he reckoned he oughta practice some of Judd’s wisdom and stop walking away every time the flies started bitin’.
He tossed another glance over his shoulder to Greta and tried to fight against the old insecurities crowding in—thoughts that she’d be better off without him, that he’d never be able to provide for her the way she needed.
If only he had the know-how on what to do to make things better.
As the sun rose higher and added light to their search, they slowed down and spread out so they could cover more ground. He kept Greta always within his sight, unable to shake the fear that he was losing her and there was nothing he could do to slow down the process.
All morning and afternoon they combed the foothills, checking every last place he’d ever talked about, hoping Astrid would show up somewhere. They continued searching and calling for her into the evening. And they didn’t start back toward the homestead until after darkness, silent and somber, but secretly holding out hope that maybe Astrid would be there waiting for them.
But Judd met them outside the barn with slumped shoulders and a shake of his head. He offered to ride to town to sell some of the beef and check with the other search parties. While he was gone, Wyatt tried to keep himself busy with chores and tending the remaining livestock.
By the time he headed into the cabin, he was as weary and low as a snake’s belly in a wagon rut. At the sight of him, Greta pivoted to face the stove, but not before he caught sight of the tears streaking her face.
“I’ve got supper ready for you.” She swiped at her cheeks.
Supper didn’t matter a lick right now, not when she was crying. He set his hat on the table and crossed to stand behind her.
She sniffled and wiped at her face again.
Blast it all. He hated seeing her in so much pain. He hesitated a moment and then reached for her, slipping his arms around her waist, drawing her backward, and embracing her from behind.
She grew rigid.
He stilled. Had he made a mistake in trying to ease her misery? An instant later, when her body softened and melded against him, he allowed himself to relax. And when her hands came up and folded over his where he held her, he released a slow breath.
She sniffed, this time louder.
He wanted to offer her encouragement of some kind, but he couldn’t formulate any words. He tugged her closer and prayed she sensed that he cared.
She leaned her head against his shoulder, her hair brushing his chin. And for several heartbeats, she let him hold her, resting against him as if that’s where she wanted to be.
But then she wiggled, trying to free herself. “I’m sorry, Wyatt. I want to stay strong so I don’t bother you.”
“Hold on now. You’re not bothering me—”
“You’ve got enough to take care of with the beef, and instead you spent your entire day searching for Astrid.” She reached for a spatula and the pan, but he stopped her by turning her around so she was facing him.
“Listen to me.” His tone was stern but soft, and he held her upper arms so she couldn’t escape. “Nothin’, and I do mean nothin’, is more important than finding Astrid, ya hear?”
Biting her bottom lip, she refused to meet his gaze.
“The beef’ll be fine. And even if it ain’t, we’ll figure out how to get by.”
Her beautiful eyes welled with tears. “I hate that I’m causing you so much trouble.”
It was nearly the same thing she’d said to him that afternoon in the barn before Brawley’s visit. “You’re not causing trouble.”
“That’s not true. Since you brought us here, Astrid and I have only made your life more complicated and worrisome.”
“You’ve made my life better and more bearable.”
She shook her head, and tears spilled over and down her cheeks. “You’re too nice, Wyatt. But I know how much of a hassle we are, especially with Astrid being sick.”
“Ah, darlin’.” The word of endear
ment slipped out before he could censure it. And with it said, he threw the rest of his caution away, wound his arms around her, and pulled her close.
She pressed her face into him, her tears dampening his shirt.
How would he convince her she wasn’t a hassle? “I’m mighty glad I was there in town at the right time to get you. I’m the lucky one.”
He meant every word he said, and he hoped to reassure her. But a sob escaped, and she buried her face deeper into his chest, muffling more sobs.
For crying-in-the-rain. He brushed his hand over her back. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I don’t want to hurt you, but it seems that’s all I’m good for.”
She pulled back then and half laughed through her tears. “Oh, Wyatt. I like you.”
“Then you’ll forgive me for using you to get the cattle deal?”
“Yes, but only if you’ll forgive me for using you to have a safe place for Astrid.”
“There ain’t nothin’ to forgive. You were desperate.”
“So were you.” Her cheeks were splotchy and her eyes red, but she’d never looked more beautiful as she peered up at him, her lashes still wet but her eyes filled with—love?
Was it possible she loved him? Not just liked?
His heartbeat stuttered forward, picking up its pace. Now wasn’t the time or place for making a declaration of his own love for her. But he needed her to understand that he didn’t want her to leave.
Maybe if he reassured her he was serious. “I’m gonna tell Steele to call off the cattle bargain and let him know we’re not having a babe—”
“No.” She grabbed his shirt. “You can’t do that, Wyatt. You need the cattle now more than ever.”
He straightened and stood taller. He’d already made up his mind and wasn’t about to let her sway him. “I need to be a man of truth more than anything.”
Her fists tightened in the fabric. Her lips pursed as though she wanted to protest but was holding herself back.
“Come what may, I gotta set things right. I’ve been deceiving Steele, and I need to come clean with him. And this way, you won’t ever wonder if I’m saying or doing something because of the deal. You’ll know you can trust me.”
