A Cowboy for Keeps

by Jody Hedlund

  Finally she nodded. “I understand. And I respect you all the more for what you need to do.”

  He let himself relax, and for the first time since holding her, he took notice of the softness of her body pressing into him, along with her warmth and nearness. The way she clung to his shirt and the intensity of her gaze sent a surge of heat through him. Doggone, he needed to kiss her.

  His attention dropped to her lips. Would she welcome him? Somehow the thought of kissing and holding her seemed right, another way to offer comfort and support in the difficulties of life . . . during this difficulty of Astrid being gone.

  As if coming to the same conclusion, her fingers released his shirt and glided up his torso to his shoulders. The caress sent more heat through him and slung his self-control out the window. If he kissed her tonight, he was only asking for trouble. He’d end up sweeping her into his arms, carrying her to the bed, and lying down next to her.

  Although every muscle in his body tightened with his desire, tonight wasn’t the right night. Before he could change his mind, he took a step back and broke their connection.

  She dropped her hands, her expression chagrined.

  He had another urge, almost overwhelming, to pick up her hands and kiss each of her fingers. “I’m going now,” he whispered, “before I do something I might regret come morning.”

  “Regret?” Her eyes rounded with confusion.

  “Yep. I’m aiming to talk to Steele and call off the deal before I kiss you again.”

  “You don’t have to.” As soon as her words were out, her cheeks turned pink.

  With a suppressed moan, he forced himself back another step. “Yep, I have to. ’Cause next time I kiss you, I ain’t gonna stop.”

  She dropped her attention to the floor, her pretty lips turning up into a shy smile.

  He forced himself to turn and walk to the door. For tonight he had to be satisfied with her smile and the realization that when he did get around to kissing her again, she’d be good and ready. He’d see to that.

  Chapter 24

  Astrid had been gone for two full days and two full nights. And with every passing day and night, the chances that something dire had happened to her increased. Greta didn’t want to think about all the scenarios, but her mind flashed with scenes of Astrid lying injured at the bottom of a ravine or lost somewhere in the mountains.

  Unfortunately, Judd brought back only bad news from his trip to town. Neither of the other search parties had located a trace of Astrid anywhere, and no one in any of the mining communities had seen her.

  Judd had borrowed a horse from Mr. Steele, and with his mount weighed down with more beef to sell, he left to ride up to Tarryall, looking for Astrid along the way.

  As with the previous morning, Greta had the saddlebags packed with food and supplies before dawn. Wyatt decided they’d head south toward a couple of the lakes he’d mentioned to Astrid, lakes with good fishing. Greta didn’t think Astrid would attempt any fishing since she hadn’t taken fishing equipment with, but they had to explore every option.

  All the while they rode, Greta’s thoughts replayed the conversation she’d had with Wyatt the previous evening. “I’m mighty glad I was there in town at the right time to get you. I’m the lucky one.”

  His humbleness in asking for her forgiveness had touched her deeply. As had his desire to approach Mr. Steele with the truth. Wyatt was willing to lose the cattle deal because he wanted to prove he was truthful and trustworthy. Without the cattle, what else could he do with his land? Certainly not farming. The land was too dry and the growing season too short.

  He needed cattle.

  If—when—they found Astrid, she needed to take the girl to Denver. But surely if Wyatt cared about her the way he seemed to, they could work out the situation. She didn’t know how, but she wanted to believe there was something they could do to save the ranch.

  In spite of another day of sunshine, the wind blowing from the north was cold and nipped at her ears, cheeks, and nose. The grass was covered with hoar frost, sparkling in the sunshine and crunching under the horses’ hooves. She pulled her cloak around her and was thankful for the warm mittens she’d donned.

  Slightly to the east of her, Wyatt scanned the ground they were traveling. In an overcoat, he held his reins with one gloved hand and braced the other against his thigh, looking every inch a rugged cowboy. His profile was etched with determination, made stronger by the set of his jaw and mouth. The shadows of his hat made his facial hair seem darker, lending him an intensity that caused her heart to sputter.

  As if sensing her gaze, he glanced at her, his brows rising above his rich brown eyes, eyes that could draw her in and make her forget about everything but him. Like last night when he’d focused on her lips as though he might kiss her again. Under the spell of his beautiful eyes—and his calling her darlin’—she’d nearly risen on her toes and kissed him first. She’d wanted to kiss him more than anything else, had wanted to be in his arms, had wanted to lose herself with him and forget about their troubles.

  She’d all but flung herself at him and invited him to stay and kiss her.

  As though remembering the same, Wyatt shifted his attention to her mouth. “Next time I kiss you, I ain’t gonna stop.” The memory of his low voice rumbled through her and stoked the embers inside her. How long did she have to wait for the next time?

  Embarrassed by her eagerness, she dropped her gaze to the ground, which she should be examining with as much care as he was. According to Wyatt, they had to scrutinize every detail, every turned stone, every footprint, every broken blade of grass.

  The problem was, it all looked the same to her and had for miles—treeless land, the grass now brown, almost gray, with a lone prairie dog popping up once in a while to scold them as they passed.

  Nevertheless, she had to focus. Astrid’s life was at stake.

  “Hold up.” Wyatt’s tone was taut and filled with warning. “Utes to the west.”

  In the distance, a dozen Indians rode single file, heading to the north. They traveled briskly without wavering from their course.

  Wyatt drew his horse next to hers. Only then did she realize he rested his rifle across his lap in one hand and his pistol in the other. He sat tall in his saddle, his focus intently upon the Indians. Though the natives hadn’t harmed her or Astrid that day they’d visited the cabin, this party might not be as kind as the men who’d visited.

  The Indians huddled in their deerskin shirts, fringed buckskin leggings, and buffalo robes, the wind rustling their long hair intertwined with beads, feathers, and bones. Men at the forefront were followed by a few women and children riding their beautiful mustangs.

  Her body tensed as she waited for them to notice Wyatt and her and steer toward them. But the party rode onward without a glance in their direction. “They must not see us.”

  “Oh, they see us alright.” Wyatt’s fingers grazed the triggers of his guns. “They probably saw us long before we spotted them.”

  “Then why aren’t they coming over?”

  “I don’t rightly know, but I reckon they sense a change in the weather and are in a hurry to get someplace.”

  A change in the weather? The wide expanse of the cloudless sky was as beautiful and blue as always in the morning. Perhaps a change was moving in later in the day.

  From a distance she couldn’t make out the faces of the Indians, but the tall, young Ute who’d been kind to Astrid came to mind. He’d even seemed concerned about her coughing. What had he told Astrid? Something about water being good for the sick?

  Greta’s pulse slowed. At the time, she’d been too afraid to consider the Indian’s suggestion, assumed he was alluding to drinking water. But what if the Indian had been referring to specific water that could help the sick? And what if Astrid remembered what the Indian said? After all, she conversed with him longer, and maybe she questioned him more about it.

  “Wyatt.” A trembling started in her stomach and spread to her lim
bs.

  He remained focused on the backs of the Indians as they rode into the distance.

  “Wyatt,” she said again, this time more urgently.

  His attention finally shifted to her.

  “Do you know anything about water that might be helpful to someone who’s sick?”

  He relaxed his hold on his rifle. “What kind of water?”

  “The day the Indians came to the cabin, one of them heard Astrid coughing and told her that water was good for the sick. Maybe there’s a well? Or a pond? Or a lake with especially clear water?”

  For a long instant, Wyatt remained motionless, as if trying to make sense of what the Indian had said. Then he sat straighter and tipped up the brim of his hat. “Or maybe a hot spring?”

  “What’s a hot spring?” she asked.

  “From what I’ve heard, they’re pools of water that stay warm all year round.”

  “The water never gets cold?”

  “Nope. The Indians use the springs for bathing, but I ain’t heard nothing about the water helping someone who’s sick.”

  “Is there a hot spring in the area?”

  Wyatt’s eyes narrowed with sudden intensity. “It’s a real small one. Judd’s been to it. Says it’s tucked away in some hills southeast of the ranch.”

  “What if Astrid went to the hot spring thinking she could get better there?”

  “It’s about as good a guess as any that’s where we’re gonna find her.” Wyatt started strapping his rifle back onto his saddle. “Let’s pray to the good Lord you’re right.”

  Since they were already well south of the ranch, they shifted their direction and rode hard toward the east. While they galloped, Greta alternated between pleading with God for help and silently chastising Astrid for being so foolish to believe a hot spring would help her—if that’s what the Indian had told her. It was just as foolhardy as thinking that panning for gold in the river in Fairplay would recoup the money they’d lost in the stagecoach robbery.

  Astrid had never been an easy child, not even when she was younger. But Greta never imagined taking care of Astrid would only get harder—nearly impossible. With the difficulties, who else would love and care for Astrid? Certainly not the stepfamily they’d left behind in Illinois. Certainly not an orphanage.

  Astrid had no one left but Greta. And in spite of how hard and complicated her half sister made life, Greta loved her and wanted the best for her.

  When the grassland began to rise into the hills covered in ponderosa pine, Wyatt slowed his horse. He led her for a distance along a winding creek until the vegetation on both sides became so overgrown that they were forced to ride through the water itself. After a dry summer, the creek was low and sluggish.

  When they stopped to allow their horses a drink, a moose stepped out of the brush a dozen paces away on the opposite bank. Enormous, with antlers spanning six feet across, the magnificent creature took its time drinking, its large muzzle and the furry flap of skin underneath dipping into the creek.

  She and Wyatt remained motionless to avoid drawing the moose’s attention. Though it seemed peaceful enough, Wyatt explained that the creature would charge at them if it felt threatened.

  After the moose wandered off, they resumed their hunt for the hot spring. Wyatt didn’t speak as they rode, and he paused frequently to listen, the trickling of the creek the only sound along with the rustling of aspen and cottonwood leaves.

  Finally, after passing a bend in the creek, Wyatt stopped and held out his hand toward Greta in a signal to halt. He pressed a finger to his lips and pointed ahead to a clearing. Tied to a tree and grazing in the long, dry grass was a horse. Their horse. Dolly.

  Swift relief clogged Greta’s throat, making speech impossible. She swept her gaze over the rest of the open area in a frantic attempt to find Astrid. But except for the horse, the area seemed deserted. What if a group of Indians had come to the hot spring for a bath, found Astrid there, and had taken her captive?

  Wyatt slipped down from his mount and tied the lead line around a nearby aspen. Greta wasn’t sure her legs could hold her, but she dismounted too, forcing herself to remain strong.

  Wyatt hiked through the brush away from the creek, and Greta trailed him. They passed several boulders, until at last she caught a glimpse of steam ahead. It was like the steam that wafted from a bubbling pot of soup on a cold day, with translucent fog swirling upward and disappearing into the air.

  She wanted to shout out Astrid’s name and tell her to come to her immediately. But she continued behind Wyatt, who didn’t make a sound as he crept closer. The steam grew thicker, rising out of the tall grass. Behind the grassy area, the hillside was covered with more ponderosa pine, providing a shelter of sorts to the hot spring.

  At a sudden chorus of barking, Wyatt paused. Was that Chase? Had he sensed their approach?

  “Chase, come on, boy,” came Astrid’s worried voice. “Stay by me.”

  Wyatt started forward, striding too fast for Greta to keep up. An instant later, he was holding a wiggling puppy.

  “Chase!” Astrid called. “Come back here now.”

  Carrying the puppy, Wyatt pushed through the grass toward the steam, breaking through and reaching what appeared to be a pond. Beneath the cloudy vapor, the water was clear and shallow, showing the rocks that formed the basin.

  And there on the opposite side, submerged in water up to her shoulders, was Astrid.

  Greta pressed a palm to her chest, the relief so staggering she wanted to sit down and cry.

  “Hey there,” Wyatt said calmly, stroking Chase. “I think this little guy misses home.”

  Astrid pushed up until she was sitting cross-legged. “W-e-l-l, he might’ve missed it, but I don’t, and I’m not going back.”

  Emotion pressed for release, and Greta couldn’t hold back. “Oh yes, you are!”

  Wyatt’s hand encircled hers, and his gentle squeeze stopped her tirade. He’d discarded his gloves and left them with his horse, and now his skin was warm against hers. “We sure did miss you and Chase.”

  Astrid’s lips faltered at Wyatt’s declaration. Her hair was unbound and hung in wet, tangled waves over her shoulders. She wore only her shift, which revealed her pale, skinny shoulders and arms.

  From what Greta could assess, the child was unharmed and hadn’t suffered in any visible way from being out in the wilderness by herself. In fact, her face had more color to it than Greta had seen in months, if not years—likely from the heat of the hot spring.

  “Since we realized you took off,” Wyatt continued, “we’ve been looking for you night and day.”

  “You shouldn’t have looked.” Astrid lifted her chin stubbornly.

  Greta started to reprimand her, but again, Wyatt’s fingers pressed hers. When she glanced up at him, his eyes implored her to let him do the talking. She hesitated. She’d never had anyone to help her with Astrid before. She was used to shouldering the discipline and parenting all on her own. What if she let Wyatt share the burden, only for him to discover he didn’t like carrying the load?

  On the other hand, Judd had told her that a team could carry more together than apart. Did she need to trust Wyatt to bear the care of this child with her rather than pulling away and trying to do it all on her own?

  His warm brown eyes waited for her permission to continue. Her heart quivered, but she gave his hand a squeeze back. He nodded, then repositioned his hand, lacing his fingers through hers. The connection told her more than words could, that he wasn’t afraid to stand beside her and hold her up during this trial.

  “It ain’t just been me and Greta looking.” His tone turned serious. “It’s been Judd and half the town of Fairplay. We’ve all been worried near to death about you. Thought something bad must’ve happened.”

  Astrid had the grace to drop her eyes, her expression turning remorseful.

  “’Cause you know this mountain land ain’t an easy place to survive.” He released Chase, who meandered along the edge of the
hot spring, rooting among the weeds, no doubt hungry. “Especially for someone trying to make it on their own. We’ve got to stick together. We’re better together.”

  When he shifted his gaze to Greta’s, she sensed he wasn’t just talking about Astrid but was also referring to himself and his desire for them to remain a family.

  “I wanna stay together.” Astrid’s eyes flashed with defiance. “Greta’s the one who wants to leave. Not me.”

  “I just want to save your life. You know that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

  “My life is saved.” The little girl skimmed her hands across the steaming water. “The waters have made me all better. And now we can stay with Wyatt and Judd on the ranch. We don’t have to leave and go to a hospital.”

  Greta’s heart dropped. Of course Astrid, in her simplistic view of life, would think she was miraculously cured and that their problems would so easily go away.

  Before Greta could figure out how to respond, Wyatt shrugged. “If you have to go to the hospital, I’m aiming to be right alongside you and Greta. And then when you’re better, I’ll bring you back.”

  “Greta’s mad at you, and she won’t want to come back.” Again, Astrid glared at her, as if she blamed Greta for all their problems.

  “I hope she’ll want to stay with me.” He tightened his fingers against Greta’s and tugged her closer. “’Cause, the truth is, I love your sister and want her to be my wife. Forever.”

  At his bold declaration, Greta’s breath got lost somewhere inside her. When he gently turned her to face him, he tipped her chin up, giving her no choice but to meet his gaze, which was brimming with love and longing and a plea to stay. “I mean it,” he whispered. “I love you.”

  The words to respond got lost inside too. Instead, she reached up and cupped his cheek, hoping he could read her love in return.

  “I’m glad you love Greta and want us to stay.” Astrid stood and let the water drip off her bony body. “But I’ve decided to live here at the hot spring.”

  “Astrid!” Greta released Wyatt. “Don’t be silly.”