by Jody Hedlund
“I figure I’ll be better out here where I won’t be causing trouble for anyone.”
Greta held in her exasperation. “You can’t live on your own—”
“Just admit it. You’d be lots better off without me.” Astrid balled her fists at her sides as though daring Greta to walk over and make her leave. “So why do you care where I live?”
Greta hoped Wyatt would step in and take over the conversation again. But this time, he was silent, and rightly so. This was between her and Astrid, and there wasn’t anything he could say to make the problem go away.
“Of course I care where you live.” She tried to stay calm like Wyatt had done moments ago.
“All I’ve ever been to you and to everyone is a burden!” Astrid’s eyes were glassy with tears. “And now I don’t have to be anymore.”
“You’re not a burden.” But even as Greta spoke, the truth barreled into her. Astrid was simply following her example. She’d always considered herself a burden to everyone she’d lived with, and now Astrid was doing the same.
Regret welled in Greta’s chest. “I never meant for you to feel like you’re a burden to me, because you’re not.”
“I am.” Tears rolled down her sister’s cheeks. “You wouldn’t have had to move here if not for me. If not for me, you’d be able to sleep better at night. And you wouldn’t have so much work and worry.”
With her heart breaking, Greta started forward through the tall grass, winding her way around the hot spring. Everything Astrid said was true, and yet Greta didn’t care. Astrid was more important than all the inconveniences and sacrifices and work. And somehow, she had to convince the little girl of that.
As Greta approached, Astrid lifted her chin but couldn’t stop the tears. Greta’s own tears began to slide down her cheeks. Though her sister started to back away, Greta pulled her into an embrace, wrapping her tightly. “Oh, Astrid.”
The child held herself stiffly for only a moment before she hugged Greta in return, releasing broken sobs. They held each other for a while, until Astrid’s sobs tapered to sniffles. Greta knelt, pulled the girl down onto her lap, and kissed her head.
Wyatt was leaning against one of the boulders and had Chase in his arms. He seemed in no hurry, willing to give her the time she needed to make things right with Astrid.
“I haven’t been a very good example to you,” Greta whispered. “I’ve been worrying for too long about burdening everyone around me, and all that’s done is made you worry about the same.”
As Astrid snuggled in closer, gratefulness welled up within Greta. Help me, Father in heaven, to do better in the future and show Astrid that she isn’t a burden.
She lifted her prayer hesitantly and then caught herself. She had to stop believing she was a burden, especially to God with her prayers.
“You know what?” She combed the wet tangles away from Astrid’s face. “Being your big sister and taking care of you has made me into a better person.”
“It has?” Astrid’s voice wobbled.
“Yes, all the hardships we’ve faced have made me stronger. Watching you fight your sickness with such courage inspires me to be braver. Seeing you live with such joyfulness makes me appreciate each day all the more. I wouldn’t be who I am today without you in my life.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Astrid released a sigh.
Greta’s eyes welled again with tears. “So don’t think I’d be better off without you. Because that’s not true at all.”
“Okay.”
She couldn’t keep from smiling at Astrid’s easy acceptance of the truth. Why couldn’t it be as easy for her to have such childlike faith that everything would be alright?
“Maybe we can help each other,” Greta suggested.
Astrid pulled back. The anger was gone from her silvery blue eyes, and they were filled with hope. “How can I help you?”
“Whenever we start to feel as though we’re bothering someone, Judd told me to think on the Scripture that says: ‘Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee.’”
“Cast our burdens on the Lord? Like casting a line when we’re fishing?”
Greta brushed Astrid’s hair again. “I guess it’s a little bit like that. We toss our burdens way out into the deep flowing waters, and let Him carry them.”
Astrid smiled. “I like that.”
“Good.” She kissed Astrid’s head again. “Now let’s go home. Okay? A lot of people are searching for you, and we need to let everyone know you’ve been found.”
She nodded and stood. “I guess I won’t live here at the spring after all, ’cause I need to do my part in helping you be stronger. But I want to come back. It’s a real nice place, Greta. And I think you’ll like it.”
As Astrid started talking about all she’d done during the past few days, Greta whispered another prayer of thankfulness and then met Wyatt’s gaze across the distance. His brows rose, as though he was making sure everything was alright.
She smiled her reassurance, praying everything would be okay. But a part of her couldn’t keep from wondering how she’d be able to make things work out for everyone when there was still so much at stake.
Chapter 25
He’d told Greta he loved her and she hadn’t said anything back. Sitting at the table, Wyatt took another sip of his coffee and tried to douse the sourness in his gut.
“I’m not too tired,” Astrid said through a loud yawn in the other room where Greta was tucking her into bed. “I want to go with you.”
“You need to sleep,” Greta insisted.
During the ride back from the hot spring, Astrid had chattered about her time away, how she’d slept very little at night because she’d been cold and afraid. She’d packed enough food for her and Chase to last a few days, so at least she hadn’t gone hungry. Regardless, when they arrived home, Greta made a meal of eggs, bacon, and roasted vegetables—enough to feed a dozen starving cowpokes. Then she dunked Astrid in a bath, scrubbing away the sulphur from the springs.
Judd had shown up midafternoon. From one of the peaks overlooking the valley, he’d seen the curl of smoke rising from the homestead and had figured there was news or no one would be home. When he’d galloped in and barged into the cabin, Astrid had thrown herself into the old man’s arms, and he held her for a full five minutes before finally letting her go.
When Judd had stalked out of the cabin to the barn, Wyatt was pretty sure he’d seen dampness on the old man’s cheeks. Although Judd rarely spoke of his past, Wyatt knew Comanches had attacked his home, burning down his house with his wife and children locked inside, while making him listen to their tortured screams. Finally, they’d beaten him and left him for dead.
Neighbors had found him and nursed him back to health, but his hair had turned permanently white and his leg had never healed right. Worse were the internal scars.
For a long while, Judd had lived a wild and restless life . . . until he’d made his peace with the good Lord. Even so, Judd had been a wandering soul for years, and Wyatt feared one day Judd would get fed up and have an itching to move on. If he did, Wyatt wouldn’t blame him, especially since failure seemed to follow Wyatt around like stink on a pig.
Wyatt prayed Judd would practice his own preaching and stick with the ranch rather than walking away. On the other hand, this wasn’t Judd’s problem to fix. It was Wyatt’s. And he didn’t rightly know how to save the ranch.
All he knew was that he had to get to town and alert everyone they’d found Astrid. While there, he was fixin’ to cash in on more of the beef. More than anything else, he had to talk to Steele and tell him he wanted out of the deal—and that Greta wasn’t in the family way and never had been. The very thought of having to eat crow made him squirm right down to his boots. But he was determined to do the right thing, especially for Greta.
Judd opened the front door a crack and peeked through. “Not interrupting anything, am I?”
Wyatt grinned. “No
pe. But wish you were.”
Judd grunted, then shuffled inside and made his way to the stove and the coffeepot. “Get a hotel room tonight.”
In the process of taking a sip of coffee, Wyatt choked and sprayed out the liquid. As he cleared his throat and wiped at his mouth, he glanced to the bedroom and prayed Greta hadn’t heard the comment.
The older man poured himself a cup of coffee as calmly as if he’d just told Wyatt to go fishing. When he turned and limped to the table, his thick white brows rose. “Stop being so blamed afeared to make her yours.”
“For crying-in-the-rain, Judd.” Wyatt shot another glance toward the bedroom. Greta’s head was bent, and she didn’t seem to be paying attention to their conversation.
Judd sat down and slurped from his mug.
Wyatt was afraid his friend would yammer on some more, but thankfully he was a man of few words and seemed to have said all he had to say.
A few minutes later, as Greta stepped into the main room, Wyatt took a final swig of coffee and then rose from the bench. She walked straight to her cloak hanging on a peg on the back of the door and started to put it on.
“You don’t have to come.” He stuffed his fingers into one of his gloves. “I can handle everything.”
“I want to ride with you.” She lifted her chin and tied the string on her cloak, giving him a glimpse of the determination in her eyes and the firm set of her lips.
Did she reckon if she tagged along, she could somehow wrangle Steele into giving him the loan anyway? Wyatt wasn’t going that route. After the lying, no doubt Steele would rather see him tarred and feathered than give him a loan. “Promise you won’t try to convince Steele of anything?”
She finished with the ties and then swung open the door. “I’m not making any promises I can’t keep.” She bounded outside before he could respond.
He expelled a sigh, then strode after her to the horses Judd had already groomed as well as weighed down with beef to sell. Wyatt caught hold of her waist before she could climb into the saddle. At his touch, she halted but didn’t pivot.
He moved in closer, and before he could stop himself, he tugged her back against his chest, hugging her from behind. She was probably getting mighty tired of him reaching for her.
“Hey,” he said softly, starting to release her. “Don’t know why I can’t keep my hands off you.”
“It’s alright, Wyatt,” she replied just as softly, leaning into him and letting him bear her weight.
Her words were all the permission he needed to wrap her up more fully and bend in and press his face into her hair, breathing her in. Oh Lord help him, he loved this woman.
The words felt like they needed to be said again. But he held them back, uncertainty poking at him.
“When we get with Steele, let me do the talking first,” he murmured against her hair. “Can you promise me that?”
“I guess so.”
He forced himself to release her and assisted her into the saddle, all the while too doggone aware of how soft and womanly she was.
During the ride to Fairplay, his thoughts locked in on Judd’s suggestion to get a hotel room. He sensed the wisdom in his friend’s request. He oughta make their first night together special. Greta deserved that. But was it still too soon? And did he need to cool his heels?
She hadn’t been pushing him away, but she also hadn’t given him any notion she’d welcome him into her bed. She was unusually quiet during their ride into town, and he guessed her thoughts were focused on Astrid.
As they reached the outer limits of Fairplay, she slowed her horse. “I know you’ll want to sell the beef, and I’ve got an errand to run while you do that.”
When she refused to look at him, wariness prodded him like a hot branding stick. He didn’t know what she was up to, but it wasn’t good.
He swept his sights over Main Street. The traffic was light for the late-afternoon hour. Most miners were still at work. The taverns were silent. And the stragglers lounging around the other businesses were sparse.
Steele’s yellow buggy was parked outside Hotel Windsor, and a sudden desperation welled up within Wyatt to put things right between him and Greta once and for all. “Before we do anything else, I reckon we oughta let the fellas know Astrid’s safe.”
“You’re right.” Greta tore her attention from McLaughlin’s Livery and the stagecoach parked in front, the driver still unloading bags and trunks for the few lingering passengers, including a stout woman wearing a fancy red gown.
Was Greta remembering the day she’d arrived and regretting her decision to travel to Fairplay? Or was she figuring out how to leave?
Wyatt urged his horse toward Hotel Windsor and was relieved when Greta did the same. As they dismounted and hitched their horses to the post, Wyatt noticed through the window that the dining room was crowded.
All the better. The more fellas hanging around when he delivered the news about his and Greta’s marriage and the false pregnancy, the less gossip would go around later.
“Ready?” He halted in front of the door.
She nodded.
After drawing in a deep breath and whispering a prayer for strength to do what he needed to, Wyatt swung open the door and stepped inside behind Greta.
The place grew silent and every eye turned upon them. Likely every man in the room had noticed them outside and now was waiting anxiously for an update on Astrid.
What should he share first? The news about Astrid or the news about him and Greta?
Steele was at his usual spot at a center table, attired in a suit and smoking a cigar. As the door closed behind them, Steele pushed back and rose, his face a mask of concern.
Wyatt swallowed his reservations. Steele was a good man. Maybe his cattle deal had been manipulative and pushy. But he’d meant well, had Greta’s best interests at heart. Now it was past time for Wyatt to be honest with him.
“Greta and me ain’t having a babe,” he blurted out. “And that’s ’cause we haven’t been living as man and wife. I’ve been staying in the barn.”
Next to him Greta stiffened. From the murmurs rippling around the crowded room, he guessed he’d surprised everyone. The empathy on Steele’s face faded as confusion rolled in.
Wyatt reckoned he should have shared the good news about Astrid first, but what was done was done. And he may as well finish saying his piece. “I know I broke our part of the bargain, Steele. But that’s okay. I’m putting an end to it today. I’ll figure out another way to get my cattle without using Greta as part of the deal.”
Steele’s expression didn’t transform into anger or indignation. Instead, the gentleman glanced to his companion at the table. In a stovepipe hat and dark suit, the other fella sat with his back toward Wyatt. Something about the newcomer seemed familiar, but Wyatt couldn’t focus on anything else but making sure Steele understood the truth.
Steele’s attention returned to Wyatt, his eyes narrowing. “So if you haven’t been living as man and wife, does that mean you didn’t consummate your marriage?”
Greta sucked in a mortified breath.
“Blast it all, Steele,” Wyatt hissed, cocking his head at Greta. “Now ain’t the time to get vulgar, not with a lady present.”
“But if she’s been living with you more like a boarder and not a wife, then there’s still hope for me to rectify my mistake.”
A lasso wound around Wyatt’s middle and cinched tight. “What mistake?”
“The mistake of giving away Mr. Hallock’s bride.”
The gentleman in the chair finally stood and turned. Wyatt took a rapid step back. The balding man with his vest stretched taut over his well-rounded midsection was none other than Phineas Hallock.
Greta swayed and would have collapsed if Wyatt hadn’t grabbed her arm and held her steady.
“Hallock?” Wyatt took in his friend’s kind face—a face he hadn’t seen since late last autumn when he’d ridden away to California to make purchases for his bride. His mail-order bride,
Greta.
“Hello, Wyatt.” Hallock fumbled for a handkerchief from his vest pocket, pulled it out, and then blew his nose with the loud honking Wyatt remembered.
Greta’s arm started to shake beneath his hand, and her face was pale, making her eyes wider and more beautiful. She could only stare at Hallock as though seeing a ghost.
“Mr. Hallock arrived on the stage,” Steele said. “And I was just explaining to him that since we’d believed he was dead, we had no choice but to find an alternative for Miss Nilsson.”
Wyatt opened his mouth and tried to tell Steele that Greta wasn’t Miss Nilsson anymore. She was Mrs. McQuaid. But he couldn’t get the words out.
Hallock made thorough work of wiping his nose before he stuffed his handkerchief back into his vest pocket.
Steele clamped Hallock on the shoulder, making him flinch. “I was just apologizing profusely to Mr. Hallock and attempting to figure out how I could rectify the situation. Now it looks like I can do so by annulling your marriage to Miss Nilsson so Mr. Hallock can have his bride back.”
“Now, hold on, Steele,” Wyatt managed. “Who said anything about annulling the marriage?”
Steele pulled himself up taller. “You just came in here, canceled our deal, and admitted that you’ve been living in the barn. Since you don’t want her—”
“I never said I didn’t want her.”
“Looks that way to me.” Steele’s tone hardened and his eyes flashed with the anger Wyatt had been expecting. “And since she’s never really been yours to begin with, you need to do the right thing by Mr. Hallock and give her back.”
Next to him Greta was openly trembling.
Steele gentled his expression and finally spoke to Greta. “Is everything McQuaid said about your arrangement true?”
“Yes.” The word was a constricted whisper.
“You’ve been living as his housekeeper and not his wife?”
“Now, come on, Steele—”
“Let her answer.”
Wyatt rubbed the back of his neck, frustration and fury rising to tighten his muscles. This wasn’t working out at all the way he’d intended. In fact, it was going by the way of the boneyard fast.
