by Jody Hedlund
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hallock.” She couldn’t go through with marrying Phineas. It wouldn’t be fair to be with him when she was in love with another man, even if he was a man she couldn’t have. “If I’d known you were still alive, I never would have married Wyatt, never would have allowed myself to care for him. I know it must hurt to think about me being with him—”
“That’s not what’s bothering me.”
“It’s not?”
“No, no, no. Indeed not. Wyatt’s a good man for his willingness to take care of you in my stead.” He removed his handkerchief from his vest and blew his nose, the noise loud enough to catch the attention of people passing by.
“What is it then, Mr. Hallock?”
He tucked the cloth back into his pocket and stared at the stagecoach for a long moment before he dropped his head. “It’s nothing, Miss Nilsson. Nothing at all. We shall get married as planned.”
Chapter 27
Wyatt’s boots slapped against the plank sidewalk as he exited the general store. At the sight of Greta’s horse still tied outside Hotel Windsor, his hands closed into fists. The thought of her sitting with Hallock made him so mad he wanted to knock someone or something into next week.
He’d gone out to the mining camp, sold the beef, then come back into town. And she was still yammering away with Hallock. He had half a mind to go over and interrupt them.
Halting at the edge of the sidewalk, he glanced in the direction of Steele’s house. He’d put off going for as long as possible. The thirty minutes had turned into close to an hour, and Steele was sure to be blazing mad at him by now.
Yet at the prospect of meeting with Steele, past insecurities rolled through him like tumbleweed blowing down the street, tempting him to turn tail and run off after the next big dream.
But he wasn’t that man anymore, was he? He couldn’t quit just because the going was getting real tough. He had to stick to his guns and learn to persevere. But at what cost? Would he have to let go of Greta in order to stay at the ranch and see it through?
Giving her up would be a fiery trial. The hardest yet. But through it, he couldn’t forget God would be walking beside him and helping him to the other side.
With a silent prayer for strength and wisdom, he forced himself to start toward Steele’s house, but then he halted in the middle of the street, turning and staring straight at Hotel Windsor.
What if he only had to release her temporarily? Their parting didn’t have to be forever, did it? He wanted Greta to do anything she could to save Astrid’s life. He’d support her and provide as much as possible to help her. And when she was done fighting to cure Astrid, the two of them could come back. He’d be here waiting for them. For her. For as long as it took.
Could he wrangle her into considering that option?
With his pulse picking up speed, he aimed for the hotel, jogging the last few steps. He threw open the door and spoke the first words that came to mind. “I’m sorry, Hallock. I love Greta. And I’m not giving her an annulment.”
Silence descended over the room, and every man present halted midmotion to gape at him.
With all the attention upon him, his insides curled up with embarrassment the same as the first time he’d barged into the hotel today, but he spoke again anyway. “I’ll help you find another bride. We’ll write letters and get someone else to come west for you. But the fact is, Greta is my wife, and I’m aiming to keep her.” He glanced at the corner tables, looking for Hallock and Greta.
“They’re not here.” Mr. Fehling stood in the middle of the dining room, coffeepot in one hand and a mug in the other. “They were sitting on the bench out front, and then the next thing we knew, they were walking down the street toward Mr. Steele’s house.”
Panic twined around Wyatt’s middle. There was only one reason the two would have gone to Steele’s—to get the annulment papers so Greta could sign them.
Wyatt spun, a fresh sense of urgency prodding him forward. He raced out the door and down the street. If she signed for an annulment, he wouldn’t touch a pen to the paper.
As he arrived at the front door of the modest two-story clapboard home, Wyatt stopped short. What if Greta didn’t love him enough to fight for their marriage through the obstacles and hardships? He hadn’t been wrong in sensing her attraction or that she cared about him. But did she care enough? After all, she hadn’t said anything about loving him.
Drawing in a steadying breath, he opened the door and stalked into the hallway. At the sound of voices coming from Steele’s office located in the room across from the parlor, Wyatt crossed to the doorway.
Surrounded by a haze of cigar smoke, Steele sat at his desk with his assistant next to him. The young man was bent over and writing something on an official-looking document. And Greta and Hallock stood on the opposite side, watching him while Steele instructed his assistant.
“Might as well tear that thing up,” Wyatt said.
Everyone swiveled in his direction, including the assistant, who straightened, ink dripping from his pen and leaving splatters across the sheet.
“I’m staying married to Greta. And that’s all there is to it.” He crossed his arms and spread his feet, daring anyone to defy him.
Greta stood stiffly, her shoulders straight, her chin high. And though her eyes flashed to him for an instant, she focused back on the sheet on Steele’s desk. The flash was long enough, however, for him to see her inner turmoil. He still had time to sway her.
If only he could get Hallock to understand and accept his marriage to Greta, then Wyatt might have a fighting chance of keeping her. “I’m mighty sorry things had to turn out this way, Hallock. But what’s done is done. I love Greta. She’s my wife. And I ain’t giving her up.”
Hallock released a long exhale, and his shoulders seemed to relax.
At the unexpected reaction, Wyatt paused for a second but then pushed on. “I’m fixin’ to reimburse you for everything you paid for Greta and Astrid to come west. I might not be able to right away, but you know I’m a man of my word and I’ll do it.”
“Indeed you are.” The worried lines in Hallock’s forehead smoothed away. “But it isn’t necessary.”
“Sure as a gun is.”
“No, Wyatt. I’m the one who started this whole process of sending away for Miss Nilsson. It’s my responsibility to cover the costs.”
“Listen, Hallock, I don’t care what you say. I ain’t signing an annulment.”
Thankfully, Steele was staying out of the conversation. He leaned back in his chair and took a puff on his cigar, his gaze bouncing back and forth between them.
Wyatt chanced a look at Greta. She was staring at the sheet on the desk and twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. She might not be jumping up and down at the sight of him, but she hadn’t objected.
Before he could formulate the words to convince her not to give up on their marriage, insistent knocking at the front door interrupted them. Wyatt wanted to ignore the pesky intrusion until he was sure Greta was safely still his wife.
But at the increased pounding, Mr. Steele took out his cigar and pointed it in the direction of the door. “Answer that, will you, McQuaid?”
Wyatt had no choice but to backtrack to the door. As he swung it open, he was surprised to find the stout woman in the red gown from the stagecoach standing there. She held a red-and-white-striped parasol above her, shielding her from the sun and casting a shadow over her face. Even so, Wyatt could see she was a middle-aged woman, and her frizzy graying hair surrounded a stern countenance.
“Mr. Steele?” She eyed Wyatt with an air of mistrust.
“Nope. I’m Wyatt McQuaid. Steele is busy at the moment. You’ll have to come back later—”
“Henrietta?” Hallock spoke from behind him.
The woman’s expression softened as she peered at Hallock standing in the hallway just outside the office door. “Phineas, I know I said I’d wait for you to figure things out. But when I saw you walking down he
re with a woman, I had a very bad feeling about it.”
Hallock gazed at the newcomer with such longing that a hopeful current zipped through Wyatt. Who was this woman and what did she mean to his friend?
Before Hallock could answer, Greta stepped into the hallway.
Henrietta turned her full attention upon Greta as though sizing up her competition. But there wasn’t any competition as far as Wyatt was concerned. No woman could ever compare to Greta.
“Miss Nilsson?” A note of despair colored Henrietta’s tone.
Greta hesitated. “No, actually, I’m Mrs. McQuaid.”
At her announcement, Wyatt’s heartbeat ticked up a notch. Did that mean she wanted to stay with him? He tried to catch her gaze, but she kept her attention riveted on the newcomer. Why? Because she might give in and allow herself to care about him?
“You’re Mrs. McQuaid? His wife?” Henrietta nodded at Wyatt.
“Yep. She’s my wife,” he answered before Greta could deny it.
The relief that transformed the woman’s expression was almost comical. “Oh, I beg your pardon. I assumed she was the mail-order bride Phineas had sent away for. And I had a terrible feeling he wasn’t going to sever ties with her, as he assured me he’d do, so he could marry me instead.”
“What?” Greta asked the question at the same time as Wyatt.
Hallock ducked his head and stared at his shoes.
Henrietta twisted the handle of her parasol. “We’ve been traveling companions since leaving San Francisco. And during the few months we were delayed in Salt Lake City together, we developed affection for one another. I’d made arrangements to become a teacher in Denver, but Phineas assured me Fairplay could use a teacher too.”
The tension in Wyatt’s muscles eased, and he allowed himself the first full breath since walking into Steele’s house. “So the two of you are hoping to get married?”
The woman nodded. “Being such a man of principle, Phineas wants to make arrangements for Miss Nilsson first. And when I saw him walking with so pretty a young woman, I assumed he’d changed his mind.”
“No, no, no.” Hallock’s face turned red. “Indeed not. I haven’t changed my mind. I just haven’t yet figured out how to change Miss Nilsson’s.”
“Let’s talk to her together, Phineas. If she’s as kind as you indicated, then when she sees us together, she’ll surely give us her blessing.”
“Of course I give you my blessing,” Greta said.
Henrietta’s eyes rounded, and she glanced at everyone as though trying to make sense of who belonged to whom.
“I’m the mail-order bride.” Greta smiled gently. “And since Phineas wasn’t here when I arrived on the stagecoach, Wyatt offered to marry me.”
“I see.” Henrietta smiled back. “Then nothing is preventing Phineas and me from getting married?”
Wyatt shook his head. “Nope—”
Hallock cut him off. “If Wyatt promises to take care of Greta for the rest of her earthly days—then I will, with good conscience, release her from any obligation to me.” Hallock met Wyatt’s gaze. Friendship and goodwill radiated from Hallock’s face just as it always had.
“You have my word. I love Greta more than my own life. And as much as I respect you, I wouldn’t have been able to let you have her. So thank the good Lord He’s provided a solution.”
“Indeed.” Hallock shifted his attention to Henrietta, his eyes filling with hope. “I shall go speak with Mr. Steele and let him know the decision.”
“And I shall come with you.” Henrietta snapped her parasol closed and bustled past Wyatt. Hallock held out his arm, and she slipped her gloved hand into the crook.
As they disappeared into Steele’s office, Wyatt took a step toward Greta.
She inched back. “Even if I don’t marry Phineas, I still have to sign the annulment papers, Wyatt.”
Greta’s chest pounded with what she needed to do. During the walk from the hotel to Mr. Steele’s and the time they’d been in his office, she sensed the same distraction and despondency from Phineas that she had since they started their conversation.
Now she understood why. He hadn’t wanted to marry her because he cared about the other woman he’d met, but he likely would have gone through with the wedding because he felt responsible for her. And now that Wyatt had come after her, everything within her wanted to run to him, throw herself into his arms, and tell him she’d stay married to him.
But the other part of her—the rational part—demanded she finish getting the annulment and set Wyatt free from any further responsibility for Astrid and her. She wouldn’t shackle either of the men.
Wyatt took off his hat and dug his fingers through his hair. His jaw flexed, and his dark eyes turned murky. “I want to make our marriage work.”
“I have to go away, and I’m not certain I’ll be able to come back.”
“I know.” His tone was resigned though turmoil still etched his face.
“That’s not fair to you—”
“Do you love me?”
His question threw her off guard. Yes, she’d admitted to herself that she loved him. But she couldn’t tell him that. Doing so would only complicate matters. She pressed her lips together.
He waited, his brows furrowed.
“I won’t give you false hope,” she whispered.
“I love you.” His voice was earnest and pricked her heart, causing tears to well up. “If you can look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me—even a hair—then I’ll let you go and won’t bother you no more about it.”
She shut her eyes so he wouldn’t see the truth.
His footsteps clomped nearer, and she could feel his presence directly in front of her. When his hands grazed her shoulders and brushed down her arms, she couldn’t keep from turning into a puddle under his touch.
When he drew her to his chest and enveloped her, she rested her head against him. This was home, this was where she belonged, this was where she always wanted to be. Regardless, she forced out the words she knew she had to say. “You’ll be better off without us, Wyatt.”
He tightened his embrace. “Remember what you told Astrid earlier? You told her not to think that she’d be better off without you.”
“That was different—”
“Nope. It ain’t any different. We’re here for each other. And because of that we make each other stronger. You make me a stronger and better man.”
She pulled back so she could see into his eyes—his beautiful, dark eyes surrounded by his beautiful dark lashes. “Oh, Wyatt.”
“Then you won’t sign the annulment papers?”
“Are you sure you won’t come to regret it?”
“Never.”
“But you know I have to leave with Astrid.”
He brushed his hand over her cheek and smoothed back her hair. “Yep.”
“And you know you have to stay here and keep the ranch running?”
“Yep. As hard as it’s gonna be for me tomorrow, I’m letting you go.”
The sadness in his eyes and voice told her he’d resigned himself to whatever the future might bring, and that through it all, he would be there for her.
The words I love you pushed for release. But somehow they couldn’t get past the tightness in her throat. Instead, she slipped her arms around him and hugged him, praying that somehow, someway, they could eventually be together.
Chapter 28
Wyatt ripped the last portion of the annulment and tossed the pieces onto Steele’s desk.
“McQuaid, you should have told me you loved Greta back at the hotel.” Steele tapped his cigar over an ashtray. “Then we could have avoided all of this unpleasantness with Mr. Hallock.”
“I was aiming to until I got a look at Hallock standing there.”
Hallock had already left with his new lady friend to track down Reverend Zieber to marry them as quickly as possible. Wyatt didn’t blame his friend for being eager to see the deed done before anything else put a hitch in
their plans.
He’d been biting at the bit too, ready to get out of town with Greta, away from anything else that might try to take her away from him. But while he’d been wrapping up things with Steele, she headed over to secure her spot on the stagecoach.
“I had the feeling the two of you would be good for each other.” Steele allowed himself a smile. “I’m just glad I was right and that everything worked out well in the end.”
If everything had worked out so well, why did Wyatt feel as if he’d been plowed over by a dozen steers?
Steele’s assistant was in the process of writing out the official agreement for their cattle deal, including Steele’s percentage of the investment. “Sign right here, Mr. McQuaid.” The assistant held the pen above a blank line at the bottom of the sheet.
Wyatt glanced over the paper, took the pen, then scrawled his name. As he straightened and glanced out the front window of Steele’s house, his sights snagged upon the tall, lanky form of Roper Brawley crossing the street with his two cowhands on his heels.
He’d had to bank his anger toward Brawley while searching for Astrid, but now that the little girl was found, he allowed the embers to fan to life. “Ain’t right that Brawley’s getting away with killing my herd.”
“We can’t do much about it since he’s claiming you took the cattle from him in the first place.”
“You know that ain’t true,” Wyatt said, just as he had the last time he’d talked to Steele about it several days ago, right after the slaughter. “I bought those cattle fair and square from miners coming over the Front Range. And they had my brand on them.”
Steele took a drag on his cigar, then puffed out a cloud of smoke that added to the spicy haze filling the room.
“What do you want me to do, son? Get the vigilance committee together and string him up?”
Wyatt rubbed at the tension building in the back of his neck. He sure as cow patty didn’t want to resort to a lynching. But in this part of the territory, the lynch law and the vigilance committees were all they had to see justice done.
