In the months leading up to the conflict, the conversation around the dinner table invariably ended with talk of the Mason-Dixon line and the need to keep the shame of slavery from spreading into every new territory. Her pappa and stepbrothers spoke proudly of President Lincoln, who hailed from their fair state, and they denounced the Southern states for seceding.
Once the president had called for troops, the men had rushed off to put the South in her place. Like everyone else, Greta had expected a quick victory for the North, had never believed it would drag on for a year and a half.
Again, silence fell over the cavern. The lightning and thunder had ceased, and the rain had softened to a low patter. The chill in the air, however, hadn’t diminished. It had only seemed to increase, and Greta couldn’t hold back a shudder. She crossed her arms, hugging herself for warmth.
“The rain won’t last much longer,” Mr. McQuaid said.
“I don’t mind.” Astrid yawned, leaning her head against Greta’s leg. “Maybe me and Greta can live here in this little cave. It’s real nice.”
Greta’s thoughts tumbled together as she fought against another shudder. Though plenty of time had passed since she’d lost Thomas, thoughts of him always made her melancholy. She’d first met him when his father, Reverend Lawson, had performed her mamma’s funeral.
After the memorial service, Thomas offered her a peppermint, winning her affection. After that, he’d become a fast friend. He’d been a safe place, the only one who’d made her feel needed and important, at least until her half-siblings had come along, and she’d proven her worth by helping to take care of them.
Thomas had been there for her when she’d been devastated by her little brother Liam’s death from consumption, and when her stepmother had died not many months later. He held her and comforted her and promised her that God was there still with her.
And when she’d felt the pressure from her family to get married and take Astrid with her, Thomas had been the one to offer his hand, to tell her he loved her and always would.
When Thomas died, her future had crumbled, and she’d been floundering ever since. Then when she’d learned Pappa was gone, she realized she didn’t have a single soul left who cared what became of her. While Pappa had always been working and never affectionate, at least he’d been solid and secure and looked after her.
With the engagement to Phineas, she’d thought she’d reestablished her footing. But today, the solid ground had given way to raging rapids that seemed to be carrying her away.
Greta closed her eyes, wanting to give in to the temptation to let the drowning waters take her wherever they would. But as Astrid started to cough, Greta pushed aside her own woes. She had too much responsibility to wallow in self-pity.
She needed to keep fighting for Astrid’s sake.
Patting her sister’s back and encouraging her to breathe through the coughing, Greta watched as the rain tapered away and the sky lightened, cringing at what Mr. McQuaid must think of Astrid’s coughing. The constant hacking sound could get annoying after a while—at least that’s what her sisters-in-law had said.
Thankfully, Mr. McQuaid didn’t seem to mind and even asked if there was any way he might be of aid to Astrid. When the rain completely stopped, he ventured out. He came back a minute later to let them know the storm was over and they could walk back to town.
He assisted both Astrid and her down to level ground. Though wet with puddles, the path along the river was manageable. Astrid, still coughing slightly, skipped ahead. She stopped now and then to pick up a rock, examine it, and ask Mr. McQuaid if it was gold.
By the time they climbed the ravine and were nearing the miners’ tents and cabins at the edge of town, Greta knew what she had to do.
She slowed her footsteps. “Mr. McQuaid, does your proposal from earlier still stand?”
He halted and looked at her intently.
Her feet were soaked through her boots and the wet leather rubbed against one of her big toes, forming a blister. Her skirt was damp and tangling in her legs. And her hair was loose and matted from the rain. “You’re seeing me at my worst. And you’ve experienced Astrid with her coughing. At least you know honestly what you’re getting.”
He hesitated. Behind him, the sky above the mountain range was laced with hues of lavender, rose, and lily of the valley, with a few remaining dark clouds to frame the work of art. The storm had moved to the southeast, the dark clouds still flashing lightning in the distance.
“It’s okay if you changed your mind.” She started forward, picking up her pace through the grassy path. “I understand that I might not be what you were looking for.”
“No, that ain’t it.” He easily caught up and matched his stride to hers. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Mr. Steele was right when he said you’re a very sweet woman.”
This time she stopped abruptly. “Mr. Steele thought I was sweet?”
Mr. McQuaid nodded, his expression earnest. “And he figured you and Astrid would be safe with me.”
Mr. McQuaid had proven himself to be a hero. If she had to marry a stranger, she’d likely find no better man than this handsome rancher.
“The thing is . . .” His forehead furrowed. “I know why you want—need—the marriage partnership—so you and Astrid can stay here in Colorado so Astrid can get well. But you might be wondering why I’m needing it . . .”
For a few seconds, she waited for him to continue. When the silence lengthened, her face flamed. What was he insinuating? That he wanted a wife because he had manly needs?
“What I’m trying to say,” he continued awkwardly, “is that Steele is wanting to make Fairplay a stable town with more families and children.”
So Mr. McQuaid wanted a family of his own? Again, Greta’s face grew hot. While she hadn’t thought much about the marriage bed, she’d assumed it would be one of her wifely duties with Phineas. And if she went through with marrying Mr. McQuaid, she assumed it would be with him too. So why was he bringing it up? Did they really need to talk about it?
He rubbed a hand over his jaw and chin. “I’m making a mess of this, ain’t I?”
She couldn’t look him in the eyes. Instead, she focused on Astrid, who’d stopped and was now staring and waving at the miners in their camps.
Mr. McQuaid took a deep breath. “Steele’s offering me a deal ’cause he thinks he can convince his wife and son to come west if Fairplay has more families—”
“I understand, Mr. McQuaid.” She had to assure him before he said something even more embarrassing. “All I need to know is that you’re willing to help me for Phineas’s sake. That’s a good enough reason for me.”
He lifted his hat, smoothed his hair, then situated it again. “Alright, then.”
She let out a breath, and the tension eased from her shoulders. As with Phineas, she was taking a big risk in agreeing to marry a stranger. But she had to keep doing whatever she could for Astrid, no matter the personal sacrifice.
They started walking again.
After a moment, he cleared his throat. “I’m guessing you’ll want to change into something dry before the wedding?”
“You want to get married tonight?” She didn’t know why his question surprised her. After all, she’d expected to marry Phineas right away. Why not Mr. McQuaid instead?