He’d spent the majority of the five-mile ride from town answering Astrid’s questions about his ranch. Though Greta had tried to quell her sister’s unyielding stream of curiosity, it had been a useful way to glean more information about the man she’d married.
She learned he had three horses, close to eighteen head of cattle, along with four hens and a rooster. She also discovered that Judd had planted and taken charge of a large vegetable garden, while Wyatt fished trout from the river running through his property and hunted wild game.
Apparently the two men had hauled in and hewn logs from the nearby foothills to build the house and barn since the lumber from the new mill in Fairplay was costly. From the tone of Wyatt’s voice, she could tell he was pleased with his accomplishments.
He mentioned that he’d purchased two more cattle earlier in the day and was slowly building up and fattening his herd. With Wyatt occupied transporting her and Astrid in the wagon, Judd had offered to drive the two steers back to the ranch. According to Wyatt’s explanation to Astrid, “The cattle take their sweet old time, chewing up every lick of grass they come across.”
“There’s the house.” Wyatt nodded ahead.
She didn’t mean to look at him again. But her attention shifted as if it had a mind of its own. His chiseled profile, even in only the moonlight, was strong and masculine. His defined jaw and the dark covering of stubble on his cheeks drew attention to his mouth.
That mouth. Those lips . . . against hers.
Strange heat bloomed in her cheeks. He’d really and truly kissed her. The kiss, restrained and yet containing a hint of passion, had been unexpectedly pleasant and unlike anything she’d experienced before. If she didn’t know better, she could almost believe he’d enjoyed it and found her attractive.
She was tempted to lift her fingers to her lips and capture the memory all over again. But she’d done so a dozen times already, and eventually he’d catch her in the act and realize she was thinking about their kiss.
It surely hadn’t meant as much to him as it had to her. He’d likely kissed plenty of women in his life. What was one more?
For her, the kiss was her first. Thomas had wanted to kiss her on the day he’d left for the war. But she’d been too upset and told him he had to wait until he came home for a kiss, hoping to give him an incentive to return.
It hadn’t worked. And she’d regretted not kissing him good-bye ever since.
“It ain’t much,” Wyatt said. “But hopefully it’ll get us through the winter.”
She squinted through the dark to the outline of a stout, low-lying structure that looked more like a hovel than a house. It was built out of logs with thick chinking and had a gabled roof of simple boards. A single stovepipe protruded from the roof, and a small lone window had been cut out of the wall next to the door.
Dismay settled into her sore bones, bringing a fresh wave of weariness. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but not a cabin that looked as though it could fit into the spacious kitchen of her childhood home. Although modest, the two-story farmhouse had been airy and open with plenty of windows that afforded natural light along with several stoves for warmth in the winter. With four upstairs bedrooms, she’d always considered it too small for everyone living there. But it was a mansion compared to this place.
As Wyatt blessedly brought the wagon to a halt, she attempted to mask her disappointment, especially in light of how proud he was when talking about it. She’d seen other log structures over the past weeks, and Wyatt’s was well constructed compared with some. He and Judd had obviously put many hours of labor into it, and she couldn’t complain.
“The barn is there.” Wyatt cocked his head to the east.
She followed his gaze to another building, this one slightly bigger, with a zigzag log fence forming a corral off to one side. It was all very basic, almost rudimentary. But from what she could tell, he kept his place tidy and in good repair.
He hopped down and started rounding the wagon bed. “The river’s not far, maybe a hundred paces behind the house and Judd’s garden.”
She had to find her voice and say something. This might not be the kind of life she’d envisioned for herself, not after Phineas’s letters detailing the big house he was building for her and the furniture he was buying to fill it. But this was better than being homeless.
“Looks like you’re off to a good start,” she offered as he came to her side of the wagon.
“Yep.” He reached up to assist her. “We’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of us to make something of the ranch. But it’s a start.”
We. Not I. But we.
She gave him her hand and allowed him to aid her down. Was that the real reason he’d married her? Because he needed the help to get his ranch working? Maybe he couldn’t afford to hire more workers and had decided on a wife instead.
It made sense. Maybe that’s what he’d meant when he mentioned having a partnership.
His hand in hers was firm but polite. And as he steadied her on the ground, she breathed a silent prayer and tried to be grateful. Maybe her new home and situation weren’t ideal. But she’d work hard alongside him and do her best to help him succeed. It was the least she could do after all he’d done for her.
He released her without lingering and started toward the door. “I’ll light a lantern and show you inside before unloading.”
Greta peeked over the side of the wagon. Astrid was curled up in the hay asleep.
“Will she be alright for a minute?” Wyatt paused in the door. “I can come back for her and carry her in.”
“She’ll be fine.” Though the consumption tired Astrid easily, she’d had more energy than usual all evening. Greta could only pray that meant the drier air of the West was helping. If only Astrid could finally sleep through the night without waking up coughing.
Greta followed Wyatt into the cabin and waited by the door as he fumbled to light a coal-oil lamp. At the touch of the flame to the wick, the room sprang to life. Wyatt lifted the lantern and hung it from a nail protruding from one of the rafters.
A medium-sized stove in one corner was rusted and dented in places and seemed as though it had seen better days. Several blackened pots and pans sat on the range, congealed grease lining them. A simple table with benches took up most of the rest of the living space. An open door off the back revealed a second smaller room with a bed built into the wall.
Wyatt had made it clear enough earlier he wanted a family of his own. And she knew very well what that meant: She’d have to share the marriage bed with him from now on.
She hugged her arms around her middle to ward off a sudden chill. Although he’d given her a sweet kiss after their wedding and she knew she had nothing to fear from him, the thought of being together during the coming night wasn’t something she was looking forward to.
Feeling Wyatt’s gaze upon her, gauging her reaction to the home, she tried for a smile. “It’s a cozy place.”
He peered around the room as though seeing it through her eyes. “I know it ain’t much—”
“No, it’s very nice.”
He hesitated, took his hat off, and raked his fingers through his black hair.
“Really. I mean it.” And she did. He’d done a fine job. “You have every right to be proud of what you’ve accomplished so far.”