“Go on and leave!” Wyatt shouted, breathless and sore. “We don’t need you and can get by fine without the likes of you around.”
“Get by fine?” Rusty’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what you call the failed crop last year and almost losing this here farm?”
“We didn’t lose it!”
“That’s because your ma realized you were running the farm into the ground, so she married me to bail her out of the trouble you got her in.”
“I didn’t run the farm into the ground.” As Wyatt wrestled against Rusty, his voice lacked the same bluster as earlier.
After Pa’s death, he’d taken over and tried to do everything the way his pa taught him. But the summer had been exceptionally hot and dry, almost to the point that many farmers had called it a drought. Their farm hadn’t been the only one in a bad way.
“The problem with you young’uns”—Rusty jammed his finger into Wyatt’s chest—“is that you’re proud and think you know better than the rest of us.”
Maybe Wyatt had been too cocky when he’d taken over after Pa died. Maybe he figured he could be like his pa, but better. And maybe because of that, he’d brought a whole passel of problems on the farm, giving Ma no choice but to marry Rusty when he’d come proposing and promising to turn things around.
“The truth is,” Rusty continued with a harder jab, “you were a failure, and you’ll always be a failure.”
Wyatt tried to push the bitter memories from his mind by leaning down and splashing more icy water against his face. But no matter how hard he tried to shut out the accusation, it reverberated louder than a shooting iron in a narrow canyon. He was a failure and would always be a failure.
After his few years of driving cattle, he’d failed at his brief cow-raising venture in Iowa. Then once he’d had enough experience in the freighting business, he tried setting up his own transportation company. And that bit the dust too. When gold had been found in the Rockies, he’d decided to give mining a go, and he hadn’t had any luck with that either.
At twenty-three, he’d tried and failed more times than many men did in a lifetime. Was he bound to fail again with his ranching plans?
At the crunch of footsteps behind him, he pushed aside his melancholy, his senses on high alert and his fingers already fumbling for the handle of his revolver in his discarded holster. Last week, Judd had seen several Utes in the area. He hadn’t been sure whether they were hunting or just passing through. With the increasing tension as more and more miners came in and took over Ute land, it was just a matter of time before the conflict escalated.
At Greta’s appearance on the path that sloped gently to the river, he let himself relax and released his gun. She was carrying buckets in each hand, swinging them in rhythm to her quick stride.
He hadn’t expected her to be up at dawn the same way he was, especially on her first morning. But she was apparently an early riser. He didn’t want to frighten the living daylights out of her, so he stood and straightened, mighty thankful he hadn’t unshucked all the way as he often did before washing up.
She made it halfway down the path before she stopped short at the sight of him. For several seconds, she stared with wide eyes, then dropped her attention to the tuft of tall yellowing grass in front of her.
He glanced down at himself. Barefoot and wearing only his one-piece under-rigging, he was decent. With the cotton leggings and long sleeves, his union suit covered just about as much of him as his outerwear. As far as he could tell, they didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about, did they?
“Morning. How’d you and Astrid sleep?”
“Very well.” She kept her focus on the ground. “Astrid’s still asleep.”
“Good.” He shifted and waited for her to continue to the river. But she seemed completely frozen in place. After another heartbeat, he decided to try to break the awkward moment.
“Hope the mountain sickness ain’t too bad for either of you.”
“I’m feeling well enough.”
Wyatt had been woozy and tired his first few days in the higher elevation. The sickness had lasted a day or two before he felt like new. “Want some help fetching the water?”
He’d already informed her last night after he carried the last of her bags inside the cabin that the river water was as clean and fresh as any well.
“I didn’t realize you were here.” She finally moved but only to spin around. “I’ll come back after you’ve finished your grooming and dressing.”
“No, don’t go.”
She paused.
“I don’t mind none.” He waved at the river. “The river’s big enough for the both of us.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
Her golden brown hair wasn’t tied up in a knot as it had been yesterday. Instead, she wore it loose, and it shimmered around her shoulders and down her arms, almost all the way to her waist. It looked fine and soft and silkier than a chestnut’s mane.
Averting her gaze, she hiked the final distance but veered downstream from him. He reached for the trousers he’d tossed over a rock and began to put them on. He’d wait to bathe till another morning.
When she peeked at him sideways, he had one leg in and was tugging up the second. Her gaze darted back to the bucket she was dipping in the river. Although the faint light of dawn left her in the shadows, he guessed pink was infusing her cheeks as it had last night when he’d mentioned staying in the barn with Judd.
Was she embarrassed to see him in his underclothes?
He jerked his trousers up the rest of the way and then grabbed his shirt. He supposed he’d gotten so used to living among men, he’d forgotten the niceties a proper woman expected.
He was buttoning his shirt by the time she finished filling the second bucket. As she stood, he could almost feel her relief that he was dressed. “I’m sorry for disturbing you.”
“It’s alright.” He grabbed a boot and stuffed his foot inside without putting on his sock. Losing his balance, he hopped awkwardly.
She diverted her attention, giving him a view of her profile and the shy smile playing at her lips.
He reckoned he seemed like a madman in his race to put his clothes back on. He’d have to use good manners by the time he moved his family to the homestead, especially because Ma would expect him to behave in front of Ivy. Might as well start now.
Greta was halfway up the hill by the time he shoved his foot all the way into his second boot, stuffed his socks in his pockets, and rushed after her.
“Hold on.” He gripped the handle of one of the buckets. “Let me help.”
She didn’t break her stride. “I can get it just fine. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your work.”
“You ain’t keeping me from nothin’.”
She held the bucket a second longer before she relinquished it. “I suppose you and Judd will be wanting breakfast once you finish with your morning chores.”
“Judd’s been taking care of the grub. I just leave it up to him.”
“Now you can leave it up to me. Tell me when you want to eat, and I’ll have it ready.”
Before he could respond, she halted and touched one of the shrubs that grew along the river. “What kind of berry is this?”