Wyatt’s brown eyes were almost ebony and overflowed with a compassion that made her chest ache. “Anything I can do?”
“No, there’s nothing to be done except make sure she rests.”
He shifted his hat again.
“I’ve got breakfast ready for you and Judd.” She hurried to the stove, where she’d fried potatoes with several slabs of bacon. The potatoes had come from Judd’s garden, which she’d discovered was enormous and well-tended. He’d told her to help herself to whatever she needed.
She hadn’t asked him what he planned to do with all the vegetables once they were harvested, but she’d started a mental list of all the things she needed to do, including digging a cellar near the house for storing the produce.
Greta had spent the majority of the past two days exploring and getting familiar with the ranch, along with cleaning and airing out the cabin. Doing laundry had been the first priority. Though the cabin had but a few scant household linens, her and Astrid’s garments had been in sore need of scrubbing after going weeks without a proper washing. She’d also gathered up Wyatt’s and Judd’s clothing and laundered it too.
When it came time for drying everything, she’d set to work shoveling two holes deep enough for the couple of posts she dragged over from behind the barn. Once she had both posts buried and sturdy, she rigged up a rope between the two and hung the bedsheets to dry and laid the clothing out in the grass and on brush.
All while she’d worked, she kept Astrid busy snapping beans and shelling peas and other small jobs. Astrid tired easily and had taken several naps during the day. Greta had supposed the girl was worn out from all the excitement of their traveling. But now she realized Astrid had been battling consumption again.
Greta lifted the lid off the pan, the waft of potatoes and bacon making her stomach rumble.
“Listen, Greta.” Wyatt reached alongside her and took the lid out of her hold. “You go on and take care of Astrid. Me and Judd, we can fend for ourselves.”
She shook her head and picked up the spatula she’d left inside the pan. Wyatt was directly behind her—much too close. He’d protested yesterday, telling her she didn’t have to do so much, especially after seeing the laundry line she’d made. He told her next time she ought to ask him for help. But from what she’d seen, he was busy enough without having to stop and do things for her.
“No, I’m not letting you fend for yourself.” She scooped a serving of the potato-bacon mixture onto a tin plate. “You married me to help you take care of the ranch, and that’s what I intend to do.”
He was still too close, so when he released a long sigh, she could feel the breath against the back of her neck. “Greta,” he said softly, “look at me.”
She let the spatula fall idle in the pan.
“Please?”
At the sweetness of his tone, she couldn’t resist. She pivoted, plate in hand.
Without his hat, she had full view of his eyes, his beautiful, expressive eyes. “You’re my wife. Not my slave.”
“But as your wife, I have responsibilities—”
“You’ll be running yourself ragged if you’re not careful.”
“I’m a strong woman. And it takes a lot to wear me out.”
He studied her face, making her suddenly self-conscious. She hadn’t taken care with her appearance this morning, hadn’t had the time between tending to Astrid and trying to get breakfast for the men.
“I’m sorry.” She smoothed back a flyaway strand. “I still need to plait it.”
He lifted her hand away. “You don’t need to. Your hair is pretty enough any way you wear it.”
Pretty? Her heart pattered an extra beat.
At Judd clearing his throat behind them, embarrassment washed across Wyatt’s face. He took several rapid steps away from her, bumping into the table and tipping one of the benches.
Judd reached out to catch the bench, righting it. He nodded at Greta, then leveled a look at Wyatt, one laced with humor.
Judd wasn’t much for talking, but he, like Wyatt, had a kindness about him that put her at ease. He worked hard alongside Wyatt but seemed fond of taking breaks, especially those that involved puttering around in his garden.
“Heard Astrid coughing.” Judd lowered himself to the bench and leaned his elbows on the table.
“It’s the consumption.” Greta handed a plate to Wyatt and then dished up Judd’s breakfast. “A little extra rest today, and she’ll be fine.” At least Greta hoped so.
After giving Judd his food, she poured the men each a cup of coffee and then returned to Astrid’s bedside with a spoonful of sugar. She sweetened the tea and made the little girl drink several sips. A few minutes later, when Astrid was dozing, Greta scurried back into the other room to the stove. Before the men could ask, she’d retrieved the pan and was dishing them up more breakfast.
“Reckon I can take you huckleberry picking next week.” Wyatt nodded his thanks and dug his spoon into the steaming mound.
“I’m sure Astrid will feel better then.”
“Go on today.” Judd swallowed a bite of potatoes. “And I’ll stay.”
“You’ll stay?” Wyatt’s brows rose.
“That’s right. I’ll stay with the child so you can go get the berries.”
“I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.” Greta returned to the stove and retrieved the coffeepot. “We can go another time.”
“They’re ripe now.” Judd dangled his spoon above his plate. “Gotta get ’em now, or the critters’ll chaw up every last one.”
“It’s kind of you to offer, but I couldn’t impose.”
“Best thing for her is the sun and the air,” Judd said quietly but firmly. “Soon as she wakes, I’ll carry her on outside.”
Greta hesitated.
“Planning to dry the peas today,” Judd added. “Wouldn’t hurt her none to lend me a hand.”
Wyatt took a sip of coffee and seemed to be gauging Greta’s reaction. She didn’t want to worry him needlessly. Surely Astrid would be fine with Judd there this morning and would sleep most of the time anyway.
“Very well. If you’re sure you don’t mind?”
“Not a bit.” Judd scraped up a large spoonful of potatoes and shoveled it in his mouth as if the subject was closed with nothing more left to say. She turned back to the stove and squelched the need to give the older man a list of instructions. Astrid was plenty vocal and would tell Judd if she needed anything.
A short while later, Greta was astride one of Wyatt’s horses, riding after him as he led the way across the grassland toward the foothills in the east. The early morning sunshine was directly in her face, making her wish that instead of her bonnet, she had a hat like Wyatt’s with a wide brim to shield her eyes.
Along with the thud of horse hooves, the quiet of the morning was broken by an unfamiliar, distant bird call. As far as she could see, she and Wyatt were the only two out in this wilderness for miles around, and the realization was daunting. If something happened to them, or if they encountered another wild creature like that mountain lion, or if they got lost . . .
She focused on Wyatt’s back and the power emanating from him as he rode. With his revolver in his belt and a rifle secured to his saddle, she surely had nothing to fear. Even so, the high rugged Colorado country was nothing like she’d imagined. Truly, if she was honest with herself, nothing about her journey to the West had turned out the way she’d expected. Maybe by the end of autumn, she’d be more than ready to take up Wyatt’s offer to return to Illinois. Maybe he’d been wise to suggest not rushing into the marriage bed.