She’d grown to like Wyatt. And he seemed to like her. But she had to be careful. She couldn’t let things move too quickly between them. She might have been hesitant at first about his three-month trial, but now that she’d had time to think on it, she realized that if Astrid didn’t get better, she’d need to find a new way to help her sister, even if that meant leaving.
Chapter 13
Maybe the good Lord was smiling down on him after all.
Wyatt raised his arm and wiped the sweat from his brow against his sleeve. He peered back over the rows of gathered hay and then at the western sky before he released a breath. The scattered showers from earlier had moved on without drenching the earth. And he could almost allow himself to believe he’d finished the haying without any setbacks.
Roper Brawley had been madder than a hornet over losing more cattle sales and had threatened to burn the alfalfa field in retaliation. All the more reason Wyatt was relieved to get the haying done.
Not far behind him in the final row, Greta knelt next to a bundle, wrapping a piece of twine around the center, moving expertly as she had all week. Nearby, Astrid had abandoned her work and was cupping a caterpillar in her hand, jawing nonstop.
Somehow Greta managed to answer the girl’s endless questions without breaking her concentration. With her head bent over the twine, he could watch her for a few seconds without her realizing he’d been staring. Why did she have to be so doggone pretty?
Despite the strain of the long days of late, she had a freshness and energy that was contagious. Not only had she worked with him in the alfalfa field from dawn till dusk since he’d started the haying, but once they finished for the day, she returned to the cabin and spent hours baking hand pies and making jam. He didn’t know how late she stayed up, but every time he closed the barn door before bedding down, the light was still burning in the cabin.
Astrid helped her pick chokecherries in the mornings, and Judd had taken to bringing her huckleberries most nights after he returned from herding the cattle. Judd must’ve gone into the higher elevations to find the berries since the supply in the foothills was next to nothing.
Of course, Judd saw the value in Greta’s hand pies and jams. It had been hard not to, after he and Greta had arrived home that first time with the two new cattle. After a second trip to town a week later, they’d both recognized Greta was earning more with her fixings than they’d panned in gold in a year.
Even so, Wyatt had the feeling Judd would have been gathering the berries for Greta regardless of whether she earned a penny for them. The older man had fallen for Astrid and Greta harder than a cowpoke getting grassed.
Wyatt’s attention drifted over Greta and landed upon her lips. Fire blazed to life, sparking the need to kiss her again. A need that had simmered low and steady over the past few weeks since Steele had pressured him into kissing her in front of everyone.
Ever since, Wyatt had steered clear of taking her near the man. Thankfully, Steele had gone back to Denver and hadn’t been around during the last visit to town.
As irritated as he was at Steele, he couldn’t deny how much he’d liked the kiss. Maybe it had started as a show, but it hadn’t ended that way. And now he couldn’t put it out of his mind no matter how hard he tried.
And boy, had he tried. He’d nearly worked himself to death to get it out of his system. But against all his best efforts not to dwell on the kiss or Greta, he only seemed to think about it and her more with each passing day.
Her lips curved up into a half smile in reaction to something Astrid was saying. Lips that were pretty, soft, and responsive. Yep. She’d most definitely kissed him back, almost as if she’d wanted to kiss him—which wasn’t possible, was it?
“Blast it all, McQuaid.” He forced his attention to the bundle of hay in front of him. “Quit losing your mind.”
They’d only been married a month. For now, he had to focus on friendship. That’s all.
And as far as he could tell, their friendship was progressing real well. While they’d worked together with the haying, they had plenty of conversations. She shared about her life on the Illinois farm, explained how consumption had taken her stepmother and young half brother during the last two years. Greta had fought hard to save them, but in the end they’d gotten weaker and sicker until they died. Now she felt responsible for Astrid, and traveling to the West had seemed like her last option.
Not only did she share with him, but she was a good listener. She didn’t poke or pry into his past but drew it out of him, and he’d found himself talking about his growing-up years and his family and how he was trying to make a new home for them.
He’d done more yammering with Greta in the little time he’d known her than he had with Judd in two years. There was just something right about her being here, and he was having a hard time remembering what life was like without her.
As he finished tying the twine, he stood and surveyed the land. He and Judd had already moved half the bundles into the barn. Tomorrow they’d transport and stow the rest.
Greta, too, rose to her feet and glanced around. Upon seeing their work completed, she arched her back and neck, giving him full view of her beautiful, womanly form.
His throat went dry. “Good Lord, help me.”
She stretched her arms above her head and then yawned. Only then did she notice he’d been staring. She rapidly dropped her arms and gaze. At the same time, she cupped a hand over her yawn but couldn’t hide the weary lines in her forehead.
“We’re done,” he called.
She fingered the hay standing tall in front of her. “I can help you carry these last bundles to the barn if you’d like.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Let’s go fishing.”
Eagerness filled Astrid’s pale face. Although she’d recovered from what Greta had called a “flare-up,” the girl was still weak and tired easily. He heard her coughing most nights and knew Greta was up often with her. Wyatt doubted Greta ever got a full night’s shut-eye and likely hadn’t in years.
“Will you teach me how to fish, Wyatt?” Astrid moved the caterpillar from one hand to the other. “The way you do it, with the string and the fly?”
Since his move to Colorado, he’d taken to fly-fishing over regular line fishing. He hadn’t had much time over the past month to fish, but he managed to catch enough to provide for a few meals a week.
“You told me you could teach me someday. And today is a good day, right?”
“Yep. And I’ll teach Greta too.”
“No.” Greta smothered another yawn. “Astrid, you may go with Wyatt if you promise not to be a bother. But I have too many other responsibilities needing my attention.”
“Always gonna be a heap of work,” he said as they started back to the cabin. “And there will always be something pestering us for attention. But I reckon we oughta forget our cares for a spell.”
Greta only resisted a little while longer, then gave in to both his and Astrid’s pleading. Toting a couple of poles and bait, he led them to his favorite fishing spot upriver from the cabin. Greta spread a blanket in the shade of a cottonwood and sat down with a basket of mending. But Wyatt snagged her hand, pulled her up, and tugged her to the riverbank.