“Yes, she is.” Greta’s insecurities surfaced as they often did when she thought about trying to be a parent to Astrid. “I’m trying so hard to raise her right, but she’s always taking risks—like today, just jumping in and serving the Indians biscuits.”
“She’s fearless.”
“And often foolish.”
“Maybe that comes from not knowing about her future. I reckon people staring death in the face ain’t afraid of a little danger now and then.”
Ever since Astrid had been a baby, she’d been willful and independent. But with the onset of the consumption, those traits had only seemed to grow more pronounced. Greta was thankful that since coming to the ranch, she had some help reining in the girl’s antics. “You’re good with her. And so is Judd.”
“She’s real easy to love.” Wyatt reached across Greta to stroke Astrid’s hair again.
Greta’s heart softened as it did whenever Wyatt interacted with the little girl. He was always taking the time to answer Astrid’s dozens of questions, allowing her to help, and showing affection for her in a brotherly way, like now.
“Being with her makes me miss my little sis a real lot.” Wyatt’s voice was wistful. “Sure as a gun miss them all.”
“They must miss you too.” How could anyone not miss a man like Wyatt?
He hesitated, then released her hand and stood. His hat shadowed his face, but she’d been learning that talking about his family and his past always brought out more shadows.
“I’d best be heading back. But I’ll carry Astrid inside to bed first.”
After Astrid was tucked under the covers, Greta watched Wyatt ride away and wished more than anything she could promise him that she and Astrid would be the family he longed for, that he’d never have to lose them. But as much as she wanted to reassure him, she couldn’t. Not when he’d been the one to leave the door of their marriage open.
He’d left it wide open that first night she’d come to the ranch, and he’d given them both the option of stepping through it and walking away. As much as he might be growing to care about Astrid and her, he’d yet to make a move to yank the door closed and insist on keeping their marriage vows sacred. And the truth was, she couldn’t yank the door closed yet either.
Chapter 15
Snow had fallen in the mountains.
Greta exited the church behind Astrid, her sights straying to the distant hillsides. The aspens had been changing, and the contrast between the evergreens and brilliant yellow never failed to take her breath away. Except for today. Not now that the highest mountain peaks wore new white crowns of snow.
Bad traveling. That’s what everyone was saying this morning. Mrs. Mueller hadn’t ridden down because of the ice. And though Greta missed seeing her, she was more worried about the mountain roads becoming impassable and cutting them off from getting help for Astrid should she need it.
“Can we go see the kittens again?” Astrid charged down the plank step and veered toward the livery, where last Sunday after church she’d happened upon a litter of eight-week-old kittens. “You said that I could bring one home.”
“I said only if Wyatt was agreeable to it.” Greta easily caught up with Astrid and snagged her hand. The child’s pale complexion and the dark circles under her eyes testified to the strain of battling consumption. The last week especially had been difficult, with several nights of severe coughing. The sleepless nights and trouble breathing had taken their toll, not only on Astrid. Greta was wearier than usual too.
She’d worked well into the night making jam and hand pies to sell in town today. While the supply of chokecherries and huckleberries was gone, Judd had brought her wild plums from the foothills that she’d cooked up.
“Let’s wait for Wyatt.” She tugged Astrid to a stop beside her and glanced to where Wyatt stood in the doorway of the church talking with Reverend Zieber. In his Sunday church clothes, Wyatt was sharp, his crisp suit contrasting his ruggedness and making him more handsome.
Her stomach fluttered just looking at him, an ailment that was becoming commonplace whenever she saw him.
“If I can’t have a kitten”—Astrid strained to keep walking—“then I want a puppy. Maybe Mr. McLaughlin will have puppies at the livery this time.”
“Puppies?” came Wyatt’s voice from behind. “What about puppies?”
“W-e-l-l, I was thinking a pet might be nice to keep me company.” Astrid halted and gave Wyatt her most charming smile, one she’d learned could wrap the man around her pinky.
“A pet?” Wyatt’s brows arched, and he glanced from Astrid to Greta, as though trying to gauge Greta’s thoughts on the matter. After the visit last week from the natives, Wyatt had mentioned wanting to get a couple of cow dogs that would be able to cause a ruckus and alert them well in advance of any visitors.
While Greta agreed that having dogs couldn’t hurt, she wanted him to know he didn’t have to give in to Astrid’s whims. Before she could say anything, someone called out a greeting. They shifted to find Mr. Steele driving toward them in a bright yellow buggy with a single seat drawn by one horse. Greta had noticed the kindly gentleman in the service earlier sitting in the front row, back after his weeks in Denver.
Now she smiled a greeting.
As he brought his buggy to a halt next to them, he tipped his hat and smiled in return. “Lovely service this morning, wasn’t it?”
For several moments they spoke of the message and made small talk about the harvest and cooler nights. Mr. Steele also mentioned to Wyatt something about being in touch with a cattle breeder in Missouri and that a payment was underway. And although the two didn’t spell things out, Mr. Steele must have been helping Wyatt to get more cattle.
“I’m happy to say”—Mr. Steele focused on Greta again—“that by summer you might have more womanly companionship, as my wife is finally considering moving to Fairplay.”
“That would be delightful, Mr. Steele. I would surely love the friendship.”
“I told her we’re attracting families with young children.” Mr. Steele nodded toward Astrid, who was stroking his horse and talking to it as though she’d just made a new friend. “I also told her I’m planning to build a school and that I’m hoping we’ll be able to fill it eventually.”
He looked pointedly at Wyatt, who tugged at his shirt collar.
“I’m sure we will.” Greta hoped someday Astrid would get well enough so she could attend school. In Illinois, the girl’s illness had prevented her from going, and Greta had taken to teaching her at home during the winter months when she had more time to devote to it. But maybe things would be different here. She couldn’t give up hope yet, could she? “I guess we’ll know more in the spring.”
Mr. Steele’s countenance brightened. “Then does that mean what I think it does?”
“Of course,” Greta said, even as Wyatt cleared his throat.
The older gentleman’s smile widened. “I’m so pleased to hear the news, and my wife will be doubly so. Maybe she’ll be here to help you by the time the baby arrives.”
Baby? Greta’s smile froze in place. Did Mr. Steele think she was expecting a baby? What had she said to give him that impression?