Whatever Wyatt might do, one thing was true. The West was no place for cowards. And Greta was fairly certain that with all her uncertainties, she was the biggest coward of all.
Chapter 16
Atop his horse, Wyatt patted his vest pocket underneath his coat and traced the outline of the ring. Had he been too rash in buying it for Greta? He reckoned it’d be the easiest way to let on that he wanted to keep their marriage going. ’Cause he did, didn’t he?
At a wiggle in the small crate on his lap, he peeked inside, as he had dozens of times during the long day of traveling back from Mosquito Gulch. With the rough terrain, he’d been afraid he’d have trouble with his extra load. But thankfully, the ride toward home had been uneventful. Except for the cow having a hoof abscess and slowing things down, he hadn’t had any problems.
The cow he’d bought with the earnings from Greta’s plum jam.
Though she had encouraged him to use the money to help pay for his family’s journey out here, he had to make sure Flynn agreed to moving first. And knowing his brother, he’d have a burr under his saddle and refuse to consider coming west.
Greta had easily accepted Wyatt’s decision and instead asked for a milking cow she could use for butter making. He already had one pregnant heifer and hoped to breed more. So while tracking down the cow hadn’t been easy, getting another for breeding was actually a smart plan.
Then again, just about everything Greta did was smart. She’d proven that her business efforts were worth the initial investment. No doubt she’d make just as much selling butter in town as she had with her jam and hand pies. She’d recently hatched chicks in her efforts to increase the number of laying hens. At some point, she’d have more than enough eggs to sell in town too.
She was as shrewd and savvy as the best businessmen he knew. Her suggestions regarding the farm and cattle were always intelligent. Her foresight was accurate. And her willingness to work hard was unmatched—except maybe by his.
As his horse reached the top of a rise, he reined in, sat back in his saddle, and swept his gaze over his land. The acreage spread out for as far as he could see, endless grass bending in the wind, as though kneeling in reverence to the white-capped mountains in the distance.
The sorrow that had been plaguing him since getting Flynn’s letter a few days ago reared up and kicked Wyatt in the gut. If only his ma had been able to come and see all this . . . she would have loved it.
And now with the war dragging out, he was worried about all three of his brothers joining up. He was surprised Flynn wasn’t fighting yet but was relieved that with Ma gone, he was still home taking care of things.
Wyatt reckoned he’d be fighting for the Union himself if he lived in the States. The honest truth was that he’d thought about going back a time or two and enlisting. He wanted to do his duty like the next man. But out here, they were too far away from the conflict. By the time they left and traveled east, the war would likely be over.
Even so, he should have sent for Ma—for all his family—sooner. He could have written to Flynn early in the summer, once the cabin was ready, and told them to come.
Wyatt swallowed hard and pushed down the guilt that came with the grief. He’d had years to make something of himself and to find a way to save Ma. And, blast it all, now he was too late.
A nip in the breeze slapped his cheeks. With November just around the corner, the days were not only growing cooler, but shorter, giving him less daylight for finishing all that needed to be done before winter set in.
His gaze snagged upon the cabin. At the sight of a thin curl of smoke coming from the cookstove pipe, his heartbeat gave an extra thump. He’d only been gone for three days, but with the eagerness driving him, anyone else would have guessed he’d been gone for three weeks.
He’d never felt this way after a trip. Then again, this was the first extended time he’d been gone since marrying Greta back in August. He could admit he’d been nervous about leaving her and Astrid behind, even if Judd had assured him he’d stick close to home.
His anticipation was mounting as he drew nearer. Anticipation for seeing Greta’s beautiful smile and the sparkle in her eyes. Anticipation for hearing her voice. Anticipation for catching up on all she’d done the past few days.
More than that, she had unending confidence in his abilities in a way no one else ever had. She didn’t flatter him or give him false hope. But because she believed he could do anything, he almost believed it for himself.
He nudged his horse forward, the movement shifting the direction of the cow and spurring her to move faster.
There was something satisfying in knowing he was returning home to someone and not just an empty house. He loved that whenever he came around, she stood in the doorway or sat back on her heels in the garden or paused in whatever task she was doing to watch him approach.
More and more lately, he’d been tempted to go right over and pull her into his arms. It was getting mighty hard to keep his hands and thoughts from her. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from reaching for her in the livery. . . .
It was a good thing they had less than two weeks of their trial to go.
With everyone thinking they were expecting their first babe, maybe he oughta hurry on up and make their marriage official. If he did and she got pregnant, then he wouldn’t have to worry anymore about how to explain she wasn’t in the family way.
The very thought of holding her for as long as he wanted sent flames shooting through his blood. “Good Lord,” he whispered, turning a plea heavenward. He threw open his coat to allow the air to cool him down, and he slipped off his hat to let the breeze ruffle his hair.
If only Steele had kept his big mouth shut and wasn’t so doggone pushy. Yep, he understood Steele wanted to bring his wife and son west. Yep, he understood he’d shaken hands with Steele and told him he’d have a real marriage. And yep, he understood Steele had already carried through on his part of the bargain by contacting the breeder in Missouri.
Trouble was, Wyatt couldn’t rush Greta before she was ready, especially into having a babe. It wouldn’t be right, no matter how much he liked her, and she liked him.
The big question was, did she like him enough to stay?
He patted his pocket and the ring again. It was about time to find out.
The last hour of the ride seemed to take days. By the time he drove the cow into the yard between the cabin and barn, his chest was near to hurting with the need to see her. Judd had heard him coming and was already limping toward the corral gate.
By the fading light of the evening, Wyatt watched the cabin door, waiting for Greta to make her appearance. She’d likely be wiping her hands on her apron, busy with another one of her projects.
But as he moved the new cow into the corral, the door remained closed.
“First calf heifer?” Judd gave a curt nod toward the new milking cow.
“Yep, she oughta have some good breeding years left.” Wyatt’s sights again strayed to the cabin, and he waited for the door to open, warm light to spill outside, and Greta to welcome him with one of her heart-stopping smiles.
But the cabin was quiet, almost too still. If the curl of smoke hadn’t been rising from the stovepipe, he would have assumed no one was inside. Maybe she wasn’t as excited to see him as he was her.