“I ain’t blubbering.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Things are always going wrong for me. Can’t seem to make a go of anything I set my hand to.”
“Things always go wrong. Just the way it is in a broken world.” Judd shot a stream of spit straight into the dirt. “We can call it rubbish and throw it away. Or we can pick it up and fix it as best we can.”
Wyatt shook his head. Judd didn’t understand what his life had been like, all his efforts to make a way for himself so he could build a new home for his family. Something always put a hitch in his plans and kept him from succeeding.
“Been hanging my hat on something my ma taught me from the Good Book,” Judd continued, jawing more now than he had in a month. “She always said, we ain’t supposed to be surprised when we come against fiery trials. If the Lord suffered, then we gotta expect the suffering too.”
Wyatt wanted to respond that he wasn’t surprised by fiery trials, but as he glanced around the growing darkness at the dead steers, his inner dickering fell silent. Had he expected the good Lord to take away his problems and make everything work out? What if he’d been pulling away from God and blaming Him when things didn’t go the way he wanted?
Fiery trials. Reverend Zieber had recently preached about the three men who’d been thrown into the fiery furnace for not worshiping a false god. The onlookers had seen not three men in the fire, but four. God hadn’t taken them out of the fiery trial. He’d walked with them through it.
Was that what God promised? Not to pluck him out of difficulties but to be there in the midst of them?
“So”—Wyatt tried to make sense of everything—“you think I need to stay put instead of walking away?”
“Yep. Instead of seeing dead steers, it’s time to see beef.” Judd started toward the next steer.
Beef? The cattle hadn’t nearly reached the weight and size he’d hoped for. But Judd was right. If they butchered them before the meat turned rancid, they could salvage this mess and sell off the beef. Their profit wouldn’t be hefty, but it would be something.
“Time to pick up your suspenders,” Judd said, “slap ’em over your shoulders, and get to work.”
Wyatt hopped down from his mount and retrieved the rope from his saddle, guessing that Judd planned on moving the steers closer together for the night so they’d have a better chance at keeping bloodthirsty wild animals away while they worked.
It would be a long, hard night ahead. And an even longer few days to come. But instead of calling it quits and moving on, maybe this time he’d learn to pick things up and fix them as best he could.
At some point, Judd returned to the homestead for more supplies, including lanterns. When he returned, Wyatt was surprised to see Greta with him. From where he knelt in a puddle of blood, he had half a mind to stand up and shout at her to go back to the cabin, that she shouldn’t be here.
At the sight of the dead cattle, she cupped a hand over her mouth, and he thought she’d be sick to her stomach. But then she straightened her shoulders and dismounted. She emptied the contents of her saddlebag, including knives, a sharpening stone, and bone saw. Once she’d stacked them, she approached, carrying a skinning knife.
“If you sever the head and feet and slit the breastbone,” she said, standing over him, “I’ll start skinning.”
He jabbed his blade farther toward the spinal cord, rocking it back and forth. “You shouldn’t be out here. Go back with Astrid.”
“Astrid’s just fine. She’s asleep.” She jutted her chin. “I’m staying and helping.”
“Judd and me, we can take care of things.”
“We’ll have a better chance at saving the meat if we work together.”
He’d already bled several of the steers, but he had a dozen left to go. Dusk had fallen, and though the moon above was full and bright, the lanterns Judd and Greta had brought along would be real helpful.
She would be real helpful too. After growing up on a farm, no doubt she had plenty of experience butchering pigs and chickens, maybe even a cow. Fact was, he couldn’t turn down her offer. At the same time, he didn’t want to subject her to the hours of bloody work ahead.
“Let me help you, Wyatt,” she said softly.
When he glanced up, her beautiful eyes were filled with compassion. Even though she had every right to be angry and hurt, she didn’t have a spiteful bone in her body.
“Fine. Bring me the bone saw, and I’ll get one of the steers ready for skinning.”
Throughout the long hours of the night, they worked ceaselessly—bleeding, skinning, and cutting the cattle. As they did so, his attention kept straying to Greta. She scraped the hides, never stopping to rest, working as efficiently with the cattle as she did with her jams.
Had he been as wrong about giving up on her as he’d been with the ranch? Did he need to find a way to hang on and fight for her, for them?
He had to convince her to stay a few more days, at least until he was done with butchering and selling the beef. He couldn’t do anything or go anywhere until he salvaged what he could of his herd. But after that, he’d travel to Denver with her and Astrid for the winter. Now without the cattle, Judd could more than handle the ranch by himself.
First he had to persuade her to give him a second chance, and he prayed to the good Lord she would.
Chapter 21
Greta awoke with a start. At the sight of sunlight pouring through the windowpane in the front room, she bolted upright in bed. The movement shot fire through every muscle and brought back the memory of the long night.
Before dawn, Wyatt had insisted she return to the cabin and asked Judd to take her back. Though they still had over half the cattle to finish butchering, she’d been too tired and cold to protest.
They’d stopped by the river to wash the blood from their hands. She’d already been frozen down to her bones from the frigid temperatures. And the iciness of the river had confirmed the urgency of making it out of the high country to Denver before it was too late.
Even so, she couldn’t leave Judd and Wyatt in such desperate straits. Though they hadn’t said so, she guessed they’d work through the day and again into the night until they finished the job.
After packing up a basket of food and coffee, she’d given it to Judd with the promise to bring more at noontime. She fed the chickens, milked the cow, and watered and fed Dolly and the four oxen that hadn’t been out in the pasture with the others. Then she’d fallen into bed next to Astrid.
Greta shoved the covers away and glanced again at the bright sunshine, attempting to gauge how much time had passed. She sensed it was later than she’d anticipated.
“Astrid?” she called as the cold of the cabin enveloped her and sent chills across her skin. She’d shed her garments from last night, and now they sat in a heap next to the bed, the blood splatters turning brown and crusty as they dried. Did she have time to scrub out the blood to prevent staining? She had so few garments and couldn’t abide losing an outfit.
Attired in only her shift, she touched her feet to the cold floorboards and shivered. “Astrid?”
When the little girl didn’t answer, Greta pushed all the way up and shuffled out of the bedroom, her muscles protesting each step. She glanced out the window, expecting to see Astrid with Chase. The chickens roamed the yard, but otherwise it was deserted without a sign of the girl or the pup.