Frustration pooled inside Greta. Before climbing into bed, she’d stressed to Astrid the need to stay in the cabin for the morning, explaining what had happened to the cattle. The girl had been sullen and quiet and had rolled over, ignoring Greta. At the time she’d been too tired to reprimand Astrid.
Returning to the bedroom, Greta heaved a breath. Hopefully, Astrid was just in the barn and hadn’t decided to go fishing. Greta didn’t have time this morning to track her down.
She dug through the trunk to find her oldest skirt, trying not to disturb her packing from the previous evening when her anger at Wyatt had given her all the energy she’d needed to place everything she and Astrid owned back into their trunk and bags.
Astrid had tried to stop her but had been too tired and resorted to curling up next to Chase in the bed and crying. “Please, Greta,” she’d pleaded through her sobs. “Please don’t make us leave.”
“We have to go.” Greta knelt in front of the trunk, folding another of Astrid’s skirts. Although she wanted to gather the girl in her arms and comfort her, she stiffened her backbone in order to make herself stand firm against Astrid’s pleas and wiles.
“Wyatt’s real sorry. Real sorry. I could see it. And he said he wants you and me to stay.”
“It doesn’t matter what Wyatt thinks.” Greta continued arranging the garments into a neat stack. “What matters is that you get better. And since you’re not getting better here the way I thought you would, now we need to try the hospital in Denver. Now before snow covers the mountain passes.”
Greta would probably earn enough for the stagecoach fare once she sold the butter she’d churned with cream from the new cow. But she didn’t know how she would afford the care or the lodging after they arrived in Denver. All she knew was that she had to get Astrid the help.
“I don’t want to go to a hospital.” Astrid hiccupped through her sobs.
“We have to try it. It’s all we have left.”
“I want to die here.” Tears streamed down the girl’s cheeks. “Please, Greta, let me die here where I’m happy.”
Greta’s heart, already aching from Wyatt’s betrayal, couldn’t hold any more pain. “You’re not dying, Astrid.”
“I am, and we both know it.”
“We can’t give up yet.”
“I’m not giving up; I’m just being realistic.” Astrid sounded much too grown-up.
Greta shook her head, unwilling to listen to the child’s gloomy predictions any longer. “I’m taking you to Denver tomorrow. So please resign yourself to leaving.”
She’d turned her back and held herself together until Astrid’s sobs had given way to slumber. Only then had she broken down and let the tears flow—tears for Astrid, for Wyatt, and for broken dreams. She’d still been crying when Judd had galloped into the yard and delivered the news that Brawley had slaughtered the cattle.
After that, she hadn’t had time to grieve. She’d been too consumed with helping Wyatt and Judd to feel sorry for herself and Astrid. Now, by the light of day with the trunk and bags staring at her, Greta’s heart grew heavy again.
She dressed quickly and then put a pot of coffee on the stove before starting her search for Astrid. As she crossed to the barn, the late-morning sunshine bathed her and brought warmth to her aching body. She glanced to the distant north pasture and pictured Wyatt as he’d been all night, bent over the dead steers, working feverishly to butcher them.
Deep inside, she knew she couldn’t remain angry at Wyatt for what he’d done. The truth was, she would have entered into the marriage of convenience even if she’d known fully about his cattle deal. She’d been too desperate to care.
And as much as he’d used her in an attempt to get what he needed, she’d used him to be able to stay in Fairplay and take care of Astrid. How, then, could she condemn him for being selfish when she was equally so?
At least he’d been honorable in keeping their marriage chaste. He could have taken advantage of her and used her in other ways, but he’d had the decency to give her a way out if that’s what she wanted.
Maybe he should have been more up-front with her about his arrangement with Mr. Steele, especially once they’d gotten to know each other better. But Wyatt had probably been worried about her reaction—and last night she’d proven he had reason to worry.
Now after losing his herd, he needed the loan from Mr. Steele if he had any chance of making it. Yet, once she left, Mr. Steele would pull out of the deal, and Wyatt wouldn’t be able to get the new herd.
Was there any way to help him keep the loan? Could they pretend to remain married for Mr. Steele’s sake? She gave a quick shake of her head. No, they’d already let the news of the pregnancy linger all week, and she couldn’t lie about anything else.
She lifted her gaze beyond the north pasture to the mountain peaks, including Kenosha Pass. The jagged rocks above the tree line were snow covered. And the snowfall would continue to accumulate. Her time was running out. All she had was today. She’d help Wyatt today, and then she needed to leave tomorrow.
Shoving aside her tumultuous thoughts, she picked up her pace. “Astrid? Come out, please.” She opened the barn doors and let the scent of the recently cut alfalfa greet her. The new dairy cow bleated, letting Greta know she was ready for her midday milking. But otherwise, the barn was silent and the shadows within were motionless.
After spinning on her heels, Greta retraced her steps to the cabin and then veered to the path that led down the embankment to the river. She called Astrid’s name and searched along the bank, checking the usual fishing spots.
With mounting irritation, Greta returned to the cabin and searched the perimeter of the barnyard, hoping to find Astrid playing with Chase or lounging in the shade taking a nap. Finally, Greta returned to the barn, climbed to the loft, and searched the stalls only to realize that Dolly was gone.
She breathed a sigh of relief even as she wanted to throttle the child. No doubt Astrid had taken the puppy and ridden out to see Wyatt and Judd and offer to help with the butchering.
While doing the milking and then cooking up a simple meal to take out to the pasture, Greta rehearsed the scolding she planned to give Astrid for disobeying and leaving in spite of the strict instructions not to go anywhere. She could only pray Wyatt would have the foresight not to let Astrid stay out in the pasture overlong.
When the noon hour passed, Greta’s insides stretched thin with impatience, even as she kept herself busy with the laundry. By midafternoon, she stood in the yard and peered into the distance toward the north pasture, fuming at Wyatt and Judd for not being stricter with Astrid and insisting that she come home.
As Greta paced back and forth, she made up her mind to set out by foot. It was a long walk, especially carrying food. But they’d left her no other choice. The moment she stepped out of the cabin with her bonnet securely in place and a basket in hand, she caught sight of a rider approaching.
She hoped to see two horses but realized Wyatt was returning without Astrid. She released an exasperated breath. The child had likely twisted Wyatt’s arm into staying. She lost sight of him when he reached the river and waited for him to cross over.
When minutes passed without sight of him, she set the basket down and hurried along the dirt path that led to the river. Upon reaching the bank, she stopped short at the sight of him stripped to his waist and kneeling at the water’s edge.