She laughed lightly, almost bitterly, at his statement. “I’ve been nothing but trouble to everyone, even to the Lord himself.”
Judd studied her face for a moment before resuming his meal.
The weight of Astrid’s running away pressed upon her again, and she wanted to go back outside where she could take up her vigil for Wyatt’s or Astrid’s return. Instead, she found herself in front of the window, staring through the dusty pane to the dark grassland.
“The way I see it,” Judd said after the scraping of his plate turned silent, “a team of oxen can carry more together than apart.”
“That’s true.” She kept her focus on the west, her body aching for the need to see Wyatt galloping home with Astrid trailing behind.
“We all got troubles we’re carrying.”
She shifted her attention back to Judd. “You have troubles?”
“Yep. Too many to count.” He took a swig of coffee.
“I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
He set his cup down on the table and twisted it around.
In all the weeks she’d known him, he never complained about anything. And though he was the quiet sort, she hadn’t taken him for a man with a broken past. But maybe she’d been wrong. Now she waited, hoping he sensed that she cared enough to listen if he wanted to talk.
“Being here and having a family again—” he wiped his sleeve across his mustache—“it’s like having an ox by my side.”
Had he lost his family? She assumed he’d lived a wanderer’s life and moved around too much to settle down, but maybe he’d once had a wife and children.
“With Wyatt and now you and Astrid—” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat—“the load’s lighter.”
“Not with Astrid and me. We’re bound to make things harder, not easier.”
“Nope. From where I’m sitting, that little girl is the good Lord’s gift to every person she meets.”
“Really?”
“Yep.” He lifted his mug and took another swig, the swallow slow and pronounced.
Astrid did have a special way of bringing joy to people with her enthusiasm, optimism, and unconditional love. Perhaps that easy acceptance had been just what Judd needed to ease the burdens he was carrying from his past, whatever those might be.
“And from where I’m sitting,” Judd said, “God don’t consider us trouble any more than you consider that girl trouble.”
“Astrid can be quite the handful.”
“But I reckon you’d rather she come to you with her problems than run away.”
“Very true.”
“The good Lord wants us to do the same. He says: ‘Cast thy burden upon the Lord, and he shall sustain thee.’”
Was it true God wanted her to come to Him with her concerns rather than keeping them to herself or trying to solve the problems on her own?
For so long, every time she prayed, she’d felt like she was disturbing God. Maybe He was waiting—even wanting—her to come to Him and let Him bear the burdens with her.
At the sound of pounding hooves, Greta flung open the door and stepped into the doorway. She strained to see through the blackness until a rider’s form came into view.
Wyatt.
She searched around and behind him, desperate to see Astrid. But he was alone.
Chapter 23
At the first light of dawn, they headed toward the eastern foothills.
Wyatt pulled in a deep breath, his thoughts stuck on Astrid and where she might have gone. He hadn’t witnessed any evidence of her riding to Fairplay. No one in town had seen the little girl, and none of the men in the mining camp had come across her.
He’d been mighty grateful when Steele and a dozen others had offered to form search parties and head out at daybreak, one group heading north toward Alma and another aiming for Buckskin Joe. Wyatt had promised to send word if Astrid came back during the night. And all the ride back to the homestead, he’d prayed she’d be there, that she’d gotten cold and hungry and decided to come home.
But only Judd and Greta had greeted him with disappointment because he was alone. He’d had a hankering to pull Greta into his arms and comfort her right then and there, but he’d been too blamed full of frustration at himself for failing her, for not protecting Astrid, and for not being able to keep their family together the way he should have.
Ahead, the eastern sky was a rust-colored red along the fringes of the mountains where the sun was gaining momentum. Though he hadn’t ever taken Astrid to the hills east of his land, she’d heard him and Judd jawing about that area plenty enough to know what it was like. Maybe she’d gone into the woods where she figured she’d find shelter for herself and the horse.
With the cold nights, miners weren’t prone to roam away from their campfires, and wild animals would wait to forage until the warmer sunshine of daytime. Even so, desperation nagged him worse than a rattler in a woodpile.
Greta was pale and silent behind him as he led the way, riding hard across the pasture. He wanted to reassure her that with everyone searching, they’d find Astrid. But he couldn’t promise her that any more than he could promise her that taking Astrid to the hospital in Denver would help.
The honest truth was that nothin’ was certain. Like Judd said, they lived in a broken world and hardships were a part of life. About the only thing they could do was persevere, stick together, and pray for the good Lord to make them stronger through it.
And even if he was still tempted to throw his hands up and admit defeat—the way Brawley wanted him to—he reckoned he oughta practice some of Judd’s wisdom and stop walking away every time the flies started bitin’.
He tossed another glance over his shoulder to Greta and tried to fight against the old insecurities crowding in—thoughts that she’d be better off without him, that he’d never be able to provide for her the way she needed.
If only he had the know-how on what to do to make things better.
As the sun rose higher and added light to their search, they slowed down and spread out so they could cover more ground. He kept Greta always within his sight, unable to shake the fear that he was losing her and there was nothing he could do to slow down the process.
All morning and afternoon they combed the foothills, checking every last place he’d ever talked about, hoping Astrid would show up somewhere. They continued searching and calling for her into the evening. And they didn’t start back toward the homestead until after darkness, silent and somber, but secretly holding out hope that maybe Astrid would be there waiting for them.
But Judd met them outside the barn with slumped shoulders and a shake of his head. He offered to ride to town to sell some of the beef and check with the other search parties. While he was gone, Wyatt tried to keep himself busy with chores and tending the remaining livestock.
By the time he headed into the cabin, he was as weary and low as a snake’s belly in a wagon rut. At the sight of him, Greta pivoted to face the stove, but not before he caught sight of the tears streaking her face.
“I’ve got supper ready for you.” She swiped at her cheeks.
Supper didn’t matter a lick right now, not when she was crying. He set his hat on the table and crossed to stand behind her.