As though sensing her question, Wyatt dismounted, came around to her horse, and reached out a gloved hand. His eyes beckoned her to take hold.
She placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her down. When she was standing next to him, he slid his arm behind her and drew her into the crook of his body so they stood side by side gazing at the ranch together.
A red-tailed hawk soared above the open grassland with its wingtips spread and separated like fingers, the sun glinting off its rusty tail feathers. In the distance, a herd of pronghorns grazed along the foothills, seemingly without a care in the world.
She breathed in deeply of the glorious view and prayed she’d be able to come back and stand by Wyatt’s side in this exact spot for many years to come.
“This is ours, Greta. Yours. Mine. Ours.”
She nodded.
“Don’t you forget it.”
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
His arm tightened around her. “And you won’t forget about me?”
“Of course I won’t.” Somehow this already felt like good-bye, and she didn’t like it. She sensed tomorrow morning would be worse. Especially for Astrid.
Greta focused on the cabin. The wisp of smoke rising from the stovepipe and the light glowing from the window told her that Astrid and Judd were probably having supper, or at least that Judd was cooking something.
Was she really doing the right thing by taking Astrid to Denver? The little girl’s impassioned plea came back to her: “Please, Greta, let me die here where I’m happy.”
Greta couldn’t deny that Astrid was happy here, happier than she’d been in a long time, in a way she wouldn’t be in Denver. Would it be better for Astrid to stay? Even if she never got well?
No, they couldn’t give up now. Not after all they’d already been through.
“When you’re in Denver, I want you to think of this picture.” Wyatt nodded ahead to the grandeur. “And remember all you’re missing.”
She lifted her hand to his chest and spread her fingers, relishing the solidness. “I won’t have any trouble remembering all that I’m missing.”
“You sure?”
“The trouble will be thinking about anything else.”
“Good. Here’s one more thing to make sure you don’t forget what you’re leaving behind.” With that, he shifted her, then touched his lips to hers. The pressure was sweet and light, and his mouth clung to hers for an extra heartbeat, as though he couldn’t quite let go.
When he started to pull back from their kiss, a swell of need rose within her, and she chased after his lips, pressing into him, wanting more.
He paused for only an instant before he fused his mouth to hers again, the gentleness gone and in its place a desperation that told her so much more than his words had—that he needed her and didn’t want to let her go.
Her skin was strangely alive and heat skipped along her nerve endings. His hands sliding over her back pressed her closer, the touch searing through her cloak. She didn’t want this taste of closeness to end, a taste that made her hungrier.
As though experiencing the same hunger, Wyatt started to lift her off her feet. She had the picture of him carrying her someplace private and spending the rest of the night showing her exactly what she was going to miss by leaving him.
She couldn’t let that happen.
With a force of will that had been born out of always doing hard things, she dropped her arms and broke from him. As she stepped away, he clung to her, his fingers gliding up her arms, to her neck, to her cheeks, beckoning her to be back against him where she belonged.
The truth was, she loved kissing him and loved the way she felt when he kissed her. But the other truth was, that if she let their passion take root tonight, she wouldn’t be able to yank herself up and leave him tomorrow.
His breathing came out uneven just like hers. The intensity of his gaze, the longing etched into every handsome line of his face—it made her heart race with strange anticipation. And fear.
How could she leave him? How could she possibly ride away from him tomorrow?
He reached for her. “Greta.” The one word contained all his desire.
“No, Wyatt.” She held up her hands and took another step away. She couldn’t kiss him again, or she’d never be able to let him go. With tears stinging her eyes, she spun and stalked back to her horse. She climbed up into the saddle, blinking back the pain of their parting.
With a safe distance between them, she finally drew her emotion under control. “I’m leaving tomorrow, and I don’t want to complicate our good-byes.”
“I understand.” He stood motionless where she’d left him. Strong and proud and yet so humble.
“Good-bye, Wyatt. I love you.” The words tumbled out. Before he could respond or she could say or do anything else she might regret, she dug her heels into her horse and urged it homeward.
I love you. Her words lingered in the air long after she’d ridden away. He’d wanted to hear them, just not in the same breath as good-bye. Still, his heart thrilled in the knowledge that he hadn’t been mistaken. She loved him too.
Blast it all. Although he’d managed to keep her from marrying Hallock, in the end he was losing her anyway.
He gazed at the distant Kenosha Peak. Was he a horrible sinner for hoping it would snow tonight so the pass would close and prevent her from going?
But even as he wanted the weather to trap Greta and Astrid, deep inside he didn’t want to win them by default. If they stayed, he wanted Greta to make the choice, willingly. Which wasn’t about to happen . . .
All he could hang on to was that they’d only be apart till spring.
He drew in a deep breath. Somehow they’d have to be okay. They loved each other, and that would see them through the difficult days ahead. That and a lot of hard work. He’d drive himself hard over the winter and keep himself too busy to think about her.
He had a heap of work to do to get ready for his herd of Shorthorns. And although part of him wanted to give up the new herd in order to be with Greta, another part of him thrummed with the anticipation of seeing the herd and driving them up onto his land.
If only she didn’t have to go away . . .
With a whispered prayer for strength to release her and to keep persevering, he mounted his horse and started toward the barn. As he drew closer to the homestead, he saw her touch everywhere, from the clothesline to the cellar to the new chickens. He even saw her in the little details like the braided cornhusk rug outside the cabin, the curtain she’d fashioned for the window, and the new huckleberry patch she’d cut and transplanted from the foothills.
In the weeks since she’d arrived, she’d transformed the ranch into a home. And he didn’t know how he could live there without her.
Pain pounded against his heart, and he forced himself to ride directly to the barn. He couldn’t spend the evening with her or see her again. If he did, he’d beg her not to leave.
Chapter 30
Strange silence settled around Greta as she stretched to wakefulness. Silence. It was blissful. For a moment, she burrowed under the warm covers, unwilling to face the chill of the cabin before the stove pumped out its heat.
But the quiet was too abnormal, and it could mean only one thing. She flipped over and felt the spot next to her. It was empty.