A Cowboy for Keeps

by Jody Hedlund

  Pursing his lips to refrain from cussing himself out, he shoved his fork into the hay mound, lifted the brittle pieces, and stuffed more into the net. If only he could find a moment alone with her to apologize and somehow reassure her that she could have all the time she needed. And he’d also reassure her that adding on to the cabin didn’t mean things between them had to change. Not until she was ready.

  With the hay nets full in each stall, he set to work mucking the floors, his thoughts alternating between Astrid and Greta, and most often landing on the beautiful woman he’d married but whose heart he’d yet to win.

  She’d liked the wedding band, and she hadn’t taken it off once since he’d slipped it on. He’d caught her admiring it a time or two with the awe that had been in her eyes when he’d first given it to her.

  At least he thought she’d liked it, the same way he thought she’d liked kissing him. But what if he’d been wrong about both?

  “Can’t be wrong,” he muttered. She’d told him she missed him. She’d wanted him to sit with her. She’d touched him of her own free will. Fiery sparks struck to life in his gut just thinking about the way she’d kissed him back.

  Astrid called out a greeting, and Wyatt looked up to see Greta striding across the yard, twin pails swinging from her hands.

  He stepped into the shadows of the stall. She must be coming to do the milking. His pulse tottered like a colt learning to walk. Should he use the opportunity to talk? Or would doing so make the awkwardness worse?

  She’d taken to milking the new cow three times a day. He had to hand it to her. It was a smart move to increase the cow’s milk supply if she hoped to produce butter to sell. It would take some time, but eventually the cow would give her more.

  For now, she was storing the churned butter in a shallow pan of cold river water in the cellar. By the time they went to town by the week’s end, she’d have not only her jam to sell, but a fair amount of butter as well. It was a heap of work, but like always, she didn’t shy away from it.

  As she entered the barn, her footsteps crunched in the hay with the confidence of someone who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it. He liked that about her. If only she wanted him . . .

  He waited until she reached the cow before he let his shovel bang against the stall and alert her that she wasn’t alone. He stepped into the open and waited for her to adjust to the dim barn interior.

  As her eyes locked on him and rounded, he guessed she’d thought he’d gone out to check on the herd, likely hadn’t expected to find him there. When she took a quick step back, he held out a hand. “Greta, hold on.”

  She glanced at the double door.

  “I’m sorry.” He had to get at the heart of what he wanted to say before she ran off. “Sorry for the other night and getting carried away with—well, you know . . .” He pointed his finger back and forth between them, hoping she’d catch his meaning.

  She watched him, her eyes rounding further. “You’re sorry you kissed me?”

  “Yep.” He breathed out a sigh, but it caught in his throat at the dismay that flashed across her pretty features. “I mean, nope. Nope, I ain’t sorry about the—” Again he waved his finger between them. “Ain’t never gonna be sorry for that.”

  She placed the pails on the ground on either side of her and cocked her head. No doubt he sounded like a blathering idiot. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m mighty sorry for rushing you. I meant what I said on our wedding day—that I ain’t a brute and won’t be pushing you for anything you’re not ready for.” The words tumbled out awkwardly, and he shifted the shovel around, needing something to do with his hands.

  After a moment, her shoulders sagged. “You don’t need to apologize, Wyatt. You’re not rushing or pushing me.”

  His head snapped up. “I’m not?”

  It was her turn to duck her head. “No. I’m not sorry about kissing you either.”

  The heavy load he’d been carrying seemed to slip from his back. His chest felt suddenly lighter, as though he could breathe again.

  She started twirling a lock of hair around one of her fingers. It was a nervous habit she had, one that was endearing.

  He braced the shovel against the stall with the sudden intense hankering to hug her. Even as he took a step forward, he hesitated. “If you ain’t mad about the uh—kisses”—his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat—“then why are you avoiding me?”

  She wound the strand around her finger higher before unraveling and starting again. She opened her mouth and started but then stopped. Finally, she dropped her hand. “Astrid and I are only going to be a burden to you once your family comes. And I don’t want that, Wyatt. I really don’t.” The anguish in her tone spoke of past hurts that had yet to find healing.

  This time he crossed to her, praying she wouldn’t bolt. As he reached her, he lifted a hand and touched the same silky pieces she’d just been fiddling with. “Listen, you and Astrid are my family now too.”

  “But you didn’t have to take us in.” Her voice was still raw. “You did it because you’re a good and kindhearted man who was trying to help out and do the right thing.”

  Her words pricked at the guilt he’d tucked far away. He’d gotten good at stashing it into the back corners of his mind and telling himself that his deal with Steele didn’t really matter. That if he’d known then what he knew about Greta now, he’d have dropped to his knees and proposed to her on the spot that first night he saw her.

  “You’re already working so hard to make ends meet, and you’ll have to work harder when you start to support your brothers and sister.”

  He stroked her hair back. “We’ll make do—”

  “Even with the addition on the cabin, there won’t be enough room. We’ll be short on plates and cups, and we’ll have to stretch the food—”

  “We’ll figure it all out. Might not be easy, but together we’ll make it work.”

  Her brows furrowed.

  He stroked at the worry lines on her forehead. “If anyone can make it work, you can. You’re one of the smartest people I know.”

  Her features softened. “You think so?”

  “Yep. You’ve got a real good sense for business, better than anyone I know.”

  “Now you’re just flattering me.”

  “No way. Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” He reached to pull her into his arms, but she took a step back and braced a hand against his chest.

  “There’s one more thing.” Her brow wrinkled again.

  He slipped his arms around her anyway, fitting his hands at the small of her back and drawing her closer, intending to break down her resistance and prove that nothing else mattered except her.

  At his touch, her hand dropped away from his chest, and she relaxed into him.

  He enveloped her more completely, tucking her head under his chin. This was what he wanted, and he could go on holding her like this all night.

  “I’m taking Astrid to Denver,” she mumbled against him.

  The air seized in his lungs. “What?”

  “Please try to understand, Wyatt.” She started to tremble in his arms. “She’s not getting better here, so I have to try the hospital in Denver, the one known for helping people with consumption.”

  “She’s better today.” His voice held a note of desperation, but he didn’t care. A part of him had known her leaving was coming, and now that it was here, he didn’t want to face it.

  “For today, but what about tomorrow?”

  He followed her reasoning. Astrid wasn’t improving. Lately, the girl was having more bad days than good ones. But, blast it all, that didn’t mean they had to leave, did it?

  Greta pulled away, and he didn’t stop her. “I’d like to go before the snow in the mountains makes travel impossible.” She hugged her arms around her middle but still shook.

  His muscles tensed with the need to hold her close. But hadn’t he promised he’d let her go if things didn’t work out for her on the ran
ch? He couldn’t go back on his word no matter how much he might want to.

  And yet, if she cared about him—as she seemed to—maybe they didn’t have to let the separation be permanent. Maybe they could figure out a way to stay together.

  “I’ll take you and Astrid to Denver. We’ll go together and stay there until she’s better.”

  “No, you can’t. You’re needed here. There’s so much that has to be done before your family comes.”

  She was right, but he didn’t know how to wrap his mind around letting her go. “Judd’ll take care of things over the winter, and I’ll hire someone to help him.”

  She didn’t reply except to bite her lip, knowing as well as he did they didn’t have a single cent extra to hire on help.

  He didn’t want to lose Greta. Maybe he’d once been hesitant about taking her for a bride. But now that he had her, he wasn’t willing to give up without a fight. He was falling in love with her, for crying-in-the-rain. Did he dare tell her that?

  “Wyatt!” Judd called from the corral. “We’ve got visitors.”

  He had half a mind to tell Judd to inform their guests he wasn’t home, but the low warning in the older man’s tone set him on edge.

  He squared off with Greta. “We ain’t through talking about this.”

  “I refuse to let Astrid and me be a burden to you.” She straightened her shoulders.

  “It’s Brawley and his men,” Judd said more urgently.

  Wyatt’s hand went to his pistol at his belt as he strode over to the rack on the wall where he kept his rifle. What did Brawley want? It couldn’t be good. It never was.

  “Get on,” Judd said to Astrid as he deposited her into the barn doorway. The girl was concentrating on holding the wiggling pup and didn’t seem to notice the seriousness of the situation.

  Greta’s face, on the other hand, had lost its color. She wasted no time in crossing to Astrid and drawing the girl farther into the barn.

  Wyatt peered out, taking in three riders approaching the cabin, then he glanced over his shoulder to where Greta huddled with Astrid. “Stay in and don’t come out for any reason, ya hear?”

  She nodded, her eyes wide.

  With Brawley and his men bearing down, he took an extra few seconds to swing the barn doors closed behind him and whisper a prayer that God would keep Greta and Astrid safe.

  Chapter 19

  Greta pressed a finger to her lips, warning Astrid to be silent. But her sister was too busy playing with Chase in a pile of hay. The pup was trying to get away, clearly not ready to put an end to his training lesson.

  “McQuaid!” Brawley’s voice carried over the pounding of horses drawing near.

  “What do you want?” Wyatt shouted.

  The stamping plod of the hooves tapered to silence and was followed by a whinny and a snort of protest.

  Astrid lost hold of Chase, and the pup bolted across the barn and managed to squeeze through a crack in the door. She jumped up and raced after the dog. “Naughty puppy!”

  “Astrid, no!” Greta lurched after her sister, but Astrid was already opening the door and darting through. With her heart pounding, Greta followed her sister outside. Astrid reached Chase quickly, scooped him up, and scolded him again.

  Greta rushed toward the two, but Astrid was waving a greeting at the newcomers. “Hi there, Mister.”

  Brawley had reined in a dozen paces from Wyatt, who clutched the handle of his revolver but hadn’t drawn it. Yet. Judd leaned casually against the corral post, but his hands rested on his revolvers too.

  Wyatt didn’t take his sights off Brawley but gestured toward her and Greta. “Doggone it. Both of you get back in the blamed barn.”

  Before Greta could reach the child, Astrid bounded closer to Brawley. “Mister, look, I got a puppy. Do you like him? Isn’t he a sweet little thing?”

  Brawley dropped his gaze. “Sure, kid. Real sweet.”

  Greta crept up behind her sister, wishing she could thrash the little girl.

  Astrid tilted her head and stared hard at Brawley. “I figured it out finally. You sure sound a lot like—”

  Greta cupped a hand over Astrid’s mouth and began to drag her backward toward the barn. Thankfully, Astrid was growing too tired and weak to fight.

  Once they were safely back inside the barn, Greta took the pup from the girl. He wiggled only a moment before the energy left his body, and he released a noisy half yawn, half whine. Astrid, too, stifled a yawn. The horse-riding lessons had taken their toll, and she needed to lie down.

  Greta tugged her sister toward a shadowed corner where a mound of hay could provide a cushion and hopefully a place to remain safe during Brawley’s visit. She bit her cheek to keep from scolding Astrid and pulled her sister down next to her.

  “Greta,” Astrid said through another yawn, “Brawley sure sounds an awful lot like the fella who robbed our stagecoach.”

  “Hush now.” Greta pressed a finger against Astrid’s lips. It was pretty clear Brawley wasn’t part of the Crooked-Eye Gang. How could he have been with his missing eye? None of the gang members had been wearing eye patches. At least not from what she’d seen through the slits in their sacks.

  “You’re not welcome here.” Wyatt was responding to something Brawley had said about the nature of his visit. “It’s late. Go on home.”

  “Heard about your bargain with Steele.” Brawley persisted, his tone hard, almost bitter.

  “That ain’t any of your business.” Wyatt’s voice was just as hard. “I said to go home.”

  Stroking the pup, Greta lifted a silent prayer for Wyatt and Judd’s safety. She’d seen the way Wyatt could shoot, and he claimed he’d learned from Judd, who was even better. Regardless, she didn’t want a gun battle tonight or the chance of anyone getting hurt.

  Brawley released a short laugh. “Reckon if Steele’s willing to give you a loan on a herd of Shorthorns in exchange for you marrying and starting a family, he’d do the same for me.”

  Greta sat up, and her fingers stilled. What had Brawley just said? That Mr. Steele had given Wyatt a loan for cattle in exchange for marrying her?

  She swallowed hard against a sudden tightening in her throat. It couldn’t be true.

  “That ain’t how it is,” Wyatt said.

  “I’d have done the same thing in your place. Might as well get a wife and cattle all in one deal.”

  Deal? The knot inside slipped lower into her stomach and cinched hard. Was that what she really was to Wyatt? A part of some kind of deal?

  Her thoughts returned to the night she’d first met him, how reluctant and nervous he’d been to propose. He mentioned that Mr. Steele had been the one to suggest he approach her. But he never indicated he’d done so to gain the cattle deal.

  “What do you want, Brawley?” Wyatt asked. “Why are you here?”

  “Tell Steele to offer me the same thing.”

  “Go on and ask him yourself.”

  “I did, and he said no.”

  “Then there ain’t nothin’ more to be done.”

  Greta shut her eyes to fight back sudden tears. It all made perfect sense now. The wedding at Mr. Steele’s house. Mr. Steele’s insistence that they share a wedding kiss. Even the kiss that day in the Hotel Windsor when she’d sold her first batch of hand pies to Mr. Fehling. Mr. Steele had all but ordered Wyatt to kiss her, and he’d gone along with it.

  And the news of the baby? Was that why Wyatt hadn’t been more forceful in correcting Mr. Steele’s false assumption? Because Mr. Steele expected him to have a family as part of the bargain?

  Maybe Wyatt’s kisses this past week had been nothing more than his attempt to woo her into bed and get her pregnant. His apology from before—was it part of his selfish scheming?

  Greta pressed a hand against her mouth. She’d easily fallen into Wyatt’s arms just minutes ago and believed he didn’t want to lose Astrid and her after he’d offered to accompany them to Denver. But it had all been a farce, just his way of trying to keep
her so Mr. Steele didn’t cancel his loan.

  What about the wedding band? She fingered it as she had dozens of times since he’d slipped it on. It was exquisite, the most beautiful ring she’d ever seen. She’d thought he’d given it to her because he truly cared. But had it been one more part of a ploy?

  The ache in her heart swelled so swiftly and painfully that it pushed for release. She managed to capture a half groan, half cry in her hand.

  “What’s wrong?” Astrid peered up at Greta.

  Greta could only shake her head and blink back tears. She couldn’t concentrate on the rest of Brawley and Wyatt’s argument—just more of the same threats.

  “First you steal my land.” Brawley’s voice had risen and was taut with anger. “Then you steal my business buying up cattle from the miners. And now you’re stealin’ my right to be the first to bring in a herd.”

  “Ain’t no one stealing nothing from you. Go find your own investor.”

  “Or maybe I oughta do what I’ve been aiming to do all along. Run you out of here.”

  At the clicking of hammers on the guns, Greta tensed. No matter how angry she was at Wyatt, she didn’t want the brawl to end in someone’s death.

  “Go on now.” Wyatt’s voice was low and menacing. “Time for you and your men to be on your way.”

  The silence lengthened until at last the jangle of spurs and harnesses mingled with the thud of horses galloping away.

  When silence settled over the barn and outside corral, Astrid pushed up. “Are we gonna be okay now, Greta?”

  She wanted to nod and assure her sister everything was fine. But the ache in her chest hurt too much and was growing more painful with each passing moment.

  As the barn door swung open and Wyatt stepped inside, he searched the shadows for them, his brows slanted with worry. Astrid stood, drawing his attention. “Are those mean guys gone now, Wyatt? Is it safe for us to come out?”

  “Yep. You’re safe.”

  Greta rose more slowly, and as she stepped forward, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk, at least not without shaking.