“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?”