“Astrid?” she called as the cold of the cabin enveloped her and sent chills across her skin. She’d shed her garments from last night, and now they sat in a heap next to the bed, the blood splatters turning brown and crusty as they dried. Did she have time to scrub out the blood to prevent staining? She had so few garments and couldn’t abide losing an outfit.

Attired in only her shift, she touched her feet to the cold floorboards and shivered. “Astrid?”

When the little girl didn’t answer, Greta pushed all the way up and shuffled out of the bedroom, her muscles protesting each step. She glanced out the window, expecting to see Astrid with Chase. The chickens roamed the yard, but otherwise it was deserted without a sign of the girl or the pup.

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.