At the opening of the barn door and the sight of lantern light, she shook off her melancholy and stood. Judd was awake and would need supper. When he’d ridden in from the butchering during the late afternoon, he’d been almost too weary to dismount from his horse. After she explained what had happened with Astrid and where Wyatt had gone, he nodded gravely.

Though he’d wanted to ride out and search, she encouraged him to rest first. He barely made it to the barn before he collapsed into a mound of hay and fell asleep.

Now as he limped toward her, his steps were hurried, his horse saddled and in tow.

She wasn’t about to let him go anywhere without having something to eat. Before he could say good-bye, she picked up the lantern, entered the cabin, and headed straight to the stove, where she’d kept a pan of fish and potatoes on the back burner.

A moment later, the door opened and his uneven steps thumped against the floor. “I’m heading out.”

“No.” She hurriedly scooped a spoonful of potatoes onto a plate. “Sit and have a meal first.”

He hesitated.

She crossed to the table and put the plate down, then returned to the stove and poured him a mug of coffee. When his footsteps resumed and the bench scraped, she breathed out her relief.

“I’ve already made enough extra work for Wyatt.” She brought him the coffee. “I don’t want to cause trouble for you too, not after last night.”

He paused, his spoon halfway to his mouth. His white hair stuck on end and his clean shirt was buttoned haphazardly. And although his forehead was creased with extra worry lines, his eyes regarded her as kindly as always. “Ain’t no trouble.”

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.