He’d been mighty grateful when Steele and a dozen others had offered to form search parties and head out at daybreak, one group heading north toward Alma and another aiming for Buckskin Joe. Wyatt had promised to send word if Astrid came back during the night. And all the ride back to the homestead, he’d prayed she’d be there, that she’d gotten cold and hungry and decided to come home.

But only Judd and Greta had greeted him with disappointment because he was alone. He’d had a hankering to pull Greta into his arms and comfort her right then and there, but he’d been too blamed full of frustration at himself for failing her, for not protecting Astrid, and for not being able to keep their family together the way he should have.

Ahead, the eastern sky was a rust-colored red along the fringes of the mountains where the sun was gaining momentum. Though he hadn’t ever taken Astrid to the hills east of his land, she’d heard him and Judd jawing about that area plenty enough to know what it was like. Maybe she’d gone into the woods where she figured she’d find shelter for herself and the horse.

With the cold nights, miners weren’t prone to roam away from their campfires, and wild animals would wait to forage until the warmer sunshine of daytime. Even so, desperation nagged him worse than a rattler in a woodpile.

Greta was pale and silent behind him as he led the way, riding hard across the pasture. He wanted to reassure her that with everyone searching, they’d find Astrid. But he couldn’t promise her that any more than he could promise her that taking Astrid to the hospital in Denver would help.

The honest truth was that nothin’ was certain. Like Judd said, they lived in a broken world and hardships were a part of life. About the only thing they could do was persevere, stick together, and pray for the good Lord to make them stronger through it.

And even if he was still tempted to throw his hands up and admit defeat—the way Brawley wanted him to—he reckoned he oughta practice some of Judd’s wisdom and stop walking away every time the flies started bitin’.

He tossed another glance over his shoulder to Greta and tried to fight against the old insecurities crowding in—thoughts that she’d be better off without him, that he’d never be able to provide for her the way she needed.

If only he had the know-how on what to do to make things better.

As the sun rose higher and added light to their search, they slowed down and spread out so they could cover more ground. He kept Greta always within his sight, unable to shake the fear that he was losing her and there was nothing he could do to slow down the process.