His face remained blank.

“For further treatment.”

“Then she’s not getting better?” He glanced away again, clearly distracted.

Greta paused.

He wiped at his eyes.

Was he crying? And if so, why?

“Mr. Hallock? Is something wrong?”

“What?” He blinked rapidly. “No, no, no. Of course not.”

“Are my plans to leave hurting you—?”

“That’s not it at all.”

Was it because of Wyatt? Was Phineas upset she and Wyatt had lived together and grown close? Her throat clogged again just thinking about losing Wyatt.

She twisted her hands together tighter and fought against her longing for Wyatt. She didn’t want to love him. But the simple truth was that she did. She loved Wyatt McQuaid, and the need for him welled up so strong and hard she could barely breathe.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hallock.” She couldn’t go through with marrying Phineas. It wouldn’t be fair to be with him when she was in love with another man, even if he was a man she couldn’t have. “If I’d known you were still alive, I never would have married Wyatt, never would have allowed myself to care for him. I know it must hurt to think about me being with him—”

“That’s not what’s bothering me.”

“It’s not?”

“No, no, no. Indeed not. Wyatt’s a good man for his willingness to take care of you in my stead.” He removed his handkerchief from his vest and blew his nose, the noise loud enough to catch the attention of people passing by.

“What is it then, Mr. Hallock?”

He tucked the cloth back into his pocket and stared at the stagecoach for a long moment before he dropped his head. “It’s nothing, Miss Nilsson. Nothing at all. We shall get married as planned.”

Chapter 27

Wyatt’s boots slapped against the plank sidewalk as he exited the general store. At the sight of Greta’s horse still tied outside Hotel Windsor, his hands closed into fists. The thought of her sitting with Hallock made him so mad he wanted to knock someone or something into next week.

He’d gone out to the mining camp, sold the beef, then come back into town. And she was still yammering away with Hallock. He had half a mind to go over and interrupt them.

Halting at the edge of the sidewalk, he glanced in the direction of Steele’s house. He’d put off going for as long as possible. The thirty minutes had turned into close to an hour, and Steele was sure to be blazing mad at him by now.

Yet at the prospect of meeting with Steele, past insecurities rolled through him like tumbleweed blowing down the street, tempting him to turn tail and run off after the next big dream.