Greta closed her eyes, wanting to give in to the temptation to let the drowning waters take her wherever they would. But as Astrid started to cough, Greta pushed aside her own woes. She had too much responsibility to wallow in self-pity.

She needed to keep fighting for Astrid’s sake.

Patting her sister’s back and encouraging her to breathe through the coughing, Greta watched as the rain tapered away and the sky lightened, cringing at what Mr. McQuaid must think of Astrid’s coughing. The constant hacking sound could get annoying after a while—at least that’s what her sisters-in-law had said.

Thankfully, Mr. McQuaid didn’t seem to mind and even asked if there was any way he might be of aid to Astrid. When the rain completely stopped, he ventured out. He came back a minute later to let them know the storm was over and they could walk back to town.

He assisted both Astrid and her down to level ground. Though wet with puddles, the path along the river was manageable. Astrid, still coughing slightly, skipped ahead. She stopped now and then to pick up a rock, examine it, and ask Mr. McQuaid if it was gold.

By the time they climbed the ravine and were nearing the miners’ tents and cabins at the edge of town, Greta knew what she had to do.

She slowed her footsteps. “Mr. McQuaid, does your proposal from earlier still stand?”

He halted and looked at her intently.

Her feet were soaked through her boots and the wet leather rubbed against one of her big toes, forming a blister. Her skirt was damp and tangling in her legs. And her hair was loose and matted from the rain. “You’re seeing me at my worst. And you’ve experienced Astrid with her coughing. At least you know honestly what you’re getting.”

He hesitated. Behind him, the sky above the mountain range was laced with hues of lavender, rose, and lily of the valley, with a few remaining dark clouds to frame the work of art. The storm had moved to the southeast, the dark clouds still flashing lightning in the distance.

“It’s okay if you changed your mind.” She started forward, picking up her pace through the grassy path. “I understand that I might not be what you were looking for.”

“No, that ain’t it.” He easily caught up and matched his stride to hers. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Mr. Steele was right when he said you’re a very sweet woman.”

This time she stopped abruptly. “Mr. Steele thought I was sweet?”

Mr. McQuaid nodded, his expression earnest. “And he figured you and Astrid would be safe with me.”

Mr. McQuaid had proven himself to be a hero. If she had to marry a stranger, she’d likely find no better man than this handsome rancher.