“The flowers I picked earlier today all wilted,” came Astrid’s childish voice as she sidled past her sister into the parlor. “But I managed to find these for the wedding. Aren’t they pretty?”

The girl was attired in fresh garments, too, and her hair neatly brushed and plaited. Miss Nilsson had spent as much time cleaning up Astrid as she had herself. And if the girl’s shenanigans were any indication of how things usually went, then Miss Nilsson was nigh on to becoming a saint for her patience.

“What do you think, Mr. McQuaid?” Astrid crossed toward him, holding out the handful of weeds with a few flowering cow parsnip in the bunch.

He gave her plait a gentle tug. “I think it’s mighty sweet of you to be giving your sister flowers, that’s what.”

The compliment earned him one of her impish smiles, one he suspected she’d used to get herself out of trouble plenty of times.

As Miss Nilsson drew farther into the room, Wyatt was suddenly in tune to her every movement in a way he hadn’t been with a woman in a mighty long time, if ever. Each soft step, the quick intake of her breath, a tilt of her head, the way she fingered the pendant against her neck.

He fumbled through introducing her to Reverend Zieber and Judd. For a short while, Reverend Zieber yammered on with both Steele and Miss Nilsson about the stagecoach ride as well as the robbery, before finally getting to the ceremony.

Reverend Zieber led them through Scripture readings and prayers. When he instructed Wyatt to face Miss Nilsson and hold her right hand, Wyatt hesitated to touch her. Thankfully, she offered up her hand, and he situated her fingers within his and then spoke his vows.

A moment later, as Miss Nilsson began to recite her vows, she abruptly stopped. “I take thee—”

Wyatt waited.

“I don’t remember your given name,” she whispered, her cheeks flushing.

“Wyatt,” he whispered back, embarrassment stealing through him, tightening his muscles, and reminding him of the foolishness of so hasty a marriage. They hardly knew anything about each other for crying-in-the-rain. She didn’t even know his first name and was standing here vowing to marry him. Were they making a mistake?

“I take thee, Wyatt, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and obey, till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance: and thereto I give thee my faith.”

The instant she finished, she loosened her hand from his and wrapped it back around the weeds Astrid had given her. Wyatt self-consciously stuffed his hand into his pocket.

“What about a ring?” Reverend Zieber asked under his breath as he leaned in toward Wyatt.