“Only tea. No coffee today.” If Judd’s weak brew could be considered coffee. Although the rest of his cooking was passable, Greta had to agree with Wyatt’s nickname for Judd’s watery coffee.

Greta wiped the sweat off her sister’s forehead with the cool rag before she dipped the cloth back into the basin.

Astrid had woken halfway through the night with a fever, accompanied by intermittent sweating and chills. Though Greta had done her best to control the fever, by morning Astrid’s cough had worsened. It was no longer the dry hacking that came and went. This was the dreaded coughing accompanied by the spewing of phlegm. So far the discharge was white without any taint of blood, but nevertheless, Greta was more disappointed than she wanted to admit.

Just last night when kissing Astrid good night, Greta had marveled at the changes just a few days at the ranch had brought about. And she realized how long Astrid had gone without the fever. Weeks. At least since the stagecoach ride across Nebraska.

Astrid hadn’t caught the mountain sickness, not even a little bit. Thankfully, Greta’s dizziness had passed quickly, and she’d been back to herself in no time.

“I’ll add a little more sugar.” Greta rose from the edge of the bed. She wrung the cloth out again, positioned it on Astrid’s forehead, and then crossed to the door. As she stepped into the main room, she stopped short at the sight of Wyatt standing near the table.

He held his hat in his hands and twisted the brim. “Astrid sick this morning?”

Greta gave a weary nod. “She’s having a flare-up. I guess we won’t be able to pick huckleberries today after all.” Last night after dinner, he’d offered again to take her, said he had a few hours free in the morning if she still wanted to go. But she couldn’t leave Astrid today.

“It’s alright. We’ll go some other time.” He shifted his hat first to one hand and then the other. “Should I go after the doc?”

“I wish a doctor could help. But unfortunately, there’s nothing he could do that hasn’t already been tried.”

Wyatt’s brown eyes were almost ebony and overflowed with a compassion that made her chest ache. “Anything I can do?”

“No, there’s nothing to be done except make sure she rests.”

He shifted his hat again.

“I’ve got breakfast ready for you and Judd.” She hurried to the stove, where she’d fried potatoes with several slabs of bacon. The potatoes had come from Judd’s garden, which she’d discovered was enormous and well-tended. He’d told her to help herself to whatever she needed.