Only after they’d parted ways had Greta realized how much she missed female companionship, and the treeless grassland appeared all the more desolate and lonely as she and Wyatt had ridden back to the homestead.

Greta paused in stirring the jam and listened to the silence broken by the low buzz of insects—mostly locusts that flew up with a whirring every time anyone walked near.

“Judd said he’d show me how to ride on Dolly.” Astrid reclined against the doorpost, her legs stretched out in front of her with the horsehair blanket at her side. She’d spent the greater part of the afternoon working on it, and now she was weary and ready for another nap. But she’d insisted on sitting up and waiting for Judd to return.

After the past week and a half, Greta was learning the rhythms of the ranch, and from the lengthening of the shadows, she guessed the men would be back soon. She’d already set grouse to roasting with vegetables from the garden. It had a similar taste and texture to chicken, and the scent of it wafted in the air, mingling with the sweetness of the fruit mixture.

“Maybe you ought to lie down and rest. Then by the time you wake up, he’ll be back.”

Astrid shrugged. “Do you really think he’ll teach me?”

“Judd strikes me as the kind of man who keeps his word. If he said he’ll teach you, then he will.”

Even with the sunlight streaming in through the open window and door, the cabin was dark and shadowed, much gloomier than the wide-open kitchen of her family farmhouse in Illinois. With the close confines and the heat of the stove, the small room was also much hotter, causing her bodice to stick to her back and her skirt to tangle in her legs.

It wasn’t an ideal setup, with little work space and few utensils and pans, but slowly she was getting used to it. Since most days were pleasant and sunny, she tried to be outside as much as possible, praying the sunshine and fresh air would heal Astrid.

Of course, Astrid hadn’t had any trouble adjusting to their new home. For as sick as she’d always been, Astrid’s ability to adapt always amazed Greta. During the many miles of journeying to the West, first by steamboat and then by stagecoach, Astrid had never once complained and had enjoyed each moment to the fullest, even on the bleakest of days.

Greta prayed Astrid would remain flexible and wouldn’t get so attached to the ranch and to Wyatt and Judd that she’d have trouble letting go.

“I love this place,” Astrid said, almost as if she’d read Greta’s thoughts.

“Then you don’t miss home?” Greta blew on the spoon again, then slurped a tiny amount.

“Not a bit. And I hope I never have to go back.”