“Not yet.” Wyatt’s handsome face remained a mask of frustration. “But reckon I oughta teach you how to use my rifle.”

“I already know how to shoot. My stepbrothers taught me.”

“You know where I keep my rifle in the barn?”

She nodded. “But I’m sure it won’t come to that.”

“I’m aiming to give you a lesson anyhow, just to make sure.”

“Thank you, Wyatt.” She squeezed his arm again, and this time, he captured her hand in his, threading his fingers through hers.

The intimate contact sent a fluttering of warmth through her. And when he rested their intertwined hands on his thigh, the warmth fanned outward.

Memories of their fishing trip rushed back, heedless of all her attempts over recent weeks to stave them off. With his hand securely wrapped through hers, suddenly all she could think about was how his feathery kisses had felt against her hand.

She had to put them from her mind and couldn’t read more into his hand-holding. They were both just relieved nothing bad had happened. That’s all.

She leaned her head back and tried to simply be content with the moment, sitting with him hand in hand and knowing he cared enough to rush home and check on Astrid and her. For now, that would have to be enough.

“Astrid’s really something else, you know?” He peered down at the child, his eyes brimming with affection.

“Yes, she is.” Greta’s insecurities surfaced as they often did when she thought about trying to be a parent to Astrid. “I’m trying so hard to raise her right, but she’s always taking risks—like today, just jumping in and serving the Indians biscuits.”

“She’s fearless.”

“And often foolish.”

“Maybe that comes from not knowing about her future. I reckon people staring death in the face ain’t afraid of a little danger now and then.”

Ever since Astrid had been a baby, she’d been willful and independent. But with the onset of the consumption, those traits had only seemed to grow more pronounced. Greta was thankful that since coming to the ranch, she had some help reining in the girl’s antics. “You’re good with her. And so is Judd.”

“She’s real easy to love.” Wyatt reached across Greta to stroke Astrid’s hair again.

Greta’s heart softened as it did whenever Wyatt interacted with the little girl. He was always taking the time to answer Astrid’s dozens of questions, allowing her to help, and showing affection for her in a brotherly way, like now.

“Being with her makes me miss my little sis a real lot.” Wyatt’s voice was wistful. “Sure as a gun miss them all.”

“They must miss you too.” How could anyone not miss a man like Wyatt?