“I’m sure we will.” Greta hoped someday Astrid would get well enough so she could attend school. In Illinois, the girl’s illness had prevented her from going, and Greta had taken to teaching her at home during the winter months when she had more time to devote to it. But maybe things would be different here. She couldn’t give up hope yet, could she? “I guess we’ll know more in the spring.”

Mr. Steele’s countenance brightened. “Then does that mean what I think it does?”

“Of course,” Greta said, even as Wyatt cleared his throat.

The older gentleman’s smile widened. “I’m so pleased to hear the news, and my wife will be doubly so. Maybe she’ll be here to help you by the time the baby arrives.”

Baby? Greta’s smile froze in place. Did Mr. Steele think she was expecting a baby? What had she said to give him that impression?

Again Wyatt cleared his throat. “Hold on a minute, Steele—”

“You’re having a baby?” Astrid interrupted, her eyes clear and full of life in a way they hadn’t been in weeks. She clapped and spun. “I’m going to have a niece or nephew. A brand-new baby!”

Mr. Fehling, the proprietor of Hotel Windsor, stepped out of the door of his establishment, wiping his hands on his apron and grinning from ear to ear. “Mrs. McQuaid is having a baby? How thrilling. The wee one’ll have the honor of being the first baby born in Fairplay.”

Several more passersby stopped to slap Wyatt on the back and offer Greta congratulations. As they did so, she couldn’t seem to stop the current that was dragging her along. Though she made a few attempts to correct the misunderstanding, as did Wyatt, she felt as though she was grasping at a riverbank trying to find solid footing but was being carried too rapidly to change her course.

By the time they finished selling her goods to Mr. Fehling, word of her expecting a baby had spread to nearly all her patrons. She was downright mortified and had no idea how to explain she wasn’t pregnant. She couldn’t very well stand in the middle of Main Street and announce she wasn’t with child because she and Wyatt had barely shared kisses, much less the marriage bed.

Wyatt’s face was pale and taut by the time they made their way to the livery, and he seemed to be having as much trouble as she was in figuring out how to row upstream against the current.

“Hold on there, McQuaid.” Captain Jim hurried down the sidewalk toward them.

Greta braced herself for more congratulations. But Captain Jim didn’t make any mention of the baby and instead handed Wyatt a letter. “Came with freighters from Denver a few days ago.”