Chapter 1
One
“Whoa! Whoa!”
The stagecoach rocked and rattled at the driver’s frantic call.
Now what? Addie kept the words inside her mouth.
She reached out her arm to steady Mother Stone.
They’d been delayed with an injured horse, and now this rain was slowing them down.
Addie wanted to get to their destination and bury herself in the work she did helping the Stones.
How else could she find purpose and satisfaction?
The older woman, who’d been mother to Addie these past eight years, blinked awake. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t—”
The door jerked open, cutting off her reply. The coach tipped as a man stepped aboard. Water dripped from his soaked clothing, ran off his hat brim, and puddled on the floor.
Addie shifted her feet aside and turned her knees to avoid getting wet.
“Sorry, folks, but I need a ride.” Rain blew in the open door, dampening the air and Addie’s clothes.
“Close the door.” The wizened man across the narrow aisle who continually wheezed, coughed, and mopped his brow coughed. “We’ll all catch the death of a cold.” His words choked off as he gasped for breath.
Although she’d steeled herself to hide her thoughts and kept her face expressionless, Addie wondered if it wasn’t too late for the elderly man, who had introduced himself as Zeke Zacharius, to worry about the effects of the damp weather on his health.
The newcomer pulled the door closed. Cold air from the curtained windows continued to chill them.
The other passenger—a portly man who seemed full of his own importance—huffed. “Where do you expect to sit?” Mr. Bertrand spread his bulk across a large portion of the seat.
The newcomer removed his hat. He eyed the bench Addie and Mother Stone shared. Addie resisted the urge to spread herself wider as Mr. Bertrand had done. She lifted her gaze to the man and bit back a gasp.
His eyes were the most startling color. Silvery greenish blue.
Like sunshine reflecting on dancing water.
So unusual a color that she stared. Her cheeks warmed at her unblinking interest, and she tore her gaze away.
He was a young man with hair as black as coal and the garb of a cowboy.
Or did she mean rancher? Because he looked better off than most of the cowboys she’d encountered, his coat without tears, his boots in good condition, and—well, he simply looked well clothed.
Mother Stone slid to Addie’s side. “We’ll make room.”
“Thank you, ma’am, but I am wet enough to soak a badger. I’ll sit on the floor.” He lowered himself at Addie’s feet. She edged closer to Mother Stone to avoid contact with the man.
“Who be you? And what brings you out in this downpour?” Mr. Bertrand’s tone suggested the man must be crazy.
“Howdy, everyone. Name’s Nash Burns.”
One by one, the travelers gave their names.
He favored them all with a slight tip of his head and a curving of his mouth.
And a flash of silver-tinted eyes. “I’m on my way back to my ranch.
My horse came up lame.” His shoulders rose and fell.
“The stagecoach will get me closer to home.” An airy snort passed his lips.
“Faster than walking.” He returned his hat to his head and leaned back.
A weary silence filled the coach. Well, apart from the rattle of something in the boot, the creak of the wheels, and the clopping of six horses’ hooves in mud.
Would it ever stop raining? Addie sat back and tried to relax, which was impossible given the tightness of the quarters and weariness of her bones.
The coach jolted and stopped. It tipped as the driver got down.
All eyes followed the sound of the unseen man as he muttered to himself, then pulled open the door, forcing Nash to edge forward. “Folks, this here is as far as we go.”
Before he could say more, Mr. Bertrand growled, “I paid to get to Golden Valley.”
“Road’s washed out. Coach is stuck in mud to my ankles. But if ya wanna walk the rest of the way, go ahead. Be warned, water’s pouring off the mountainside. Guessing you’re prepared to swim part of the way.” The driver, known only as Hawk, turned to the others.
Mr. Bertrand harrumphed and muttered under his breath.
“You’ll all be more comfortable in the way station. Grab what ya can carry and follow me as soon as I get the horses unhitched.”
Before anyone asked any questions, Hawk was gone.
“I’ll help.” The coach bounced, jerking Addie’s aching neck as Nash jumped down and followed him.
“Well, I’ll certainly have something to say to the owners of this company. Imagine—”
Mother Stone cut off Mr. Bertrand’s complaints. “What we can carry? What does that mean?” She peered out the window. “I don’t see anything but rain. How far do we have to walk?”
“Here, Mother. We’ll take our satchels.” Addie handed one to Mother and clasped the other in her lap.
All they had in them were a few essentials, such as what they’d need for an overnight stay.
They’d already spent a night in one of the way stations.
She shuddered at the memory. She and Mother had shared a thin pallet on one side of the room while the men spent the night on the other side.
The proprietor took the single cot in a tiny alcove.
Addie didn’t object to the meager offerings.
After all, along with Mother Stone and Preacher Stone, she had embraced a life of simplicity, sharing everything they had with those less fortunate.
There was comfort in owning little. It tempted no one to consider robbing them.
A shiver sneaked across her shoulders, and it wasn’t solely because of the cold.
Mr. Bertrand’s never-ending complaints drew her attention back to the present. Mr. Zacharius coughed. The man was obviously unwell. Why was he traveling to Golden Valley? No amount of gold was going to cure his illness.
Nash Burns opened the door. “Folks, let’s go. We’ll soon reach shelter.” He held out his hand to assist Addie to the muddy ground.
She grasped it, startled by the jolt that ran up her arm. Then she turned to help Mother Stone. On the muddy ground, the older woman clung to Addie’s arm.
Mr. Zacharius gripped Nash’s hand as he wheezed from the coach.
Mr. Bertrand hovered at the door. “I demand my money back. I didn’t pay for this…this.”
Nash chuckled. “Sir, if you could buy rain or pay for sunshine, people’ll line up for your services.
With a harrumph, the man stepped down. “Mud will ruin my shoes.”
“Follow me.” Nash headed away.
Through the curtain of rain, the shape of the horses ahead indicated the direction they should go. Then, the animals disappeared in the deluge. She hunched her shoulders and shivered in her dripping coat. Please, God, keep us safe.
Rain slashed against her cheeks. Water trickled from her elbows and hair. Mud stuck to her shoes until she struggled under the weight of it. Mother Stone’s grip grew heavy on Addie’s arm. She took Mother’s valise and carried it.
Nash glanced over his shoulder. His gaze flickered over Addie and Mother Stone and past them to the two men behind, one wheezing and coughing, the other muttering and complaining.
“How much farther do we have to go? This is unacceptable.”
“You’re welcome to stay in the coach.” Nash’s comment revealed a do-as-you-like attitude.
“Harrumph.”
“Please.” Mother Stone spoke softly, weariness sucking at her strength. “How far?”
“We’ll soon be there,” Nash spoke with patience.
He hadn’t, however, said how far. Addie plodded along in his wake, each step growing increasingly difficult.
Behind her, Mr. Zacharius’s wheezing competed with the pounding rain.
Mother stumbled. Or, more accurately, folded.
Addie leaned over to grasp her arms. “Here. Let me help you.”
“I’ll be fine. I just need a moment.”
Addie barely made out the weak words.
“Let me.” Nash eased Addie aside and scooped Mother from the mud. “Let’s keep moving although”—he chuckled—“I doubt we can get any wetter.”
“I can walk.” Mother meant to sound strong, but her whisper lacked proof.
“I’m sure you can.” But the man strode onward without putting Mother on her feet.
Addie hurried after him. Mother was so weak. Was it her age? The effects of travel? Or something more insidious? Surely, once they reached Golden Valley and got settled, she’d rally especially if Addie convinced her to eat better and rest more.
She paused to catch her breath and tried to shake mud from her feet. Mr. Zacharius bumped into her, and she moved onward. How far did they have to struggle through the rain and mud?
“Here we are.” Nash’s announcement drew her attention to the low building before them, its shape barely visible in the curtain of rain.
No doubt it would be as unwelcoming as the previous way stations they’d encountered, offering little in the way of comfort.
But at least they’d be out of the weather.
Nash’s boots thudded on the wooden step. He pushed open the door.
Addie followed. If she got Mother comfortable and something warm into her stomach—
“Howdy!” Nash’s call echoed in the stillness of the shadowed room. “Anyone here?”
No one answered.
Mr. Bertrand edged past Addie. “This is unacceptable.”
Did he mean the surroundings? The weather? Or life in general?
“We’re out of the rain.” Nash’s patient answer might have carried a touch of annoyance. He crossed to a chair by the stove and deposited Mother. “I’ll get the fire going.” Obviously, he spoke to Mother.
“You’re very kind.” Mother patted Nash’s hand.
“My mother raised me to think of others.”
Addie knew from experience that Mother’s sweet smile would feel like a blessing. The older woman had a way of reading people, seeing the good things about them, and encouraging them to be better people all without speaking a word.