Chapter 5
Five
Panic clawed at Addie. What if Mother died? The Stones were all she had in this world.
Nash’s hands covered Addie’s as he helped her press Mother to the bed. Then he grabbed the basin of water and hurried to the pail. “Here’s cold water.” He set the basin at Addie’s side. “I’ll fill the bucket.” Pausing only long enough to borrow Shorty’s slicker, he stepped outside.
Rain continued to descend, and moist air raced across the floor. The door clicked shut, sealing Addie alone in the cabin. Not alone. She didn’t mean that. With Nash’s departure, all his support vanished. Not that she needed it.
I know what to do. Try and lower Mother’s fever.
Addie’s teeth chattered as she sponged Mother. The cloth grew warm as fast as she cooled it in the water. The water also grew warm. Mother continued to thrash about and mumble.
The door opened, and Nash returned. He put the bucket down nearby. “Any change?”
“No.” The word sounded like a wail.
“What can I do to help?”
“I believe I’m doing all I can.” It wasn’t enough. If only she had the fever tea from the trunk.
Nash stood. “I remember one old cowboy telling me that a man should always carry some form of alcohol with him. A way to clean a wound.”
“Like Hawk did.” Why did he talk about that now?
“Also to treat fevers.”
“Mother would never let alcohol pass her lips.” She shuddered even to think of it.
“Not like that. Add it to the water you are washing her with. It evaporates quicker.” He squatted beside Addie. “Do you want to try it?”
Could it help? “I have nothing to lose.”
Nash retrieved the bottle from the cupboard and poured a goodly amount into the basin. The fumes wafted over them.
“Mother will not be pleased to know she smells like a drunk.” Addie snorted a laugh. “She would be appalled. But if it helps…” She dipped the cloth and resumed sponging. Over and over, she dipped the cloth into the water.
Nash added cold water and more alcohol to the basin.
The night hours passed. Mother seemed less restless. Had her fever lowered? Addie couldn’t say for certain.
Nash continued to sit at Addie’s side. She welcomed his company. His talk kept her thoughts from venturing down an unwelcome path.
“I don’t know how Ma found the ranch we went to.” He put more wood in the stove and then returned. “Gib Jarvis is a good man. He gave Ma a job running his house, and he taught me about ranching, about cows, and especially, about working hard to get what you had.”
“You’ve mentioned that a few times.”
“What?”
“About hard work.” There’d been more than that in his words. “Honest work.”
“It’s something I firmly believe in. There are no shortcuts to success.”
“I can’t argue with that. The Bible has much to say about the evil of greed and envy. Sometimes, the innocent are hurt by someone else’s greed. But never mind that. Tell me more about this Mr. Jarvis. He sounds like a wonderful man.” Please keep talking. Keep distracting me.
“He is. At first, I helped around the yard. He showed me how to care for the animals. How to recognize illness and injury. He gave me a horse and taught me to rope.”
Caught up in Nash’s affection, Addie let her hands grow idle.
“The next spring, he took me with him on a roundup. And he paid me just as he paid the other men.” The words grew thick. “He didn’t have to, but he did. I saved every penny.”
“And bought yourself land.”
“Yup.”
She resumed tending to Mother.
“He even paid Ma, which he didn’t have to, seeing as he provided us with a home.”
“It appears we both can be grateful for the new places God gave us.” He couldn’t begin to understand how much the Stones had influenced her life. She might have grown into a bitter woman without their gentle guidance.
Mother drew in a deep sigh.
Addie stroked her brow. “I do believe she’s resting. The whiskey has worked to ease her fever. Praise God. And thank you for that suggestion.”
“You’re welcome. Only the credit belongs to Tiny.”
“Tiny?” What or who could he mean?
“An old cowboy who told me about using alcohol to ease a fever. Applied externally, not internally.” Nash’s wide eyes might be an attempt to convince her he was serious as a Sunday sermon, but at the twitch of his lips, she chuckled.
“Of course. Tiny is an unusual name.” Maybe that would prompt him to talk more about his life, about the cowboys he encountered, and—well, everything.
“Yeah. Tiny was—” He paused as if to consider her words. “Not tiny.” Again, that wide-eyed innocence and the twitching of mouth.
“Do tell.”
“A mountain of a man. And strong. I saw him lift a wagon right off the ground so the wheel could be replaced.”
She shivered. “I might have found him frightening.” A man of that size and strength could crush a smaller person.
“You wouldn’t need to. He was as gentle as a lamb.” He nodded, his smile genuine. “A good person.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” She shifted to better study the man beside her. “I always considered cowboys rough and tough. Yet, you talk about Tiny and Mr. Jarvis as if they are—”
“Many of the cowboys I’ve known were indeed rough and tough.
Their life demands they be so. It’s true some are also cruel and unprincipled.
But many are kind and tender. I’ve been fortunate to know more than my share of the latter.
” The lamplight flickered in his eyes as he stared at her.
Only he seemed to be seeing something in the distance.
Or in his past. Then he blinked, and his gaze focused on her.
“Gib didn’t allow cruel men to work for him.
And he expected an honest day’s labor for an honest day’s pay. ”
“Seems like you’ve made that philosophy the motto of your life.”
“What?” He blinked. “Oh, you mean about honest gain?” He didn’t wait for her answering nod before he hurried on. “I guess I have.”
Was there a story behind the decision? Or—“Did this Gib man teach you that?”
Another surprised blink. “I decided it on my own, though Gib’s behavior reinforced it as the best way to be.”
Addie checked Mother’s forehead. Warm but not hot. She settled back beside Nash. “I do believe she’s on the mend. Praise God. But I’ll watch for a little longer to be certain.”
“I’ll keep you company. If you don’t object.”
“I don’t.” She welcomed it. There wasn’t room to stretch out their legs. Nash drew his knees up, and she turned her legs to one side. “Do you have a house on your ranch?”
Or did he sleep in a tent? Perhaps a crude structure.
“I have a two-room log cabin. Its loft can be used for both sleeping and storage. The bedroom holds a wide bed that’s covered with a quilt Ma made me.
I have two armchairs in the living area.
I made my own table out of a slab of wood.
It isn’t a perfect circle. I preferred to keep the shape of the tree.
I think you’d find the place warm and cozy. ”
“I’d like to see it.”
“Perhaps we can arrange a visit after you’re settled in Golden Valley.”
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to invite myself.”
“But would you truly like to see my ranch?” Hesitation slowed his words. Perhaps he didn’t consider it appropriate for a preacher’s adopted daughter to visit. She knew little about him but enough to believe him an honorable, upright man.
“I truly would. And I’m sure Preacher Stone would approve.” The preacher would have heard any unsavory information regarding Nash. And he’d arrange a suitable escort.
“Then I’ll make arrangements.” He chuckled, the sound low and deep. “I look forward to it.”
“As do I.” She seldom welcomed interest from a man. Nor did any man give her more than a dismissive glance. After all, she was a plain-looking, plain-dressing spinster. Not that he’d offered to court her. Simply to show her the ranch he was so proud of. Nor did she expect anything more.
“Tell me more about what you and the Stones do.”
Comfortable with that topic, she talked about the churches the preacher had started and the other work they’d done. “An epidemic raged last fall.” She shuddered. “So many died despite us doing everything possible to help the poor victims.”
“I’m sorry. No doubt you’ve witnessed many things you wish you hadn’t.”
“I have.” Her closed-off throat strangled the words.
“Do you care to talk about it?”
“I—” The Stones were stoic about the awful things they dealt with, seeming to push them aside. The few times Addie had said anything about the loss and pain she witnessed, Mother had patted her hand and said, “Life and death are in God’s hands. We cannot question His ways.”
She repeated the words to Nash. “I don’t mean to question Him, but—” A shiver rippled over her, and her closing throat fought the admission. “I held a tiny baby as it drew a last breath.”
Nash cupped his hand over hers. He might be a stranger, but his presence provided a rock of comfort, and she turned her fingers into his warm, strong palm.
Things she had never been able to talk about poured from her. The children she’d helped. The injured she’d tended. The sick who died as she helplessly sat with them, offering what care and comfort she could.
His grip held firm.
Her confession ended. How long had she talked? And through it all, Nash had made comforting sounds. She felt empty inside, but in a good way as if garbage and debris had been tossed out.
With a satisfied sigh, she tipped her head back against the wall. “I didn’t mean to say all that. But once I got started…” She hadn’t been able to stop.
“I don’t mind. It sounds like you’ve seen some hard things.”
If he only knew that she hadn’t even mentioned the hardest.
“Maybe,” he continued, “a visit to my ranch would give you a restful time away from your responsibilities. You can sit on the veranda and look out at the mountains and flowers.”
How inviting that sounded. She closed her eyes and pictured the scene she would see.
She opened her eyes. Where was she? Why this warmth beneath her cheek? Oh no! She jerked upright, staring into Nash’s soft and watchful eyes.