Chapter 5 #2
“I’m so sorry.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. The Stones would be shocked at her indiscretion of falling asleep next to a man she wasn’t married to. Heat stung her cheeks, and she pulled her limbs tight to her body. “You should have wakened me.”
Nash coiled his fingers to stop himself from reaching for Addie.
He’d known the moment her head drifted against his shoulder that she’d fallen asleep.
Yes, it crossed his mind to wake her. But it had been a long day, and he’d let her enjoy a few minutes of rest. And then he, too, had fallen asleep, not waking until she jerked and gasped with the realization of her position.
“I nodded off too,” he said by way of explanation.
Addie turned toward Mrs. Stone. “I should have been taking care of her.” She pressed her palm to the older woman’s forehead. “Still fevered but not like as much.”
“That’s good.” He pushed to his feet, stretched to ease the cramping of his limbs, and returned to Shorty’s bedside.
The hard floor punched into his back as he lay down. He shouldn’t have let Addie sleep on his shoulder. Not that he regretted it. She’d fit so well. And he’d been reluctant to let her go.
He lifted his head. She lay beside Mrs. Stone, sharing the fur rug. Good. At least she’d be somewhat comfortable. No need for the lamp. He rose, turned it out, and returned to the unwelcoming place near Shorty.
Rain continued to pound on the roof. How long would they be stranded here? He smiled into the darkness. Not that he minded. Once they moved on, he and Addie wouldn’t share the same degree of…of…friendship, he decided to call what they had here.
Mr. Bertrand called, “How long do I have to put up with this?”
Nash opened his eyes. Watery light barely made it through the window.
“It’s still raining,” Mr. Bertrand accused. Did he expect someone to have the power to make it stop?
Ignoring the demanding man, Nash looked toward the women. Addie sat up slowly, blinking away sleep. Her gaze found Nash. Her eyes grew wide and watchful. And perhaps welcoming, though that might have been his own wishes.
She turned her attention to Mrs. Stone. “How are you feeling, Mother?”
“Tired.”
Addie held a cup of water to Mrs. Stone’s lips. “It’s still raining. You have nothing to do but rest.” She headed for the door.
Seeing her intent, Nash scooped the slicker from the hook and draped it around her shoulders.
“Thank you.” Her dark-eyed gaze held his for a moment, and then she hurried outside.
He turned slowly away from the door. “How are you feeling, Shorty?”
“I would like to get up if you could be so kind as to hand me my clothes.” He nodded toward the items hanging from nails near his bed.
“Are you sure? You have a bad cut on your leg.”
“I also have bruises up and down my body, but I am not lying in bed half naked.” He sat up. He paled and grunted as he half lifted, half dragged his leg from the bed.
At least the bandage didn’t show fresh blood. Nash handed the items of clothing to Shorty and remained nearby should the man need assistance.
By the time Addie returned, shaking water from the slicker before she hung it back on the peg, Shorty wore clothes and a pinched look.
“Shorty, what are you doing?” Addie rushed across the room.
Shorty held up a hand. “It is best if I get up. I do not want to get stiff.” He perched on the side of the bed, making no move toward going further.
Addie stopped, studied Shorty, and then gave Nash a quizzical look.
He shrugged. “He’s determined.”
She nodded. “At least Mother is doing better.”
Mr. Zacharius coughed and blew his nose several times while Mr. Bertrand continued to grumble.
“I’ll see about breakfast.” She crossed to the kitchen area.
Nash followed her to the cupboard, where they shared a grin at Mr. Bertrand’s steady criticisms.
“Is there makings for coffee?” she asked.
“I believe there is.” He located the coffee grinder and coffee beans while she measured out cornmeal and water and set it on the hot stove to cook.
“How long do you think we’ll be here?” She stirred the mush.
“We can’t move until it stops raining and the trail is cleared.”
“I’ll need to look at making more meals.”
“Did you find the bottled meat?” Shorty called.
“I did not.” She looked toward Nash, her eyebrows rising.
He shook his head. He’d not seen any meat.
“If you look in that cupboard, you will find it.” They followed the direction Shorty pointed.
Addie knelt to pull out an assortment of battered pots, a cracked bowl, and—“Right in the very back.” She emerged with two jars. “I can make stew.”
Hawk strode in and shrugged out of his slicker. “How did everyone sleep?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I slept well.” He stood before the stove, holding his hands out toward the heat. “We’re socked in. Not even an inch of blue sky to be seen.”
The coffee sputtered. Nash moved it aside, let the grounds settle, and then found cups of various sorts.
Two chipped china cups with dainty handles.
He shuddered at the thought of some rough-and-tough cowboy holding those delicate things.
There were three tin mugs. Two small canning jars would serve as cups.
Filling all the containers emptied the pot.
He offered a teacup to Mrs. Stone.
She barely opened her eyes as he spoke her name.
Addie would have to help her mother. Nash left the teacups on the edge of the table where she could reach them. Then he placed the rest of the hot drinks before the men and went to assist Addie as she served the cornmeal mush.
“You will find molasses in the cupboard.” Shorty indicated the one to the left, taking in a sharp breath as he raised his arm.
Using an assortment of plates and bowls, Nash handed out the morning food.
Addie put her plate and Mrs. Stone’s nearby, helped the older woman sit and eased her around until she rested against the wall. Addie looked expectantly at Nash.
What did she want? And then he nodded. “I’ll say grace.” He bowed his head and asked God’s blessing on His provisions. “And an end to the rain, please.” Several of the others echoed his amen, the loudest one from Mr. Bertrand.
Addie balanced the bowl on Mrs. Stone’s legs. She watched her mother as she ate a portion of her own food. But the spoon remained at the side of the bowl.
“Mother, you need to eat in order to get your strength back.” Although her tone remained gentle, a touch of urgency quickened her words.
When Mrs. Stone made no move toward picking up her spoon, Addie took it, scooped up mush, and lifted it toward her mother’s mouth.
Mrs. Stone barely parted her lips. Addie managed to get little more than a taste into the woman’s mouth.
“Mother, please, you need to eat.”
“I’m too tired.” She sank back on the furs, pulling the blanket to her chin. “Let me rest.”
Worry lines crinkled Addie’s forehead. She pressed her hand to her mother’s brow and sucked in her lower lip.
Nash’s eyebrows rose in silent question. Was she worse?
Addie shook her head. Did she mean Mrs. Stone’s fever had risen? Or that she improved? Wanting to be sure, he began to rise.
“She’s no worse.” Addie gave reluctant attention to her own food. Her bowl was empty, and she sipped her coffee.
If only Nash could encourage her. Maybe he could divert her with conversation.
“Mr. Bertrand,” he began. “What takes you to Golden Valley?”
“I expected the stagecoach to.”
At his unexpected answer, Nash shared a quick grin with Addie.
Mr. Bertrand sent Hawk a hard look, which made no impression on the other man. He simply pushed his empty bowl away and cupped his mug between his palms. Perhaps hoping to signal that nothing could be done about the weather.
Mr. Bertrand released a less-than-patient sigh. “I have business to attend to. In a timely fashion.”
Nash didn’t respond. Everyone had business of one sort or the other to conduct, and no doubt, each of them believed theirs to be of utmost importance.
Mr. Zacharius coughed. Quieted it with a sip of coffee before he spoke. “I’m joining my son. He has a gold mine that I mean to help him with.”
Hawk eyed Mr. Zacharius. Although he didn’t speak, Nash read his assessment. The wheezing man was in no condition to stand in the river and pan for gold or even to help with a sluice. Hawk’s gaze connected briefly to Nash’s, but neither of them voiced their conclusion.
Mr. Bertrand shifted his attention to Mrs. Stone and Addie. “The goldfield hardly seems the place for two ladies.”
Addie sat up tall and squared her shoulders. “Our ministrations are needed wherever people gather. We’ll take the gospel to those who need it and tend the sick and less fortunate.”
Mr. Bertrand made a dismissive sound. “Your charity is wasted.”
With a toss of her head that flipped strands of blonde hair across her cheek, she turned away. “Good deeds are never wasted.” She gathered up the dishes and carried them to the cupboard, where she poured hot water from the kettle, sloshing it over the dishes in the basin.
Mrs. Stone didn’t move from her rest, but five pairs of eyes followed Addie’s movements.
Hawk stood. “I’ll check on the stock.”
“I will assist you.” Shorty took one step, groaned, and sank down. “Perhaps I will go out later.”
Nash joined Addie at the cupboard. “Don’t let Mr. Bertrand’s comments disturb you. He’s so full of his own importance that he has no concern for anyone else.”
“He doesn’t bother me.” Her laugh was more snort than amusement. “Though I admit I don’t care to hear peoples’ ill-informed judgment.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Mr. Zacharius doesn’t look strong enough to pan for gold.”
“Let’s hope his son is prepared to give him a warm place to rest.”
She washed a dish. He dried it and placed it in the cupboard. The last spoon had been put away when a crash rattled the dishes.
Addie gasped. Shorty pushed to his feet and stood there wobbling. Mr. Bertrand grunted. “Sounds like the place is falling down.”
Nash glanced upward. The ceiling appeared to be in place. But something had happened.
He grabbed his hat and hurried out into the rain.