Chapter 8 #2
Her gaze returned to his, her smile driving the shadows from the room. “I’m glad you think so.” Her lashes lowered to hide her eyes. “I feared you’d think it silly.”
“Not at all.” He gave a low chuckle. “But I must say, I’m in awe of a man who can find those words on the spur of the moment.”
“Ahh. But he didn’t. The author did, and who knows how long he or she labored over getting them right?”
“That’s true. And a relief to know I wouldn’t be expected to come up with such fine words without the help of an author.”
They both grinned.
Something flickered through her eyes and disappeared so quickly he didn’t get the chance to identify it. It might have been surprise.
“Have you forgotten”—her voice dipped so low he leaned closer to hear her—“you have an author? We both do.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Doesn’t the Bible say that Jesus is the author and finisher of our faith?”
“It does. I’ve never thought of it as…well, as being as personal as that. Like the author of a book.”
“Nor have I.”
Their looks went on and on, probing, and, for Nash’s part, finding in her a depth of wisdom and peace. Could she find something similar in him?
She blinked. “It reminds me of a benediction Father uses from time to time. ‘May God go before you to lead you, behind you to protect you, beneath you to support you, and beside you to befriend you.’”
“That’s beautiful. Our ever-present, ever-caring, ever-guiding God.”
Neither of them spoke as peace and blessing filled the air.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“For what?”
“For turning an excerpt from a novel into a spiritual application.”
“You had as much input into that as I did.” He continued without considering his next words. “We make a good team.”
Her eyes widened. Had he said more than he should? More than he had a right to? He was about to apologize when Hawk pushed to his feet, his chair scraping across the floor.
“I’m going to the barn for some shut-eye.” He slipped into his slicker and left the room.
Moisture blew in the door, reminding Nash that it still rained. He turned his ear toward the ceiling. Certainly not as hard as it had been.
He closed his book and stood as well. “Guess it’s time for me to go to bed too.” When had Mr. Bertrand curled up on the floor? And Shorty retired to the cot? Already, he snored. Mr. Zacharius slept on the table as he’d done the previous night.
Nash lay on the floor beside Shorty’s bed. Then realizing the lamp burned, he sat up, checked to see that Addie had settled next to her mother, then turned off the light.
Darkness cloaked the room. The day had been enjoyable, above and beyond any he could bring to mind.
Learning about Addie, being drawn into her observations on life, hearing about her past had all served to give him a growing appreciation for the sort of person she was.
If not for needing to see his horses delivered, he’d enjoy a few more days getting to know her better.
He woke, straining to hear what he found different. The rain had stopped. He should be grateful, but he wasn’t. His time with Addie would be over all too soon.
Shorty groaned and sat up. His feet bumped into Nash.
“It’s morning, and I need to go outside,” he said.
Nash scrambled to his feet and stood aside so the man could limp out.
Cold air filled the room when the door opened and closed.
In the gray light, Nash hurried to get the fire going.
Not wanting to disturb those still sleeping, he lifted the lid and put in kindling as quietly as he could, but impossible to do without a degree of clanging and thudding.
Across the dimly lit room, Addie sat up, yawning and rubbing her eyes.
The squawk of the door signaled Shorty’s return, and Addie hurried out.
Nash ground the coffee beans and dumped them into the coffeepot. The others stirred in various degrees of coming awake, apart from Mrs. Stone who didn’t open her eyes yet moved her hands as if reaching for something.
Addie returned and joined Nash at the stove, holding out her hands to the warmth.
“How is your mother?”
“She tossed about all night, mumbling lots. I woke thinking she talked to me, but I don’t think she was even awake.”
“You’re worried about her.” Offering comfort gave him an excuse to press his hand to her shoulder.
She leaned into his touch. “She’s still a little warm. Nothing like the first night but—” She faced him full on. “I don’t like that she isn’t herself.”
If only he could offer reassurances, but he didn’t know if the woman was exhausted and needing rest or seriously ill. Either way, what could any of them do? “I expect that travel has worn her out.” It was the best he could offer.
“It has.”
He heard the “but” that she didn’t say. He’d best offer her a shift in the direction of her thoughts. “It’s stopped raining.”
“I noticed.” She mixed cornmeal and water in a pot and set it to cook. “How long will it be before we can travel again?”
“I really can’t say.” It would depend on the trail’s condition and how much damage the landslide had done.
The coffee sputtered, and he filled cups for everyone as they waited for the food to cook. The men’s eyes all turned toward the window where Mr. Bertrand peered out.
“Finally, we can move on,” he said.
The man must know there were obstacles to continuing the journey. Nash didn’t bother to point them out.
Steps thudded beyond the door, and Hawk entered. “Coffee’s ready. Good.”
Nash handed him a cup. As Addie dished out the mush, he carried the servings to the table. No one suggested he say grace nor did anyone else offer, so he prayed, thanking God for the end of the rain as well as the food. Silently he also thanked Him for this time learning about Addie.
For several minutes, the only sound came from cutlery against tin or crockery.
Hawk finished and sat back. “I need to check the trail.”
“Enough of delaying. Hitch the horses to the wagon, and let’s be on our way.” Mr. Bertrand almost shouted the words, his voice loud enough to startle Mrs. Stone.
She cried out.
Addie checked on her mother, and then turned to Mr. Bertrand. “Please keep your voice down.”
“Harrumph.”
“We’ll move on as soon as we can. However, the horses can’t fly.”
Another grumpy sound from Mr. Bertrand.
Hawk continued as if he hadn’t heard. “I’ll check on the coach and the trail toward Golden Valley. Nash, will you see how things are in the other direction?”
“Of course.” Never mind that he’d counted on a few more hours of enjoying Addie’s company.
“Let’s go.” Hawk got to his feet and crossed the floor, but Nash didn’t move.
Everyone looked at him, no doubt wondering what had him nailed to the bench.
He pushed his reluctant body upright. “I’ll be back later.”
If his gaze rested longer on Addie than on anyone else…well, it did.
And if he read regret in her eyes…well, he’d believe he did.