Chapter 9
Nine
Addie stared at her empty bowl. Of course, Nash needed to help Hawk.
“The sooner they fix whatever is the matter, the sooner we can resume travel.” Mr. Bertrand pointed out the unnecessary.
Addie knew it as well as any of them. Still, the room held hollow places with Nash gone. He’d be back. But she found no comfort in the words.
A weary sigh breathed past her lips as she gathered up the dishes and carried them to the basin.
She washed every item carefully. No one offered to dry them for her.
Not that she needed help or even wanted it.
All too soon, every dish had been washed and dried.
The towel hung by the stove, folded precisely.
How could she pass the day? She faced the room. Shorty rocked back and forth on his feet as he looked out the window. “I should be out there.”
“Your leg isn’t up to it,” she pointed out.
“I know.”
Was he worried about his injuries or anxious to have his place to himself again?
Mother called out. Addie gave her water before she fell asleep again. Surely, she had improved.
Addie could listen to Mr. Bertrand complain, Mr. Zacharius wheeze and cough while Shorty sighed and shuffled at the window, or she could return to her book.
She sat on the floor and opened the pages.
But the story that had intrigued her yesterday no longer did.
The spot beside her where Nash had sat as he read held nothing but cold air.
Somehow, that made it impossible to concentrate.
How silly! Her whole world didn’t depend on him.
She forced her attention to the words and doggedly read.
Later, she glanced up at the clock. Only twenty minutes had passed. It was going to be a very long day.
Page after page, she read. She got up several times to offer Mother water.
“Where are we?” Mother asked. Finally, she wakened enough to put a sensible sentence together.
“Our stagecoach got stuck. Remember?” Addie brushed her hand over Mother’s forehead. Either she was still fevered, or the room was too warm though no one complained.
“Vaguely. How long have we been here?”
“This is our third day. But the rain has stopped, and there are men checking to see when we can move on.”
Mother sipped water. She closed her eyes. “I’m very tired.”
“You rest.” Addie sat back. Mother had occasionally given into exhaustion in the past and stayed abed until she felt better. But not this long. Of course, she hadn’t been able to rest while they traveled.
The ticking clock reminded Addie that the morning had passed, and no one else had offered to make dinner. That task fell to her.
She opened the cupboards.
Shorty joined her. “I know everyone expects to eat.” He sounded like hunger was unacceptable.
This drew Addie’s lips upward. “I can make potato soup.”
“That sounds like a fine idea.” His eyes brightened.
“How did you learn to cook?” She chopped an onion and put it to brown as she peeled potatoes.
“It was either learn or starve. A good neighbor to the south where I used to live was kind enough to give me lessons. She bottled the meat for me.”
Listening to Shorty helped pass the time.
Addie’s gaze slid past him to the window. When would Nash return?
The onions gave off a savory scent. She chopped the potatoes and added them along with enough water to make a sufficient amount of soup.
In Shorty’s cupboard, she found an assortment of spices and added a touch of rosemary and thyme.
When the potatoes were cooked, she mashed them, leaving the soup lumpy.
She liked a little texture though she knew some preferred it smooth.
The meal was ready. Should they wait for Nash and Hawk?
Shorty leaned over the pot and sniffed. “It smells quite good. Is it ready?”
“It is.” She filled bowls for them and left enough for Nash and Hawk. There’d be enough for Mother, too, if she could be persuaded to take some.
Joining the men at the table, Addie glanced around. “Who is going to ask the blessing?”
Mr. Bertrand’s grunt gave his answer.
Mr. Zacharius managed a wheeze.
That left Shorty. If he refused, Addie would do it, but she’d prefer he did.
He cleared his throat. “I remember a grace I heard many years ago.” He bowed his head. “God is great. God is good. Let us thank Him for this food. Amen.”
“Amen,” Addie echoed. “I have also heard that prayer a time or two.”
Shorty turned his attention to the food. “This is good soup. I watched you make it, so now I know how.”
“Glad to be of service.” Her words startled her.
Service. She’d planned to spend her life in the service of others, helping the Stones, in large part to repay their kindness.
Not that they’d ever suggested she owed them.
Had God sent this delay so she could enjoy Nash’s company and maybe even consider another direction for her life?
Not that Nash had given her any reason to believe it possible.
But he had the house he’d built. Wouldn’t he need someone to keep it clean and prepare meals for him?
Everyone had finished their food, and she hurried to the cupboard to wash dishes.
She’d been building an imaginary life on a nonexistent foundation. All because of that book she was reading. Nothing but fantasy. Yet as soon as she’d dried the last dish and put it away, she returned to the story, anxious to see how it turned out.
A rattling sound outside jerked her from her reading. Nash and Hawk back?
But the door didn’t open. Shorty limped over. “It is Nash. He is cleaning mud off his boots.”
Addie put the book aside, preferring real life to the imaginary one she’d found on the pages.
Nash stepped in and glanced around. “Hawk’s not back?”
“He has not yet returned,” Shorty answered.
“I made soup.” Addie filled a bowl and put it on the table.
“Smells good.” Nash sat on the bench.
“Are you going to tell us what you found?” Mr. Bertrand demanded in more of an order than a question.
Nash scooped two more mouthfuls before he answered. “It’s as Hawk feared. The landslide has covered the road on the back trail. It will take men and horses several days to clear it.”
Mr. Bertrand harrumphed. “Well, at least it’s not the direction we need to go.”
Nash finished his soup. “Thanks. I enjoyed that.”
Addie took the bowl, washed it, and put it away.
“Would you like to see your surroundings without rain obscuring the view?” Nash asked when she’d finished her task. “Shorty’s picked a nice spot.”
“I thought so.” Shorty shook his head. “At least before things started falling down around me.”
Addie checked Mother. She still rested. “I’d love to see the place.”
Nash opened the door, and they stepped out into a steaming yard as the sun lifted moisture from the ground.
Puddles and mud patches dotted the area. Her foot slipped as she tried to avoid one.
Nash caught her arm to steady her. “Careful. I wouldn’t want to have to extract you from the mud.”
Her laugh came out higher than usual. “One can’t but wonder how many ways we can be mud-bound. First the coach, then the landslide, and now me.”
“Let me guide you.” He gripped her elbow and helped her navigate the path, though she truly didn’t need help. Nor did she intend to refuse it.
“Where are we going?”
“Do you want to see where the tree fell on Shorty’s woodshed?”
“Lead on.” She honestly didn’t care where they went, happy to be with him. She gasped as they rounded the corner of the small building. A tree lay across one corner, exposing Shorty’s wood supply. “It’s going to be hard for him to keep his wood dry.”
“With Hawk’s help, we can pull the tree off, and I’ll make sure the wall is repaired before we leave.
It’s the least we can do for him.” They passed the building and approached the barn and corrals, where more than a dozen horses looked up at them.
Three nickered and trotted to the fence for attention.
“Hello, you.” Addie scratched one neck after the other, and as she and Nash moved on, the horses followed until they reached the end of the yard.
“I’ll show you what the landslide did.”
She let him lead her across the damp ground. A fallen tree lay before them, and he guided her over the thick trunk, his hands holding hers. A fitting picture, she decided, of the sort of man he was. Helping others over the obstacles in life.
The ground grew steeper, and she clung to him to keep from slipping sideways down the slope.
He drew her to a halt. A swath of mud obliterated every stalk of vegetation. Huge trees lay slaughtered beside the mud, brought down by the force.
“I’m very grateful that missed the cabin.” She clasped a hand to her throat.
“When Mr. Bertrand complains, I’m tempted to bring him out here.”
She snorted. “I doubt if that would change him.”
“Probably not. But look to the side.” He caught her shoulders and nudged her.
“Oh my!” A placid lake of purest blue reflected the sky. “It’s like every hue of every blue in the world has been poured into the water.” She couldn’t stop staring. “And an abundance of wildflowers.” Yellow, orange, pink, blue. “A rainbow of colors.”
“Shall we go closer?”
“Oh, please, let’s.” How blessed to see such beauty and share it with Nash, who seemed as impressed as she.
She clung to him as they navigated the steep slope. The man was a rock, steadying her each time her foot wobbled. She wasn’t afraid at any time, knowing he’d keep her.
They reached the flowers, and he released her hand to let her brush her fingers over the blossoms. The beauty overwhelmed her, and she lifted her hands to the sky and laughed. “It makes me want to sing.”
A smile on his lips, he asked, “What would you sing?”
“The doxology.” A song of praise suited the occasion.
“Then why don’t you?” His smile settled into pleasant lines.
“Will you join me?” The air between them filled with sweetness, and she didn’t mean solely the scent of flowers.
He nodded.
“‘Praise God, from whom all blessings flow; praise Him, all creatures here below.’”