Chapter 11
Eleven
Addie had let herself be distracted by spending time with Nash and teaching Shorty to make pie. Yes, she should help with meals while they were stranded here, but caring for Mother must be foremost in her mind.
“Don’t let me keep the rest of you up.” She meant the comment for all of the others but forced herself not to look at Nash as she spoke.
He studied her as if wanting to keep her company as she tended Mother. She almost asked him to do so but managed to keep her mouth closed against the words. She needed to focus on Mother.
He nodded and backed away. “I’ll leave the lamp low.”
Shorty had retreated to the cot. Nash stretched out beside it. Mr. Bertrand lay in his usual spot, and Mr. Zacharius remained at the table, his head resting on his forearms. Hawk slipped outside, seeking rest in the quiet of the barn.
Addie was alone. No. How silly. She wasn’t alone. Besides, she didn’t need distractions. Over and over, she sponged Mother, grateful to be able to offer comfort and care.
Mother caught her hand. “You’ve always been such a helpful girl. Right from the first day.” Her weak voice faded away.
Why had Mother chosen that moment to say such a thing? Addie’s stomach clenched. Did her mother think this was the end and she needed to speak those words before—?
No. Addie would not let her thoughts race to such an awful conclusion. Instead, she redoubled her efforts to take care of Mother.
The night deepened. The lamp flickered. Mr. Bertrand snorted and heaved himself to his side.
Addie’s head fell forward. She yawned. Have to stay awake. Have to take care of Mother. Dip the cloth in the water. Put it on Mother’s forehead to cool her.
She struggled to keep her eyes open and stay upright. Her body yearned for rest. Why couldn’t she lie beside Mother and still continue to sponge her? The soft fur cradled her body. A sigh rose from deep inside.
Coffee! The aroma sifted into Addie’s senses. Why would anyone make coffee in the middle of the night? She opened her eyes. Gray light filled the room. Light? She jolted upright. How long had she slept?
“Good morning.” Nash lifted the coffeepot from the stove. “Would you like a cup?”
“I didn’t hear you get up. How could I have slept through you starting the fire and making coffee?” Neither were silent tasks.
Hawk sat at the table with the others. She hadn’t heard him enter the cabin.
“You must have been tired.”
She checked Mother. “She’s still hot.” She scrambled to her feet to get more water and returned to Mother’s side to sponge her face.
Mother jerked awake at the touch of the cold cloth. “Leave me be. I want to rest.”
“You’ve got a fever. I need to cool you.”
“Addie, please.” Mother caught Addie’s hand to stop her from continuing. “Is it too much to ask for a little peace?”
A little peace? Mother had done nothing but rest since they’d made it to the cabin. And people hadn’t been noisy. Fine, yes, there had been laughter yesterday when Shorty told his tall tale, but on the whole, they’d been quiet.
Addie sat back on her heels. She only wanted to take care of Mother. She’d thought Mother would appreciate her efforts. Instead, she was annoyed.
I’m sorry. The words remained silent. Water splashed as Addie dropped the cloth into the washbasin and stepped away. Swallowing back her hurt, determined no one would guess how she felt, she joined Nash at the stove and took the cup of coffee he offered.
“Breakfast is ready.” He nodded toward the golden biscuits.
“I can’t believe I slept through this.”
“I can’t either, though I tried to be quiet.” He placed the biscuits on the table.
“You should have wakened me.” Not a hint of annoyance touched her words as her attention focused on the food.
She brought the syrup and sat beside him. After he prayed, they ate. She’d barely had time to take a bite when Hawk and Nash pushed back.
“We’re headed back to the trail,” Nash said.
Hawk donned his hat and reached for the door handle.
Nash paused, his gaze resting on Addie as if he wanted to say something. He flashed a smile. “You take care, hear?”
“I will.” But her words bounced off the closed door.
Mr. Bertrand split open a second biscuit. “I’ve had enough of this delay.”
Shorty snorted. “I might add that I have had enough of you all eating my supplies.”
Addie’s sigh stopped further complaining. She finished her food, drained her cup, and then gathered up the dishes. Before she had washed them, Mother groaned, and Addie returned to her side.
“I am going to wipe your face.” Whether or not she welcomed the action, Addie had to do what she thought best.
Mother’s eyes followed Addie’s every movement.
Addie left the cloth on her forehead. Mother’s eyes were glassy and unfocused. Please, God, make her better. A shudder rattled Addie’s teeth. She did not want her Mother’s death on her conscience.
The rattle of crockery drew her attention to the cupboard where Shorty washed the dishes, and she sprang to her feet to dry.
“I would have gotten to them.”
Shorty shrugged. “I am capable of washing up.”
“I know. But we’ve invaded your home. We shouldn’t make extra work for you.”
He leaned closer. “Do not tell anyone, but I have enjoyed having a little company. Of course, I could do with less complaining.” He tipped his head to indicate he meant Mr. Bertrand.
“Couldn’t we all?”
They looked at each other and chuckled.
“I wonder how Hawk and Nash are doing?” Let Shorty think she wondered about both of them, missed them both equally. Perhaps she could believe the same thing.
“I would like to help but—” He tapped his injured leg.
“Are you keeping an eye on it? No redness or swelling?”
The tips of his ears turned red. “It is fine.”
Addie put fresh, cool water in the washbasin and returned to Mother’s side. As the morning hours ticked away, Mother’s fever got worse.
Shorty offered Addie a bowl of soup. “I hope it is as good as yours. I tried to remember everything you did.”
Addie tasted it. “It’s every bit as good. You’re a fast learner.”
Shorty held her gaze a moment longer, cleared his throat, and looked down. “You are a good teacher.” He hurried to the table to join the other men.
But neither Hawk nor Nash returned to share the meal.
They were clearing the trail. Nothing more. No need to worry they’d encountered a bear. Or been in the path of a landslide or a falling tree.
As Father said, “Worry is borrowing tomorrow’s problems to carry today.”
The spoon scraped crockery as she ate the soup, then handed the bowl to Shorty. She turned her attention back to Mother. Tension caught at Addie’s neck at the red spots in Mother’s cheeks. Her fever was supposed to be going down.
Addie touched her forehead. She was so hot.
Her hand trembling, Addie sponged Mother’s face, hands, and neck.
If only she had the fever tea in Mother’s trunk.
She sprang to her feet. “I have to get something from our luggage.” Surprised looks shot her way as she dashed out the door to hurry down the trail.
The muddy and slippery ground forced her to slide down the slope to reach the coach. The land fell away to a ravine. Beyond that, the mountains encircled the place, guardians of nature. Bright spring flowers dotted the green grass. Dark pines drew boundary lines.
She brought her attention to the coach. Mud clung to the wheels. Digging it free and getting it back on the trail would be a challenging task.
She picked her way through the mud. The coach tipped at an angle that made her reach for the step. Her weight brought a movement. She held her breath and then exhaled.
It was only the normal sway of the coach.
She had the door open, balanced partway into the riding area, but she couldn’t reach the trunk, stored on top, from here.
She lowered her feet to the mud, stepped on a spoke, and climbed to the driver’s box.
Her breath stalled in her chest at the view before her.
The wheels hung over the edge, leaving nothing to the far side but the yawning ravine.
Rocks and clumps of grass dotted the embankment.
The coach shuddered under her weight. Did she imagine it shifted?
She was poised to jump should the wheels slide further over the edge.
Then her breath wheezed out. The wheels were firmly encased in mud.
The coach wasn’t going anywhere. Her gaze drank in the beauty before she climbed to the roof.
On hands and knees, she picked her way to Mother’s trunk stowed in the far corner.
Water dribbled from the lid as she opened the trunk.
The contents had stayed dry. Thank goodness.
The tin containing Mother’s medicinal teas lay at the bottom.
In order to reach it, she pushed aside woolen clothes and a pair of sturdy shoes.
The tin itself was too heavy and awkward to carry back, so she opened it and took out the package of leaves she needed.
Careful to keep things dry, she closed the tin and lowered the lid.
As she rose, the coach swayed. This time, she didn’t imagine the conveyance tipped toward the abyss.
Addie crouched low, clinging to the rails. She had to get off before the coach slid down the slope. She gritted her teeth to stop them from shivering. On her hands and knees, she prepared to ease toward the roof’s upper edge. She’d jump from there.
But when she lifted one knee to move forward, the coach dipped. She let her knee return to the wood and held her breath until the rocking motion stopped.
She clung to the rail, not daring to move. How was she going to get off this thing and safely reach the ground?
“It won’t budge.”
While Hawk scowled at the offending rock—more like a small boulder—Nash considered the obstacle. They couldn’t drive six horses pulling the stagecoach around it. It would have to be moved. “We’ll have to get a horse and a rope. I’ll go back. You can work at filling the washout.”
“I expected someone would come looking for us by now.” Hawk stared down the trail.