Chapter 12
Twelve
Addie rubbed her chest. It still hurt from holding her position on top of the unsteady coach.
As she prayed for help, she’d pictured Nash rescuing her.
Not that she was about to admit that. He’d come, and she’d had no hesitation as she jumped into his arms, where she’d found sweet comfort.
Shamelessly, she’d clung to him, never wanting to let go.
Yes, of course, some of her reaction—in fact, most of it—came from relief at being safe.
But something else existed. A longing to belong there, his heart beating beneath her cheek, his arms holding her, his breath against her hair.
Her name on his lips filled her with sweetness. And possibility.
How sorely she’d been tempted to stay in that shelter. Drink of what he offered. Or at least, what she thought he offered.
But Mother had been left alone far too long. So Addie trotted to the cabin. When she burst through the door, Shorty jolted to his feet.
“We have been worried about you. Where did you go? What happened?”
Mr. Zacharius sat upright. “She’s safe.”
Even Mr. Bertrand forgot his usual complaining.
“I’m all right.” One glance at Mother, and she knew the fever had not abated.
She poured water into the kettle and set it to boil.
“I went to get this special tea from the stagecoach. The coach had almost gone over the edge. It was rather unsteady.” Did her words sound as strangled as they felt?
“I couldn’t get down without fear of sending it crashing to the ravine.
” She measured the leaves into the teapot and poured in hot water.
Now, to let it steep long enough. Mother always warned her that rushing wasted it.
“How did you get off it?” Shorty asked.
“Nash came along with a horse and rope.” She shrugged. No need for them to know the details. “And now here I am.” She swirled the teapot’s contents.
“What about the stagecoach?” Mr. Bertrand demanded. “How will we get to Golden Valley if it’s at the bottom of a ravine?”
“It was still standing when I left.” No doubt Nash would do all he could to bring the coach back to its wheels. Her insides spasmed. What if it went over the edge, taking him with it?
“Incompetence such as I’ve never seen.” Mr. Bertrand’s strident words scratched along Addie’s spine like cat claws. Could the man think of something besides his own comfort for once?
The tea must be ready. She poured some into a cup, cooled it with a little water, and sank to the floor by the fur mat.
“Mother.” She shook her shoulder gently.
“Umph. What?”
“I want you to drink this tea.” Addie helped Mother sit up and held the cup to her lips, grateful when she swallowed. But after three mouthfuls, she stopped.
“You need to take it all.” She tipped the cup to Mother’s mouth.
Mother turned away.
Addie rubbed her arm. “Please. It will make you feel better.”
The skeptical look in her mother’s eyes conveyed how much she doubted it.
By much urging and persistence, Addie got her to drink the entire cupful. Then she let her lay back. “I am going to wash you with cool water.”
“Leave me rest.”
“I will once I’m done.”
Shorty brought her a basin of water, and Addie did her best to cool Mother’s fevered brow. The water grew too warm to be of any use. Would the tea do its job?
Her arms hurt from clinging to the stagecoach rails for so long.
She sat back, rubbing them and then moving her hand upward until her fingers rested on her jaw where Nash had touched her.
With her eyes closed, she revisited that moment.
The way he’d caressed her, the murmur of her name on his lips…
Did it mean more than gratitude for her safety?
Did she want it to mean more?
Since she’d been taken in by the Stones, she’d followed them from one needy area to another.
She’d often regretted leaving friends behind and wished she could stay, but she’d also welcomed the chance to move on, hoping to find something that would satisfy the longing in her heart.
A longing she couldn’t even identify. She only knew it existed.
Being in Nash’s arms made her wonder if that place could be filled.
Shorty sighed as he moved toward the stove. “I expect people will be wanting to eat.”
She sprang to her feet and hurried to join him. “Do you have anything in mind?”
“I kind of favor beans and biscuits. It is my favorite meal.”
“I should have cooked beans. We’re using up your canned supplies.”
“It cannot be helped. But I will start beans baking now. They won’t be ready for supper, but if you are here tomorrow—” He shrugged.
Tomorrow? What would it bring? She was anxious to get Mother to town. But things would change once they left here. She’d be in Golden Valley helping the Stones. Nash would go to his ranch. The others would go their separate ways as well.
While Shorty opened cans and poured beans into a cooking pot, she mixed up biscuits, cutting the dough into squares as Nash had done. It certainly made sense.
She considered the cupboard’s contents. “I could bake a cake.”
Shorty stood beside her. “Can you make gingerbread cake?”
“I believe I can.”
“And show me? I cannot tell you how often I have longed for that flavor. You know, a man gets lonely by himself and begins to miss things he did not realize were important to him.”
“Maybe people as well as things?” she gently suggested.
“Could be. Could be.”
She pulled spices and baking soda from the cupboard. “You appear to have everything you need to make this.”
“Everything but the know-how.”
Mother had taught her how to bake without eggs, so she measured out the other ingredients. “Do you want to write this down?”
“You tell me, and I will remember.”
She mixed up the batter, put it to bake, and then brought more tea to Mother who drank it with a little urging. “I do believe your fever is letting up.”
“I’m so very tired.” She curled on her side and closed her eyes.
Addie sat back, allowing herself a measure of relief. Now that Mother’s fever was breaking, she’d begin to get her strength back.
A little later, the beans bubbled, the biscuits were golden, and the spicy gingerbread aroma tinted the air.
Everything was ready. But Nash and Hawk hadn’t returned.
Seeing Shorty’s impatience, the way Mr. Zacharius looked at the food, and the protests building in Mr. Bertrand’s expression, she knew better than to suggest they wait for the pair.
Mr. Bertrand complained about beans and biscuits again, though he took a generous amount of both. And helped himself to two large pieces of the ginger cake. He didn’t offer any praise, but Mr. Zacharius thanked Shorty and Addie for the good meal.
Shorty studied his fork holding a piece of the cake. “I might make this every week now that I know how. It satisfies my longing for ginger cake.” He lowered his fork and stared at the tabletop. “However, it does not satisfy anything else.” He ate the last of his cake.
As they had the night before after they’d eaten, she carried the dishes to the cupboard, and Shorty joined her. He plunged the dishes into hot water, and then handed her the washed dish.
“Shorty.” She spoke slowly, not wanting to offend the man. “I get the feeling you have someone you long to see.”
“I maybe do.”
Neither of them said anything further. They’d finished cleaning the kitchen when boots thudded on the step outside. The door swung open, and Hawk entered.
She glanced past him, waiting for Nash.
But he didn’t appear.
Her heart grabbed her ribs making it impossible for her to breathe.
Nash turned the horse loose in the corrals and hung the rope back on its hook. Hawk had made sure feed and water were available for the animals. The horses whinnied and tossed their heads.
“I know,” Nash soothed. “You’re anxious to be on your way.
So is everyone else.” Though the sense of urgency he began the trip with had faded.
Yes, he wanted to be there when his horses arrived.
He couldn’t be certain what the men delivering them would do when he wasn’t.
They could turn them loose in the corrals if they weren’t willing to wait.
Whatever they chose to do, he would deal with it when he got back to the ranch.
Now, he sought excuses to stay in Golden Valley and spend time with a certain young woman.
Remembering how she’d mentioned waterfalls, he thought of a couple he’d like to show her.
There were also two within hiking distance of his ranch. He’d really like to take her there.
After closing the gate behind him, he trotted after Hawk and burst into the house.
Addie’s wide, surprised gaze met his. She drew in a tiny gasp.
He smiled, letting her know how glad he was to see her.
Her lips curved upward. “There’s food.” The smile lingered as she loaded up two plates. It remained when she put the plates on the table. Her look lingered on him, and her smile reached upward to her eyes and curved her face.
She was glad to see him. He tucked the knowledge into the depths of his heart where he would cherish it for the rest of his life.
Shorty placed a serving of cake before him. Ahh. Ginger. The aroma had tugged at his senses and tried to get his attention.
“Well,” Mr. Bertrand huffed. “I expect you have the road cleared and the stagecoach ready to move on. It’s about time.”
Nash let Hawk answer. After all, it was his responsibility. And Nash had more interest in enjoying the cake and the smiling presence of the gal beside him.
“We managed to get the coach back on the trail. Took some doing. But we have a little more work to do before we can depart.”
“I thought you said help was coming.” Mr. Bertrand’s tone suggested the failure hung on Hawk’s shoulders. Both he and Nash were concerned that no one had come. The very absence hinted something was wrong further down the trail.
He’d suggested they should check, but Hawk assured him the road was open to the next way station. “We can get that far.”