Chapter 16
Sixteen
Addie didn’t have time to study the town that would be her home. She and Mother rushed toward the injured woman and child.
Mother put her arm around the woman. “Come along. We’ll take care of you.”
When Addie tried to draw the child away, she shrank back, clinging to her mother’s skirts. Very well. She understood the fear consuming the girl. It was as familiar as her name.
“Where are we going?” Addie asked.
Mother stopped. “Why, I don’t know. Where does Mr. Stone live?”
From behind windows, they’d been watched.
Perhaps seeing the confusion on Mother’s face, a buxom woman stepped from the nearest building.
“I take it you’re the preacher’s wife?” At Mother’s nod, she continued.
“That’s his house at the end of the street.
The one with a white cross painted over the door. ”
“Thank you.” Mother hurried onward.
Addie edged between Mother and the injured woman. “I’ll help her. You go on ahead and see where she’ll go.” She didn’t care for the idea of her mother holding her up when she was so weak herself. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Mrs. Hammel. My daughter is Mary.” The woman leaned closer to whisper in Addie’s ear. “She’s only six and very frightened.”
“I’ll do my best to help her.”
Mother waited at the door. “There’s a cot in one room. I don’t know if it’s intended for you—”
“Let’s get Mrs. Hammel there.”
The woman settled on the narrow cot. Mother glanced from Mary to Addie.
Addie bent before the child. “Mary, why don’t you come with me while your mama is fixed up?”
Mrs. Hammel nodded. “You go with her. I’ll be right here.”
Addie held out a hand. When the girl shrank back, Addie lowered her arm. “Let’s have a look around. I’ve never been here before.”
Silently, Mary followed her as they explored. There were three small bedrooms. One held Father’s things and would soon hold Mother’s. That left the far one for Addie.
She stared at the cot, the dresser, the ladder-back chair in front of a tiny table that could serve as a writing desk, and the wardrobe. A window overlooked a patch of grass and one waving tree. She’d be living here now.
Mary watched her, shifting her weight back and forth from one foot to the other.
They continued onward to the cozy living room with four armchairs, three bulging bookcases, and a fireplace.
The kitchen held a square wooden table, six chairs, a gleaming stove, and cupboards.
Beyond were the pantry and back entry. The kitchen beckoned, offering something for Addie to do.
Keeping busy had always been the best way to put aside her troubles.
“I’ll make tea for your mama and see if the preacher has cookies on hand.”
Mary sat at the table, her hands under her thighs, her gaze darting from Addie toward the room where her mother lay.
“Mrs. Stone is very good at taking care of people.” She’d taken care of Addie through the turmoil of her emotions.
Addie stiffened against the pain that grabbed her insides like a cruel vise.
If what the crowd said was correct, this child had lost her father.
Thankfully, not her mother. But that wasn’t what hurt the most. Nash had defended the murderer.
Stilling a moan that rushed to her mouth, she explored the cupboards.
Found the tea and a canister of cookies.
She gave two cookies to Mary, who murmured thanks but stared at them like they were foreign to her.
Mother called for warm water, and Addie took her a basin.
“Is Mary—?” the worried mother asked.
“She’s fine. Anxious to see for herself that you are too.”
“I don’t want her to see this.” She indicated the bleeding wound on her side. Her wide dark eyes filled with tears that she blinked back. “I don’t know if she realizes her papa is dead.” She choked and couldn’t continue.
“She’s safe. That’s what matters.” It wasn’t all that mattered, but for now, Mrs. Hammel needed to focus on that one thing. And her own healing. The wound in her side would heal more quickly than the wound of her loss.
Just as Addie must keep her thoughts on dealing with little Mary. She returned to the kitchen.
A knock came on the front door.
Mary gave a little cry.
“You stay here. I’ll see who it is.” Addie opened the door to two men with their luggage on a trolley.
Her lungs emptied in a gust. She directed them to put everything inside by the door to be dealt with later.
Then she returned to Mary. “It’s just our luggage.
” They both needed a diversion, so she talked about the trip over the mountains.
“The stagecoach had to stop often to change horses. The trail is rough. And we had to deal with a landslide and a washout.” They’d spent three days at Shorty’s.
Three days in which she’d enjoyed getting to know Nash.
Except she hadn’t known the real man—son of a murderer.
Or innocent victim?
She sat across from Mary. They both had cups of tea—Mary’s diluted. This child was even younger than Addie had been when her parents were killed. But she had her mother.
Mother emerged from the bedroom, carrying the basin of water and the blood-soiled dress. “Mary, your mother would like to see you.”
Mary ran to her mama.
Mother sank wearily to a chair. “I hope Mr. Stone and Nash aren’t attacked by that crowd. They were very angry.”
“As well they should be if that man shot people.” But she hadn’t thought of Father being in any danger.
Or Nash. Of course, she wasn’t overlooking him.
She simply didn’t know what to think of him.
Son of a murderer? Innocent victim? But the way he’d run to the defense of that man who shot Mrs. Hammel’s husband made it hard to view him as the latter.
“Our trunks are here.” It seemed like a safe topic.
“We can unpack later.”
“Of course. I’m assuming Mrs. Hammel and Mary will be staying with us for the time being?”
“She tells me she has no family here or, indeed, anywhere. Poor woman.”
Steps sounded outside the door, and they turned as the preacher entered, wiping his hand across his brow. “A messy business. How is the woman?”
“Mrs. Hammel. It’s only a flesh wound,” Mother said. “She’s resting in the middle room. Her daughter, Mary, is with her. Mrs. Hammel tells me the child didn’t see what happened. For that, we can be grateful.”
“How many dead? How many injured?” Knowing the numbers would let Addie know how angry she should be.
“Three dead. Four injured. The other injured were all men, and they are tending their wounds back at the claims, prepared to defend them.”
Addie offered Father tea, and he sat facing Mother. “This isn’t the welcome I’d wish for you.”
Mother’s smile was gentle. “It’s why we’ve come.”
“You need to rest,” Addie said. “I’ll take care of things.” She told Father how ill Mrs. Stone had been and then turned her attention to seeing to preparations for the evening meal.
The Stones retired to the living room, their words soft as they caught up on their news.
Work. Keep busy. It normally kept Addie from thinking too much. But intruding thoughts continually surfaced. Murders. Justice. Mercy. Where did everyone belong on that spectrum?
The meal ready, she set the table. Should she take food to the bedroom for Mrs. Hammel?
Mother had gone into the room. Soon, the two women and Mary emerged, Mrs. Hammel wearing a dressing gown.
“I have things back at the cabin.” She shuddered.
Preacher Stone assured her he would take care of it.
Although it was pleasant to be gathered around the table, together with Father for the first time in weeks, a pall hung over them because of the dreadful thing that had transpired.
Addie struggled to swallow every mouthful. She avoided looking at Mary because every time she did, she remembered the shock of seeing her murdered parents.
The meal over, she refused Mrs. Hammel’s offer of help. She wanted to forget her past. Numb herself to the memories. But after she’d cleaned the kitchen, it was too early to go to bed.
“I’m going for a walk,” she announced.
The Stones nodded.
“Don’t go far,” the preacher warned. “People are uneasy.”
Addie stepped outside and hovered at the step.
Uneasy. It described her feelings. She only went as far as the end of the backyard and stood staring at the pine trees and the jagged mountains circling the town.
The sound of water trickling over rocks informed her of the river nearby.
The river where men panned for gold. And where they fought for claims. And shot each other.
She closed her eyes and breathed slowly. This wasn’t the same as discovering her parents, but it felt painfully similar. She’d made it through that time, and she’d only been a child.
But how had she done so? She couldn’t remember.
The Stones had surrounded her with tenderness, even as they would Mrs. Hammel and Mary.
They’d prayed over her. And repeated words of encouragement.
She brought some of those words to her mind.
God would never leave her nor forsake her.
He was her rock. Her shield. Her strong defender.
A shelter in the time of storm. A sure and steady foundation.
In Him will I trust and not be afraid. She repeated the verse over and over until peace returned, and she made her way back to the house.
With Father’s help, she put her trunk in her room and unpacked.
She hung her clothes in the wardrobe, tucked her books atop the dresser, and her Bible on the little table beside the framed picture of her parents.
Her heart skipped once, then returned to normal.
Having her belongings around her gave her a sense of security.
Lastly, she brought out her journal. She didn’t make daily entries in it.
But when she wanted to speak to her parents, she wrote in this book.
Tonight, she felt such a need and opened to a fresh page.