Each guess received a shake of his head.
“I give up.”
“You sure? There’s lots of things you haven’t suggested.” His arched eyebrows made her think he enjoyed this as much as she.
“Like what?”
“Did you say books?”
“You know I didn’t.”
He cocked his head toward the crate.
“Are you saying?—?”
He creaked back the lid and waved his hand over the contents. “Books.”
She examined a few titles. Books on British history. A few works of fiction. “The book of peerage? Shorty becomes more and more of a mystery.”
“He certainly does.” Nash studied the spines of a handful of books, then returned them to the collection. “They will not feed us though.”
“I quite disagree.” She sniffed in a way she hoped sounded superior and not the effects of a dripped nose.
Lifting one of the thinner books, Nash pretended to bite it. “Nope. Don’t think I’d ever be that hungry.”
Amusement at his reluctant look rippled through her. “That’s not what I meant. But doesn’t the Good Book say, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone’?” She didn’t finish the verse.
“God’s Word is food for the soul.” His stomach rumbled. “Excuse me. I’m ready to enjoy beans cold fromthe can. Let’s go. Ow.” His head cracked into the ceiling again.
“I want to see what’s in the baskets on the shelves.” She edged past the crates to where she’d discovered the blankets and peered into a basket. “Just what we need.”
Rubbing his head, he joined her. “Potatoes.” They checked the other baskets and discovered carrots, onions, and turnips. “The man didn’t survive on beans alone.”
“I can make soup. Mother will like that.” She couldn’t carry everything and handed him a turnip and some carrots. Together, they returned to the main room. “We found more beans.” She waited for Mr. Bertrand’s complaints before she added, “And the makings of vegetable soup.”
Nash accompanied her to the cupboard and set down the vegetables. “What can I do to help?”
“Can you find a large cooking pot?”
“I’m sure I can.” He poked through the cupboards. “Will this do?”
“It will. Thanks.” He didn’t release it immediately when she tried to take it. Surprised, she raised her gaze to his. A smile warmed his eyes.
“No need to thank me. We’re in this together, and together, we will do the best we can.”
For the space of a heartbeat, Addie couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. His words felt like a promise. A promise? Why would she think that? He only meant being shut in with the others. Nothing more. But an ache as big as the moon and as cold as the rain outdoors hollowed out her insides.
No. It was hunger. Nothing more.
She had all she needed or wanted in helping Mother and Preacher Stone. Reaching out to meet the needs of others filled that emptiness and carried few risks at least toher heart.If you don’t have money, no one will rob you. And if you don’t open your heart to caring, it can’t be ripped to pieces.
Nash waited a moment,wanting Addie to smile again. But she took the saucepan and turned her back to him. Her lips had hardened into a harsh line.
A chill shivered across his shoulders. He’d enjoyed teasing her in the storeroom. Her eyes had sparkled. A smile curved her face. Her laughter had warmed him. Now it had changed—why? He could think of no reason she should suddenly find his presence objectionable.
But what more did he expect? They were strangers. Once they reached Golden Valley, they wouldn’t likely see each other again. He seldom needed to visit the mining town. And she’d have no reason to venture to his ranch. Building his herd, getting ahead by the sweat of his brow, provided him with all that mattered.
Frying onions scented the room. His stomach rumbled again. He pilfered a can of beans from the cupboard and contemplated opening it and allaying his hunger. Instead, he set it aside and crossed to the cot to look down on Shorty. The whiskered man’s rough clothes hung from nails set in the wall. They did not fit with the items in the storeroom. Who was he?
