Ah. The mysteries of many who came West. Wanting to forget the past and live the life they’d chosen. One vastly different from the one they’d known.
Not unlike himself.
Mr. Bertrand complained about the poor quarters. Mr. Zacharius wheezed as he sprawled over his arms on the table. Shorty mumbled in his sleep. Mrs. Stonedozed with the blanket pulled to her chin. Hawk hovered at the window, chewing on his lower lip. No doubt, he was concerned about the coach and reaching his destination.
Nash’s gaze went full circle back to Addie as she prepared vegetables and added them to the simmering pot. Caring for the others had fallen to her and him. Working together would be fun. But equally important, it provided an opportunity to repay society. Not that he’d done anything wrong, but the guilt of another’s actions never quite left him.
Hawk spun from the window. “There’s firewood in the woodshed. I’ll bring some in.” He shrugged into his slicker. A cold blast crossed the room as he left.
Addie’s gaze followed his departure. Then she brought her attention to Nash, a question in her eyes.
He lifted one shoulder. “He’s worried about the weather.” And the coach and the road and his passengers.
“Harrumph.” Mr. Bertrand’s snort jangled Nash’s nerves.
The man continued in the same sour note he’d used since the first moment Nash had met him. “He might put a little effort into our comfort.”
“We’re out of the rain. We’re warm. There’s food. We have much to be thankful for.” Patience softened Nash’s words. He had no intention of being drawn into Mr. Bertrand’s attitude. As if the world owed him something. It was too much of a reminder of?—
“Amen.” Addie’s voice rang clear. “God has provided everything we need. I am grateful we got stranded with shelter nearby. We came along in time to rescue Shorty, and we can enjoy warm food.” Her gaze held Nash’s, sending a feeling of unity into his gut.
She jerked her attention back to the soup. The metalspoon scratched across the bottom of the pot as she stirred the contents.
He leaned his elbows on the table. She moved smoothly and hummed as she tended the food. It was like watching a lullaby.
The thought surprised him, but he didn’t bother to examine how or why. Enough to simply enjoy the moment, the delicious aroma making his stomach growl even louder.
Mr. Zacharius started awake and sat up. He sniffed, wiped his nose on a red handkerchief, and then sniffed again. “Something smells mighty good.”
“Soup will be ready in a few minutes.” Addie opened the cupboard and began removing bowls. “Some of us will have to eat out of mixing bowls.”
“Harrumph.”
No one responded to Mr. Bertrand’s displeasure.
“I’ll gladly eat out of anything.” Mr. Zacharius rubbed his hands together.
“We’ll wait for Hawk.” Addie bit the corner of her mouth as she studied the closed door.
Did she worry about their driver? He hadn’t been gone that long, had he? Nash hadn’t paid a lot of attention. After all, the man could look after himself.
A sharp crack jerked him to his full height.
“What was that?” Mr. Zacharius asked, his voice thinning.
A thud shuddered through the house.
“I’ll check on Hawk.” Nash headed for the door.
But it burst open, and Hawk entered, his arms full of firewood.
“Another tree down.” He dropped the wood in the box by the stove, the sound rattling the room. “Nasty out there.”
Shorty wakened. His eyes were clear and focused—a good sign.
Mr. Bertrand grumbled that conditions weren’t so pleasant inside either, but no one paid him any heed. He knew as well as they did that he’d find things a thousand times worse outside, but it seemed the man couldn’t avoid complaining even when he had no need.
Water dripped from Hawk’s slicker as he hung it by the door. “We’ll be here the night. Get as comfortable as possible.”
