Before anyone asked any questions, Hawk was gone.
“I’ll help.” The coach bounced, jerking Addie’s aching neck as Nash jumped down and followed him.
“Well, I’ll certainly have something to say to the owners of this company. Imagine?—”
Mother Stone cut off Mr. Bertrand’s complaints. “What we can carry? What does that mean?” She peered out the window. “I don’t see anything but rain. How far do we have to walk?”
“Here, Mother. We’ll take our satchels.” Addie handed one to Mother and clasped the other in her lap. All they had in them were a few essentials, such as what they’d need for an overnight stay. They’d already spent a night in one of the way stations. She shuddered at the memory. She and Mother had shared a thin pallet on one side of the room while the men spent the night on the other side. The proprietor took the single cot in a tiny alcove. Addie didn’t object to the meager offerings. After all, along with Mother Stone and Preacher Stone, she had embraced a life of simplicity, sharing everything they had with those less fortunate. There was comfort in owning little. It tempted no one to consider robbing them.
A shiver sneaked across her shoulders, and it wasn’t solely because of the cold.
Mr. Bertrand’s never-ending complaints drew her attention back to the present. Mr. Zacharius coughed. The man was obviously unwell. Why was he traveling to Golden Valley? No amount of gold was going to cure his illness.
Nash Burns opened the door. “Folks, let’s go. We’llsoon reach shelter.” He held out his hand to assist Addie to the muddy ground.
She grasped it, startled by the jolt that ran up her arm. Then she turned to help Mother Stone. On the muddy ground, the older woman clung to Addie’s arm.
Mr. Zacharius gripped Nash’s hand as he wheezed from the coach.
Mr. Bertrand hovered at the door. “I demand my money back. I didn’t pay for this…this.”
Nash chuckled. “Sir, if you could buy rain or pay for sunshine, people’ll line up for your services.
With a harrumph, the man stepped down. “Mud will ruin my shoes.”
“Follow me.” Nash headed away.
Through the curtain of rain, the shape of the horses ahead indicated the direction they should go. Then, the animals disappeared in the deluge. She hunched her shoulders and shivered in her dripping coat.Please, God, keep us safe.
Rain slashed against her cheeks. Water trickled from her elbows and hair. Mud stuck to her shoes until she struggled under the weight of it. Mother Stone’s grip grew heavy on Addie’s arm. She took Mother’s valise and carried it.
Nash glanced over his shoulder. His gaze flickered over Addie and Mother Stone and past them to the two men behind, one wheezing and coughing, the other muttering and complaining.
“How much farther do we have to go? This is unacceptable.”
“You’re welcome to stay in the coach.” Nash’s comment revealed a do-as-you-like attitude.
“Harrumph.”
“Please.” Mother Stone spoke softly, weariness sucking at her strength. “How far?”
“We’ll soon be there,” Nash spoke with patience.
He hadn’t, however, said how far. Addie plodded along in his wake, each step growing increasingly difficult.
Behind her, Mr. Zacharius’s wheezing competed with the pounding rain.
Mother stumbled. Or, more accurately, folded.
Addie leaned over to grasp her arms. “Here. Let me help you.”
“I’ll be fine. I just need a moment.”
Addie barely made out the weak words.
“Let me.” Nash eased Addie aside and scooped Mother from the mud. “Let’s keep moving although”—he chuckled—“I doubt we can get any wetter.”
“I can walk.” Mother meant to sound strong, but her whisper lacked proof.
