Addie would have to help her mother. Nash left the teacups on the edge of the table where she could reach them. Then he placed the rest of the hot drinks before the men and went to assist Addie as she served the cornmeal mush.
“You will find molasses in the cupboard.” Shorty indicated the one to the left, taking in a sharp breath as he raised his arm.
Using an assortment of plates and bowls, Nash handed out the morning food.
Addie put her plate and Mrs. Stone’s nearby, helped the older woman sit and eased her around until she rested against the wall. Addie looked expectantly at Nash.
What did she want? And then he nodded. “I’ll say grace.” He bowed his head and asked God’s blessing on His provisions. “And an end to the rain, please.” Several of the others echoed his amen, the loudest one from Mr. Bertrand.
Addie balanced the bowl on Mrs. Stone’s legs. She watched her mother as she ate a portion of her own food. But the spoon remained at the side of the bowl.
“Mother, you need to eat in order to get your strength back.” Although her tone remained gentle, a touch of urgency quickened her words.
When Mrs. Stone made no move toward picking up her spoon, Addie took it, scooped up mush, and lifted it toward her mother’s mouth.
Mrs. Stone barely parted her lips. Addie managed to get little more than a taste into the woman’s mouth.
“Mother, please, you need to eat.”
“I’m too tired.” She sank back on the furs, pulling the blanket to her chin. “Let me rest.”
Worry lines crinkled Addie’s forehead. She pressed her hand to her mother’s brow and sucked in her lower lip.
Nash’s eyebrows rose in silent question. Was she worse?
Addie shook her head. Did she mean Mrs. Stone’s fever had risen? Or that she improved? Wanting to be sure, he began to rise.
“She’s no worse.” Addie gave reluctant attention to her own food. Her bowl was empty, and she sipped her coffee.
If only Nash could encourage her. Maybe he could divert her with conversation.
“Mr. Bertrand,” he began. “What takes you to Golden Valley?”
“I expected the stagecoach to.”
At his unexpected answer, Nash shared a quick grin with Addie.
Mr. Bertrand sent Hawk a hard look, which made no impression on the other man. He simply pushed his empty bowl away and cupped his mug between his palms. Perhaps hoping to signal that nothing could be done about the weather.
Mr. Bertrand released a less-than-patient sigh. “I have business to attend to. In a timely fashion.”
Nash didn’t respond. Everyone had business of one sort or the other to conduct, and no doubt, each of them believed theirs to be of utmost importance.
Mr. Zacharius coughed. Quieted it with a sip of coffee before he spoke. “I’m joining my son. He has a gold mine that I mean to help him with.”
Hawk eyed Mr. Zacharius. Although he didn’t speak, Nash read his assessment. The wheezing man was in no condition to stand in the river and pan for gold or even to help with a sluice. Hawk’s gaze connected briefly to Nash’s, but neither of them voiced their conclusion.
Mr. Bertrand shifted his attention to Mrs. Stone and Addie. “The goldfield hardly seems the place for two ladies.”
Addie sat up tall and squared her shoulders. “Our ministrations are needed wherever people gather. We’ll take the gospel to those who need it and tend the sick and less fortunate.”
Mr. Bertrand made a dismissive sound. “Your charity is wasted.”
With a toss of her head that flipped strands of blonde hair across her cheek, she turned away. “Good deeds are never wasted.” She gathered up the dishes and carried them to the cupboard, where she poured hot water from the kettle, sloshing it over the dishes in the basin.
Mrs. Stone didn’t move from her rest, but five pairs of eyes followed Addie’s movements.
Hawk stood. “I’ll check on the stock.”
