“Nor would I want you to be.”
Laughter fled. “What does that mean?”
“Saints are otherworldly. Or as Ma once said, ‘Too heavenly minded to be of earthly good.’”
More sputtered laughter escaped her lips. “I doubt you’ve met many of that description.”
He chuckled. “Only one.”
“Do tell.”
They leaned against the cupboard as they talked. The others read contentedly except for Mother who turned to her other side, mumbling in her sleep. Mother always said sleep was the greatest healer.
Nash folded his arms. “A student preacher came one summer a few years ago. An upright, godly man. Except he was narrow-minded. His judgments were harsh. There existed not one drop of human kindness in him. Pious words about God’s law and God’s righteousness cloaked everything he said but never a word about His grace. That’s when Ma said that.” His chuckle was as much regret as amusement. “I couldn’t help but wonder how many individuals he turned from the kingdom.”
Mother snorted awake and tried to sit up, reaching into the air for something.
Addie hurried to her side. “What is it? What do you want?”
When Mother mumbled, Addie made out enough to know they needed to make a trip to the outhouse. She helped Mother to her feet and held her steady.
Seeing their intent, Nash lifted the slicker from the peg and draped it over them. He opened the door.
Mother staggered and fell against the wall.
Addie pulled her upright and clung to her.
They took two unsteady steps together.
“She’s never going to make it.” Nash scooped her into his arms. “Lead the way.”
“You’re going to get soaked.” As would Mother.
“Take my slicker,” Hawk said.
Nash draped it over his head to cover Mother and his shoulders. He’d still get wet, but it protected Mother.
Addie huddled into Shorty’s rain gear.
They stepped into the rain and hurried along the muddy path. Addie slipped on the wet ground and grabbed Nash’s elbow to steady herself.
“Hang on.”
And she did. At the door of the little building, he set Mother on her feet. Then Addie assisted her while Nash waited in the rain.
The rain! Addie cocked her head toward the sound on the roof. It didn’t sound as loud as it had.
Done their business, she opened the door. Nash again picked up Mother, and they began their return journey.
“It isn’t raining as hard.”
“I noticed that.” Nash paused long enough to look around. “There’s a hint of light in the west.”
“It’s almost over.” Of course, she was happy about that. They all needed to get to Golden Valley for whatever reason they had. But it meant an end to the time she and Nash shared. Except—must it? Yes, he’d continue to his ranch, but wouldn’t he have call to visit the mining town? Would it cross his mind to pay her a visit? Besides, hadn’t he suggested she visit his ranch, and hadn’t she agreed?
They reached the cabin without an answer to her questions. Because there was no answer. They had only the few hours before they left the cabin.
She gave Mother water. Offered her a biscuit, but Mother refused and curled up under the blanket.
