Enough of dreaming and hoping. God held her future in His hands, and she’d trust He would bring the best. Yet, she released the building laugh. Perhaps He already had.
Mother rested more quietly than she had previously. She wakened enough to drink a cupful of water. Then, with a gentle word of thanks, she lay back on the fur. “I’m feeling better, but I’m so tired.”
She might have fallen back asleep or simply closed her eyes to indicate she wanted to be left alone. Either way, Addie sat back. Rest was good. Patience was also good.
Needing something to occupy her hands and thoughts, Addie went to the kitchen with Shorty following.
“What are you going to make?” he asked.
“What would you suggest?” She’d looked in the cupboards and the storeroom. He had the basics in the way of cooking supplies.
“Well, now, I often yearn for pie. Can you make a pie? Might you allow me to watch and learn how?” His words, as always, were precise as if being cut from a dictionary.
“I can certainly make a pie. But what will I use for filling?” She hadn’t seen anything useful for pies.
“I always favored raisin pie, and there’s raisins on the top shelf.” He reached into the dark recesses of the shelf and pulled out a sack of them. “I bought them with plans to make a pie.” He shrugged and gave a self-mocking laugh. “When I got them home, I realized I did not know how. Do you think?—?”
The raisins were dry, but she’d boil them until they plumped up. “I’ll make you pie. At the same time, I’ll teach you how to do it for yourself.”
“You are the best. The very best.”
“I’m not, but thanks for saying it.” She poured enough raisins into a saucepan for a pie. On second thought, she made it enough for two pies. As she worked, she explained each step. He proved to be an eager student. Under her guidance, he soon had dough rolled out. She demonstrated how to ease it into a pie pan.
They returned to the stove. The raisins were plump. She had him measure flour into sugar and add it to the boiling pot. When the mixture had thickened, he poured it into the two pies. Together, they added the top crust and slashed vents for the steam to escape, then put the pies in the oven.
“You are now officially a pie baker,” she said.
“Thanks to you.” He shifted his gaze from the oven to her. “I could use someone like you around here.”
Was that an invitation? To do what? Become his housekeeper? Or his—the wordwifestalled in the back of her brain.
She studied him more closely. Until now, he’d been the man they’d rescued from under a fallen tree. But he wasn’t old. In fact, if he cut his hair and shaved his whiskers—she shook her head. His offer—if it had been one—did not interest her.
“How is your leg?”
Interest died in his gaze. “It hurts some, but nothing a man cannot live with.” His attention returned to staring at the oven door. “How long for the pies to bake?”
“I’d guess forty-five minutes, but we’ll need to check on them from time to time.”
“I thank you for showing me how to make a pie.” He inhaled deeply. “They smell quite fine.”
Awkward silence lingered.
Mr. Zacharius sat up with a noisy intake of air. “When will Hawk and Nash return?”
“What’s to stop them from walking to Golden Valley and leaving us here to fend for ourselves?” Mr. Bertrand’s harsh words grated.
“They wouldn’t do that.” Addie’s voice grew firm as she crossed to the window. “They’ll be back.” The horses stood at the corral fence looking toward the trail. Did they hear something?
Needing to use the outhouse, she stepped outside and moved down the path, pausing to study her surroundings and listen for unusual sounds. Apart from birdsong and the rustle of leaves, she heard nothing of interest. They would return despite Mr. Bertrand’s cynical pronouncement.And when they did, a meal would be waiting for them.
With Shorty’s company and help, she had mashed potatoes, bottled meat in rich brown gravy, and turnips ready for supper. The pies cooled on the cupboard. Still Hawk and Nash hadn’t returned. Addie would have waited until they did, but Mr. Bertrand wouldn’t allow it.
“I paid good money for this trip. Is it too much to expect I should be served a decent meal at a decent hour?”
She served the food, keeping back enough for the two men. Mother refused to take anything except water.
“You need to eat to get your strength back.”
