“Any ever come calling here, at the cabin?” Mr. Bertrand seemed set on seeing disaster.
Shorty examined his thumbnail.
“I take your silence for a yes.”
All eyes turned to Shorty. With a shrug, he said, “One fall, late in the season, a big one discovered my supplies and helped himself to them. He ruined most of my winter stores. Thus, I built that storeroom.” He jabbed his thumb in the direction. “I could ill afford to let bears rob me.” He stared into the distance and then spoke again. “I once encountered a bear out in the woods. A sow with cubs. She did not care for my intrusion.”He paused as they all held their breath to hear the rest of the tale.
“Shorty, what happened?” Addie asked.
“She rose up on her hind legs. I had to lean back to look at her face.” He shuddered. “Her teeth were big and sharp. She waved her paws at me. Have you ever seen the size of a bear’s paws? They’re huge.” He held his hands out to indicate what he meant.
Addie shivered and pressed into Nash so firmly that he had to lean toward her to keep his balance.
“And claws this long.” Shorty indicated their length. “I glanced over my shoulder. Could I hope to outrun her? Or climb a tree? It did not seem possible.”
“Shorty!” Addie’s voice rang out when the man stopped and seemed disinclined to continue.
Shorty lifted one shoulder and favored them with a regretful look. “Turns out I did not have to outrun the bear. I simply had to run faster than my partner.”
“Partner? You have a partner?” Mr. Bertrand glanced around the room as if expecting someone to emerge from the shadows.
“Had one.”
Mr. Zacharius gasped. “Are you meaning to tell us that the bear—” He shook his head and didn’t finish.
Hawk looked at the table, making it impossible to see his expression. But did his lips twitch?
Nash laughed. “He’s joshing us. Shorty, you got us good.”
Shorty looked sheepish and a little pleased with himself as one by one, the others realized it was a tall tale. Mr. Bertrand grumbled about not being able to believe anyone while the others laughed.
Their noise disturbed Mrs. Stone, and she sat up. “Addie, are you there?”
Addie hurried to her side. “Mother, are you feeling better? Let me get you a drink.” She filled a cup with water and carried it to the woman.
Mrs. Stone took a swallow and handed it back. “I need to go—” She nodded toward the door, and Addie helped her up. The older woman moved slowly and unsteadily.
Nash followed, prepared to assist if it need be.
Mrs. Stone moaned. “My head hurts.” Her knees began to fold.
Nash caught her and followed Addie to the little house outside. He stayed within calling distance and then carried Mrs. Stone back and deposited her on the fur rug. She moaned several times and cupped her hand to her head.
Addie knelt beside him. “She’s fevered again.”
He’d guessed as much.
“I need to be taking better care of her.” Addie hurried to fill a basin with water, sponged her mother’s face and neck, then left the cool cloth on her forehead. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her. Why isn’t she getting better?”
He patted Addie’s shoulder. “You’re doing what you can.”
“I don’t know that I am.” She leaned toward him. Perhaps seeking comfort from him?
“What else could you do?”
Her glance circled the room as if an answer lay within it. Her gaze reached his and stalled there.
“I don’t know. But I don’t dare fail.”
