The spoon scraped crockery as she ate the soup, then handed the bowl to Shorty. She turned her attention back to Mother. Tension caught at Addie’s neck at the red spots in Mother’s cheeks. Her fever was supposed to be going down.
Addie touched her forehead. She was so hot.
Her hand trembling, Addie sponged Mother’s face, hands, and neck.
If only she had the fever tea in Mother’s trunk.
She sprang to her feet. “I have to get something from our luggage.” Surprised looks shot her way as she dashed out the door to hurry down the trail.
The muddy and slippery ground forced her to slide down the slope to reach the coach. The land fell away to a ravine. Beyond that, the mountains encircled the place, guardians of nature. Bright spring flowers dotted the green grass. Dark pines drew boundary lines.
She brought her attention to the coach. Mud clung to the wheels. Digging it free and getting it back on the trail would be a challenging task.
She picked her way through the mud. The coach tipped at an angle that made her reach for the step. Her weight brought a movement. She held her breath and then exhaled.
It was only the normal sway of the coach. She had the door open, balanced partway into the riding area, but she couldn’t reach the trunk, stored on top, from here. She lowered her feet to the mud, stepped on a spoke, and climbed to the driver’s box. Her breath stalled in her chest at the view before her. The wheels hung over the edge, leaving nothing to the far side but the yawning ravine. Rocks and clumps of grass dotted the embankment. The coach shuddered under her weight. Did she imagine it shifted?
She was poised to jump should the wheels slide further over the edge. Then her breath wheezed out. The wheels were firmly encased in mud. The coach wasn’t going anywhere. Her gaze drank in the beauty before she climbed to the roof. On hands and knees, she picked her way to Mother’s trunk stowed in the far corner.
Water dribbled from the lid as she opened the trunk. The contents had stayed dry. Thank goodness. The tin containing Mother’s medicinal teas lay at the bottom. In order to reach it, she pushed aside woolen clothes and a pair of sturdy shoes. The tin itself was too heavy and awkward to carry back, so she opened it and took out the package of leaves she needed. Careful to keep things dry, she closed the tin and lowered the lid.
As she rose, the coach swayed. This time, she didn’t imagine the conveyance tipped toward the abyss.
Addie crouched low, clinging to the rails. She had to get off before the coach slid down the slope. She gritted her teeth to stop them from shivering. On her hands and knees, she prepared to ease toward the roof’s upper edge. She’d jump from there.
But when she lifted one knee to move forward, the coach dipped. She let her knee return to the wood and held her breath until the rocking motion stopped.
She clung to the rail, not daring to move. How was she going to get off this thing and safely reach the ground?
“It won’t budge.”
While Hawk scowled at the offending rock—more like a small boulder—Nash considered the obstacle. They couldn’t drive six horses pulling the stagecoach around it. It would have to be moved. “We’ll have to get a horse and a rope. I’ll go back. You can work at filling the washout.”
“I expected someone would come looking for us by now.” Hawk stared down the trail.
“Maybe there’s been some kind of disaster at Golden Valley.” Nash had considered the many reasons why helphadn’t appeared. “Or maybe there’s been a washout or landslide closer to town.”
“Yeah.”
Or maybe they simply had their hands full dealing with the aftereffects of the heavy rain.
As Hawk bent to move dirt into the washout, Nash hurried back to the cabin. He had no need to go inside. After all, the horse and rope were at the barn. But he got the animal, found a rope hanging on the wall, and then went to the cabin.
Three men sat at the table reading. Mrs. Stone remained on the fur. She looked poorly. He didn’t see Addie. Assuming she’d gone to the outhouse, he waited.
Shorty looked up at him. “You did not bring Miss Addie with you?”
The words made no sense. “Why would she be with me?”
“When she was gone so long, I thought—” He shrugged. “I guess I was wrong.”
Gone! Where? When? Why? Nash’s fingers creaked at how hard he coiled them. He voiced his questions.
Shorty’s eyes narrowed. “She left—” He glanced at the clock. “At least an hour ago. Maybe an hour and a half. She said she was going to the coach to get something.”
Nash dashed out the door before Shorty finished. He grabbed the horse’s bridle and, slipping several times, trotted to where the stagecoach lay mired in mud. He and Hawk had checked on it earlier, noting how the pressure of the mud had pushed the far wheels toward the cliff’s edge. It wouldn’t take much to tip the whole affair over. It would roll over and over, reaching the bottom in a thousand pieces of shattered wood and bent metal. And should someone be on the coach, they would be brokenbeyond?—
He ground down on his teeth so hard that his jaw muscles popped.
