Mary ran to her mama.
Mother sank wearily to a chair. “I hope Mr. Stone and Nash aren’t attacked by that crowd. They were very angry.”
“As well they should be if that man shot people.” But she hadn’t thought of Father being in any danger. Or Nash. Of course, she wasn’t overlooking him. She simply didn’t know what to think of him. Son of a murderer? Innocent victim? But the way he’d run to the defense of that man who shot Mrs. Hammel’s husband made it hard to view him as the latter.
“Our trunks are here.” It seemed like a safe topic.
“We can unpack later.”
“Of course. I’m assuming Mrs. Hammel and Mary will be staying with us for the time being?”
“She tells me she has no family here or, indeed, anywhere. Poor woman.”
Steps sounded outside the door, and they turned as the preacher entered, wiping his hand across his brow. “A messy business. How is the woman?”
“Mrs. Hammel. It’s only a flesh wound,” Mother said. “She’s resting in the middle room. Her daughter, Mary, is with her. Mrs. Hammel tells me the child didn’t see what happened. For that, we can be grateful.”
“How many dead? How many injured?” Knowing the numbers would let Addie know how angry she should be.
“Three dead. Four injured. The other injured were all men, and they are tending their wounds back at the claims, prepared to defend them.”
Addie offered Father tea, and he sat facing Mother. “This isn’t the welcome I’d wish for you.”
Mother’s smile was gentle. “It’s why we’ve come.”
“You need to rest,” Addie said. “I’ll take care of things.” She told Father how ill Mrs. Stone had been and then turned her attention to seeing to preparations for the evening meal.
The Stones retired to the living room, their words soft as they caught up on their news.
Work. Keep busy. It normally kept Addie from thinking too much. But intruding thoughts continually surfaced. Murders. Justice. Mercy. Where did everyone belong on that spectrum?
The meal ready, she set the table. Should she take food to the bedroom for Mrs. Hammel?
Mother had gone into the room. Soon, the two women and Mary emerged, Mrs. Hammel wearing a dressing gown.
“I have things back at the cabin.” She shuddered.
Preacher Stone assured her he would take care of it.
Although it was pleasant to be gathered around the table, together with Father for the first time in weeks, a pall hung over them because of the dreadful thing that had transpired.
Addie struggled to swallow every mouthful. She avoided looking at Mary because every time she did, she remembered the shock of seeing her murdered parents.
The meal over, she refused Mrs. Hammel’s offer of help. She wanted to forget her past. Numb herself to the memories. But after she’d cleaned the kitchen, it was too early to go to bed.
“I’m going for a walk,” she announced.
The Stones nodded.
“Don’t go far,” the preacher warned. “People are uneasy.”
Addie stepped outside and hovered at the step. Uneasy. It described her feelings. She only went as far as the end of the backyard and stood staring at the pine trees and the jagged mountains circling the town. The sound of water trickling over rocks informed her of the river nearby. The river where men panned for gold. And where they fought for claims. And shot each other.
She closed her eyes and breathed slowly. This wasn’t the same as discovering her parents, but it felt painfully similar. She’d made it through that time, and she’d only been a child.
But how had she done so? She couldn’t remember. The Stones had surrounded her with tenderness, even as they would Mrs. Hammel and Mary. They’d prayed over her. And repeated words of encouragement. She brought some of those words to her mind. God would never leave her nor forsake her. He was her rock. Her shield. Herstrong defender. A shelter in the time of storm. A sure and steady foundation.
In Him will I trust and not be afraid.She repeated the verse over and over until peace returned, and she made her way back to the house. With Father’s help, she put her trunk in her room and unpacked. She hung her clothes in the wardrobe, tucked her books atop the dresser, and her Bible on the little table beside the framed picture of her parents. Her heart skipped once, then returned to normal. Having her belongings around her gave her a sense of security. Lastly, she brought out her journal. She didn’t make daily entries in it. But when she wanted to speak to her parents, she wrote in this book. Tonight, she felt such a need and opened to a fresh page.
