Chapter 11 #3
It was dark, though my eyes were adjusted enough to see Sam dive across the room toward the man.
I tried not to scream or draw attention as I watched. Hazel cried, and Johnnie pressed his face into my shoulder.
Sam took the man off guard and was able to tackle him to the ground. The man grunted, and the knife flew out of his hand, landing on the mattress where I’d just been lying.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Sam ground out as he pinned the man to the floor.
The man bucked and tried to push Sam off, but he was no match for Sam’s strength and size.
“You’re drunk, Bill,” Sam said, his knee driving into Bill’s gut. “And probably the most foolish man in San Francisco.” Anger seethed out of him. “You’ll pay for this mistake. Mark my words.”
Bill began to cry as the fight left him.
Sam’s anger turned to disgust as he took his knee off Bill’s gut and pushed away from him to stand. “Get out of my establishment, and if I see you anywhere close to this place or Miss Adams ever again, you’ll regret the day you were born.”
“I wasn’t here for Miss Adams,” he sobbed. “I’m looking for Rosie.”
Sam straightened, his face turning to stone.
Bill stumbled through the hole he’d created in the canvas and disappeared into the night, his sobs following him.
Sam turned, fear in his gaze as he surveyed me and the children. “Are you hurt?”
I shook my head, tears filling my eyes. “I—I was just scared.” My voice broke as my emotions took over. I’d never been more afraid in my life.
Sam came around the bed, breathing hard, and knelt beside us.
Johnnie climbed into his arms without a word as Sam studied me. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
All I could do was nod.
“I would never let anything or anyone hurt you or the children,” he said.
A shiver ran up my spine, and tears filled my eyes for a new reason. This tender, compassionate, loving man was also fierce, loyal, and protective.
But he was hiding something from me—perhaps a lot of things—and I could not trust him because of it. He could very well be the person who hurt me the most if I let him. I wasn’t sure who Rosie was, but I was afraid she was the woman in the shed with Sam.
“I’ll sleep on the floor in here, near the hole.” He cradled the back of Johnnie’s head as he spoke. “Until I can fix it in the morning.”
It wasn’t proper for him to sleep in the same room as me, but it wasn’t smart to sleep in a room with a large hole in the outside wall, either. I had little choice. I nodded.
“Hazel and Johnnie can sleep in the bed with me.” My voice didn’t work properly as I choked out the words.
Hazel still clung to me as I stood. I realized I was in my nightgown, and though it was decent, I felt vulnerable and exposed in front of Sam. His bare, muscular arms wrapped around Johnnie, and I had to force myself to look away.
When Sam stood, Johnnie refused to let go, burrowing his face into Sam’s neck.
“It looks like Johnnie is sleeping with me,” he said.
I climbed into the bed, thankful that Hazel didn’t protest Johnnie’s decision, but paused at seeing the knife.
Sam reached for it and put it on a shelf nearby.
I pulled the covers over us as Sam moved the pallet the children had been sleeping on to the other side of the bed. He did it with Johnnie hanging on him, but he didn’t complain or force the child to let him go.
After the pallet was in place, he left the room for a few seconds and then came back with his blanket from the kitchen—and his holster and pistol.
Finally, Sam lowered Johnnie to the floor and lay down beside him.
I stared at the wooden ceiling, my heart still pounding hard.
Sam’s breathing evened out, and then all was still. Hazel fell asleep beside me, and I prayed she would not be emotionally or physically scarred from the events in this godforsaken place.
“I miss the quiet.” Sam’s voice broke the stillness, surprising me.
Wiping a stray tear from my cheek, I said, “I miss a great many things, like a sense of security and a trust in humanity.”
“That’s something I’ve never had the privilege of experiencing.”
I was so close to the edge of the bed—so close to him. I rolled onto my stomach and looked over the side.
He was lying on his back, one arm under his head and chest bare. The other arm held Johnnie, who slept against him.
Sam’s gaze found mine in the darkness, and he studied me openly.
“Thank you,” I said, tears threatening again. “For protecting me and the children and providing a place for Father to get well. We won’t take advantage of your kindness forever.”
“You cannot take advantage of something I freely offer you.”
Before I could stop it, a tear slipped down my cheek and landed on his chest.
Slowly, he removed his hand from behind his head and reached up to wipe my cheek with the pad of his thumb. The soft scar from the letter M traced the trail of my tear, reminding me that this man was dangerous and frightening.
So why didn’t my heart want to believe it?
“Good night, Ally,” he whispered. “I’ll see you when you come back from 1929.”
It was the first time he’d said my name.