Chapter 19 #2
The entire time we talked to them, all I could think about was the gold in the saddlebags. Because we needed the room for the nuggets, we were carrying our bedrolls and other sundry items on our backs. Did the miners suspect our reason for not putting the things in the saddlebags?
If they did, they didn’t act suspicious. But knowing that they were on the trail and that there could be others made me nervous. Every noise or movement brought my head up and made my heart pound. What would stop someone from killing us in our sleep and taking our gold?
Sam and I worked quietly as we set up camp for the evening. He removed the heavy saddlebags and hid them in a nearby thicket, out of sight from anyone who might come upon us. He tied the mules nearby so they might warn us if anyone approached the gold.
The sun had set behind the horizon, and the cloud cover made it feel darker than it should have been.
The temperature had fallen significantly, and the ominous sky portended rain, but for now we were dry.
I worked on building a fire and gathering supplies for our meal.
I’d become adept at making hasty pudding, and we had a few cans of baked beans left.
As I worked, I tried not to pay attention to my feet.
I hated to think what they looked like and suspected that several blisters had broken open and were bleeding.
We had one more day on the trail before we arrived in Marysville, and then we could take the ferry back to San Francisco.
I could handle one more day with blisters.
But the thought of it brought unwanted tears to my eyes. How much more painful would they be tomorrow?
“What’s wrong?” Sam asked as he left the mules and joined me near the fire.
I swiped at the tears and set a kettle with water over the flames to boil. “Nothing.”
He put his hands on my arms to stop me as I moved past him. “It’s not nothing, Ally.”
I didn’t dare look into his eyes, especially with his hands on me, knowing I would lose all ability to reason if I did. “My feet are a little sore, but I’ll be fine.”
“What do you mean, they’re sore?”
“I just have a blister or two.”
“You have blisters?”
I moved away from his touch. “I’ll be fine.”
“Blisters shouldn’t be taken lightly on the trail,” he said. “We have another day of walking, and if they get infected, you could have a serious problem to deal with. How long have they been bothering you?”
I didn’t want to admit the truth, but I wasn’t going to lie to him as I went for the cornmeal. “Since before lunch.”
“Ally.” The way he said my name was a mixture of censure, concern, and tenderness.
I finally turned and looked at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
I wasn’t sure if I should feel chastised or cherished, so I said, “I wanted to get as far as we could today.”
“Come here.” He walked to a boulder and set his bedroll at the base of it. “Sit down.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to tend to your feet.”
It probably wasn’t a good idea to let him get close to me after the feelings that his touch elicited, but I also knew he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Putting the cornmeal back in the bag, I let myself limp as I made my way across the campsite, listening to the mules munching on their supper.
He offered his hand and helped me to the ground.
I started to remove my dirty boots, but he gently moved my hands aside and began to unlace the first one.
His hands were large and strong, and he worked in silence, glancing up at me as he put one hand behind my ankle while pulling the boot off with the other.
I winced and put my hand on his shoulder to stop him. It had the desired effect. He paused, and his shoulder muscles tensed under my hand.
Awareness crackled between us, and I was reminded of how alone we really were.
“I’m sorry it hurts,” he said, his voice soothing. “I’ll try to be gentle.”
I swallowed the nerves bubbling up my throat as I nodded and removed my hand from his shoulder.
He slowly took off the boot, and I tried not to tense. My stockings, which had been white when they were new, were now a dull gray and marked with blood.
“Ally,” he said again, shaking his head. “You should have said something.”
I didn’t bother to answer as he removed the other boot and then went to the fire to retrieve the water I had set there to warm for our hasty pudding.
While he was away, I took off my stockings, which were gartered just above my knees.
Even though I often had bare legs in 1929, it was different here. With Sam.
When I was done, I lowered the hem to my ankles. He returned and knelt in front of me with the warm water and a salve he kept in his saddlebag.
“This is going to hurt,” he said, wincing, “but we need to make sure they’re clean and protected from infection.”
I took a deep breath, but it wasn’t the pain I was anticipating—it was his touch on my bare feet.
“I can do it myself,” I said, feeling vulnerable and uncertain.
When he lifted his gaze to mine, there was warmth and affection, and something more. “Let me.”
His touch was gentle as he washed my feet. Neither of us spoke, but I saw the concern on his face as he examined the blisters. There were several, and they had all been bleeding for hours, but he didn’t scold me again.
After drying them, he applied the salve with tender fingers. His touch sent pleasure up my calves and straight to my heart.
His breath was steady and even, but when he had to move my foot and his hand slipped farther up my calf, I knew he was just as affected as I was. He paused, his breath coming faster as his thumb caressed my skin.
I began to tremble as I waited, but he continued to administer the salve, not looking at my face. When he was done, he stood and said, his voice a bit gruff, “I’ll wash your stockings and set them out to dry, and then I’ll start on our supper.”
“I can—”
“I want you to stay off your feet, Ally.” His voice was still gruff, but he finally looked at me and it softened. “You need to rest and keep them clean.”
“I can at least sit by the fire and stir the hasty pudding.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
I didn’t protest again as I leaned against the rock, watching him work. He was diligent and thorough and so handsome in the flickering light of the campfire.
Whenever he looked up and caught me watching him, I didn’t shy away or drop my gaze, and each time I was rewarded with his smile.
There were no stars to fill the sky with the low clouds hanging overhead, but the wind had died down and the evening sounds had taken its place.
An owl hooted in the distance as small animals scampered through the forest nearby.
The mules shuffled their feet, and the firelight danced on the boulders near our camp.
I was constantly aware of the threats around us, but with Sam nearby, it was hard to worry about them.
He handed me a plate with hasty pudding and beans and then took a seat next to me, his back against the boulder, our legs brushing.
“Thank you,” I said, though I felt a little foolish for playing the invalid when my feet were the only problem.
“You’re welcome.”
We ate in silence for several minutes, but I didn’t mind. With Sam, I didn’t feel like I always needed to talk. So much was communicated without words between us.
Finally, he broke the silence and asked, “Do you miss teaching?”
“More than I thought I would.” I dipped my spoon into the hasty pudding. “I’m thankful Hazel and Johnnie enjoy learning. It has helped ease that transition in my life.”
“Do you like acting? In your other path?” His question was hesitant, as if he was afraid of my answer.
I loved that Sam knew about my time-crossing. It was so much a part of me that it was hard to imagine him not knowing. “I do enjoy it. But probably because I work with my family. If they weren’t involved, I don’t think I would like it as much.” I hesitated and then said, “I admire you, Sam.”
“Why?”
“You didn’t cave under the pressure to work for your father.”
“Is that what you’ve done?”
“No. If I wanted to leave it, I could. My sister Julia left acting. But I’m starting to see that I didn’t give myself any other options. It came so naturally to me, I didn’t question it.”
“Do you want to continue?”
“Honestly?” I let out a deep breath. “I don’t think I do.” I glanced at him. “You’re the first person I’ve told that to. I don’t want to disappoint my family there.”
He seemed to understand, so he said, “Tell me about them.”
I spent the next thirty minutes talking about Mama and Papa, Vicky, Julia, Grace, and all the other family members who filled my life and heart. He knew a little about them, but I dove deeper, telling him more about our time-crossing family connections.
The only person I didn’t tell him about was Spencer, but he wasn’t family. At least, that was the reason I gave myself for not telling him.
Sam had finished his meal and set aside his plate while I spoke. He lifted one of his legs and hooked his arm around his knee as he listened. Somehow, we were sitting closer than we’d been before, our shoulders pressed together.
“I like knowing about your family,” he said, his voice low. “I wish I could meet them.”
“I do, too.”
There was silence between us for a moment, and then Sam reached out and took my hand tentatively, as if waiting to see if I would pull away.
When I didn’t, he let his thumb run over mine, sending a tingling sensation up my arm. I wanted to press closer as warmth washed over me. I loved how I felt when I was with Sam.
Neither of us spoke for a moment until Sam said, “I’m falling in love with you, Ally. The more I learn about you and your family, the more my feelings grow.”
I was thankful we were facing the fire so I didn’t have to look into his eyes just then, because if I did, I was afraid I might reveal the truth with my own. I was also falling in love. But I couldn’t. Not with Sam. Not now, when I didn’t know what I would do in five weeks.
“I know it’s not the right time,” he said, “and you probably don’t feel the same way I do—”
“Sam.” I put my free hand on his arm and finally turned to look at him.
When our gazes met, I knew that he saw the truth, and hope flickered to life in his eyes.
I swallowed as my chest rose and fell on deep breaths. “I—” I shook my head.
“I know.” He lowered his leg and put his free hand on my cheek. “I know, Ally.”
I pressed into his hand, relieved that I didn’t need to explain. It was hard to put words to my feelings or to describe why I hesitated.
“I’ll do whatever I can to help you,” he said. “And if you need to leave here on your birthday—” He inhaled, as if the very thought was too much to consider. “If it makes your choice easier knowing I’m here to take care of your father and Hazel, I will do it for you. I promise.”
A tear fell down my cheek as I realized that Bess had taken advantage of Sam’s goodness by leaving Johnnie in his care.
I couldn’t do that to him—make him say good-bye to another woman he cared about and leave him responsible for two people who weren’t even family.
Yet the knowledge that he would sacrificially offer this option to me made me realize how much I loved him.
“Thank you.” It was all I could say as another tear escaped.
His thumb ran over my cheek, just as it had that night the man broke into Bess’s Place. But this time, I knew Sam. I now understood what the M on his thumb meant. It didn’t mean murderer. It represented sacrifice and protection. And love.
I didn’t shy away from his touch any longer. Instead, I leaned into it.
He laid his forehead against mine. “I want to kiss you.”
I closed my eyes, savoring the feel of his hand on my cheek and his body pressed so close to mine. “I want you to kiss me,” I whispered. I had never wanted something so much in my life.
He took several more breaths, but then he slowly pulled away.
I opened my eyes, confused.
“You’re under my protection, Ally.” He slowly lowered his hand. “We’re alone. I can’t, in good conscience, do something that I would beat another man for doing.”
A slow smile tilted my lips. “It’s just a kiss.”
He shook his head. “Not to me.”
My mood grew serious as he leaned back on the rock, still holding my hand, and studied the fire.
“I’ve never felt this way before,” he said. “It scares me and gives me hope, all at the same time. And I’m afraid if I kissed you, I would only want more than you can give me.”
I leaned my head on his shoulder and knew exactly what he meant.
And I loved him even more for it.