Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
S ampson guided the wagon off the main road as dusk fell around them. Finally. His weary bones craved a stop for the night. The path through the trees was short, and he reined the team to a stop beside the old trapper's shack.
Once he'd set the brake and climbed down, he moved around to assist Miss Hampton. She gathered the baby close before placing her hand in his, allowing him to help her navigate the steep step. Once she stood steady on the ground, he reached for the woven basket that served as the babe's bed. "I'll bring this in, then fetch the rest of what we need for the night."
Miss Hampton’s eyes darted over the dilapidated cabin. She looked uncertain, but they had little choice. They needed shelter for the night.
He pushed open the door and glanced in to make sure the place was vacant. The interior was dim, but enough light came in through the doorway and the cracks in the walls he could see the space. A stone fireplace stood on the far wall with a stack of wood beside it. Otherwise, the single room stood empty.
He stepped aside for Miss Hampton to enter, then followed her in and placed the basket on the floor where they’d lay out the bedrolls. “I’ll be back to start the fire soon.” That would give them light. The woman didn’t seem bothered by the dim interior, just crouched in front of the babe as he left.
It didn’t take long to gather blankets, his food bag, and the satchel she’d asked him to bring inside. When he stepped back into the cabin, Miss Hampton had laid the babe on a blanket spread on the floor. She was doing something with the child’s clothes, cooing and murmuring as she worked.
He set about starting a fire in the hearth to chase away the bitter chill seeping through the log walls. He had half a ham and a few biscuits from the cafe in Missoula Mills, which they could eat cold. It’d be nice to have a warm meal though, something to heat their insides. Good thing he’d brought along a frying pan.
Within a few minutes, the flames crackled nicely. He sat back on his heels to watch the blaze. Something about a fire in the hearth always made a room cozier, even a shack like this one.
“I can cook a meal for us.” Miss Hampton’s voice sounded behind him.
He turned to see that she’d stood, leaving the babe on the blanket but wrapped up tight again.
She waited for his answer, hesitation raising her brows. With the fire’s glow like that, he couldn’t miss how pretty her features were. Almost like an angel.
He motioned toward his food bag. “I was just going to fry up some ham to eat with biscuits. If you can stand that fare, I’ve got it covered.”
She gave a single nod. “That sounds nice. Could you keep an eye on Ruby while I go to the wagon? She should lie there and play.”
Now it was his turn to widen his eyes. He had no idea what to do if she started crying. But the babe held a piece of braided leather and seemed calm enough. He nodded, despite the nerves tightening inside him. “Sure.”
Miss Hampton strode out the door. Lord, help me . But surely Miss Hampton wouldn’t have left if there would be trouble.
He pulled the skillet from his bag and set it on the hearth to heat. Then he opened the cloth that held the food. The ham would taste mighty fine fried up crisp.
As he laid the pieces in the pan, a strange squawk came from the floor behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to see the babe staring at him, eyes wide and curious.
"You doing all right there, little bit?" Speaking to a newborn felt like talking to himself, especially when she made no sound in return.
“All right then. I’ll just finish getting this food ready to cook.” He turned back to his work but shifted so he could still see her at the corner of his gaze.
Funny how the little thing seemed to be studying him, watching his every move. Didn't seem natural for a babe so tiny to be that alert. He moved the pan into the fire, positioning it where the ham should fry without burning.
A wail split the quiet. He jumped, nearly dropping the knife in his other hand. He spun to see the child crying, her little face scrunched up in a howl.
He placed his knife on the hearth and watched the door, wiping his hands on the edge of the cloth that had held the food. Miss Hampton must have heard the cry. She’d come back to help the babe.
Wouldn’t she?
Another howl echoed through the room, making his heart pound. Surely, the woman would run back inside any moment now.
But she didn’t. The door stayed closed. And the babe loosed another squall, this time longer than the others.
Tension thrummed through his veins. He had to do something. He couldn't leave her crying there without help.
Setting the pan aside, he grabbed the cloth that had held the biscuits and wiped his hands again. Then he pushed up from his crouch and moved the few steps to kneel beside the newborn’s blanket. Was she in pain? Sick? Had an insect crept in and bit her? His imagination took off on a dark path, thinking of of all the perils that could befall a person in an abandoned cabin like this one.
He bent low, trying to keep his voice soft. "What is it, little bit?" As soon as the words left his lips, the ruckus ceased. Her mouth still hung open in the shape of a wail, but her wide, teary eyes stared up at him.
For a long moment, they simply looked at each other. Was there pain in her expression? Not that he could tell.
Then she squeezed her eyes shut and loosed another howl.
"Hey now, no need for all that." He reached out a tentative hand to pat her belly. "Your mama will be back soon."
The babe quieted again and blinked up at him, tears clinging to her lashes. Her chin still trembled, but she seemed to be listening to him.
He’d best keep talking. But what should he say to a baby?
She whimpered, and he started blathering about dinner. "Are you hungry? I’ve got some good ham frying up. In fact, it might just burn if I don’t turn the slices."
Her mouth settled into a normal line, and her curious gaze stayed on him.
He didn’t dare move away yet. Not even to take his hand from her middle. “I’ll put biscuits in the pan to warm with the grease from the ham. They’ll be as dandy as if we had fresh butter. Don’t wanna cook ’em too long though or they’ll be dry.”
The babe reached for his hand with one tiny fist. She gripped his pinky and tugged, so he let her pull him. The contact warmed something inside him. How peculiar. She was so small, so easy to break. Yet she held him in a grip he would have to pry himself away from. If he had any desire to do so.
"I see you two are getting acquainted."
He jerked up at Miss Hampton’s voice. He’d not even heard the door open.
She stood just inside, a soft smile on her face in the dim light from the fire.
He gave a sheepish look and tried to pull his finger away, but the babe still held on fiercely. “She’s, um, got my finger. She was crying, and talking seemed to help. Then she grabbed hold and…”
Miss Hampton stepped closer and crouched by the baby’s head. "I think she likes you."
He snorted, even as the idea spread heat through his entire body.
Miss Hampton spoke again, this time to the babe. “I know, sweet pea. But Mr. Coulter needs to do his own work.” She reached out to slide the babe’s hand from his finger, her skin brushing against his. The contact sent a tingle up his arm. He’d touched her before without event—when he’d helped her down from wagon.
Maybe taking care of the babe had addled his mind. Time to get back to the fire, where he belonged.
He moved to the hearth, pushing away all those strange feelings. The ham sizzled in the pan, and he turned the pieces to brown the other side. Thankfully, they hadn’t burned. He placed the biscuits in the rendered fat to warm, just as he'd told the babe he would. The simple domestic task settled his nerves. This was familiar territory.
Behind him, Miss Hampton hummed a soft tune. The gentle melody mixed with the crackle of the fire and filled the small space. He glanced over his shoulder to see her lift the child—Wasn’t her name Ruby?—into her arms and sway in a soothing motion.
Ruby nestled against Miss Hampton's shoulder, her tiny hand clutching the fabric of the woman's shirt. The scene looked so natural, so right. A protectiveness surged through him, something he’d never felt so strongly. He wanted to keep them safe, to shelter them from the cruel world outside these walls.
But it wasn't his place. He turned back to the fire and drew a steadying breath. Miss Hampton wasn't his responsibility. He’d offered to help her get to Missoula. Once they arrived, she'd be back under her father's protection.
The thought almost made him spit. Jedidiah was no protector. He was a bully. A lunatic. A man without a soul.
How could he turn this woman and innocent child over to him? Surely, she knew what kind of a man her father was. Did that mean Miss Hampton approved of his actions? Or maybe she didn’t know the extent of his evil. Probably she didn’t .
It didn’t seem possible she could have been raised by a man and not influenced by his lousy moral code—or lack of one. She seemed gentle and kind, though they’d only met. Could she be hiding a rougher side?
Sampson searched through his memories. He’d never heard Jedidiah mention a family. Jedidiah lived at the mine, so Sampson knew Miss Hampton hadn’t shared a home with her father recently. He would have seen her. And he’d never pictured Jedidiah as a family man. Nothing domestic about that slimy weasel.
Once the food was ready, he pulled the frying pan from the heat and set it on a cool part of the hearth. “Help yourself. I’ll go milk the goat.”
“I’ve already done it.” Miss Hampton crouched to place Ruby on the blanket.
He straightened. “You did?” How had she managed that in the few minutes she was outside? It must have been longer than he realized.
“She milks quickly. I needed to start her grazing too.” Miss Hampton stood and eyed the food with a look that said she’d probably been hungry a while.
He stepped away from the fireplace. “Help yourself. I didn’t think to pack plates.” When he’d stopped by the bunk room in the cave, he’d thrown the pan and some cornmeal into his bag to make johnny cakes in the morning, but he’d forgotten to add something to flip the cakes with. Hopefully, a knife could do for that. Meeting this woman and baby so far from civilization and so close to the mine…it had thrown him off course in a way he still hadn’t quite recovered from.
She motioned from him to the food. “You eat first. I can wait.”
He shook his head and started for the door. “I need to unhitch the team and feed them. I’ll be a few minutes, so eat without me and get settled in for the night.”
He should also bring in more firewood. Maybe by the time he returned, they’d be asleep and he could bed down himself. But first, he needed some fresh air to clear his head.
This trip was not turning out at all the way he’d expected.