Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
G race’s foot tapped out a rhythm on the floor of the wagon as she watched the snow-patched landscape pass by.
She’d never been to this part of the country, but it looked like every other stretch of land they’d passed through that morning. Trees lining both sides of the road, and snowcapped mountains rising in all directions.
The only difference was that her father was nearby.
Her chest tightened at the thought of seeing him. He wouldn’t be happy about her leaving the house. Nor surprising him like this. He hated surprises, that she knew for certain.
And he and Mama had always warned her not to go near the mine where he worked. Would he be angry she'd ridden all this way with one of his workers? Trusting Mr. Coulter had been a good choice, far better than trying to drive the wagon and care for the babe on her own.
What would Father think about Ruby? She honestly had no idea. She’d like to think he’d approve of her helping others.
She glanced down at the basket where Ruby slept. So peaceful at last. She’d woken an extra time to eat in the night, then had been fussy all morning. But about a quarter hour ago she finally gave in to sleep. If only Grace could do the same. So many weeks of interrupted nights left her perpetually weary.
Mr. Coulter nodded ahead. "There's the town."
Her heart picked up speed as she studied the cluster of buildings emerging from the barren landscape.
This was it. The moment of truth.
She tried to still her restless foot, but it seemed to have a mind of its own. She curled her fingers around the edge of the wagon seat, knuckles whitening.
Mr. Coulter must have sensed her unease, for he glanced over, his brow furrowed with concern. "Does your father have any idea you're coming?”
She shook her head, not trusting her voice to keep steady.
"You think he'll be upset you've come to find him?" There was a note of apprehension in his tone.
Grace swallowed hard. "No." But even to her own ears, the word sounded feeble and unconvincing. Weak. She couldn’t let herself be weak. She had to show confidence.
Mr. Coulter's frown deepened. "When was the last time you saw him?"
"A little over a month ago."
He looked as though he wanted to say more, but they’d reached the first buildings on the outskirts of town.
She stared at all the unfamiliar shops and houses. So many. She only had one memory of seeing a town—Canvas Creek—but it hadn’t been this big. Had it?
A river flowed behind the structures to the right, its waters dark and turbulent. A handful of men milled about the street, barely sparing a glance at their approaching wagon.
"Jedidiah’s staying at the hotel." Mr. Coulter spoke quietly. "I'll take you there first and help you get settled. They should have a room available for you and the babe. Your things will be safe in the wagon at the livery, and I'll see to it the goat has a stall as well."
Grace nodded but couldn’t speak. She tried to envision the reunion with her father. The speech she’d rehearsed over and over during the journey now seemed so inadequate. How would he react to her sudden appearance—and the baby? Anger? Shock? She couldn't picture any other response.
Would he open his arms and welcome her? Not likely. He'd hugged her when she was a girl—when he arrived for a visit and when he would leave. But that affection had ended many years ago.
They’d become polite to each other. When he came, he asked how she and her mother fared. The last time, after Mama passed, he'd not even dismounted his horse. She’d come outside to meet him, and he’d inquired about how she was getting along. When she told him how hard it was, how much she missed Mama, he hadn’t responded at all. Maybe he'd not known what to say. Surely, he missed his wife too. He'd simply questioned whether Oren had come to deliver supplies that month, and when she said yes, he nodded. Then he'd turned and rode away.
As Mr. Coulter brought the wagon to a halt in front of the hotel, her heart pounded, and she couldn’t catch a full breath. She clutched the handle of Ruby's basket.
He hopped down and came around to assist her. For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to cling to the safety of the wagon bench, to flee back to the lonely familiarity of the house in the valley.
Why did she ever think this was a good idea? She was doing this for her freedom. She just needed a little money from her father, then she could start anew somewhere else. Somewhere with people, where loneliness wouldn't consume her.
With Mama gone, she couldn't take the isolation. Not another day.
She finally placed her gloved hand in Mr. Coulter's, then used his strength for support as she stepped down from the wagon. She worked to ignore the warmth that spread up her cheeks as his fingers enveloped hers.
"Thank you," she managed to say.
"It's my pleasure." He smiled, but his eyes still held a glimpse of worry. Was his concern about her encounter with Father as well? “I’ll get the basket.”
She let him reach in and hoist Ruby in a smooth motion.
As he started to walk forward, she caught his sleeve. "Mr. Coulter?"
He paused, eyebrows arched.
"I...I wanted to thank you for bringing me here." She bit her bottom lip. She couldn’t make herself meet his eyes. The air between them seemed charged with…she couldn’t say what. Maybe only her nerves.
“I’m glad I was there to help.” His voice came gentle, a lifeline. She finally met his gaze and let herself sink into those eyes. They understood. Somehow, they understood.
She took in a breath, filling her chest fully, then let out a long stream of worry.
“We’ll get through this.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. It wasn’t a smile exactly, but it eased the weight on her chest.
She nodded. “Good.”
Together, they took the two steps up to the hotel door, and he opened it to allow her entrance. The space inside somehow felt massive and small at the same time. The ceiling in this first area wasn’t nearly as tall as their cabin in the valley. But the stairs ahead rose up and up. Greenery and red bows wrapped around the posts.
Christmas. She’d been trying not to remember the holiday. Mama had always made their home festive for that day. Without her here, there seemed no point in celebrating. And taking care of Ruby required all Grace’s energy.
On her left stood a closed door, but the area on their right was open. An office of sorts. The man sitting at a desk looked up. Recognition lit his eyes and he stood. “Mr. Coulter. You’re back.”
Mr. Coulter nodded. "Yep. Do you have a room for Miss Hampton here?"
The clerk’s face fell. "Sorry, we're all full up. The only room left is the one I held for you."
Mr. Coulter didn't hesitate. "Then give that room to Miss Hampton. I'll find another place to stay."
The clerk began to protest. "But sir?—"
"It's fine. Please see that Miss Hampton is comfortable." Mr. Coulter's tone brooked no argument.
The man nodded and reached under the desk, producing a brass key. "Of course. Room one, top of the stairs and to your left, miss."
Grace accepted the key with a murmured thanks. She hated feeling like an unwanted complication in these men's lives. She followed Mr. Coulter up the narrow staircase, the wooden steps creaking under their feet.
At the top, he led her down the hall to the first door on the left, marked with a tarnished number one. "Your father is across the way in room two. I’m not sure if he’s there now or not.” He spoke in barely more than a whisper. “If not, we can go search for him when I’m back from the livery.”
She nodded but didn’t try to speak. Her tongue felt thick and heavy, her mouth dry as cotton.
He eased Ruby's basket down inside the room, then backed out. "I'll return shortly." He held her gaze for an extra beat, then turned and retreated down the hallway.
Something in his expression though…
She took in a long breath, then let it flow out. She wasn’t alone in this. He’d helped so much already. And that parting look had said he wouldn’t leave her until she was ready for him to.
She turned to take in the space that would be her lodging—a small, tidy room with a narrow cot, washstand, chest of drawers, and chair. She and Ruby could manage well here.
She moved to the bed and sank down on the edge. The mattress crinkled, far thinner than the down tick she used at home. What had they stuffed it with, paper?
She stared at the closed door, pulse thrumming in her ears. Only a few feet and two wooden doors separated her from her father. She'd traveled so many miles to get here, and yet she dreaded crossing that final threshold. Cowardice, plain and simple.
But Mr. Coulter had offered to help, so she could simply take him up on his offer and wait till he returned.
* * *
S he’d run out of things to do.
Ruby still slept, and Grace had paced the room so many times she'd probably worn the last bit of finish off the wood floor. How long could it take to park the wagon and unharness the horses?
She walked to the window to look out at the street again. Maybe if she stared long enough, Mr. Coulter would appear.
She only had to stand there a moment before he stepped around the building on the end.
His broad shoulders filled the space as he strode down the street, his long legs eating up the distance with purposeful steps. The strength and confidence he exuded seemed to wrap around her like a warm blanket, promising protection and security.
When he disappeared from view under the awning, she turned to face the door, heart pounding as she waited for his knock.
The scuff of his boots on the stairs came first. He seemed to be trying to walk quietly, but that was no easy task. When the steps stopped, a soft knock sounded on the door.
She hurried over and pulled it open. "Mr. Coulter."
His gaze found hers, searching her face. Was he looking for signs of distress? "Is everything all right?"
"Yes." Did she sound too breathless? "I haven't seen my father yet."
She couldn't bring herself to say she'd been waiting for him. That made her sound helpless.
But understanding softened his expression. "Want me to knock on his door? See if he's in?"
"Please." Her voice pitched too high with the word.
He turned to the door across the hall and rapped against the wood, louder than he’d done on her door. His voice carried more strength too. "It's Sampson Coulter."
She stood in her own doorway and held her breath, straining for any sound of movement from within. Nothing came, but the door swung open a moment later, revealing her father's stern face. His gaze ignored Mr. Coulter, locking directly on her. He didn’t look surprised. Had he heard her already?
She fought the urge to shrink back under the weight of his scrutiny, forcing herself to muster a smile. "Hello, Father." Her voice trembled a little. "I've come to find you."
Mr. Coulter took a small step back, clearing the space between her and her father. She waited for Father to step forward, to close the distance himself. But he remained planted in his doorway, his eyes never leaving her face. Was that anger? He was so hard to read. Why didn’t he say anything?
Drawing in a breath, she took a tentative step forward.
Her father’s jaw tightened, and she halted. The lines around his mouth deepened. "Why are you here, Grace?" The flatness in his tone made it impossible to gauge his mood. Was he angry? Annoyed?
She swallowed hard, scrambling for her rehearsed speech. "I…I can't stay at the house in the valley anymore. Not alone." The words tumbled out. "I'm going mad by myself. I need…I want to find a place in a town. I’ll work, earn my keep. You won’t have to worry with me anymore. I only need…"
Her throat closed up, choking off the rest. Even now, she couldn't bring herself to ask for money. To beg for his help.
"You need money," he finished flatly. Then his gaze cut to Mr. Coulter, sharpening. "And what exactly are you doing with my daughter? Why is she in your room?"
Mr. Coulter met her father's question with a calm steadiness she would love to possess. "I met Miss Hampton outside the mine yesterday. She needed to reach you, so I offered to bring her to you here. There aren’t any other rooms available, so I gave her mine. I’ll be sleeping at the livery. Nothing improper has happened. You have my word."
The suspicion in her father's eyes didn't waver. If anything, it intensified as he turned back to her. "So, you spent the night with my daughter, and now she's living with you."
A gasp slipped out before she could stop it, and heat surged up her neck. "No! It's not like that at all. Mr. Coulter helped me. He never…" She trailed off, the rest of her defense lodging in her throat as her father's cold stare silenced her.
How could he even think such a thing of her?
"Enough." Her father's voice snapped like a whip. He leveled a finger at Mr. Coulter. "You've compromised my daughter's virtue. There's only one way to remedy that. You'll marry her. Today."
The words struck like a physical blow, driving the air from her lungs. Marry a man she barely knew? The very idea was ludicrous. Impossible. And yet, her father looked determined.
Mr. Coulter didn't seem nearly as shocked as she felt. He just…studied him. He tipped his head, as though trying to see deeper. "And why would you want that, sir?"
He seemed to be asking more than the words implied, but she couldn’t decipher what. Her stomach knotted tighter with each frantic beat of her pulse.
Her father spoke, each word sharp as a knife. "Because I want it. That should be reason enough."
A few beats later, Mr. Coulter dipped his chin. Then he turned to face her fully.
When his eyes met hers, they softened, warming with an emotion she dared not try to name. "Miss Hampton, I would be honored if you would agree to be my wife. I promise you’ll never need for anything, and you can make your home anywhere you wish."
His tone was sincere, almost pleading. Did he want her to say yes? To go along with this insanity? Shouldn’t he want to do whatever it took to get out of her father’s demand?
But something in his steady blue gaze held her.
A steadiness. A calmness. Part of her yearned to lean into his strength, to take shelter in the security he offered. And yet, she resisted, bitterly chafing against her father making this decision for her.
He'd controlled every aspect of her life for so long. She couldn't let him take this choice from her too. Not when she'd finally gathered the courage to break free of him.
Tearing her gaze from Mr. Coulter's, she forced herself to face her father head on. "I need time to think about it." Her voice quavered but didn't break.
His eyes flashed, but he didn’t say anything. Just took a step back and motioned for Mr. Coulter to enter his room. “We need to talk.”
Mr. Coulter turned to give her a final look as he obeyed her father’s command. His eyes appeared almost pleading. For her to say yes? That didn’t make sense at all.
Why could he possibly want to be saddled with a wife? And a baby?
Backing into her room, she closed the door and leaned against it. What now? Did she agree to marry him? This stranger she’d only met yesterday? Though hadn’t she already thought about how trustworthy he’d proven himself in that short time?
What was her other option?
To run away and figure out how to fend for herself. She wouldn’t have the benefit of money to find a place to live before she looked for work. But surely, she could find something that offered both. Room and board as part of payment. Would she still be able to care for Ruby while she worked?
Mr. Coulter had said she could make her home wherever she chose. Had he meant that? If he would give her even a little money, or if by marrying him, her father would give her a little, she’d have a significant advantage in her new life on her own.
A memory surfaced, the one of him kneeling in front of Ruby the night before. Talking to her and letting her hold his finger. That sight had melted her heart. A man who would be that tender with a babe could surely be trusted to keep his word, couldn’t he?
Maybe one had nothing to do with the other. But at least agreeing to her father’s madness would buy her a little time. Time to figure out her next step.