Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
G race hesitated. Should she leave the baby?
Jess sat in a rocking chair near the hearth, feeding Ruby. She smiled up at Grace. “Go on. I’ll take good care of this sweet angel.”
It felt wrong to leave her child for someone else to care for. But Jess looked incredibly content, Ruby snuggled in the crook of her arm. A contentment Grace knew well. If she truly didn’t mind caring for Ruby a little longer, it would be best not to take the babe out into the cold.
She murmured “thank you” and followed Dinah to the door, where she pulled for her coat from a peg.
Once bundled, she followed Dinah into the brisk morning air. The sun shone bright and clear, but the wind held a biting chill that stung her cheeks as they made their way down the gentle slope toward the barn and bunkhouse.
Dinah glanced her way, her expression gentle like before. "It's not easy, is it? Letting others help care for your little one. Especially when you've had to shoulder it all alone."
The words pierced deep, and Grace's throat tightened. She could only manage a nod.
Dinah's eyes held a sheen of empathy. "You're not alone anymore, Grace. We're all here for you now. And for Ruby."
More tears burned, and she blinked hard. What had she done to deserve such kindness? Such a generous welcome from near strangers?
Before she could form a response, they reached the bunkhouse door.
Dinah gave a light knock as she pushed it open and poked her head in, then spoke in a hushed voice. "Good morning. I've brought Grace to see Sampson."
A male voice answered, his tone deep but quiet. "Come on in."
Dinah held the door wider and motioned Grace to go ahead.
She stepped into the dim interior, blinking as her eyes adjusted from the brightness outside.
A tall man stood between the two closest bunks, his dark hair and sharp eyes marking him as one of the Coulter men. Beside him was Sean, Sampson’s eight-year-old nephew, whom she’d met yesterday.
She gave Sean a smile before focusing on the man.
The strong lines of his face softened. "You must be Grace. I'm Jericho, Sampson's brother. We're glad to have you here.”
Another warm welcome. She’d not expected it from any of them, especially not this daunting man.
She worked for a smile. "Thank you. I'm sorry to impose on your family like this."
He waved off her words. "Family is never an imposition. You're a Coulter now, and we take care of our own." His gaze shifted to the lower bunk beside him, and his expression sobered. "Speaking of which, you've got your work cut out for you taking on this fellow as a husband."
Grace followed his gaze, and her heart lurched as she made out a form under the blankets. Only a tuft of Sampson’s brown hair showed beyond the covers.
Dinah stepped closer and pulled back the blanket, speaking softly to rouse him. "Sampson? Your wife is here to see you."
Grace could hardly breathe, her stomach roiling as she took in the damage to his handsome face. The strong planes and angles she'd admired just two days before were now distorted, mottled black. His eyes had swollen to mere slits. If his family hadn't told her this was Sampson, she might not have recognized him.
Dinah motioned for Grace to come closer as she stepped back. "We'll give you some privacy. I'll be back in a little while to change his bandages."
After the couple and the boy left and the door closed with a soft click, silence filled the small building, broken only by Sampson's labored breathing.
She swallowed hard and took a small step toward the low bed, fighting the urge to run back out the door. Should she try to talk to Sampson? Or let him rest? What would help him most?
Before she could decide, one of his swollen eyelids parted just a slit, enough for him to peer at her. His puffy, split lips opened, but the voice that rasped out sounded nothing like his usual strong tone. "I'm sorry…you have to see me…like this." The words came slowly, and he stopped to breathe after every few.
She twisted her hands together. "I'm so sorry you’re hurt. What happened?" Two Stones said her father had been involved. But surely he could never have done anything this brutal. Not to any man, and especially not to her husband.
His one half-open eye studied her a moment, filled with pain and some other heavy emotion she couldn't decipher. "Are you all right? And Ruby?"
Of course his first thought would be for her and the babe. Even in this terrible state. "We're fine. Two Stones brought us here safely."
Sampson’s expression seemed to ease, though how she could determine that with so much swelling she had no idea. "He's a good friend. Did anyone…bother you…before he came?"
She shook her head. "No one."
“Good.” His eye drifted closed, as if the conversation had drained him.
But he couldn’t sleep yet. She had to know what caused this. Who was responsible for this horrible act. "Sampson, how did this happen?"
That one eyelid parted again. "Last thing I remember…is driving the wagon behind…your father's horse. He took us off…the main road."
Grace's heart clenched. "You don't remember who did this to you? Could my father be hurt too?" She should have thought of that possibility sooner.
Sampson's eye opened a little wider as he looked at her. Studying her or trying to remember? Was he wondering how much she could bear to hear?
She homed her gaze on him. "Please, tell me the truth. I need to know."
Sampson drew in a slow breath, his eye closing a moment before he opened it again to meet her look. "It's all…hazy. But I'm pretty sure…I must have done something…to anger him."
Him?
Him…as in her father?
Sampson paused, seeming to gather his strength to continue. "The condition I'm in…it's what happens…to someone who makes…Jedidiah angry. Even if unintentional."
Grace's chest turned to ice.
Her father had done this? Beaten Sampson—her husband—nearly to death? Because of some minor slight?
Sampson's gaze held hers, heavy with truth and pain. "It must not have been…too bad. I’m still alive."
Nausea roiled through her, and she pressed a hand to her middle. Her father was capable of this level of violence? Of hurting her husband this severely?
She shook her head, fighting the thought. "No. He couldn't… My father would never…" But even as the denial left her lips, doubt sank deep hooks into her heart.
Sampson closed his eye. "I'm sorry, Grace. I don't remember…all the details. But I've seen…what your father does…to people who cross him. And the result looks…a lot like this." The air seemed to seep out of him, as if the revelation had drained him completely.
A sob caught in her throat, and she pressed a hand to her mouth as she sank down on the bunk across from Sampson’s.
Had she missed his true nature all these years? He’d never been warm and doting like Mama. But she remembered how he used to smile when she was younger. When had he stopped smiling? She’d not seen even a glimmer in his eye for years now.
She had seen hints of a temper. A hardness in his gaze when she or Mama contradicted him or he didn't get his way. Mama had always been so careful around him, jumping to provide for his every need or whim. Was it out of love…or fear?
He’d never hit either one of them. She would remember if he had.
He’d been…disappointing sometimes. A memory from when she was seven slipped in, pressing on her chest like it always did.
She glanced up at Sampson to see if he was watching her. The one eye not swollen shut rested lightly, and his chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. Had he fallen asleep? If she spoke aloud, would he hear her? A part of her wanted him to know she really hadn’t realized her father was capable of this.
“I’m sorry, Sampson.” She spoke the words in a whisper, watching his face for any sign he heard. Or that he was awake.
No change in his features, just that regular rise and fall of his chest. He breathed through his mouth, she guessed because the swelling around his nose didn’t allow enough air through.
Fresh tears burned at her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry. I had no idea my father would do something like this. He was never mean to me or Mama. Distant maybe. He came to see us once a month. When I was little, he played with me. I looked forward to his coming so much. Then there was one time, he asked if we wanted to come live with him.”
The memory wrapped around her so easily. She’d been sitting on his lap, though she was too old to do so at seven. Mama had been wiping the table, and when Father asked the question, she looked up sharply. So much joy had flooded Grace at the idea, she’d grabbed his arm and asked, Really? At the mine?
“He said he was moving to a new house, away from the mine. He said he would come back for us in exactly one week’s time. That we should be ready for him. Have all our things packed.” She swallowed down the ache in her throat. “I was so excited. I did most of the packing I think, and too early. We had to keep taking dishes and clothing out of the crates to use them before the day came.”
She let out a shaky breath. She never allowed herself to relive this. Why was she doing so now? It seemed important somehow. Maybe she could uncover a clue about Father’s real nature. Something she should have seen long ago.
“I sat on the front step waiting for him all day. I’d worked it out in my mind that he would probably come around ten o’clock. That would give him enough time to ride to us, and we’d have most of the day to load the wagon and travel to wherever his new house was. I could tell Mama was worried, but I thought it was just concern about whether she’d like our new home. I kept telling her it would be wonderful. That she’d see.” What a naive child she’d been. Mama had known. Why hadn’t she told her the truth?
A single tear slipped through her defenses, but she ignored it and pushed on. “He never came. I sat on the stoop all day long. Mama kept encouraging me to come away. To go check on the horses or walk down to the creek with her. I wouldn’t budge, though, and finally she sat with me. We ate the noon meal there. Then she brought cards, and we played Pinochle and Tuppen. She made my favorite food, berry pancakes, and we ate until we couldn’t take another bite. When dark settled, she coaxed me into leaving the doorway.” Another tear slipped past. “I think that was the first time I let myself see that he wasn’t just busy. He really didn’t care about us. Not enough.”
She had to sniff but kept the sound quiet.
By the steady rise and fall of Sampson’s chest, he was still asleep.
“He proved that over and over through the years. When I was twelve, I got really sick. A fever and casting up accounts. I can’t remember what else, just that I thought I was dying. When I opened my eyes, sometimes my vision went dark or fuzzy. Mama was doing everything she could for me, but nothing helped. I begged her to go find Father. To send him for a doctor. I feared…” Her voice broke as emotion swarmed her chest. She sucked in breath after breath.
She had to push on. Had to get this out. “I feared dying and leaving her alone there. I guess, somehow, I knew how awful it would be. To live there in the valley with no one. It’s…it’s like being the last person on earth. The quiet will make you go mad.” Her chest heaved, and she felt as if she couldn’t get enough air.
She sucked in breath after breath. She had to stop these memories. Couldn’t let herself drown in the grief of missing Mama.
This was about Father. About Sampson.
As she worked to slow her inhales, she forced her mind back to the present. “I never knew Father could be so cruel. I’d never have let him force you into marrying me. I’d never have put you in danger.”
But now that she knew the truth, what could she do about it? Would Father come after her here? Would he take his anger out on Sampson again? Or on someone else in the family? These people were so kind. All of them, welcoming her—a stranger—into their midst.
She couldn’t let them be hurt. Another glance at Sampson sent a shiver through her. So much damage. So much pain. She couldn’t risk anything more.
She and Ruby had to leave here. She had no other choice.