Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
S ampson's body ached against the thin mattress as shadows lengthened across the bunkhouse walls. His head hurt less with his eyes closed, so he kept them shut. Grace had left the bunkhouse a while ago, but her strained voice echoed through his mind. He’d nodded off at one point. Then her desperate words had seeped into his awareness gradually, like rainwater finding cracks in a tin roof.
"…so sick…wouldn't let the doctor come."
Or something like that.
The story muddled in his mind, but the pain, the desperation…the loneliness. Those had rung clearly in her voice. They'd seeped into his bones, cracking something deep inside him.
How much pain had this woman endured at the hands of her own father? Jedidiah might not have raised a hand to her the way he did to the men under his thumb, but he'd inflicted a different kind of damage, keeping her and her mother shut away from any comfort or kindness. And after her mother passed, he'd abandoned Grace to grieve alone in that remote house, cut off from anyone who might have offered solace.
And now, she blamed herself for his beating. The thought made his stomach churn.
Jedidiah only acted out of self-interest, and he seemed far more concerned with his lust for the riches and power the mines brought him than with his daughter's welfare. He wouldn't waste effort on punishing Sampson unless he felt a need to assert his authority.
Or to reprimand Sampson for some perceived slight.
Had Sampson questioned where Jedidiah was leading them that night? He knew better than to challenge the man directly. No, the pieces didn't fit. He'd have to untangle this mess later when his head didn’t throb so much.
For now, though, he needed to convince Grace that she wasn't to blame for her father's actions. And that she didn't need to leave the ranch. She couldn’t leave.
Unless she wanted to, of course.
He'd promised her the freedom to choose, after all. Perhaps he needed to honor that, to trust her judgment.
But what if her choice put her in danger?
A low growl of frustration rumbled in his throat, sending fresh shards of pain through his skull.
"Tired of your own company already?"
The unexpected voice made him crack open his good eye. Gil filled the doorway, Miles just behind him.
He’d not even heard the door open.
Gil stepped inside, then Miles.
His brothers. It was so good to see them again. He’d missed them. But that thought came tinged with the bitter taste of failure. He owed them an apology and so much more.
Both men seemed to study his face. Taking in the injuries now that they had daylight, no doubt.
Miles spoke first. "How you feeling?"
If he could have, he would have laughed at the question. Too many ways to answer, but he settled for, “Rough.”
Gil leaned against the top bunk. “We’re glad to have you back. You’re just in time too. Christmas was two days ago, but we decided to put it off until after this mess with McPharland is over. That way we can have a real celebration. Glad you’ll be here for it.”
Home for Christmas. The idea felt too good to be true. Would he really still be here by then? He had to get back to Jedidiah and finish what he’d started.
“One other change around here too.” Miles spoke this time. “We have a new hand, Hiram Pendleton, and his niece, Clara. They came through with a surveying group, but…well, it’s a long story, but they ended up staying on.”
Something in Miles’s tone sounded off, almost protective. And the way he said the woman’s name… Sampson focused his eye on his youngest brother. “She the woman I saw with you and Jude in town?”
Miles’s cheeks flamed, even more than they had from the cold. He straightened a little. “Yeah.”
If that reaction hadn’t said enough, the smirk on Gil’s face as he eyed Miles made the reality clear.
Sampson let his eye drift shut. “Well, little brother. I guess you’re all grown up.”
A throat cleared, and Sampson forced his eye open again.
Gil stood with his arms crossed. "Speaking of being grown up, it might be time for you to stay up at the house with your wife and daughter. And closer to the doc. It'd save her the trouble of trekking down here in the cold."
Another pang of guilt twisted his gut. He was being unfair to Dinah. But he couldn't bear the thought of burdening everyone else with his pitiful condition. And he wasn’t quite ready to face the whole family. "Better for you all if I'm out of the way."
Miles raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of disbelief and frustration. "Better for who? You've got a wife and daughter who need you."
Wife and daughter.
The words felt like a jab. What help could he possibly be to Grace like this? Broken and useless. "She needs someone better than me."
Miles crossed the small space to sit on the bunk across from him, right where Grace had settled. He propped his arms on his legs as he leaned forward. "You might be right about that. But you're her husband. Your job now is to become the man she needs." His tone sounded like the little brother he’d spent so much time with through the years. Yet somehow wiser.
Gil stepped closer and crouched between the bunks, closing the half-circle they made. "He’s right. You've brought her this far. You can't just abandon her when it gets hard. That woman up there, she's hurting. And as many kindhearted females as there are in that house ready to help, they're all strangers to her. I'd bet my last dollar that having you there would make all the difference in the world to Grace right now."
His words bit deep. Too deep.
The stubborn, ornery part of him reared up, ready for a fight. "I'm barely more than a stranger to her myself. Her father forced this marriage on her after I gave her a ride to Missoula and we stayed in that old trapper's cabin overnight. She doesn't want me. I'm just a reminder of everything she's trying to leave behind."
He hated this part of himself. Why couldn’t he just give in and agree with them? They were right. Probably. Grace might appreciate having him nearby. A more familiar face. Except…this bruised and swollen version wasn’t familiar to either of them.
Miles stretched out his legs, the bunk creaking under the shift of his weight. "So you didn't mean it then? When you vowed before God to love her, to care for her in sickness and health, for better or worse?"
If he'd had the strength, Sampson might’ve kicked him. Trust Miles to throw those words back at him.
He couldn’t even glare properly with one eye. "I meant it. I did that by bringing her here. I'm still doing it by staying away until I'm fit to be what she needs."
Miles leaned forward again, elbows braced on his knees. "Here's the thing. None of us are ever going to be good enough. Not on our own. That's why we need God and each other, why we're stronger together. You can't do this alone, so it's a good thing you came home. Now, are you going to let us help you up to the house, or are you going to hide down here and leave your woman to fend for herself?"
Put like that, it didn't seem he had much of a choice. Grace deserved far better than him, especially now. But since she was stuck with him, he had no choice but to step up and try to be the man she needed, broken pieces and all.
And he could start by not leaving her alone.
* * *
G race sat in the main room near the fire, watching as Jess rested in the rocking chair, feeding Ruby.
They had to leave. She’d made the decision, and she had to carry it out. For Sampson’s sake. And his family’s. She couldn’t risk bringing her father’s wrath down on the entire Coulter clan.
But how could she make herself walk away from this place? These people?
So many women eager to help with Ruby. So many arms, sometimes she felt as though she had to beg just to get the chance to cradle her daughter herself.
Her heart ached at the thought of leaving, of taking Ruby away from this warmth and love. The Coulters had welcomed them without question, enfolding them into their family despite the danger and complications. Could she really turn her back on that?
But staying could put them all at risk.
If her father had been so horrible to Sampson because of her, what would he do to the Coulters for helping her? She couldn't let that happen. They'd already sacrificed so much for her sake.
The latch on the front door shifted, and she glanced up as the door opened. A draft of cold air swept in…along with Sampson.
She sucked in a breath as her mind caught up with the unexpected sight. Then her body jolted into action, pushing to her feet.
He hobbled into the room, followed by the two brothers closest in age to him. Gil, the older and Miles, the younger. Miles’s shoulders hadn’t broadened as much as his older brothers’. For that matter, Sampson seemed more filled out than even Gil, who he’d said had him by a year and a half.
The tingle of pride at her husband’s stature faded quickly as her gaze moved up to his face. Oh, Sampson . Her heart ached with the pain he’d endured. Was still enduring.
He shuffled a couple steps forward, then halted. Still only one eye could open, but he lifted that eye to meet her gaze. She couldn’t tell his expression, not with all the swelling.
She managed a smile of welcome and moved closer. “Are you feeling better?”
“Some.” His voice didn’t rasp as much as it had earlier. “Thought it was time I stop hiding away.”
Grace nodded, but what should she say? Seeing him eased a little of the knot inside her. She wanted to go to him, to wrap her arms around him and give what comfort she could.
But she wasn’t the kind of wife who did that, especially not in front of his family. And touching him like that might hurt, considering all his injuries.
He motioned toward the bed chamber. “Is it all right if I take the second bed?”
She glanced toward Jess. Clara slept in the other cot, but she couldn’t tell Sampson no. Maybe Grace could sleep on the floor in there.
“Of course it is.” Clara herself stepped from the bed chamber, a bright smile on her face and her arms loaded with clothing. “We already discussed it. I'm moving up to the loft with Patsy and Lillian. The only reason I hadn't done it yet was to be close by to help with Ruby during the night."
Grace's throat tightened. "Clara, I can't ask you to give up your bed. I'll take?—"
"Nonsense." Clara shook her head. “Your husband needs you close while he heals. It's no trouble at all."
Heat crept up Grace's neck at the implication, however innocent. Had Sampson not told them that their marriage wasn't a true one?
She forced a smile. "If you're sure…" At least this way, she wouldn’t have to fight the niggle of jealousy that raised its head at the thought of Clara sleeping in the same room as Grace’s husband.
"I am." Clara shifted the bundle of clothing under her arm. "I'll take these up to the loft. Call if you need anything." With a parting smile, she turned to the ladder mounted to the wall by the kitchen.
Grace looked back to Sampson, and the pain etched on his face squeezed her chest once more. Even with the swelling, she could see the determined set of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders as he fought to stay upright.
"Let's get you settled." She led the way into the bed chamber.
He limped behind her, his brothers following. The three men filled the room, shrinking the space. She did her best to focus on Sampson as he eased down to sit on the mattress.
“Does it hurt if I touch this arm?” She rested her fingers on the forearm of the one not broken.
“Naw.” Sampson grunted the word, then sucked in a breath as he turned and lifted his feet onto the bed.
Dinah said his ribs were broken, so using those muscles to lie back would be painful.
She plumped the pillow, then braced a hand behind Sampson’s shoulders as he eased down. Once he rested on the blankets, he let out a long slow breath and closed his good eye.
He must be exhausted.
“I can bring a cloth packed with snow. That might help with the pain.” She started to rise.
But Miles spoke first. "I’ll get it."
Grace shook her head. "I can see to it.” She needed something to do to help Sampson. “But thank you." She met Miles's gaze, then Gil's, trying to convey her gratitude. "For everything."
Understanding shone in their eyes as both brothers nodded. They eased out of the room, but before she could follow, Sampson touched her arm.
She paused halfway up.
He didn’t open his eye as he spoke. “Stay. I don’t need ice.”
She sank back to the bed, his hand slipping off her arm. “If you’re sure.”
Her stomach fluttered with nerves, but she pushed them down. Sampson needed her. Or maybe just wanted her here with him. She could sort out the rest later.
"I'm sorry." His voice came out little more than a rasp.
"For what?"
"For…" He lifted his hand, but let it drop back to the quilt as if the effort was too much. "For being a heel. For hiding in the bunkhouse. For not being here to help you like I should."
"You have nothing to apologize for." But the fact that he thought so eased the knot in her middle. He realized he’d left her alone here.
Not that he should be worrying about her when he was in so much pain. If only she could touch him. Maybe smooth the hair back from his brow. "I'm just glad you're here. And getting better." Hopefully. He still looked…
Her eyes watered as she stared at his obvious pain. How many times had the fists hit his face to cause such damage? Were bones broken under the swelling?
A light knock sounded at the door, and Grace turned as Jess poked her head in, Ruby in her arms. "I hope I'm not interrupting. Ruby's wide awake and fussing a bit. I thought she might want to see her papa."
Grace smiled and stood to take the babe as Jess brought her close. "Of course. Come here, sweet girl." She cradled Ruby against her chest as she sank back onto the bed, her daughter’s warm weight and soft scent soothing her ragged emotions.
Sampson’s good eye opened and fixed on Ruby, and Grace shifted her so the two could see each other better. "There's my girl. Have you been good for your mama?" A ghost of a smile curved his lips.
The babe stared at him, her tiny mouth working.
Grace swallowed a knot of emotion. "She's been an angel, as always. Your sisters-in-law have been wonderful, doing nearly everything for her."
His gaze lifted to Grace and held for a minute. “I’m glad.” She still couldn’t read his expression. If only she could see more than a sliver of his eye. His tone held…not hesitation, but something more than relief.
He looked back at Ruby and lifted his hand, moving slowly as if each inch cost him a great deal. He reached out, brushing one thick finger against Ruby's tiny hand. The babe latched on, gripping so tight her knuckles turned white.
Sampson's face softened, the lines of pain easing in a small smile.
Ruby's wide blue eyes remained fixed on him, studying his face as if committing every feature to memory.
"She's got quite a grip." Sampson's raspy whisper filled with wonder.
"She does." Grace blinked back the tears that threatened. "She knows her papa."
The words came without thought, but as soon as they left her lips, the truth of them hit her. Ruby had a father now. A good, strong man who would love and protect her. Teach her and guide her.
If she stayed here with him.
How could she ever tear the child away from all this? From the chance to grow up with a devoted father and a large, loving family? It was everything Grace had always yearned for, everything she wanted to give her daughter.
Tears pricked at her eyes. Leaving the Coulters—leaving Sampson—would break her heart, perhaps beyond repair. But staying would put them all in danger, Sampson most of all. Her father would come for her, and his vengeance would be swift and merciless.
She couldn't let that happen. She had to protect Sampson and his family, even if it meant sacrificing her own happiness. Her own heart.