Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
S ampson tucked his chin and curled into himself as much as he could with his arms tied behind him. His body trembled from the cold seeping into his bones. Pain radiated from his shoulder and ribs, a relentless throbbing he couldn’t escape.
One of the guards had tossed a blanket on him earlier, but he had no way to spread it, so the fabric pooled on his lap.
He squeezed his eyes shut. There was no way to escape this misery. What he wouldn't give for a full dose of Dinah's laudanum to numb the agony. Or better yet, to be back in the warmth and safety of his family's cabin, with Grace at his side.
He could almost feel her small hand in his as they sat near the fire, her gentle touch soothing away the hurt. Even better, to have her curled up next to him under the quilts, her soft curves fitted against him, chasing away the bitter cold. The mere thought of her brought a flicker of warmth to his chest, a tiny respite from this relentless torment.
Around him, the camp had fallen silent. Some of the men pitched tents to keep out the wind and moisture. Others bedded down under furs closer to the fires. A few snores drifted through the darkness, mingling with the crackling of flames.
The four guards on watch stood or sat around the edges of the clearing. The man closest to Sampson was a fellow he’d never met. Roy, someone had called him. He sat on a tall stump near one of the fires, his back to the flame, facing the darkness with his rifle at the ready. He wore leathers and a fur hat like a man familiar with this country.
Every so often, he glanced Sampson’s way. He didn’t seem worried about him escaping. Sampson must look half dead, which was exactly the way he felt. How was he going to make it through the night like this, let alone find a way to get free and return to Grace and his family?
Were Jericho and Jonah out there watching? Surely, they wouldn’t try to rescue him. They’d be foolish to, with so many armed men here.
An icy wind swept over him, and he curled tighter, trying to conserve what little warmth he had left. The ropes bit into his wrists, the pain a sharp counterpoint to the throbbing ache of his injuries. He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but there was no relief anywhere. His feet had gone numb, and he couldn’t feel his fingers.
How in the starry night sky could he possibly get free of this place? Even if he could cut himself loose and the guard turned a blind eye, he wouldn’t be able to stand and walk. He would die here, at the hands of these men. McPharland and Jedidiah…his father-in-law.
Grace. What would happen to her and Ruby? His family would take care of them. At least he’d done that right—bringing his wife and daughter to safety on the ranch.
He’d probably never see them again. A burn pressed in his chest, as strong as the ache in his broken arm. Grace’s face slipped in. So pretty, with those blue eyes and the quiet smile that made her glow from within. So beautiful. He’d never felt such longing. A yearning so big it stopped his breathing. What he wouldn’t give to see her. To hold her.
He’d been a blame fool to agree to a marriage in name only. Not when she stirred every part of him. He should have asked if he could court her. He should have at least told her how much she was coming to mean to him in such a short time.
Now, he’d never have the chance.
He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain. He could do nothing more. Breaking free of this misery would take a power much stronger than him.
A Power even stronger than his brothers.
A new pressure weighed inside him. He’d tried so hard to fix this entire debacle himself. He’d been the one to choose the wrong men to trust in the first place. That error had led McPharland’s men to his family’s mine, and they’d lost a year’s worth of earnings.
Maybe if he’d asked God for wisdom that first day in Missoula Mills, he’d not be in this situation. But by the time he realized his error, he’d thought he was in too deep for anyone to fix his mistakes except him.
Foolish, prideful man.
I’m sorry, God. I’ve messed up. More than can be fixed maybe. But if there’s a chance You can get us out of this, please save my family. Keep Grace and the baby safe. Everyone. And if You see fit, save my sorry hide too. Give me another chance with Grace. Show me how to be a real husband to her. The man she needs.
Tears burned his eyes, clumping as ice on his lashes. A second chance felt far too generous for a man who’d failed this miserably.
He opened his eyes and took in a breath, letting his head rest against the tree. He had no control of the situation anymore—if he’d ever had any to start with. Since the pain and cold wouldn’t let him sleep, he could spend the rest of his time praying for those he loved.
Thank You for Grace. For bringing her into my life. For the treasure she ? —
Something shifted in the shadows outside of camp. He squinted to study the spot without making his attention obvious.
It was probably nothing. The moon drifting behind the clouds.
A dark shape moved again, low to the ground, sliding between the trunks of the pines. Not a cloud. A man. He melted into the trees and disappeared.
Sampson’s heart hammered. It must be one of his brothers.
Jericho and Jonah might be foolish enough to attempt a rescue, but if they were caught…he couldn't bear the thought of them ending up like him. Or worse.
The figure slipped closer, and Sampson caught a glimpse of the man's profile in the moonlight. Two Stones. Relief flooded through him, followed by a surge of fear. If Two Stones was caught, he'd be killed for sure.
A noise sounded across camp, and Sampson jerked his focus that direction. The guard did too.
Two Stones slipped from the trees, gliding like a silent shadow to Sampson, moving behind the trunk he was tied to.
The guard must have decided the sound was nothing, for he turned back and scanned the tree line, then looked to Sampson.
He did his very best to act natural. Exhausted.
Not like his entire body hummed with energy. Something tugged his wrists, sending a shot of pain up his arm. Then his hands dropped an inch. Was he free? He couldn’t tell with so little feeling in his limbs. Even if he was, he would have trouble walking.
The guard still watched him, eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing through the dim light from the fire.
Sampson held his breath, willing himself to remain still despite the agony that wracked his body. The seconds stretched into an eternity as the guard scrutinized him, searching for any sign of deceit.
Just as it looked like the man would come to check him, a commotion erupted on the far side of the camp.
Shouts rang out.
The guard spun, his rifle at the ready, and dashed towards the disturbance.
In a flash, Two Stones crouched at Sampson's side, his knife slicing through the ropes that bound his ankles. "Can you stand?"
He didn’t wait for an answer as all around them, men stumbled from their bedrolls, grabbing for weapons.
Two Stones hauled him up, draping Sampson over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
Pain lanced through him, but he clenched his jaw to keep back his cries. Hanging upside down like this, darkness pressed in, peppering his vision.
He couldn’t lose consciousness. He had to help. Not be burden.
With every jolting step Two Stones took, a fresh shot of agony slammed through his battered body. He clung to consciousness, fighting the black that threatened to pull him under.
Shouts and gunshots echoed behind them. Were they getting louder? Was that a woman yelling?
He could feel more than hear Two Stones call out, though he couldn’t make sense of the words.
Then Sampson was being shifted. Heaved upright and lifted. Other hands grabbed him, wrapping around his middle.
The darkness… He couldn’t tell if it was the night that made it so hard to see or his fading senses. The shouts still sounded, but he couldn’t distinguish whether they were distant or close around him. Everything felt distant. Like he’d already slipped halfway to unconsciousness.
At least he was sitting upright now. In a saddle maybe. Arms gripped tight around his belly.
He could only slump against whoever held him.
Then the horse beneath him surged forward. The jolt sent a fresh wave of fire through his shoulder, drawing him back to the present.
Branches scratched at his arms and face as they rode, but scrapes weren’t even a nuisance compared to the agony inside him.
"Hold on, Sampson. Please, just hold on."
The voice seemed to come from a great distance, barely audible over the roaring in his ears. But something about it tugged at his memory, a lifeline in the darkness.
Grace. It sounded like Grace.
But that was impossible. Grace was safe back at the cabin with Ruby. With the rest of his family. Surely she wasn’t risking her life to save his sorry hide. This had to be a dream, some cruel trick of his mind in his final moments.
A sharp jolt sent fresh agony searing through his body, and he could have laughed at the irony. He wouldn't have thought a dream could be so painful, so viscerally real.
Darkness crept in at the edges of his vision again. The arms around him tightened, anchoring him to the present.
"Stay with me, Sampson. Don't you dare leave us now."
The desperate plea followed him down into the waiting blackness. As much as he wanted to cling to Grace’s voice, he no longer had control.
Of anything.