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.
Shehadseen 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.”
