She settled Ruby in her basket and untied the goat from behind her wagon. “Come on, Camelot. The grass is just as good over here.” The nanny had begun eating the moment they stopped and complained with amaaas Grace tugged her away from the underbrush so she could tie the rope to the man’s wagon.
All the while, she kept an eye on the man.
He moved efficiently, no sign of strain as he hefted his crates into her wagon and moved her belongings around. Belongings that had taken every bit of her strength to push up into the bed. It was hard to gauge his character from his actions, but he seemed focused and purposeful. Efficient, not sparing a glance her way as he arranged the items to fit.
Everything fit neatly, just as he'd said, with his cargo taking up only a portion of the wagon bed. He’d tucked her belongings around the outer edges. He held her mother’s rocking chair in his arms as he studied the load.
Then he leaned over the side and placed it on the ground. "We'll need to leave the chair here. I can put it in your father’s room, so you can come back for it or work out a way with him to get it." He spoke casually, already jumping down to carry the chair to his wagon.
“No.” The word flew out before she could temper it. She inhaled a breath to steady herself. "I can't leave the chair behind. Just put it on top of the boxes."
He shook his head. "Nothing can go on top of these crates. They're too fragile."
Frustration welled in her chest. Why was he being so difficult? "You need to figure something else out then, because I'm not leaving my mother's rocking chair. I need it for the baby."
The man frowned. "You can get it when you come back this way."
"I'm not planning to come back." Grace fought to keep her voice steady, though it trembled with emotion. "That rocking chair is one of the few things of my mother's I have left. I'd sooner drive my own wagon than leave it behind."
For a long moment, he simply stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, with a sigh, he carried the chair back to her wagon. After studying a few seconds, he tied it to the back of the bench, positioned above the bed so it rested on none of the crates.
Relief flooded through Grace. Perhaps he wasn't as heartless as he seemed. When he finished, he drove his team away to park the wagon and pasture the horses.
Ruby had started her hungry cry, the sign she wouldn’t be held off from food much longer.
“All right then.” Grace picked up the wicker basket by its two woven handles, making faces at the babe as she carried her to the front of their wagon. “I have a feeding bottle ready for you. I know you’re hungry.”
Ruby’s cries eased into a shuddering sob as she studied Grace’s face, those wide blue eyes so desperate. “You’re so pitiful when you’re hungry.”
She placed the basket on the bench and hauled herself up, positioning it between her and where the man would sit. The babe would be a nice buffer.
By the time he returned, she had the babe cradled in her arms, the feeding bottle's rubber nipple between her rosebud lips. Ruby drank hungrily, her eyes closed and jaw working as she suckled.
The man didn’t speak, just strode around to his side of the wagon and stepped up to the seat. He gave Ruby a sideways look as he settled, taking up the reins. Then he focused ahead, released the brake, and shook the reins. “Walk on.”
The wagon lurched into motion, and she braced her feet against the buckboard, gripping Ruby tightly as they started off.
As the wagon rolled along the rutted ground, she sneaked glances at the man beside her. He kept his gaze fixed forward, his hands steady. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the creaking of the wagon, the click of the horses’ hooves on rocks, and the occasional snuffle from Ruby as she drank.
Finally, Grace cleared her throat. "I don't believe I caught your name."
"Sampson. Sampson Coulter, ma'am." He looked at her briefly before returning his attention to the road.
"Well, Mr. Coulter, I appreciate you giving us a ride." She shifted Ruby in her arms to reposition the bottle.
"No trouble." His tone was polite but distant. “And you are…?”
“Grace Hampton.”
He shot her a look, brows lowered. “Hampton is your…married name?”
A question she should have expected, and he must have realized exactly what he was asking, for he jerked his focus back to the horses. “Never mind. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Hampton.”
With Hampton being her father’s name, he was no doubt thinking she must have lied about something.
Best she set him straight. And consider changing her name if she planned to raise Ruby as her own. Or…maybe that wouldn’t be necessary, for soon she wouldn’t be around people who knew her father.
She sat a little straighter. “MissHampton. I’m not married. Ruby isn’t my daughter by birth, but she was given to me to raise.” She motioned to the feeding bottle. “Thus the reason we travel with a goat and this feeder.”
