Clara and Angela had already moved to the kitchen to help Lillian, and Sean went into the bed chamber where Dinah and Naomi sat with Sampson.
Patsy stood a little behind Gil, peering through the window. “You let me know when you’re ready for me to spell you.”
“I will.” His voice came low. Did he plan to allow her to stand guard then? He trusted a woman when there was a chance she might have to shoot a person?
Once more, Jess seemed to hear Grace’s unspoken questions. She spoke quietly. “Patsy’s a crack shot. Angela too. I think Dinah and Naomi are good also. Makes me wish I’d been able to practice.”
Grace nodded, but her mind followed the idea of it. She could shoot a rifle, but she’d rarely practiced her aim. A few times, she and Mama had gone hunting for meat, but she’d never been able to bring herself to pull the trigger on a live animal. It was hard enough to skin and clean one already dead.
She much preferred to eat the food Oren had delivered each month, even the times the meat supply had been too small to last more than a few meals.
What Jess spoke of was something much different, though. Did she really mean she wished she could have the chance to take a human life? Even her own father’s if it came down to it? Surely not. She probably wasn’t thinking the matter through. Just wanted the chance to be helpful.
“Shall I refill your mug?” Jess reached for the cup Grace held.
Grace shook her head. “I need to put my horse away, then I’ll go sit with Sampson.”
“Miles took your mare to the barn before they left.” Gil spoke up from his seat at the window.
The poor horse had been through so much, carrying two people up and down the mountain slopes for so many hours. She’d been soaked in sweat when they arrived, and Miles probably wouldn’t have been able to take the time to give her a rubdown.
Grace pushed herself to her feet, muscles protesting the movement. "I'll go brush her then. She's earned it."
Jess stood as well and took her empty cup. "I'll come with you to help." Her eyes darted to the window where Gil kept watch.
Grace looked his way too. Would he stop them from going outside?
But he only gave a small nod, his gaze never leaving the tree line beyond the yard.
As Grace pulled on her gloves and crossed to the door, Jess followed her to don coat, hat, and gloves. By the time they stepped out into the icy morning air, the sky had lightened to a pale gray. They descended the hill to the barn, their boots crunching in the snow.
Inside, her mare stood in a stall, already unsaddled and unbridled, a blanket over her back. Miles had been thorough, even with little time.
She stepped inside and ran a hand down the horse's damp neck. "You did so well, girl. Thank you."
Jess appeared with brushes and handed one to Grace. For a few minutes, they worked in silence, the rhythmic swish of the bristles the only sound.
"What else did Sampson say?" Jess finally asked, not looking up from her work on the mare's withers. "You mentioned my father's name."
Grace shook her head, the motion sending a dull ache through her temples. Her exhaustion was returning in force. "Just our fathers’ names and the wordmine. Even those were hard to make out. He was barely conscious most of the way here."
She closed her eyes, remembering the feel of Sampson's weight against her, the way his head had lolled against her shoulder. She’d been so afraid she’d lose him. That she’d never again see the warmth in his eyes or the curve of his smile.
She swallowed hard against the memories and focused on brushing the mare's flank. She couldn't let herself think the worst. Sampson was strong. He would pull through this. He had to.
Jess's soft voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts. "How are you holding up through all this? It can't be easy, your husband being hurt so badly, and by your own father's men…"
Grace paused in her brushing and met the other woman's empathetic gaze. She tried to muster a smile, but it felt weak. "It's been…hard. I hate that I've brought all this trouble down on Sampson and all of you. If I had never left my cabin, never went to Missoula Mills, never met Sampson…"
"Don’t do that." Jess shook her head firmly. "None of this is your fault. Our fathers…” Pain flashed in her eyes. “…they're not good men. They would have come after the Coulters sooner or later, whether you were here or not. Please don't blame yourself."
Tears pricked at Grace’s eyes, and she blinked them away. Jess was right, logically she knew that. But the guilt still gnawed at her insides like a persistent rodent. If only she had stayed hidden away from the world, maybe Sampson would be safe and whole right now.
As if reading her mind, Jess reached across the horse’s back and rested her hand on Grace’s, her voice gentle but insistent. "Sampson doesn't regret a thing."
Grace looked up sharply, searching Jess's face. How could he not wish he'd never laid eyes on her? He was unconscious, badly wounded, because of her choice to leave that lonely valley.
Jess smiled softly. "I don't know him well, but I did talk to him a bit when he was working in my father's mine. And I saw the way he looked at you yesterday morning, when you helped him to the chair after he remembered about Jedidiah's camp." Her smile deepened. "The moment you touched him, his whole demeanor changed. Like you were his anchor in the storm. That kind of bond, that devotion in a man's eyes…it doesn't happen by accident or obligation. Sampson cares for you, Grace. Deeply. I'd stake my life on it."
