Dinah had moved to crouch beside her father’s body. She would know what to check. A moment later, she stood and moved to Grace’s side, rubbing a gentle hand across her shoulders.
Grace adjusted her head against Sampson’s chest so she could see Dinah’s expression. The sadness in her eyes said everything.
“I’m so sorry, Grace.”
Grace wouldn’t have thought the words would bring such a rush of tears, but she did her best to hold them back as she nodded. If she spoke, she’d lose control completely.
Dinah gave a final rub across her shoulders, then stepped back. “We should head up to the house. Probably the both of you should be in bed.” She gave a pointed look between Sampson and Grace.
Grace forced herself to straighten and pull back a little so she could see Sampson’s face. “How did you make it all the way down here?” She could see the pain lines around his eyes, but he looked so much better than when his brothers had carried him into the house. “You weren’t conscious the last time I saw you.”
One corner of his mouth tugged a little. “Dinah can work wonders.” He slid a look at his sister-in-law.
Dinah’s snort told Grace what she thought of that. But then she stepped closer and rested a hand on Sampson’s good shoulder as she spoke to Grace. “This, my dear, is a combination of laudanum, a good stiff bandage, and a very stubborn husband who had to lay eyes on his wife as soon as he was coherent enough to realize she wasn’t at his side.”
Sampson’s hold on Grace tightened, telling her that Dinah’s teasing wasn’t far off the mark. He spoke lower. “I couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. I just needed to see you.”
She snuggled in closer, letting herself relish this feeling of safety. Of having someone who would push through pain and anything else to protect her. Or even just to see her.
“All right, everyone. To the house. Now.” Dinah’s voice took on a no-nonsense tone.
Grace let Sampson and Dinah guide her out of the barn, Jess and Gil following. The short walk to the house felt surreal, her mind still struggling to process all that had happened. Her father was gone. Truly gone this time. And the man beside her—the man she'd been forced to marry—had become her anchor in the storm.
As they approached, the front door opened and the rest of the family spilled out onto the snow, their faces etched with worry. Naomi held Ruby, bundled in a cocoon of blankets and drinking from her feeding bottle. Safe and content.
"What happened?" Sean demanded as he ran toward them.
Gil relayed the events in the barn, and the others listened in stunned silence.
“How awful.” Patsy broke the quiet first, and it seemed to release a dam of questions and exclamations from the others.
Sampson still had his arm around Grace, as hers were around him. Was he swaying? She glanced up at him, taking in the beads of sweat on his brow and the tight lines of pain around his mouth. He was pushing himself too hard.
She leaned closer to his ear. "You should go back to bed. We’re all safe now and you need to rest."
He shook his head. "I'm not leaving you."
Tears pricked her eyes at his words, at the fierce protectiveness in his gaze. She had never had someone put her first, not like this.
Swallowing down the lump in her throat, she tightened her grip around his waist. "Then I’ll stay with you."
His gaze softened and he nodded, letting her guide him past the crowd.
They made their way slowly up the two steps into the cabin, and Sampson breathed heavier by the time they maneuvered through the main room. Once in the bed chamber, he eased down onto the mattress.
“Do you want to take off your boots?” With the other men still out fighting, he might want to keep fully dressed so he could be ready at a moment’s notice.
But he shouldn’t be going anywhere. And with McPharland calling off his attack, hopefully the rest of the Coulters and braves would return soon.
Sampson nodded and reached with his good hand to pull off the first shoe.
She crouched to take care of it for him.
“You don’t have to do that.” He gave a half-hearted protest. But he probably knew as well as she did that he needed help.
“I want to.” She kept her focus on tugging off the first boot, then placing it neatly by the bedpost. This felt like such a wifely duty, helping her husband to bed, removing his clothing. Heat flamed up her neck. Not his clothing, just his boots.
When she finished, Sampson let out a relieved sigh. "Thank you."
