Chapter 13
He woke in bed, much to his surprise. Before he even opened his eyes, he could feel the scratchy wool blanket pulled up to his neck and the familiar lumps of his own bed. Well, I’m still breathing. That’s some good news right there. I’m just not sure how I got here.
There had been a lot of confusing things happening. There were some men…diggers, who had attacked him. That much he remembered pretty clearly. After that, things got hazy and jumbled. He remembered a lot of shouting and screaming when he’d arrived at the farm in the back of Doc Sullivan’s wagon, which had annoyed him because he really only wanted to sleep. He remembered Racer nudging him, the horse’s breath hot and moist as Sam lay in the dust, unable to get up. He could clearly see a digger with a red handkerchief, digging around in his mouth with his filthy hand and pulling out a tooth shiny with blood. He had gone after the wrong woman, they had said. He remembered hands, lots of hands, lifting him into the bed of a wagon and somebody cradling his head. He remembered opening his eyes while on the bumpy ride to Taylor Farm. The clear blue sky looked like it had turned red, until he blinked several times and cleared the blood away.
He had left the farm in the morning, but it was much later now—he couldn’t be sure what time it was, of course, but it was already dark when he opened his eyes for more than a brief moment. The cabin was quiet aside from the crackle of a fire, and he turned to see Kate stirring a pot suspended over the flames. The effort to move even so little wrenched a groan out of him, and her head whipped around to look at him.
“Sam, did I wake you?”
“No,” he said. “What time is it?”
“It’s already late. Almost nine.” She poured a glass of water for him and approached the bed. “Are you thirsty?”
“Parched.” Reaching out for the glass, he realized that just about every bit of him was sore, but the cool water was just what he needed. He drained the entire glass before returning it to her.
“Do you know what happened to you? Do you remember how you got here?”
“Bits and pieces,” he said. “I was coming back from town and there were some diggers that I thought needed some help. Turns out they didn’t.”
“Miners did this to you?”
“Yeah, there were four of them,” he said. “And they got hold of my club. Speaking of that—”
“It’s over there,” Kate said, pointing to where the club was hanging on a hook on the wall. “John Tilton brought it back when he found you. Do you have any idea why they attacked you?”
Sam studied her face as if deciding what to tell her.
“No, I don’t know,” he finally said. “I’d never seen any of them before.”
“But they didn’t rob you or try to steal Racer or anything. Why would they just attack you out of the blue like that?”
“I couldn’t say for certain,” he said, and his eyes dropped down to the floor.
“They didn’t say anything?”
“Kate, just let it go,” Sam said. “It’s over. They were probably friends of the guys who messed with you. They were just looking for revenge.”
“But what did they say?” she pressed on. “I can’t imagine that they would just come after you without even a word about it.”
Again, he studied her for a long moment.
“They didn’t say anything,” he said. “I got down from the carriage and they jumped me immediately. If they said anything, I didn’t hear it.”
Kate’s shoulders slumped. “What is the world coming to?” she asked quietly. She went to table and brought one of the chairs to the bedside. “Well, I’m just so relieved that you’re going to be all right. The doctor said you could have died.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” he said. “But they banged me up pretty good, I have to admit.” He grimaced as he shifted his weight in bed, and his eyes closed for a moment, as if he were fighting with himself to keep from crying out in pain.
While his eyes were closed, Kate took the chance to really look at him up close. His face was bruised and scratched, and there was a heck of a goose egg on the side of his head. A nasty cut was visible on his forehead before crossing his hairline and disappearing among the thick black strands. She felt the urge to take him in her arms and cradle him, but the thought flew away when he opened his eyes and caught her staring at him.
“Do you think you could eat a little stew?” she asked.
“You cooked for me?”
“Good Lord, no. You’ve been through enough,” she said, forcing a smile. “Mary made it; I was just warming it up.”
“Well, in that case, yeah, I’ll have some,” he said, grinning at her.
Kate practically leaped up from the chair and crossed to the fire, swinging the pot out over the hearth so that she could ladle some stew into a bowl. Steam rose as she scooped out hunks of beef and potato, looking for the smallest pieces that would be easiest for him to eat.
As she brought him the bowl, Sam pulled himself up so that he was sitting more upright in bed, leaning against the headboard. The pain from his ribs almost made him go cross-eyed, but he was able to contain everything but the faintest groan as he settled in place.
“Smells terrific,” he said, taking the stew and lowering his face to the bowl.
“You go ahead and eat,” she said. “Don’t mind me.”
“Thanks, Kate. I’m glad you’re here.”
“It’s the least I could do,” she said. She sat down again and leaned heavily against the chair back. “I just wish that I could do more. I wish I could have stopped all this somehow, that I could have helped you, like…like you helped me.” Her voice crumbled at the end, and she suddenly felt too warm.
“Kate,” he said simply, and reached for her hand. Even his knuckles were swollen; instead of squeezing his hand, she simply laid hers on top and they sat like that quietly for a while.
After a few minutes she stood up and brought the chair back to the table. “I’m going to let you eat your dinner now,” she said. “Do you need anything else?”
“No, I should be fine.”
“Okay. I’ll be back to check on you first thing in the morning. Get some rest.”
“I will,” he said. “Good night, Kate.” His smile almost glowed in the dim light of the cabin, and Kate was surprised to feel a sharp pang shoot through her at that moment. As much as he’d been hurt, as much as he had been put through, it pained her as well to see him in this shape. He looked almost like another man lying there, scraped and scuffed. Only his smile was the same. She stepped outside and closed the door behind her before Sam could see the tears begin to roll down her cheeks.
She was lost in thought, barely watching where she was going as she made the short walk down the hill. Her father had told her that justice would be done eventually, but Kate wasn’t so certain. There had been no witnesses, and she wondered just what Sheriff Tanner would say if she went to him and asked him to round up four diggers who seemed like the sort of men who would get into fights for no discernible reason. It would be like asking him to find four particular grains of sand on the seashore.
The house was quiet when she entered. The staff was huddled in the kitchen; her father and brothers were in the parlor. None of them were speaking, apparently all lost in their own thoughts. She said good night and went up to her room alone.
After changing into her nightshirt, she lay in bed and watched the faint flicker of the light inside Sam’s cabin, extinguishing her own lamp so that her eyes would become adjusted to the darkness. Though she fought to stay awake and keep an eye on Sam, she finally fell asleep just after she realized exactly who would be able to find the men responsible.
If there was one person who knew miners, it was Edward. Surely he can help.