Quinn's Christmas Wish (2 page)

“Amanda, I should fetch the doctor,” she responded.

“No, Betty! Do as I ask, please just get me the cloth and some water.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Come on Quinn, wake up for me,” she cried, rocking him in her arms. “I love you, sweetie. Open your eyes, honey.”

Betty rushed out the door with cloth and water in hand. Tenderly, Amanda wiped his face clean. The blood had almost stopped trickling from his nose. The cut over his eye was new, along with a fresh bruise. Rage boiled inside her as she struggled to hold her composure. When his eye twitched, a large smile spread over her face and she kept right on talking to him. “That’s my boy, come on, Quinn, momma has you.” His long lashed eyes fluttered open and closed again.

The woman exhaled with relief, holding her fist to her mouth.

“Betty, would you please go back in the kitchen and get a glass of water for Quinn.”

“Oh thank heavens!” Betty breathed heavily, running back up the steps.

Quinn licked his lips and opened his eyes. “Mom,” he said weakly.

Amanda smiled down into his baby blue eyes. “Hi sweetie! You scared me half to death,” she said, pushing the hair away from his face and kissing his cheek.

“I’m sorry, Mom,”

Amanda could hear the threat of tears behind his words. “You silly boy, there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Betty rushed down the steps with the glass of water and handed it to Amanda.

“Here Quinn, take a sip, then we’ll sit you up, okay?” She smiled and held the glass to his lips while he took a small drink.

Snowflakes began to fall, and Amanda looked down at her boy’s coat covered with splotches of red. Quinn took another drink before he whispered. “It happened again.”

She held her breath and did her best to hide her fear. “It’s okay now. You’re here with me.”

Far down the street a man rode into town. Amanda cringed because she didn’t want to draw attention to her situation. What she needed was to get her boy home.

She looked up at Mrs. Smith imploringly. “Betty, thank you so much for your assistance. Quinn will be okay once I get him home. May I impose on you for one more favor?”

“Of course. What can I do to help?”

“Would you please fetch Mr. Murphy from the stables and let him know I need to take Quinn home?”

The older woman turned on her heel and quickly moved behind the boarding house.

Amanda didn’t recognize the tall man who approached on horseback. She wished she could move Quinn, but it was too soon.

The late afternoon sun diminished rapidly, making it difficult to see the man until he stopped in front of the steps, quickly jumped off the horse and stood at her side.

“Ma’am, can I assist you?”

She smiled sheepishly. Quinn put his arms out trying to push himself into a sitting position.

“Umm, thank you sir, but I believe we are okay,” Quinn responded first.

The man had warm dark brown eyes and a day’s worth of stubble on his well-defined face. His long chestnut colored hair was pulled back and tied with a leather band. She couldn’t remember when she’d ever come across such an attractive looking man. Broad shoulders, and muscled arms and legs suggested he must be a hard worker. For a moment, she forgot about her deceased husband, Walter. Guilt and shame washed over her, and she hoped neither Quinn nor the stranger picked up on her thoughts.

Quinn moved some more and tried to stand. Amanda steadied him as best she could, protesting he should be still and remain sitting.

The man moved closer, towering over the both of them.

“I’m fine sir,” Quinn stated with a slur. No sooner did the words leave his mouth when he started to fall backward.

“Quinn.” Amanda shrieked, almost as quickly as the man stepped forward and scooped the boy into his arms.

Quinn’s tired eyes slowly opened again. “Sorry, Momma, I thought I could stand.”

The tall man spoke. “Ma’am, I’ll carry him over to the Doc’s residence.”

She sniffled, placing her hand on his woolen covered arm. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Forgive me for speaking out of my place, miss, but I think he needs a doctor,” he fired back.

“Won’t do no good. He’s seen the doctor many times.” Amanda sighed.

“I see,” he responded awkwardly.

Where had Mr. Murphy gone? She looked up at the unknown man holding her son. “Would it be a big imposition to ask if you might carry Quinn back to our house?” she questioned shyly.

He stepped down the stairs. “Lead the way. I’d be glad to assist.”

What should she do? She looked up at the boarding house with uncertainty. She couldn’t just leave it unattended, but Quinn’s well being came first.

Voices sounded a moment before Mr. Murphy and Betty Smith rounded the corner.

“My word, Amanda, I see that poor boy of yours has had another spell,” Mr. Murphy declared, looking at the tall man. “May I ask who you might be?”

The strange man stared Mr. Murphy directly in the eyes. “Samuel Campton is the name. I’m fairly new to town.”

Betty smiled at Samuel. “I remember you, sir. You’ve been in the Town Hall a couple times…for permits, claims and such.”

He nodded in acknowledgement. “Yes, Ma’am I have. But if you folks would excuse me, I think this young man needs to get home.” He returned his dark gaze to Amanda.

“Of course. Mr. Murphy, I’m dreadfully sorry to leave you before the dinner rush. The pot roast should be almost done and everything else is ready to go as well.” She looked up at her employer, twisting her apron in her hands.

“Get on with you.” He motioned with his hands, shooing her away. “I reckon there ain’t anyone who’s had as much sour luck as you, Ms. Amanda. Go on with you. Get Quinn home, and don’t you hesitate to ask for help if you need it,” he preached in earnest.

Mr. Murphy directed his attention to Samuel. “Mr. Campton, thank you for your assistance. Come on back anytime and have a free meal on me.”

Betty went to the kitchen, and returned with Amanda’s heavy black winter cloak and bonnet. “I’m guessing these are your things, Amanda,” she said, handing them to her.

She smiled. “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Smith.” She shivered in earnest before donning the cloak, and turned to the stranger holding her son. “Thank you, Mr. Campton, please come this way,” she directed and hurried off towards home.

Samuel turned to Mr. Murphy. “If you could kindly care for my horse until I return, I’d be grateful.”

Without speaking Mr. Murphy grabbed the reins and led the bay gelding around the corner.

Amanda reached her small residence. After the flood, help was offered to anyone who had survived. Amanda spent all the money Walter and her had saved on rebuilding this small home for Quinn and herself. By working at the boarding house, she managed to keep food on the table and supply the basic necessities.

Snowflakes flew, swirling around her feet on the front porch. She unlocked the door and rushed inside, quickly lighting the coal-oil lantern.

She motioned Samuel to follow her to Quinn’s bedroom, pausing before leading him through the door. She pulled the coverlet from the single bed. “Here, please lay him down,” she said, patting the mattress. Gently, the giant of a man laid her son down. The boy’s eyes were closed, but his breathing was even.

When the trapper stood back up, she pulled off her bonnet and smiled. “If you don’t mind waiting for a few moments, I’ll be right out.”

He nodded. “Do what you need to.”

Samuel scanned the tidy room. It was fully equipped with all the necessary amenities, his eyes focused on the fireplace and the wood stove. Standing at the door made him feel awkward. Hell, she made him feel awkward.

When he first came in he’d walked across the floor straight to the boys bedroom, boots and all. Now he undid his boots leaving them at the door before walking across to the hearth. On the mantel in a silver frame was a photo of a happy family. Amanda, the boy Quinn, and a man stood in front of a large two-story house. Sadness spread over him. It was a unique house, not one he’d forget. It was the same house captured on the wall of the Town Hall…the memorial wall, displaying houses destroyed by the flood.

That explained why she was alone. Her husband must have perished in the flood. He shook his head, gripped by the sorrow so many people had been forced to endure.

Slim pieces of kindling lay off to the side of the hearth and Samuel began constructing the tinder into the makings of a fire. He struck the match and flames danced over the wood kindling. Soon the fire crackled to life. After lighting a few more lanterns, he proceeded to the wood stove in the kitchen where he lifted the heavy cast iron lid and started another fire.

She hadn’t returned from the room yet, so he removed his heavy jacket and placed it on the coat rack beside the door.

No sooner had he done so when the boy’s bedroom door opened and she appeared, gently shutting it as quietly as possible. She looked toward the burning fire and the crackles coming from her wood-cook stove.

“I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. Campton.” She smiled, once again fiddling with her apron.

“Please, it’s Samuel.” He smiled back.

“Could I offer you some coffee or perhaps a cup of tea?” she queried.

He’d hoped she would ask. It had been long time since he had the chance to be in the company of such a striking woman. Amanda wasn’t just beautiful and genuine, but also caring.

“A cup of coffee would be mighty fine,” he answered.

“Great.” She turned her back to him and proceeded to make coffee, placing the pot on the stove.

“Have a seat Mr…umm, Samuel.” She motioned to the sitting room.

“Thank you. Did you get your boy settled?”

“Yes,” she answered, letting out a deep breath. “He should sleep through the night.”

“I may be stepping over the boundaries, Ma’am, but what is wrong with him?”

She followed him into the sitting room, taking a chair beside him. “Now it’s my turn. Please call me Amanda.”

He nodded in response.

“Quinn has been to a few medical doctors, but none of them have been able to say for certain what the problem is. For the most part, he has seizures. Medication may help, but I’ve been avoiding that option.”

“How long has this been taking place?” Samuel asked softly.

Amanda looked over at the family photo on the mantel. He could see her swallow hard before she answered. “They began not long after the flood…and my husband’s death.”

He reached over and placed his hand on hers. The brief contact of her flesh against his caused him to hesitate before he could speak. His heart thumped and a flush of heat washed over him. He’d been alone too long.

“I’m sorry, Amanda. I don’t know my manners. I shouldn’t be asking you these questions.”

He removed his hand and her gaze sought his. “I appreciate the company, Samuel, and I do find that talking about it helps.” She got up and wandered to the cupboard and removed two cups for the coffee.

Samuel got up and placed more wood on the fire, while Amanda set the cups and saucers on the serving table.

“I haven’t seen you in town before, but Mrs. Smith said she encountered you in the Town Hall on a few occasions. How long have you been in Bandit Creek?”

He returned to his seat. “Since last spring.”

“You’ve been here that long, but yet nobody has seen you other than Betty Smith?”

“I don’t come into town often. I make trips into Missoula more frequently than visiting Bandit Creek.”

“That’s a long journey.” She smiled, tucking a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

“Odd town this Bandit Creek.” He shook his head and taking a sip of the coffee.

“The flood caused all that,” Amanda replied weakly.

“Sorry, this is a depressing subject, isn’t it?”

“My fault. I’m not being a very good hostess and your personal business isn’t my affair.”

Samuel laughed loudly. “I certainly appreciate your hospitality and your company. Furthermore, there is nothing much about my personal affairs you would find interesting.” He took another sip of the coffee and continued. “I boarded a ship from Alaska over a year ago and made my way to Seattle. Got tired of the cold, but still wanted the gold. I heard Bandit Creek was the hot spot…so here I am. That was all before the flood.”

“Alaska! That is quite a distance.”

“I’ve almost finished the construction of my cabin. It’s to the far west of Crow Mountain.”

“You must like seclusion.”

“I do like my privacy, but it is also close to my claim and the trap line.”

“I see,” Amanda responded.

A fellow could get lost in her baby blue eyes. He stood.

“Miss Amanda I thank you for your company and the coffee, but I should be on my way.”

“Oh.” She paused, but continued in a rush. “Perhaps I’ll see you in town sometime.”

His mind was jumping to conclusions. Did she want to see him in town sometime?

“Mr. Murphy did offer you a free meal and I am a very good cook, if I might say so.” She smiled with encouragement.

“Yes, he did, didn’t he?”

He walked to the door. Amanda spun to grab his jacket and as she did so managed to run into him. Her hands splayed across his chest while she tried to regain her balance. He found his arm wound around her slim waist. Her cornflower blue eyes locked with his. He could feel her heart beating almost as fast as his own. He stared at her ruby red lips, fighting the temptation he’d buried since the first moment he spotted her on the steps of the boarding house. No longer aware of what he was doing, he bent his head and sought the heaven he knew he’d find. His lips touched hers, sending shockwaves of passion through his body. He felt her body lean into his as she kissed him back.

With all the strength he could muster, he ended the kiss and stepped back. Slowly, her eyes opened and her cheeks turned crimson.

She spun away from him. “Oh, God forgive me! I don’t know what came over me.”

Samuel gently turned her toward him once again. “This was my doing, not yours.” She stood speechless staring at him and he knew he had to get out or risk taking things further. Somehow, he could think of no words to say.

She handed him his jacket and he opened the door. A gust of wind and swirling snow rushed in. Samuel motioned to the small stack of firewood. “You need more wood, Amanda.”