Christina Rich - The Negotiated Marriage

Duncan stared Miller down. “At this moment, Mr. Northrop, I have every right.”

The cabin fell silent. The pop and crackle of wood as it burned in the fireplace and the drips of water seeping through the roof plopping into strategically placed pots were the only sounds. Slightly lifting her arm, she peered at the occupants in the cabin. All of them seemed to be holding their breath waiting for Duncan’s next words. Duncan leaned forward.

Lord, please don’t let him say anything about Hamish’s proposition. Please. I’m in no position to argue with Miller.

Although he was a head shorter than Miller, his fierce countenance caused Miller to shrink. “Miss Sims needs tending to without further delay.”

Miller grunted. His cheeks looked as if he’d been attacked by rouge. “You’ve no business here. In fact, as I see it you should be in jail. Has the sheriff been fetched?”

“Miller.” Ellie touched his arm. “Please, now is not the time.”

“Outside, Murray.” Miller circled his fists in front of him, ready to fight Duncan. Duncan looked as if he pitied the younger man.

Camy didn’t think Miller meant much harm. Only a year older than she, he was foolish and young, determined to get his way in all things. Mostly with her. And Sims Creek, the property adjoining his father’s. Miller’s father had coveted Sims Creek for years, even before the railroad’s interest, and it was obvious Miller carried on his father’s determination, but why, as it was decent farming land, nothing more? And Miller despised the idea of plowing fields and milking goats. Worse, he didn’t seem to like her much. He was always the first to tell her when her hair was unkempt. When the color of her dress was wrong. He even dared give her a tonic to do away with her freckles. Of course, she’d tried to scrub them away on occasion, but to no avail. She’d given up long ago on trying to obtain her sisters’ perfect complexions.

“Miller, I think you should return home if you won’t wait outside.” Benjamin, always the calm one of the brothers, tried to defuse the situation.

Miller crossed his arms. “Not until I hear what rights he has to tell me anything about my fiancée.”

Camy jerked her arm from her eyes. “I’ve never agreed to marry you, Miller Northrop.” Nor would she ever!

“It seems we all have things we wish to discuss,” Duncan added.

“Yes, we do,” Miller added.

“I am not discussing marriage.” Camy tried to sit, but Benjamin halted her progress by pressing a warm cloth to her shoulder. “To anyone.”

“She is right. Everyone outside, now.”

She could have kissed Benjamin Northrop’s cheek for intervening.

“I’m not leaving.” Ellie’s soft voice cut through the tension. Camy knew it cost her sister more than she’d ever say to be in the same room with the man who’d broken her heart, but she was beyond thankful for the sacrifice.

“I’m not leaving either.” Miller stomped his foot like a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “I am your apprentice and can help more than Ellie.”

“Ellie is a better doctor than most,” Camy argued, not wanting Miller and his unsteady hands to come anywhere near her.

“Any other patient and I would accept your assistance. However, brother, you’ve already done more harm than good by upsetting Camy. Her agitation has caused her wound to bleed more than it should. Besides, your hands are unsteady and your judgment is clouded by too much whiskey.”

Relieved at Benjamin’s soundness, Camy released the air she’d been holding.

“What about him?” Miller tossed.

“I’ll be staying.” Duncan’s words were like a boulder, unyielding. He glanced at her, his voice softened. “I gave my word.”

He had, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, Duncan soothed her fears and gave her a sense of peace. “All right,” Camy said.

Miller huffed, swung the door wide and slammed it behind him.

“Shall we begin?” Benjamin asked.

Kneeling beside the bed, Duncan held her hand as Benjamin took a brown bottle from Ellie. The white cloth hovered outside her vision and then over her head before covering her nose and mouth. Her head dizzied, and her eyelids became heavy. The deafening silence broke with the opening of the cabin door and Hamish’s gruff voice.

“Ellie, lass, you best cook up a feast. The rev’nd will be here for dinner.”

Chapter Five

Steam rose from his cup of coffee. The sky had long ago darkened with nightfall. What had begun as a warm spring morning had turned into a blistery winter night. White snow now fell, covering layers of ice left by the freezing rain. Thinking back over the last several days, Duncan wondered what had propelled him to follow Hamish out here in the country miles from the city. Of course, he knew. It had been the promise of a home with lush, rolling hills. It had been the promise of good farmland surrounded by untamed ruggedness. The promise of a home similar to what he’d left far behind. It had not been the promise of a wife with more courage than most men. An idea he was beginning to warm to but could never have.

He leaned against the window frame, his eyes resting on the woman who made him see that not all ladies were like many of his acquaintance, calculating behind their simpering. Her hair, long since dried, lay in stark contrast to the pale linen of her pillow in a wild array of dark curls. Thick, dark lashes rested against pale cheeks dusted with freckles. He didn’t want a wife, did he? It didn’t matter. He couldn’t have a wife. Especially one who enticed him to take long walks with his head bent in rapt attention, to share more than a few meals, to steal a kiss. But if he could, he’d move Ben Nevis, Scotland’s highest peak, to court her.

Why would Hamish make her part of the agreement? If he wanted her to keep the land, then why not let her have it? Because she had yet to turn twenty-one? Were their fears about the railroad genuine? Had unsavory agents threatened the sisters in hopes of gaining this parcel of land? Agents paid from his bank account? Did Hamish’s generous offer have anything to do with the threats?

Duncan massaged his neck, wondering if his business associate, Calvin Weston, had anything to do with what was happening at Sims Creek. Calvin had, on the occasion, given red flags as to his character since the day he’d approached Duncan about helping finance a railroad to Santa Fe, New Mexico, but Duncan had brushed the flags aside as a doggedness to succeed. Now he wondered if his partner had had something to do with the attack on Hamish that nearly left him dead in a dark alleyway.

Fortunately Duncan had been unable to sleep that night and had been out for a stroll when he’d come across the miscreants beating the old man. It was the start of an odd, yet cherished friendship nearly a year ago. Duncan twisted his lips, digging through his memories of conversations he’d had with Hamish over warm cups of coffee. Not once had he mentioned his home in the country until a few weeks ago. And the old man had never said a word about relatives until they’d made camp on the banks of Sims Creek.

“Would you like more coffee?” Ellie pulled the black kettle from the fire.

“Thank you.” He took a couple of steps toward her and held out his cup, which she filled with the dark liquid. “I am sorry for all this.”

“It is not your fault,” Ellie said, setting the kettle onto a trivet in the middle of the table. “I was just thanking the Lord that it was purely an accident and not a more purposeful deed.”

The bandage on his forehead pulled as he raised his brow. More mystery? She had accused him of being a thug for the railroad, just as Camy had. Had other accidents occurred, accidents that were not purely accidents? What would they say if they knew he helped finance the road to be built through Rusa Valley, if they knew he was on the committee? “A more purposeful deed?”