Читать книгу The Negotiated Marriage - Christina Rich - Страница 13

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?”

She looked upon her sister with motherly affection. “It is not something I wish to discuss with or without my sisters, as it’s been a source of contention between us. However, today’s accident has made me realize that I can no longer put off making a decision.”

“What decision is that, Ellie?” Camy uttered in a hoarse whisper.

Duncan set his cup on the table and then moved to her beside. He rested the back of his hand upon her brow. “No fever. How are you feeling?”

Camy tried to sit but fell back against the pillow. “Like I’ve been dragged by the oxen through a pile of rubble.”

Ellie’s skirts rustled as she neared the bed. “You should have listened to me then and not shot off the revolver while holding on the lines leading the oxen.”

“Th-then I wouldn’t have anything to compare my wound to,” Camy gritted out with a slight smile.

Duncan chuckled, believing the banter between the sisters to be true.

“Here, this will ease your pain,” Ellie said, holding a spoonful of laudanum in front of Camy.

“If I take that, will you tell me what decision you’ve made?”

“First, we need to know why Hamish felt the need to find you a husband.” Ellie slipped the spoon between Camy’s lips as she opened her mouth to argue. “And then I would prefer to wait for Mara to return, as it concerns her, as well.”

Camy grimaced, swallowed the liquid and then tilted her head to look outside. The curtains had been drawn hours ago. “They haven’t returned her yet? How long did I sleep?”

“As you know, the Northrops had her stay at their place with their sister until they could assess the situation here. The weather worsened and it wasn’t safe to bring her back, but Dr. Northrop assured me they will as soon as they are able. Of course, your fiancé wasn’t agreeable.” Duncan winked to let her know he was teasing.

Camy’s eyes grew wide. Ellie laughed as she handed her the spectacles. “You shouldn’t tease her. Miller’s obsession isn’t exactly her fault, nor has it been pleasant for any of us.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Camy said. “And we should not discuss our personal matters with mere strangers.”

Duncan winced. True, they’d met hours before, but he felt as if he’d known her his whole life. Perhaps, given the distress in her eyes, it was his teasing her about Miller that caused her to be surly. However, curiosity about the personal matters between Miller Northrop and Camy stirred in his mind. Any man with a lick of sense would be obsessed with gaining her hand, which obviously proved Duncan didn’t have any sense. And he intended to keep it that way, at least until all was settled and he returned to the city far from the unsettling peace he experienced watching her rest.

He cleared his throat. “My apologies. You’ve slept the afternoon, and beyond dinner. As I said, Dr. Northrop will escort your sister home tomorrow when he comes to check on you.”

Camy rolled her eyes. “Ellie is a fine enough doctor to treat me.”

“We’ve discussed this. I know nothing about these sorts of wounds.” Ellie laid the spoon in a pan of steaming water. “Are you hungry? Benjamin said you could have some broth as long as your stomach can handle it with the medicine.”

“Where is Hamish?”

Duncan had hoped Camy held no memory of her uncle’s announcement before entering the cabin. He didn’t want her upset any more than what she was, and any mention of marriage would certainly do just that.

“I banished him to the barn.” Ellie dipped broth into a bowl. “Mr. Murray, would you mind helping Camy to sit?”

Careful not to jar the arm held against her in a sling, he pulled back the heavy quilt and scooped one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back, and settled her against the headboard. He stuffed pillows and a folded quilt behind her back for support.

“And Pastor Hammond?” Camy whispered near his ear as he settled the quilt around her.

So much for her not recalling Hamish’s words. “Fortunately—” he smiled at her “—for both of us, winter decided to reappear. It gives us the evening to rest and enjoy one last snow.”

“But—”

He touched his finger to her lips. Soft and warm. Dangerous. He jerked his finger away and began tucking the blanket beneath her legs. “No buts. We will worry about tomorrow when the sun rises. Today has had enough cares of its own. Sip your broth, renew your strength and enjoy the peace. I have no doubts Hamish will be rambling before your rooster cries.”

Duncan stepped away from the bed and glanced around the small cabin for a place to escape. He’d kept his promise. She was awake, and seemed well, but he had far too much experience to believe she was truly well. Memories of men writhing around incoherently, only to slip beyond the here and now, pressed into his mind. He would never forgive himself if she died. He most certainly did not wish to watch her in the throes of agony. He could leave if he chose. However, he wouldn’t be able to until he knew for certain she was well. Besides, Hamish had yet to return his horse and his shoes, Duncan’s toes would freeze if he left. He’d been too concerned with Camy to interrogate Hamish. He believed what he told Camy, that tomorrow would be soon enough to demand the return of his shoes. For now, he needed to determine how to occupy the time without losing his wits, er, or regaining them. Massaging his neck, he contemplated making a run for the barn to seek shelter with Hamish. No doubt, he would be tempted to throttle his old friend for placing them all in a difficult situation.

“Would you like to join us for our nightly reading of scripture?”

He glanced over his shoulder to see Camy toying with an invisible string on the quilt. How long had it been since he’d opened a Bible? Since the war?

She lifted her chin and looked at him from beneath her thick lashes. “Afterward we pray, and then Ellie knits while Mara and I play chess. I suppose you could stand in for Mara.”

He was still caught on the word pray. “Pray?” he repeated.

Camy released a nervous giggle.

The last time he prayed, he’d been holding Geoff Walters’s hand as the young soldier took his last breath. He promised himself he’d never pray again. His earlier mishap of releasing a prayer as she washed down the river was an act of desperation and he wasn’t yet convinced that it had been his prayers that had been answered, for surely she had cried out to God too.

Ellie laid a thick Bible on the table. “Do not feel obligated, Mr. Murray.”

“Are you not a praying man?” Camy asked.

He jammed his hands into his pants pockets. “I, uh, haven’t in a few years. Seems God doesn’t hear much of what a Murray has to say.” After all his father’s sins, who could blame Him?

“What would ever make you think that?” Ellie sounded dismayed at the idea.

“I didn’t realize God was selective when it came to surnames,” Camy added. “Selective when it comes to the intention of a man’s heart perhaps, but never with his name. Did we not read from the tenth chapter of the book of Acts last night, Ellie? I believe verse thirty-four said God is no respecter of persons. He does not show favoritism whether rich or poor, male or female, Murray or Sims. If He does not show favoritism, He certainly does not decide to ignore a man because of his name.”