“Fire!” Camy’s panicked cries echoed in his ears as he darted to where the ladies had disappeared.
He came around the corner and spotted Camy smacking flames with a damp towel. Ellie tugged and Hound nipped at Camy’s skirt.
“Move!” he yelled.
Ellie dropped the fabric, grabbed Hound by the neck and took off running. “I’m going to get more water.”
Camy continued swatting at the flames licking the hewn logs. Flames singed the hem of her skirt, sparks catching the fabric. Duncan snaked his arm around her waist and swept her into his arms. He dumped her in a drift. Gathering her skirt, he plunged his hand into the snow. “Stay put.”
He ripped the linen cloth from her hand and rushed back to where he’d set down the bucket of water by the cabin. He doused the cloth in the water and then slapped the sodden fabric against the flames. The fire was coming from a pile of sticks tucked into the corner where the main cabin met the extending bedroom. The structure itself had yet to catch fire. He dumped the bucket of water onto the debris and watched the flames disappear.
Running his hand through his hair, he knelt and inspected the damage. Fortunately only the bottom two logs were slightly charred. It didn’t take a great deal of investigating to realize the fire was set on purpose. The two questions begging for answers, did the perpetrator intend to burn the ladies out of their home or only scare them? And who was responsible? An agent with the railroad? An imposter pretending to be with the railroad? Or perhaps someone with another agenda, like Miller Northrop?
A hand dropped onto his shoulder, startling him. He spun around and jumped to his feet. A cry tore from Camy’s lips as she stumbled backward. He grabbed hold of her elbow to steady her. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
He glanced into her coffee-colored eyes as she gave her head a gentle shake. Afraid of staring at her, he jerked his gaze to the soft curls gracing her forehead. Without thinking, he ran his fingers over one ringlet. Deep lines furrowed her brow. The elbow still held in his palm trembled. He shifted his gaze back to hers and saw a frightened doe.
He wanted to pull her into his arms and settle the fear right out of both them, but charred wood lingered between them. And the hair at the base of his neck, standing on end, told him someone was watching them. Releasing his hold on her elbow, he squatted and inspected the snow for footprints as well as took a few peeks into the surrounding woods, but it required greater attention than he could give at the moment. “Are you certain you are fine?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “But Ellie should be back.”
“I want to check the inside of the cabin to make sure the fire didn’t catch through the logs, and then I’ll search for your sister.” He also wanted to inspect the cabin before he left her alone and ease the gnawing in his gut. For the first time since his arrival, he fully understood Camy’s reaction to him when she first found him on her property. He was also beginning to understand Hamish’s motives to negotiate a marriage for his niece, but why choose him? If Hamish knew of his involvement with the railroad, the old man would, no doubt, rescind his offer and rightly so. Duncan needed to have a discussion with his friend as soon as possible, but first he intended to discover who was behind the threats against the sisters.
He led her around to the front of the cabin. “Wait here.”
She started to shake her head but then tucked her uninjured hand over the sling against her midsection. He hated the worried lines creasing her eyes, the tight line of her mouth. And he knew at the moment he would do all within his grasp to bear the burden of her fears.
Worrying about what he’d find inside the cabin, Duncan stepped onto the porch and swung open the aged, weathered door. A soft glow emanated from the fireplace. Dust danced in the beams of light protruding through the portal. He glanced under the bed. With his back facing the wall, he crept into the bedroom and released the air held hostage in his lungs as he neared the far wall. Kneeling, he ran his hand along the hewn logs and then stole a glance under the bed to see if anyone hid in the shadows. He drew in a breath, unfolded his length and made his way out of the cabin.
Camy remained as he’d left her, in the center of the yard surrounded by melting snow with her arms tucked around her waist. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think a young girl stood before him. His jaw ticked as anger frothed inside him. He hated seeing anyone abused and bullied. Tormented.
He jammed his hands into his pants pockets and stepped off the porch. “All’s well. No sign of the fire inside.” He wouldn’t cause her further fear by speaking his earlier suspicions that anyone had intruded into her home. Not until he had to.
“Ellie?”
Hound barked as he raced over to Camy. She held her hand out for a lick. Ellie climbed the last bit of hill and set the bucket down. “Is the fire out?”
Duncan followed Camy as she rushed to her sister’s side. Duncan took the bucket as Camy threw herself at her sister. “I was worried. Truly frightened.”
Ellie pulled back and brushed her hand over Camy’s hair. “I tried to hurry, but in my haste I dropped the bucket into the water. Thankfully it caught up in the bend, but I had to find a branch long enough to pull it out. Are you all right?” Ellie bent over and inspected Camy’s skirt.
“Yes, I’m fine. Just a little shaken.” The hint of a smile curved her lips. “I’m beyond thankful Duncan was here. To think we could have lost everything.”
Her words rang in his ear. He had no wish for her gratitude, not when he might be partially responsible. He might not have ordered the deed done, but if the railroad was involved as the ladies believed, then his coin was involved, which meant he was just as guilty.
* * *
Camy watched Duncan shove his hands into his pockets. Shoulders hunched and head hung low, he disappeared into the barn. “Hamish best return soon.”
Ellie sighed. “We sure are in a mess.”
“We?” Camy raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t the one he’s trying to marry off.”
Ellie’s cheeks paled. “He knows I won’t marry and Mara is too young.” She looped her arm with Camy’s. “You, dear sister, are our only hope.”
Camy dug her heels into the melting snow. “I’m sorry. I didn’t consider you and Mara.”
She’d never thought of her predicament as hope, only as a curse. She’d been too caught up in her fear of being abandoned. Again. Perhaps being married to an absent husband wouldn’t be such a bad thing if it saved their home. Duncan didn’t want a wife. She didn’t want a husband. Could they come to an acceptable agreement?
“I’m teasing, Camy. As much as we love it here, we would never ask you to marry for anything other than love.”
Camy knew Ellie had experienced love. Often she caught her sister woolgathering over what had been lost with Benjamin. They had been inseparable, but Benjamin left to serve as a doctor in the War Between the States, and when he returned something had happened to keep them from reuniting as Camy had expected, and even prayed for. “Duncan isn’t so bad on the eyes.”
Ellie smiled. “That is something. And he seems to have a decent idea of how a lady should be treated, which is more than I can say for Miller. Poor boy, lost his mother much too soon.”
“Ellie, I could never love Duncan.” Oh, she could, easily, but she wouldn’t allow herself to be caught in that foolish snare.
“Then you shouldn’t marry him.”
“I could never marry a man I did love.”
“Dear sister, at some point you must forget our father’s leaving and gather the courage to live outside the shadows.”
They stepped onto the porch. A trail of flour dusted over the threshold. Ellie glanced at her with a question in her eyes.
“You know I despise idleness,” Camy said. “With Mara gone, I thought to make biscuits. Before I could finish cleaning the mess I smelled smok
e.”
She would not think about the warmth of Duncan’s lips on her cheek, or the giddiness that had curled her toes. He had looked at her as if she were beautiful. As if she was more than beautiful. No man had ever looked at her in such a way before. She’d become lost in his gaze as he leaned closer. So close she’d thought she could hear the beat of his heart. Of course, she had only been woolgathering, and had given herself a thorough chastising after he ran out of the cabin in horror.
“I know this isn’t easy for you, but until you’re a little more mended I’d rather you remain still. Benjamin said there was a risk of your wound bleeding again, or even worse, becoming gangrenous. And with your fever the last two days, well, I’m demanding you stay in bed.”
Camy sighed. “I’ll perish from boredom.”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “Unlikely. However, if it distresses you so much I’ll see what I can find. I fear even a simple task such as gathering what few eggs we are getting would not be easy for you. You would need both hands to darn our stockings, not that you would volunteer for such a task.”
Camy’s heart still thundered in her chest after the fire. The exertion taxed what little strength she had, and all that hopefulness that had bubbled within her only an hour or so had dissolved. “For now I would like to rest.”
Ellie halted her steps, and faced her. The back of her hand pressed to Camy’s brow. “Are you well?”
“What’s wrong?” Duncan’s sharpness snapped Camy out of her melancholy.
She spun around, knocking her sister’s hand from her brow as she wobbled. “Nothing.”
“Her fever has returned.”
“I am fine. What are you doing with Uncle Tommy?” The hen rested her head on Duncan’s shoulder like she did whenever Camy carried her around.
“Uncle Tommy? This hen?” He glanced at the bird. “I thought you would like something other than broth to eat.”
Camy hiked up her skirt and strode across the way. She wanted to snatch Uncle Tommy from Duncan’s clutches, but she didn’t want to drop the hen. “And you happened to think I would like to eat her?” She pointed her finger at the bird in his arms.
A deep V formed between Duncan’s dark eyebrows. “She is a chicken with one leg. Most people I know eat chickens.”
“She’s my chicken. Mine. And you will not pluck a feather from her. Not a feather, you hear?”
Ellie burst into laughter. Camy spun around, hand on hip. “I see nothing to laugh at.”
“Mr. Murray, you look as if you’re choking on a fly.” Ellie took Uncle Tommy from Duncan. The hen let out a raspy cluck as she settled into Ellie’s arms.
Camy faced Duncan. He did have the look of a man in panic, a look that likely mirrored the brewing storm of emotions in her chest. Not because he thought to eat Uncle Tommy for lunch, but the realization that if she chose to negotiate a marriage agreement with him, she would quite possibly regret it later, or much sooner than she’d like to admit.
The fading bruise and the lack of swelling from his face unveiled hooded eyes and high cheekbones. She dropped her gaze to his mouth framed by a thickening beard a little darker than the color of his dark hair. He snapped his lips into a thin line. His pupils shrank, intensifying the gold flecks. It was as if she were seeing him for the first time. He no longer displayed a disfigured oaf, but more like the tales her mother had spun of the dark knights come to steal young maids’ hearts, never to return them.
Camy’s legs begged to run far from Duncan where all her hopes and dreams would remain safe tucked away in her imagination, but her body refused to move.
“If you intend to stick around the farm and marry my sister, you ought to learn the rules.” Ellie’s voice broke through the mire imprisoning Camy.
For no reason at all, tears pricked the backs of her eyes. Fortunately for her pride, Duncan pulled his gaze from hers and glared at her sister as if she’d shot his dog. “I’ve yet to speak with Hamish, and until I do so I can’t say what I will do.”
“You’re still here.” Ellie held up her hand. “Before you argue, I provided boots for your feet. You could have left.”
“The fire.”
“You could have left before that. You could have left with the Northrops, but you didn’t.”
“My horse.”
“Is in the back pasture if you’d like to see her.” Ellie half smiled. “She’s a beauty.”
“What?” Camy asked. “You knew this?”
“I walked out there this morning. I knew Hamish wouldn’t have taken her far, and I was right.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” She looked at Duncan. “You could’ve gone home or to Rusa, where you could find room and board.”
“What is wrong with here?” he asked as if he hadn’t been sleeping in a room with holes in the roof and eating vegetable broth and biscuits. It was as if he liked it here.
Why did he have to be stubborn? And likable? She didn’t want him to be likable; she already liked him too much. A slight breeze blew through the yard, causing the beads of sweat on her brow to chill. She shivered. “We don’t eat pet chickens,” she snapped.
“If it makes you feel any better, I intended to ask permission before placing her head on the chopping block.”
Camy narrowed her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. Was Duncan lying or was he that considerate? She thought back over the last few days. Of course he was considerate. He had jumped in the river to rescue her, carried her home in his beaten condition and stayed by her side while Benjamin extracted a bloody bullet from her arm. And he had even gone against his own convictions and read scriptures to her when she so rudely dared him to. Then according to Ellie he’d stayed up and watched over her while her fever raged.
Ellie’s hand rested on her uninjured arm. “He won’t leave you, Camy.”
“Of course not,” Duncan confirmed.
“Leave?” Camy’s head spun. The fever had returned, burning on the inside, freezing on the outside, which, no doubt, stirred her irritation with Duncan. Why would her sister think it mattered? This was about Duncan taking over the farm chores, her chores. Chopping enough wood to get them through spring, assuming he could have her pet for dinner. It wasn’t about him staying or abandoning her, was it? The way he shouldered the burden of the fire and checked the cabin before allowing her to return without even knowing she feared entering on her own had given her a sense of peace that she hadn’t known since she had been a wee child. He acted like a man who knew how to care. Who could care. Who did. But she didn’t want that, did she? “Why is that, Mr. Murray? Why won’t you leave?”
She couldn’t help wondering why she didn’t want him to stay, to care. She didn’t need to dig too far into her inner recesses for an answer. She knew exactly what it was, could see it even now fourteen years later. There had been no kisses to her cheek or waves goodbye, not even a glance back. She’d only seen six summers, but she’d never forgotten the moment her father had left. There had been letters, and this property many years later, and the occasional brief visit that had faded to nothing after a year or two. And she knew if she allowed Duncan a place in her life, he’d leave her just the same. Especially given that he didn’t want a wife. And that terrified her.
Chapter Eight
Duncan didn’t have a direct answer for her. At least not one he was ready to give. He certainly didn’t want to tell her he needed to assuage his guilt, not when he wanted to be here for reasons he couldn’t explain even to himself.
Shivering, she wrapped her arms around her waist. The air had warmed considerably and continued to melt the snow, but it was not warm enough to cause the beads of perspiration on her brow.
“As I have told you before, I’m staying until all is settled between us. I think we should continue this conversation after we have lunch,” he said, hoping the return of her
fever was nothing more than her body reacting to the stress of the fire. Perhaps if she rested, the fever would diminish.
“That is an excellent idea.” Ellie looped her arm through Camy’s and they stepped into the cabin. Duncan followed close behind them in case they needed his assistance. The high color in Camy’s cheeks didn’t set well in his gut. In fact, it scared him.
Ellie dusted off one of the spindle-back chairs before assisting Camy to sit, and then settled the one-legged chicken in a box at the end of the bed.
Duncan scrubbed his palm over his face. What had Hamish gotten him into? One thing was for certain. Camy was far from the simpering ladies with their batting eyelashes. However, she was also far from biddable, but Duncan found he didn’t mind the way she challenged him. No doubt, an obedient wife would bore him, but then what did that matter if he didn’t intend to stick around?
“I’ll be right back.” Ellie stepped outside.
Duncan knelt in front of the fire and stirred the logs with a long stick that had been resting against the stone. He swiveled on his heel and caught Camy starring right through him. “What can I do to help?”
She blinked. “Nothing.”
Her tone remained surly. Had her renewed fever increased her discomfort and caused her to act like a stubborn mule with a sour disposition? His suggestion of eating something other than broth as well as her worries over the fire had no doubt taxed her gracious demeanor.
“I can either clean your flour mess or make you lunch.”
She closed her eyes and slumped against the chair, resting her head against the back. “I’m not hungry.”
His attempts at drawing her into an argument and out of her drudgery met with failure.
She swallowed. “I am thirsty.”
The Negotiated Marriage Page 8