The Negotiated Marriage

by Christina Rich

  “I am sorry.” She laid her hand on his arm, seeking to offer comfort to the young man hurting inside.

  “Don’t be. My father was the worst of scoundrels. He left my mother to care for her child while he gallivanted wherever his heart desired. I grew up in a shanty with more holes than your cabin and watched my mother die.” All because his father had kept his fortunes to himself. “He didn’t think highly of women. My mother was nothing more than property to him, although there had been a time when he seemed content with her, happy even.” He tossed all the rocks in his hand into the river. “I promised myself I would never become like him.” He turned to her. “That is why I cannot offer you anything more than my name if we marry.”

  “Is that why you seem hesitant to kiss me?” The words were out of her mouth before she could take them back.

  Chapter Eleven

  It had been two long days since Duncan had poured out his heart to her. Two days since she asked him the stupidest question any lady in her right mind could ask. He’d kept silent when he thrust the brown paper bag with the lemon drops and peppermint sticks into her hand. He’d kept silent as they walked back to the buckboard. He’d kept silent while they rode the hour home listening to Ellie and Mara chat. And he’d not only kept silent these last few days, but he’d kept his distance, leaving her to revisit their conversation, to chastise herself for being too forward.

  “I’m going to the river. Would you like to go, Camy?” Mara asked.

  “Of course. We agreed that none of us should go alone.” She hated that they couldn’t walk around freely on their own land as they used to. Hated that fear owned too much of her life, fear of the men who’d caused them torment, fear of rejection, fear of becoming a spinster, fear of not being loved. Of being loved. Being loved by Duncan, as if that were possible, the man was determined to punish himself for his father’s sins, just as she’d been determined to allow her father’s sins to cause her fear. “Shall we grab the fishing poles and see if we can’t catch something other than broth for dinner?”

  “You get the poles and I’ll tell Ellie.” Mara skipped across the yard.

  It delighted Camy to see her sister maintain her joyful demeanor through all that had happened the last year. She wished she could do the same. A little over a year ago, she had been content. Ellie and Benjamin had been reunited when he returned from the war, and it seemed as if they were about to marry, and then came the incessant offers to purchase the land. And the frightening night of the fire. Had the men been hired by the railroad, or someone else as Duncan had suggested? Someone who had wanted Sims Creek since her uncle had settled here? The elder Dr. Northrop was too old to cause problems, but he had money to purchase ruthless men. Were his sons involved? Benjamin? Was that why Ellie broke off their courtship? What about Miller? The threats had started after her last rejection of his marriage proposal. Had he decided on another approach?

  Camy sighed and entered the barn. Examining every possibility would only drive her mad, and she was already having a difficult time keeping her sanity with Duncan stalking around the yard as if she’d angered him. He might have done all to avoid her, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t snuck a peek or two out the window while he worked. Mara was right about one thing, Duncan Murray was brawny, especially when he shucked his coat and rolled up his sleeves. She knew why he had avoided her, why he hadn’t joined them for the evening meals. But she wondered how long his patience would hold if Hamish didn’t return soon. Looking around the barn, she thought she knew the answer to that question. Things were as they should be, tidy and organized, not strewn around as they had been.

  The hens’ nesting boxes had been moved to the south wall, the goats were penned on the north and the gates on the stalls no longer hung at odd angles. All the things she had hoped to fix were completed. Even the blackened stone from last year’s fire had been scrubbed clean, the charred boards replaced. Tears formed on her lashes, blurring the changes Duncan had made to her home. It warmed her heart knowing that if they couldn’t make suitable negotiations between them, at least her home was going to someone who would care for it. Camy knew Ellie would insist they leave the farm if they didn’t have Duncan’s protection. If negotiations couldn’t be made, there was no reason for Duncan not to purchase Sims Creek and make it his home. It would be easier leaving her home knowing someone who would care for the land remained.

  “Are you coming?”

  Camy faced her sister. “Have you seen this?”

  “What, the barn? Oh yes. Duncan has been busy,” Mara responded. “The fishing poles are over here. I guess I should have told you they’d been moved.”

  Mara disappeared into a shed built into the barn and then returned, handing Camy three poles. “Ellie wants to come.”

  “She does?” Camy couldn’t remember the last time all three of them had fished together.

  “Yeah, it’ll be nice. Just like when we first came here and would fish with Aunt Naomi. Even if we don’t catch anything because the water is still too cold, it’ll be fun. We can sit and listen to nothing.”

  Camy burst into laughter. “Nothing? If that were the case we’d have to leave you here to burn biscuits.”

  Mara thrust her hands on her hips. “What is that supposed to mean? It’s not my fault I’m easily bored and distracted while they’re cooking.”

  “Whose fault is it, then? Tommy Lakin’s?” Camy teased.

  An overdramatic shiver shook Mara’s shoulders. “Do you know that he told Levina Smith I’m a tomboy? I think he’s sore mad because I beat him at the Harvest Run.”

  They stepped out of the barn and into the warm sun. Ellie waved at them from the porch.

  “No doubt, you hurt his pride. Maybe you can make it up to him and let him win the races at Rusa’s spring picnic.”

  “And why would I do that?” Mara tossed over her shoulder.

  “Because you like him?” Camy propped the poles against her uninjured shoulder.

  “Not anymore. I’m done with boys. It’s time I start thinking about my future.”

  Camy sighed. If she married Duncan, Ellie and Mara wouldn’t need to worry over their futures. If she agreed to marry for convenience, they would always have a home here. She would require it in the negotiations before she agreed to stand before Pastor Hammond with Duncan, but would that be enough for her, could she marry him without love?

  * * *

  The sisters disappeared through the tree-lined path leading to the river. They each carried a fishing pole in one hand. A rifle rested against one of Ellie’s shoulders, Mara swung a water bucket and Camy carried a picnic basket looped onto her pole. Duncan longed to join them, but their bubbling laughter told him they needed time to themselves without the burden of daily chores wearing them down, and he didn’t need the answer to Camy’s bold question burning in his chest. He had been hesitant to kiss her. It had taken everything in his power to keep from doing so, and he was thankful Mara had disrupted the pull between him and Camy before he’d given in to his curiosity. However, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t follow and keep watch. The weather had been nice for too many days not to expect another incident.

  He grabbed the rifle from the barn and closed Hound and Uncle Tommy inside their pens so they wouldn’t alert the sisters that he followed them. He waited a few minutes before he traced their steps. He halted near the large tree with half its roots reaching toward the river and sat on the worn path, the rifle on his lap. He watched as Ellie pulled a quilt from the basket, snapped it out and allowed it to settle on a large flat rock.

  Camy sat on the quilt. Pulling the sling from her neck, she rolled her shoulder and he wondered how she was faring, if the wound remained raw or was healing nicely. Duncan’s protective instinct itched to demand that she return her arm to the sling, but he stopped himself, knowing Ellie had cared for her sister’s wound and would repri
mand her if she needed. Camy slipped off her shoes, gathered her skirt to her shins and began rolling her stocking down her leg.

  Duncan turned to give her privacy. He arched his head against the tree and counted the new sprouts on the dying mammoth.

  A twig snapped. Duncan jumped to his feet.

  Hamish appeared from behind the tree. “Are ye spying on me nieces?”

  “Keeping watch.” Duncan relaxed the tension knotting his shoulders. Hamish had finally made an appearance.

  “Do they know that?” Hamish spat.

  “I don’t think so.”

  Hamish pointed toward the sisters with his chin. “Ye best think again.”

  Camy had removed her other stocking, both feet dangling off the rock and into the water, but her gaze was focused directly at him. Warmth infused his cheeks, and he ground his teeth together. The woman would be the death of him if she didn’t stop haunting him.

  “Have ye considered if my Camy girl will make a decent wife?”

  That had never been a question in his mind. “Will I make her a decent husband?”

  “I wouldn’t have chosen you if I thought otherwise. Considering her only other offer, I’d say you’re a mite better than Miller Northrop.”

  Duncan wouldn’t argue with him. A hermit would be an improvement over Camy’s suitor. “Are you staying for dinner so we can discuss your offer?”

  “I don’t need any funds from you. Just marry the girl. She wants to remain here in her home, and I want her to. I’m an old man and incapable of protecting the girls. I promised Camy the land before all the trouble, but I can’t, in good conscience, leave her out here on her own like easy prey for the wolves. Not when her sisters are bound to marry menfolk from town.”

  “I can’t take the land for free, and I have yet to gain her agreement.”

  “What have you been doing, son? I’ve given ye plenty of time to court her proper. Gossip all over town says you’re marrying. That old biddy Mrs. Smith is throwing you an engagement party come this Saturday, so ye best turn on your charm.” Duncan didn’t have to look very far to see who had spread the rumors. But then hadn’t he spilled the gossip out of his own mouth when he told Mrs. Davis he was Camy’s fiancé?

  “I told you I wasn’t looking for a wife.”

  “Maybe not, but you found one anyways.”

  That he did.

  “Tell me you can walk away from her? She’s done stole yer heart.”

  “Now wait a minute, she hasn’t stolen anything,” Duncan said, his nostrils flaring.

  Hamish squinted and pursued Duncan from head to toe. “No? Sure looks like it from where I stand.”

  Duncan looked down his nose at Hamish. “I think you need to look again. I’m fully intact. Any marriage negotiation we make will be purely in name only.”

  “How do you intend to protect her from that railroad you work for?”

  He winced. All the air whooshed from his lungs as if he’d been punched in the gut. “I don’t work for the railroad. I’m just an investor.”

  “Right, so ye give ’em money.”

  “If the railroad is the cause of the threats, my name will be enough to protect her, or else they’ll lose me as an investor,” Duncan snapped, and then regretted the venom behind his words. Of course, Hamish wouldn’t offer his niece to just anyone. “Does Camy know that I’ve invested money in the railroad?”

  “I ain’t told her.”

  Duncan gazed upon the woman who caused his head to spin. “She won’t agree to a marriage if she thinks I’m here to swindle her.”

  “’Xactly why I haven’t said a thing, but ye can’t marry her with it betwixt you.”

  “What makes you think I won’t swindle her, or you? Why do you trust me?”

  “Near a year ago you saved an old man’s life. Others had walked on by. Not you. I followed you for a time and I knew you had nothing to do with my beating. And I know you’ve had nothing to do with the threats to my nieces, and if you knew of them you would have pulled your money from the road they’re determined to see cut through this land. Besides, son, you’ve got character, good character.”

  Duncan winced. He’d spent his life running from his father’s shadow. He never thought to hear anyone but his mother call him good. Could it be true? Was he good? Had he somehow outrun his father’s abusive hand? “I appreciate that, my friend.”

  “No thanks needed. I’ve seen the charity you’ve doled out to widows and orphans. I’ve seen what you’ve done for that soiled dove left for dead by the river in Topeka, and I’ve seen ye help her help others.” Hamish scratched his head beneath his hat. “I’ll be staying for dinner. I s’pect them girls to bring in a fine catch, and Camy girl sure does know how to cook.”

  Duncan scrubbed his palm over his chin and blew out a ragged breath. The old goat knew more about him than Duncan liked. He only did what he thought would make amends for his father’s sins so that maybe one day he could step out of the dark shadows of his father’s past.

  A lot of good his good deeds had done. How was he to tell Camy he was helping finance the very thing that might be causing her fear on her own land? For now he wouldn’t. He would wait until he investigated who was behind the fires, and he prayed, for his partner’s sake, it wasn’t him.

  A squeal, followed by feminine laughter, drew his attention to the sisters. The trio gathered around a pole held by Mara with a fish dangling from a hook. Ellie pulled on the line holding it up, and Camy grabbed hold of the fish around its belly beneath the fins and removed the hook.

  Camy said something and all the sisters turned and looked at him. Camy waved him down. Not wanting to intrude on their family time, he shrugged and maintained his position, but all three ladies waved for him to come.

  “Hurry,” Camy hollered.

  Her anxious call had him rushing down the path, pebbles and clumps of dirt rolling from beneath his feet. His blood hammered in his veins. “What is it?”

  They laughed.

  “We’ve agreed that as our guest you should do the honors.” Camy held the fish toward him.

  “The honors?” He stepped back. “You caught him, you clean him. Fishing rules.”

  Camy stepped forward, the fish between them. “You were willing to pluck Uncle T-Tommy, but you won’t clean a fish?”

  What could he tell them, that he’d never even been fishing before? “I don’t fish.”

  “Stop tormenting the man, Camy,” Ellie said. “It’s obvious he’s scared.”

  Duncan glared at the one sister he believed to be his friend.

  “We’re only funning.” Mara laid her pole on the rock.

  “Besides.” Camy winked as she smiled. “He’s going back in the river.”

  “He is?”

  “Sure. We always release our first catch. It’s our way of giving our first fruits back to God. Here,” she said, holding the fish toward him. “Hold him here and watch out for the thorns by his fins.”

  Duncan wrapped his fingers over Camy’s. A jolt of awareness smacked him in the gut. She must have felt it too, because her lips parted as she inhaled a sharp breath. If they didn’t have an audience, no doubt he’d kiss her. He cleared his throat. “Now what?”

  She removed her warm fingers from beneath his, leaving nothing but a squirming fish. “Put him in the water.”

  Duncan pulled back his arm.

  “No,” all three sisters chorused.

  Camy shook her head. A patient smile and understanding eyes comforted him as if she were encouraging a child and he couldn’t help wondering what sort of mother she’d make.

  “If you throw him, you risk injuring him.” She knelt on the rock, her bare toes peeking from the hem of her skirt, and let her fingers skim over the surface of the water. He knelt beside her and she guided h
is hand into the cold water. “Now let go.”

  He relaxed his fingers and watched the fish dart away.

  Camy bowed her head. “Thank You, Lord, for the blessing of Your creation and for providing us with sustenance. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  “Amen,” Ellie and Mara said together.

  “Amen,” he repeated.

  Camy rose and dried her hands on her skirt. Duncan stood, as well.

  Mara clapped her hands together. “Ellie, didn’t you say you were going to help me make biscuits?”

  “I—uh,” Ellie stammered, and then Mara elbowed her. “Yes. What was I thinking?”

  “I can do it,” Camy responded. “You two stay and fish. Duncan will keep watch.”

  “You’re the better fisher, Camy.” Mara grabbed the bucket and filled it halfway with water.

  “That is true,” Ellie agreed. “Duncan, will you carry the bucket for her when she’s done?”

  “Ellie,” Camy growled.

  He knew when he was being swindled. His keen awareness had kept him from making bad deals, and filled his bank account, but he didn’t know how to get out of this one. More important, he didn’t know if he wanted to. “Of course.”

  * * *

  Camy hoped her sisters could feel the arrows she glared into their backs. Their laughter as they walked arm in arm toward home told her they didn’t care.

  “My apologies for their behavior. If you have things to do, I understand.”

  “I wouldn’t leave you alone. It’s too far from the cabin, and secluded.” He glanced at her bare feet.

  “Oh.” She sat on the quilt and pulled on her stockings as discreetly as possible and then her shoes. “I could be here for hours trying to catch another catfish.” She hoped that had not been her sisters’ intentions.

  “How many do you need to catch?”

  Camy threaded a piece of meat on the hook and dropped the line into the water. “One if he’s big enough.”