The Negotiated Marriage

by Christina Rich

  With renewed determination to fight for Duncan as he’d promised to fight for her, she quickened her steps toward the man she loved. And she intended to let him know it.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Duncan stormed into the house, his gaze roaming over the crowd, looking for the heart-shaped face he’d come to love framed by a crown of luxurious, burnished brown curls. He pushed to the center. Nate came alongside him, his keen eye sweeping through the room. “I don’t see Weston.”

  “Where’s my wife?” Duncan boomed. Every conversation abruptly halted; heads turned.

  Ellie and Mara appeared from the parlor room. Benjamin, his hair sticking out at odd ends and dark circles making him look like he’d been in a brawl, stalked toward them, taking their arms and leading them to Duncan. “If it’s all right with you, I’ll take them to my father’s.”

  “It’s closer?” Duncan asked, then at Benjamin’s nod, said, “I think that’s wise.”

  Ellie pulled from Northrop’s grasp, worry for her sister pressed lines into her brow, creasing the corners of her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. What’s going on? Where’s Camy?”

  Before he could answer, a scream sounded from a hallway in the back part of the house. Duncan tore through the rooms. A maid knelt over Mrs. Smith, tears slipping from her eyes. Benjamin pushed through and checked the hostess’s pulse and then glanced up at Duncan. “She seems to be fine. Does anyone have smelling salts?”

  Mrs. Smith’s lashes batted open and Benjamin helped her to the sofa in the library. “What happened?”

  Confused, she looked around the room, then pressed her palm to her chest. “Oh dear, that awful man.”

  “Mr. Weston?” Duncan questioned.

  “Yes, yes. He said he wanted to meet your bride, being your business partner and all.”

  Clenching his teeth, Duncan drew in slow, even breaths.

  “He all but threw me out of the room, and then the poor dear ran out of here crying. I demanded answers...” She shivered. “She went up the back stairs.”

  Duncan left Ellie and Mara in Benjamin and Nate’s care and took the stairs two at a time. He burst into her room. Camy’s wedding dress was draped over the bed. The wedding ring he’d placed on her finger lay in the center of a folded piece of paper. The blood in his veins froze.

  Clutching the ring in his fist, he unfolded the piece of paper. In heavy ink, and in the midst of the spattering of tears, he read, “My dearest Ellie and Mara, my sincere apologies for misplacing my trust and following my foolish heart. Love, Camy.”

  He collapsed on the bed, his emotions torn between relief that Weston hadn’t taken her and grief that she’d left him. What had gone wrong to make her mistrust him? Had Weston somehow put doubts in her mind? Worse yet, caused her to believe Duncan was the one responsible for all her troubles? For Miller? He buried his face into his hands, the missive crinkling. He should have listened to his gut, should have kept her by his side. “I should have told her the truth, Lord.”

  “That ye should’ve. I warned ye, though, dinnae I?” Hamish’s gravelly voice had Duncan looking up at him as he ambled into the room. “Maybe then ye wouldnae lost her.”

  Duncan squinted, fists clenched at his sides to keep from strangling the old man.

  “Ye gonna sit there feelin’ sorry for yerself or ye gonna go after my niece?”

  The ring bit into his palm. “She doesn’t want me.”

  “Did she say it?”

  Duncan read the note to Hamish.

  “Sounds like a lass in love sufferin’ a broken heart.”

  “I didn’t mean to break her heart.”

  “No, but someone did,” Hamish said, scratching his head. “Best make it right.”

  Raking his fingers through his hair, Duncan said, “I asked her to trust me.”

  “I expect it’s hard fer a girl to trust when so many folks has abandoned her.”

  “I didn’t.” He’d stayed when he could have left, and come back when he’d tried to leave. He’d made improvements to her home. Their home.

  “No, but you didn’t promise to stay either.”

  Springing from the bed, Duncan paced. “I promised to love her, cherish and honor her.”

  “Yep, you did, but does she ken those were more than words fer the preacher’s ears?”

  “For a crotchety old man you sure are wise.” He smiled, knowing he’d promised to fight for her, and fight for her he would. Once he found her he’d make sure she knew the entire truth, not just Weston’s version. He prayed she believed him, especially when he told her he loved her.

  “Duncan,” Nate said, standing in the hall, his hat crunched in his hands. “We have a problem.”

  Duncan dreaded hearing what his friend had to say.

  “Well, whatcha got, boy? If it concerns my niece it concerns me.”

  Nate ignored Hamish and looked directly at Duncan. “Weston has your wife.”

  Duncan felt all the blood drain from his face and then return with a vengeance. “What makes you say that for certain?” He didn’t want to waste time chasing shadows; he’d already spent too much time feeling sorry for himself when he should have been seeking out his wife to tell her what was in his heart.

  “This,” Nate said, holding out a scrawled note, “was brought in by one of Mrs. Smith’s servants.”

  Duncan snagged the note and scanned over the lines. “A ransom note. He wants money in exchange for my wife, but he doesn’t say how much, nor does it say where. I’ll be a frog in boiling water if I sit around waiting for more instructions,” he said as he pushed past Nate and Hamish and flew down the stairs to find Ellie arguing with Benjamin.

  “Ellie, please, the man who harmed Miller now has Camy,” Duncan said, forcing calm into his blood, knowing he wouldn’t be any good to his wife if he didn’t keep rational. “We know what Weston is capable of, but we have no idea what his intentions are for Camy. We can’t track them down if we’re keeping our attention on you. I need you and Mara to go with Benjamin until we find Weston, until I find my wife.”

  “The man who cut Miller up has Camy,” Mara said. “You’re woolly-headed to think I am sitting by darning socks like a proper lady.” Her glare dared him to tell her no. “I can shoot.”

  “I know you can, Mara, which is exactly why you’re needed at the Northrops’,” he said, holding Ellie’s gaze. “Dr. Northrop has fallen ill. Julius is caring for him and can’t keep watch on Bella, and of course, Benjamin needs to get back to Miller.” He pleaded to Ellie with his eyes.

  “You’ll send word?” Ellie asked, searching his face for answers.

  “As soon as all is well,” Duncan said, squeezing her hand in reassurance, and then he turned to the remaining group of people. “Will someone send for Pastor Hammond and ask him to pray for protection over my wife?”

  Duncan bent his head toward Nate. “I left Heather Glenn at the farm. The Old Nag pulling the buckboard will do me no good, and Benjamin’s horse was heaving when he came in.”

  “We have horses.” Levina spoke quietly, almost so quietly that Duncan didn’t hear her.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Smith piped up, still lounging on the divan, fanning herself. “Tell my groom to give you Sir Charles. He’s our fastest runner, and if you need more horses, please, it’s the least I can do.”

  “My thanks, Mrs. Smith.” He scrubbed his palm over his face. “I need to go this one alone.”

  Alone somehow ended up including Hamish, Nate and Pastor Hammond. Turned out the pastor had served with the Union as one of the best trackers this side of the Mississippi.

  “Something’s bothering me,” Nate said as the four of them rode west away from Rusa Valley following tracks left by Weston and his nephews.

  Duncan glanced at him, waiting for him to continue.

/>   “Why do you think he left a ransom note and didn’t tell you where to go?” Nate mused, as Hamish and the pastor dismounted their horses and checked for more tracks.

  Duncan had been wondering the same thing. Weston delighted in power, which he wouldn’t have behind bars, but perhaps he preferred the type of power where he controlled a man’s neck by the noose. Like taking a man’s wife and demanding a fortune. He thought back to the X carved in Northrop’s face. “It’s nothing more than a game to him.” Duncan stared toward the setting sun. “If he thinks I’d do anything for my wife, he ups the ante by causing me to fret.” He glanced at his friend. “I’d give all my wealth to save her, and he knows it. I made that clear at the party.”

  “The curse of the rich,” Nate responded.

  He’d hated his father’s money, not because he thought being rich was accursed. He didn’t care if he had money or not. He’d hated his father. “I’ve never considered it a curse. But then I’ve never cared for anyone the way I care for her.” The way he loved her.

  “Weston clearly realized that tonight, and your impromptu marriage took all possibility of gaining Sims Creek from his hands. If there’s coal there, the railroad would have paid a handsome price.” Nate shifted in his saddle.

  “I hope he’s intelligent enough to know that if he harms my wife, I won’t pay a farthing.”

  He also prayed for self-control once he found them.

  Hamish limped beside the pastor as they ambled back toward the horses and where Duncan and Nate were waiting. Hamish swept his hat off and smacked his leg. “Looks like they’s headed to the farm. Now, I’ve been trying to work all this up in my cap, as I was telling Preacher here, and I can’t imagine why all the sudden interest in Sims Creek and why would anyone go to such lengths to have it. There’s parcels of land up and down the river folks is eager to sell. Why torment my nieces and cause me heart failure?”

  Duncan furrowed his brow, wondering if the old man knew about the coal. If he did, he hadn’t said a word. “Coal.”

  “Coal? There ain’t no coal here. I thought I put that rumor to death years ago. Think I’d be spending my days in that there city if I thought there was coal? And I sure wouldnae gived it to ye to take my nieces off my hands.” Resettling his hat on his head, Hamish climbed up onto his mule. “All be, ye hear that, Millie. Folks still seem to think there’s coal at Sims Creek.”

  Hamish’s chuckle echoed through the valley as they headed toward the farm.

  * * *

  Unfamiliar voices pierced through Camy’s consciousness as she tried to open her heavy eyelids. They sounded angry and muffled.

  “You imbeciles,” Mr. Weston growled. “How is it Miller is here?”

  Mr. Weston? Camy peeked through one eye. She recognized the bits and pieces of fabric dotting the chinking in Ellie’s room. The curtains made from one of their older dresses. She glanced toward the light filtering through the cracked-open door. Weston paced near the bed where Miller lay in the other room. How had she come here? Last she remembered she’d been halfway to the stables to ride off, not that she could ride, but had quickly come to the realization that Duncan had never lied to her and had always kept his word to her. And she knew he wouldn’t have harmed Miller. She hadn’t even made it to Mrs. Smith’s stables when she turned around to head back to the house, only to be grabbed from behind, a cloth doused with a sweet scent covering her nose and mouth. The moment before she slipped from consciousness, she’d seen Mr. Weston’s smirk.

  “You were supposed to dump him in the river. Who knows what he’s told to whom?” Weston hollered. Flesh smacked against flesh.

  “He’s not even awake,” a pitched voice argued.

  “You fool, how do you know he hasn’t been awake these past few days?”

  Camy heard the cabin door open and slam shut.

  “I’m sorry, uncle,” came a different voice. “We were having some fun, and Miller disappeared. Someone must have found him and brought him here to Sims Creek.”

  “You mean you were drinking and dallying with the ladies at Rusa’s saloon.” Another smack. “Sorry won’t keep you out of jail. You were given a job. I expected it to be done. Now go see if these guttersnipes have a wagon. We must leave before Murray figures out we’ve come this direction. And don’t forget to load his trunk.”

  “But, uncle, we looked—”

  “Looked? I should have searched his belongings myself. He’s one of the wealthiest men in the country, and all you found was an old pocket watch? You didn’t look well enough. Men like him don’t keep all their coins in the bank. Now get the trunk and find a wagon and let’s get out of here.”

  The door to the cabin opened and closed, and then footsteps clapped on the floorboards toward her room. Camy willed her breathing to slow as her door creaked open. Tobacco wafted in with Mr. Weston. “You have been a pain in my neck, missy. You should’ve convinced your uncle to sell when you had the chance. Now I fear my patience has long worn out, and I don’t have the time to negotiate terms with your husband.”

  She heard the rustling of his clothes as he bent over her, felt the coolness of his dark shadow. She fought wrinkling her nose as he blew smoke into her face. He dug his fingers into her bandaged shoulder. Camy screamed in pain as she shot up. She clasped her palm against her shoulder. His deadly gaze chilled her.

  “Now, then, we can discuss your demise,” he said, pacing to the window. “As I recall, my boys threatened to dump you and your sisters in the river, but since they failed in doing so with your friend out there, I’m guessing that’s no longer a possibility.” He pulled long on his cigarette and blew out the smoke, then glanced over his shoulder. “The question burning in my mind is which would be more effective, killing you and letting your husband live with regrets, or allowing you to live with the burden of his murder knowing you could’ve prevented it. Of course,” he said, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he sat, his hand resting on her leg. “I could always kill you both.”

  “You won’t get away with murdering either of us,” she said through gritted teeth and the pain throbbing in her shoulder.

  “No? After I take care of Miller, you and your husband, nobody would suspect me. And if they did, there would be no proof. Besides, I’ll be headed to Mexico after your husband pays the ransom.”

  “You think to t-take his money and then k-kill him?” The sharp pain subsiding to a throb, she scooted away from him. “Mr. Murray and I are business partners, nothing more. Any ransom you’ve requested will certainly be ignored, as his keen financial sense will see that any money paid for a useless piece of land is senseless.”

  “For a woman who has remained one foot ahead of me, you sure are stupid.” Standing, he tossed his cigarette to the floor and glared down at her. “I have it on good authority that your marriage is more than a business agreement.”

  “I don’t know whose authority you’re speaking of, but I can assure you our marriage is in name only. He wanted Sims Creek. I wanted to remain in my home with my sisters. The agreement is tucked away in the family Bible if you’d like to see it.”

  “Why do you suppose Duncan wanted this land?”

  “B-because.” The word slurred out of her mouth; she wondered how Mr. Weston would respond to her answer. “It reminds him of his childhood home.”

  His laughter burst like thunder, forming a knot of fear in her stomach. “What about the coal, darling?”

  Confused, Camy furrowed her brow.

  “Your uncle didn’t tell you about the coal beds on this parcel of land?” Mr. Weston crossed his arms, a smug smile turned his mouth upward.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “It makes Sims Creek worth quite a bit of money, as it’ll be beneficial to the railroad when it comes through Rusa Valley.”

  “We’re miles from Rusa Valley. Besides, if there’s
coal here and it’s worth as much as you think, then why did Hamish give Sims Creek to Mr. Murray in exchange for nothing more than our marriage?”

  “Because,” Duncan’s voice, low and threatening, growled from the doorway. Camy’s heart leaped within her chest. Mr. Weston spun around, hand on the revolver belted at his waist. Duncan shook his head, his own revolver pointed at Mr. Weston’s chest. “There isn’t coal here, and your uncle knew I’d see you protected from weasels like Weston.”

  “And a fine job you’ve done, given that I was able to steal your wife from under your nose,” Mr. Weston tossed out.

  “That had nothing to do with my inability to protect her but rather her lack of heeding my wishes.” He shifted his gaze from Mr. Weston to her. “I specifically told you to stay away from Mr. Weston, and not to leave Mrs. Smith’s home.”

  Tears brimming on her lashes, she said, “I’m sorry. I should have trusted you. I did. I tried to come back.”

  Muscle ticking in his jaw and nostrils flaring, he nodded. “I know, sweetheart.”

  A man she didn’t recognize wearing a shiny badge stepped beside Duncan. “Hamish and the pastor have the others tied up on the porch. You want me to take him?”

  “Thanks, Nate.”

  After the deputy led Mr. Weston from the room, Duncan leaned against the door frame and stared at her with disappointment. His rumpled black frock suit matched her soiled lavender gown. She wanted to go to him, to wrap her arms around him and never let go, to tell him she loved him, but she feared she was too late. She angrily swiped at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Mr. Murray, for any inconvenience I have caused you.”

  Straightening, he crossed his arms, bracing his legs shoulder width apart. “We need to renegotiate the terms of our marriage.”

  Staring at her hands folded in her lap, she drew in a shuddering breath. She should have trusted him. If she did, her heart wouldn’t be breaking. “I understand.”