by Joyce Armor
As luck would have it, the lady was behind the counter this morning as her husband, Emile, stocked the shelves. She wore a stiff white apron over her blue flowered day dress. Duncan walked up to her and smiled.
“Good morning to ye, Mrs. Greitzer, and how are ye this fine morning?”
“I still have that shoulder pain I told you about, Doctor,” she scolded, rubbing the offending shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t have some medicine that can provide me relief?”
She had tried to cajole and bully laudanum out of him previously. “No, as I told ye last week, rest and limiting movement of yer shoulder should help. There are specialists back east who might perform surgery if that doesnae clear oop the problem.”
That was not the answer she wanted, and before she could find her temper, Duncan asked if she had a roll of two-inch bandaging and a bag of salt.
I vill get them,” her husband called out.
Duncan leaned an elbow on the counter and smiled his charming smile at Mrs. Greitzer. “The town has been quiet lately, donnae ye think?”
The woman’s eyes fairly glowed as she pressed her hands on the counter, leaning forward. “You know that Sara Mercer left town last week? Her aunt let it slip to the baker, who told my cousin…she’s with child.”
“No. But mayhap she’s glad aboot it.”
“Hmphh. We don’t know who the father is, but that new lawyer, Jonas Carruthers, seemed fond of her.”
“Anyone interesting come in on the stage lately?”
Mrs. Greitzer leaned in closer. “Funny you should mention that. It’s not who’s come in on the stage. It’s that that horrid Mr. Shanley has been meeting the stage for three days in a row and hasn’t found whoever he’s looking for. Another one of those young girls to work in his bawdy house, I fathom. I don’t know how he attracts them, but they keep coming.”
Duncan just nodded, though his mind was whirling. The mon had ne’er intended to marry Sophie, he’d bet his ranch. That was just the lure to get her here so he could turn her into one of his… It took all his strength not to pound his fist on the counter in anger. He was so ensconced in his outrage he almost missed the gossip’s next declaration.
“…that substitute driver.”
“I’m sorry, what aboot the substitute driver?”
“That Shanley character has been asking all over town for him. Why would he want to talk to him? He could probably find him in the saloon, if you ask me.”
“Here you are, Mr. MacGibbon. I belief dis is vat you vant.” Wilhelm Greitzer, whose handlebar gray mustache was his most distinguishing feature, set his order down on the counter, more to quiet his wife than to serve the customer, in Duncan’s estimate.
“My thanks, sir.” Duncan straightened up and reached into his pocket for some loose bills.
“Have you seen our new cash register, Doctor? It’s called Ritty’s Incorruptible Cashier, and it records all sales,” Mrs. Greitzer said proudly.
He glanced over the counter, handing her a couple of bills after she told him the price, and watched in fascination as she entered the information. “That’s verra inventive,” he said, “’Tis wise of ye to stay a step ahead of the competition.” She preened, and he picked up his purchases and headed out before she could engage him in any more conversation.
Duncan stopped in to check on the blacksmith, Jasper Curtis, who had broken his leg several weeks earlier in a fall from his horse; and on May-Ling Sutcliffe, the sheriff’s wife, who was expecting her first child any day. Survival through childbirth was not a given, even in these modern times, and the physician was thankful when things turned out well. On his trip to North Platte, he had looked over some new medical equipment and had ordered a microscope, which he thought might help solidify his belief in Louis Pasteur’s germ theory and ultimately benefit his patients.
On his way back to the ranch, he pondered over why he had not told Sophie he was a doctor. It was not a secret. He didnae want to live in a big city and could not make a decent living as a physician in the country, where so many people had little cash and needed to pay in chickens or pies or pelts. That’s why he started the ranch with the stake he had saved from his hellish year as a doctor in New York. There was no doubt the experience had increased his medical knowledge and also his understanding of human nature, but he would never go back to city doctoring. Raising and selling cattle and horses more than kept him and Ainsley clothed and fed. And in some ways it fed his soul just as much as or more than his medical practice.
He also deliberated over Sophie’s near disastrous encounter with Charles Shanley. To think of her beaten down and forced into that profession made his blood boil. It was only a matter of time before Shanley found the substitute driver, and the man was no match for the threatening pimp, even though he was a grizzly old coot. There had to be a way to save Sophie. Duncan had ridden several miles toward home before he abruptly stopped his horse. The confused animal shook his head nervously, and the Scotsman couldn’t blame him. Duncan fought with himself, yet knew deep down there really was only one answer. He felt the rightness of it in his heart, although being right didn’t always mean that’s what he wanted. Sighing, he turned the horse around and headed back to town.
Chapter 3
Sophie had no idea what tending the cattle entailed, especially since she assumed Duncan had fed them in the morning. How often did cows eat? She had no idea. Finally, a subject she hadn’t read about. It was pretty clear the cattle would run out of local grass fairly quickly and wander off if the MacGibbons did not provide an alternate source of food, although the valley did limit the direction they could go, so she imagined it wouldn’t be too hard to track them down if they wandered off.
She followed Ainsley on a little mare the teen was surprised that she knew how to saddle. Sophie took a disproportionate amount of joy in showing her nemesis skills the girl was certain she didn’t possess. She could see the cattle grazing in the distance as she followed Ainsley down the valley. They were a few hundred yards from the first of the cows. Ainsley had turned around to tell Sophie not to spook the cattle when Sophie spotted a rattlesnake coiled and appearing about to strike up ahead.
“Ainsley, stop!” Sophie shouted.
The girl instinctively pulled on her reins just in time. The snake made a hissy sound and slithered away, but Sophie’s horse, jarred by the commotion, took off at a gallop. Though Sophie frantically tried to rein the mare in, the horse was too spooked to obey. As they approached the cattle, the cows began to run. Finally, the horse stopped so suddenly, Sophie flew over her head, landing painfully on some flattened grass.
Ainsley rode up, fit to spit nails and apparently not concerned with Sophie’s well-being. “What the hell were ye thinking? Now we have to chase down the herd. Ye’re next to useless.”
Sophie, feeling the bruises that were forming on her rear and right side, slowly stood, grabbing the reins of the mare, which was now as docile as could be.
“Thank you for your concern. I’m fine. I was thinking you might not have wanted your horse to get bitten by a rattlesnake.” She mounted and headed in the direction the herd had gone. At least now she knew what tending the cattle would mean today.
Ainsley never apologized for yelling at Sophie or thanked her for saving her from the snake. Sophie remembered what it felt like to be an angry teenager and managed to let go of her own anger. She had channeled her resentment growing up toward educating herself as the best revenge against her aunt and uncle. Ainsley, it seemed, had no outlet for her ire, with the possibility exception of venting her rage at Sophie.
They spent several hours gathering the herd and returning them to their original grazing area. Then they spread out some hay and carried some fresh water to the large troughs at the approach to the cow’s stomping ground. Ainsley barely spoke to Sophie throughout the whole process, and Sophie was just as happy not to converse with her. She could only take so much animosity directed at her before she would strike back, and she truly didnae wa
nt to hurt Ainsley in any way. Despite her prickly exterior, she thought the girl was most likely a marshmallow inside.
Sophie’s life had changed so dramatically in so short a time, she also welcomed the silence to think about Duncan and what she wanted in life. Love. Hope. Contentment. Even Ainsley’s contentment. Not in that order, though. But those would be her goals. As impossible as it seemed now, she believed conquering Ainsley’s hostility would be the easiest goal to meet, which was not to say it would be easy at all.
Sophie was in the kitchen chopping onions and carrots when Duncan finally returned. She hurriedly dash to the window and peered out when she heard his horse, relieved that it was him. He was leading a second horse, presumably the one he had left in town when he took the stage. He looked…what was the word? Stiff? Staunch? Or perhaps determined. She found her heart beating faster just to see him ride in. The man truly was magnificent. She hadn’t seen Ainsley in over an hour and was thankful Duncan’s sister couldn’t see her mooning over her brother. The girl said she was going to check on the cattle and horses yet again. Sophie had no idea how long that should take. She suspected Ainsley spent so much time with the cattle because she wanted to be alone, and she was an outside person if ever there was one. Although Sophie had offered to help once again, Ainsley turned her down, ordering her to prepare the noon meal instead. Sophie wasn’t affronted, despite the teen’s imperious manner. She was happy to wash the smell of cattle off and help in the kitchen or in any other way she could. Despite the uncertainty of her future and even the lurking danger, she already felt better than she had since moving in with the Armstrongs.
Duncan unsaddled his horse, rubbed him down and fed and watered him. He took longer than usual, ruefully recognizing the horse was benefitting from the fact that his master was avoiding the inevitable. Finally, realizing he had no alternative, the Scotsman plodded toward the cabin. Since Ainsley didn’t come bounding out, she was most likely out on the range with the cattle. Good. He could talk to Sophie alone. Lord, give me the right words to say and the strength to say them.
He walked into the cabin and stopped in his tracks. Sophie, wearing breeches and a light blue shirt, her honey-blond hair trailing down her back in a thick braid, was in the kitchen preparing the midday meal. She looked so…so perfect there. So domestic. So right. Not ridiculous or remotely masculine in the men’s clothing but incredibly appealing. He could see the outline of her arse in those trousers, for God sakes. She turned and smiled and he swore the room lit up.
She wiped her hands on a towel. “How did it go in town? Did you find out anything?”
“Can ye take a break from what ye’re doing and sit, lassie?”
She gave him a suspicious look. “All right.” She took a pan off the stove.
“Here.” He indicated the dining table.
Apprehensively, she walked over and sat. And waited. He didn’t say anything.
She tapped her fingers on the table nervously. “Just tell me, Duncan. It cannot be as bad as my imagination can conjure up.”
He looked up, and then down. Then he shook his head and sighed. Finally, he said, “Charles Shanley was ne’er going to marry ye, Sophie. He just said that to draw ye to Stonehaven. He would have turned ye into one of his…women.”
Sophie gasped, and he saw tears in her eyes. He couldn’t help it. He got up, pulled her out of her chair and put his arms around her. She sank into his hug and clung to him. After a few moments, he gently eased her away.
She realized he thought she was upset at the thought of her betrothed planning to turn her into a whore. It seemed like an age since she had thought of him as her fiancé. What bothered her more than his nefarious plans was her utter lack of judgment. She had always thought of herself as intelligent and realistic, and she had gone and promised herself to a disgusting pig. It unnerved her. She looked at him. He was still holding her upper arms.
“Sophie, he is looking for the substitute driver, and sooner or later, he will find him. The mon willnae be a match for him.”
He watched as the color drained from her face. “And he will know I got off the stage with you.”
He nodded. She moved away from him, sinking back into the seat, and he sat next to her, studying her as if she would shatter.
She placed her hand on her chin and looked at him with the most mournful eyes. “Oh, Duncan, I have to leave. I cannot put you and Ainsley in jeopardy.” He started to say something, but she raised her hand up to stop him. “Maybe you could ride with me to the closest town where I can take a train, and then you could take the horses back. I would pay you for your time. I’m so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I don’t know how I could have been so stupid.”
“Sophie.” He stopped, gathering his thoughts.
She observed his brows furrowing as if he were struggling with what to say. She wanted to put this good man at ease.
“It’s all right, Duncan. I will be fine.”
“Lassie, none of this is yer fault. Ye took the mon at his word and came across the country to fulfill a dream.”
Her lips turned up as if she wanted to smile yet could not quite manage it. “I don’t know now if I was running to something or just running away from my life in Pennsylvania.”
“I donnae think ye should go off on yer own to a strange town. Ye could be just as vulnerable there alone as here.”
“I don’t have any choice.”
He took a deep breath. “Aye, lassie, ye do.”
Her eyebrows rose in confusion. “I do?”
“Ye could marry me.”
Time stopped. For a moment, Sophie felt the room closing in on her. Breathe, she had to tell herself. Even if Charles Shanley had been the upstanding owner of a mercantile, Duncan MacGibbon would still stand head and shoulders above him, most likely literally and definitely in every way that mattered—in character, charm, intelligence, integrity, humor. She could not have invented a better specimen of a man, physically and otherwise. And he wanted to marry her?
That’s when she looked up at him and saw the slightly tortured look in his eyes. Oh. He did not want to marry her. He would do it, though, to protect her and because that’s the kind of man he was. She was torn, desperately wanting to marry him and even more desperately wanting him to love her, which he obviously did not. And if his look was any indication, he would not. What to do?
Truthfully, Duncan didnae want to get married, even if he did admire Sophie. He was surprised then, that he was rather put out that she didnae jump at the opportunity to wed him. She came out west to marry a stranger, didn’t she? He could see her struggle with the idea and could not imagine what was going through her pretty little head. Was she afraid of him? He didnae think so. She was expecting to marry a merchant. Would tying herself to a rancher, which she thought was his only occupation, be so bad?
It became increasingly obvious that one of them was going to have to say something. It apparently was not going to be Sophie. He was about to speak when they heard a horse approaching. Duncan got up and looked out the window.
“It’s Ainsley. We had better get this settled before me bonnie sister comes in.”
“Why, Duncan? Why should I marry you?” She knew she couldn’t ask him why he wanted to marry her because it was abundantly clear that he did not.
“I donnae think Shanley will come after ye once we’re married, especially if we return the investment he made in ye.”
She sat pondering for several moments. And then she did something that shook him to his boots. She smiled widely and said, “All right.”
She might have been agreeing to have tea with him. And her cheery acceptance scared him. He promised himself he would ne’er love a woman after Catriona and he owed it to Sophie to be honest. “It will be a marriage of convenience, Sophie. I canna love ye. Once we let some time go by, maybe five or six months, and see that Shanley has moved on for sure and certain, we can get the marriage annulled.”
That should have set the tears flowing or
had Sophie running from the room or her temper flaring, but the wench simply smiled again and said, “Fine.”
Duncan looked at her, trying to hide his astonishment. What was wrong with her? What was wrong with him that she didn’t want him? And how insane a question was that since he dinnae want her to want him. Och!
“I have just one stipulation, though.”
Duncan narrowed his eyes. What could she want? It was probably something that would make him want to call the whole ludicrous idea off. “And what is that, my bonnie betrothed?” He smiled calmly, although he felt anything but.
“No one is to know it’s a marriage of convenience. Not even Ainsley.”
That did not seem problematic to him, so he agreed. He would figure out later why that was important to her.
Sophie was back in the kitchen chopping vegetables and pan frying them with potatoes and bacon when Ainsley arrived, still wearing her male attire, of course. Duncan, who was in the loft, descended the ladder when he heard her come in. Sophie turned around and their eyes locked. His said, “Ye tell her. Please.” Hers, along with a slight jerk of her head, said, “She’s your sister; that duty falls on you.” He sighed and gazed at Ainsley, who had been looking back and forth between them.
“What’s going on?” She was possibly the most intuitive member of his family, not that it took a particularly insightful person to see that Sophie and Duncan were communicating using the eyeball express.
Better just to get it out, Duncan decided. “Sophie and I are getting married.”
“What?!” It was more a screech than a question and Sophie had to work not to flinch.
“Today.”
While Sophie’s eyebrows went up at that pronouncement, she remained silent. So much for courting.
Ainsley threw down her saddlebag. “Are ye oot of yer bloody mind? Ye would tie yourself to this…this…hopeless nothing of a woman?”