The Negotiated Marriage. Christina Rich
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was a certainty if he came between the Simses and the men who coveted Sims land.
He looked over his shoulder and straight into her eyes. “Until we decide things between us, it is.”
Decide things between us? The words had rushed out of his mouth without thought, and he watched her mouth open and close like the wings of a butterfly. A response must have formed on the tip of her tongue, but not a single one released. And truly he knew how she felt, as he didn’t have anything else to say either. Nothing could ever be between them, but for the time being he’d pretend otherwise and let her think so, as well. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if she and her sister decided to stand against three armed men, and if these men were on a payroll financed by his bank account as the sisters seemed to think, it was his business.
“Camy, sit down before you fall over,” he demanded, and prepared himself for a possibility that these were men hired by the railroad to torment innocent, helpless females.
As he stepped beneath the stoop, pulling the door closed behind him, a tall lanky man with a rifle propped against his shoulder jumped from the back of the buckboard before the driver even slowed his horse. Another man of smaller stature climbed from the passenger side and rushed to the other man’s side. The driver slid the brake into place and dropped the reins. He pulled a black bag from the back of the buckboard, and Duncan eased the tightness from his lungs. These were no railroad thugs. “You must be the Northrops.”
The tall one pushed his bowler above his brow and squinted through the pouring rain. “And you must be the one who shot my fiancée.”
Duncan felt his brow rise beneath his hair at the news. If this man was Camy’s fiancé, then why was Duncan’s marriage to her part of the land acquisition? “Your fiancée?”
The man curled his nose. “Cameron Sims.”
“Come, now, Miller. She hasn’t agreed to be your wife.” The more distinguished-looking gentleman with the black bag dried his palm down the front of his coat and held it for Duncan to shake. “Dr. Benjamin Northrop. This here is my brother Dr. Julius Northrop and of course this is my other brother, Miller, who has yet to gain the lady’s agreement.”
“That is a minor detail.” Miller stepped onto the stoop and, hovering over Duncan, glared down at him. “She will be my wife.”
Duncan did not appreciate the underlying threat, as it seemed more directed at Camy than himself even though she was on the other side of the door. Miller’s hawklike nose, and ashy pallor reminded Duncan of a devious captain he’d encountered during the War Between the States who’d seized homes when he felt it necessary and stole food from the mouths of babes to feed his hounds. That reminder alone did not bode well for Miller, not if Duncan had anything to do about it.
Miller made to move around him, but Duncan shifted, blocking his entrance, and glanced at Benjamin. “If, as you say, your brother is not Miss Sims’s fiancé, I must insist only one of you attend her. Preferably you, Dr. Northrop,” he said, nodding toward Benjamin. “As you seem to be a professional seeking to give medical help, not a jaded beau come to demean the lady.”
Miller puffed out his chest like a rooster on the strut. “Listen here,” he snapped as his brother Julius cocked back the hammer on his revolver.
Resting his hand on Julius’s, Benjamin lowered the weapon. “Julius, he has the right of it. Miller, you are in no condition to speak to Cameron. Allow me to assess her, and then if she wishes to see you, you may enter. Until then you two may wait out here.”
“What about him?” Miller’s lip curled in disgust.
Benjamin shook his head. “I suggest he wait out here with the two of you.”
The corner of Miller’s mouth twitched in an arrogant smirk. Duncan didn’t blink at the young man’s bluster. He’d dealt with shiftier men in his days, men who’d threatened life and limb if he didn’t bend to their will, men like his father.
“However,” Benjamin continued, “I do not wish to treat another gunshot wound. After you,” he said to Duncan, sweeping his hand in front of him.
Duncan opened the door and stepped into the dimly lit cabin. “It’s all right, ladies. It’s the Northrops.” It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but not long enough that he didn’t notice Camy now sat on the edge of the bed, her hands properly folded in her lap, her cheeks pale. Despite the relief in her eyes at his words, lines of agony creased her brow. It also didn’t go beyond his notice that the bed swayed as if she’d recently jumped on the mattress. Ellie’s skirts had a similar motion while she hunched near the fire. He had no doubt the ladies had eavesdropped on the conversation between him and the Northrops.
As Benjamin Northrop closed the door behind him, Ellie straightened, ran her hands down her skirts and nodded. “Dr. Northrop.”
“Ellie.”
“Where’s Mara?” Ellie asked, easing some of Camy’s agitation at not seeing her youngest sister.
“I insisted she stay with my sister, Bella, until I knew what sort of trouble you ladies have gotten yourself into.”
Ellie huffed. “You could have sent one of your brothers in to treat my sister if we’re such a bother.”
“Yet I am the one with experience with these sorts of injuries.” He shrugged out of his coat and laid it across the end of the bed. “What have you done to yourself, Camy?”
Even in her discomfort she teased, feigning innocence. “I haven’t done a thing. This t-time.”
“So I’ve heard.” Benjamin laughed as he pressed his fingers to her wrist. “Pulse is strong. That is good news.”
Duncan knew he should turn away as the doctor pulled Camy’s sleeve from her shoulder to inspect her wound, yet he could not tear his eyes from hers. He’d caused her this pain, and he intended to bear as much as he could with her. If only he could trade places with her.
“Mr. Murray.” Ellie’s voice pulled his attention from Camy’s crinkled eyelids. “Would you mind moving the table closer?”
Once he moved the table, Ellie placed a bowl of steaming water next to the doctor along with strips of clean linens and then scooted a chair beside Camy for Northrop to sit. It was as if the two had worked together before and the woman understood what he needed.
“Thank you, Ellie.” He dipped one of the clothes into the water and cleaned the wound. Bright red rivulets streamed from her wound, soaking into her shirt. Camy groaned.
Camy’s sister grumbled something unintelligible and then said, “I know you would save her the pain if you could...” Her words muffled beneath the hand covering her mouth. Dr. Northrop reached out toward her, but Ellie spun from him.
“I’ll be fine, Ellie.” Camy put on a brave face even as she grimaced.
Duncan sat next to her and took her cold hand in his. Although she wore dry clothes, she had yet to warm from her fall into the river. Dr. Northrop swabbed a clean cloth over the wound. Flinching, Camy gripped Duncan’s fingers.
Dr. Northrop looked up from his work and frowned. “I’m sorry, Camy. I’m afraid your discomfort has just begun. Would you rather sleep until we’re done?”
She shook her head, her damp hair dancing around her. Dr. Northrop pulled a silver implement from his bag. Duncan clenched his teeth and then positioned himself and turned her toward him so that they faced each other. He’d seen men die as they rushed into battle. And he’d seen men die in the surgeon’s tent, not from the procedure itself, but from the chloroform. He didn’t wish her to die, but he didn’t wish her to be awake either.
She pulled her hand from his and brushed the tips of her fingers over the bruising of his eye. “Benjamin, you should tend to Mr. Murray’s injury.”