by Danni Roan
Chapter 11
Quil settled herself at her father’s desk and focused on the books. It was nice to have even a little hard cash again. Cameron’s idea of using Herman had provided an income, even if it was small.
For the first time in months, she felt like she could breathe. The constant strain and worry had weighed heavily on her shoulders for far too long. Her sisters and mother had shared her burden, but somehow Cam had lifted much of the weight.
Gently she rubbed between her eyes. She hadn’t slept much the night before. It wasn’t until she had heard Cam’s soft, even breathing that she had been able to drift off to sleep.
In the long, dark hours, she had laid in her bed, something inside her had changed. Some glimmer of hope, of trust, had grown. The fact that Cameron Royal had gone through with her request, had agreed to sign his name with hers on a piece of paper binding them together, had somehow built that tiny hint of truth.
Breathing deeply, Aquila smiled. It felt good to believe that someone else shared her burden.
***
“Quil?” Cameron called a few days later as he walked into the house.
“She’s in the office,” Priscilla shouted from the kitchen.
Cam clumped down the hall. He was surprised at how quickly he’d become comfortable talking to the young woman masquerading as his wife, and he had several things he wanted to talk to her about.
As he approached the office, he could see her sitting behind the desk, a slight scowl marring her pretty lips as she marked in the most current ledger. For a moment he stopped, studying her.
She was an awfully nice-looking woman. Her dark hair had come loose from its pins, and soft waves fell, framing her face as it spilled over her shoulder. Her skin looked soft and creamy in the afternoon sun.
“Oh, there you are,” Quil said, smiling as she looked up. She seemed genuinely pleased to see him.
“Is something wrong?” He hurried to her.
“No, well nothing new, anyway. I was just going over the numbers and trying to see where we might find a little more ready-cash. Feeding four more mouths has stretched our coffers about as far as they can go.”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Cam moved up beside her, leaning over the book, as he braced one arm on the desk. “Today Rock and I culled a couple of old cows. They both have calves but they’re puny, weak little things.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Quil interrupted.
“It’s pretty normal, as a cow gets older, but let me finish.” He grinned down at her. “We brought them in along with a younger cow who lost her calf. We’ll put the scrawny calves on her and raise them up a bit more, then see if we can sell them for veal to a restaurant in town.”
“Can we do that?”
“I don’t see why not. Both calves aren’t eating grass yet and the chances of them surviving the winter either way are slim. Bear, wolf, or weather will probably get them.”
Quil scowled again and he placed a hand on her shoulder. “We can at least try, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll raise the calves for our own use.”
“That makes sense.” She looked up at him with a smile that zinged straight to his heart. “If you can sell them, that would bring in a little cash. If not, we’ll at least have some food.”
“Exactly.”
Cam could feel Aquila relax under his hand. She worried too much.
The clatter of something falling in the kitchen made them both look up and together they hurried to the other room to see what had happened.
“It was me,” Sara said with a huff as she knelt to lift firewood into the box. “I dropped the wood.”
“Let me,” Cam said, going to help. “Did you chop this yourself?” he asked as he lifted several sticks and laid them in the box.
“I usually do. I’m the only one that doesn’t mind chopping wood.”
Cam scowled, looking around the house and realizing how hard these four women worked. They were each different, with different skills sets, but all plucky and brave. He smiled.
“I’ll go chop some more while you all get dinner,” he said, then left through the kitchen door before they could protest.
“That’s helpful,” Sara said with a grin.
“Don’t expect him to do your chores, Sara,” Quil growled.
“I don’t, but with everything else today, I haven’t had much time to chop wood and our stock is getting low.”
“You do seem to keep up most of the time,” Prissy said, washing potatoes in a heavy pan. “I don’t know how you do it.”
No one noticed Sara’s sly grin or soft blush. “I do a little at a time.” She stood, dusting her hands and shaking splinters from her apron. “What’s for supper tonight, anyway?” she asked.
“I’m making those potatoes with butter and milk, the ones you cook in the oven, and some baked corn. Rock brought back a few rabbits so I’ll put those in as well.”
“Sounds delicious,” Sara said. “How can I help?”
Soon the girls were all busy peeling, slicing and seasoning as they worked together.
“What’s it like being married?” Priscilla asked, as she whisked together eggs, milk and sugar for the corn.
Quil jumped, blinking at her sister.
“Prissy, you’re not supposed to ask things like that!” Sara chided.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s private.”
“How would you know?” Priscila snapped back.
“I just do,” Sara sassed.
“Enough, both of you!” Quil almost shouted. “Being married to Cameron Royal is very pleasant and that is all that needs to be said.” She smiled more to herself than to her sisters. It was proving truly beneficial to have someone like Cam to share with.
“What are you girls arguing about now?” Maud Adams questioned, walking into the room. She’d been having a rest but still looked tired.
“Prissy was being nosy and asking Quil what it’s like to be married,” Sara rushed to answer.
“And what did you say?” Maud surprised them all by turning to Quil.
“I said I’m quite happy with my situation,” Quil spoke softly.
Gently her mother wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I have to admit you’re not the blushing newlywed I expected you to be, but the two of you seem to suit.” She looked at her other daughters accusingly.
“Besides,” she continued, “It must be a little difficult having to live with your mother and two sisters when you’re still on your honeymoon.” Her eyes fell on her two younger daughters and they looked away in shame.
“I’m not sure I understand about you and Cameron, but he does seem to be an upright young man,” Maud added patting Quil gently before moving to the stove and the coffee pot. “Where is he now, anyway?”
“Chopping wood,” Quil replied.
“Oh, that’s thoughtful. Our Sara does a good job keeping us supplied, but I don’t like a young lady to have to do such heavy work.”
“Mama, it’s not like when you were a girl,” Sara protested. “Women today do all kinds of jobs, and besides I don’t mind. I was falling behind a little, I do admit.”
“I think it’s nice to have a man around the house again,” Maud finally said, sipping her hot brew. “Now leave your sister alone. She has a lot on her mind right now.” She smiled indulgently at her oldest.
“Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” Priscilla said brightly. “Maybe Sara will make us something sweet.”
“Why don’t you make something?” Sara retorted.
“You know I don’t like to bake.”
“A nice gingerbread does sound lovely,” Maud mused.
“I can’t make it now. The oven’s full,” Sara protested, but there was no heat in her words.
“Well, mix it up and I’ll pop it in the oven when the corn comes out. We can take the men’s portion of everything else to the bunk house while it’s baking,” Priscilla said reasonably.
“You do
love your treats,” Sara said.
“I do, it keeps my girlish figure curvy,” Prissy grinned, running her hands along her soft hips with a wiggle and making everyone laugh.
“I’m going back to my books,” Quil said, shaking her head as her sisters. “Call me when dinner’s on.”
It seemed like only moments before her sister’s voice called her again. “Quil, go fetch Cameron, supper’s almost ready,” Sara called as she passed the office, headed for her room.
Quil rose from the desk. Her eyes were tired and her back tight from being slumped over the desk for so long.
Exiting the house, she could hear the steady rhythmic rise and fall of the ax striking wood.
“Supper’s ready,” she said, watching as Cam leaned over to pick up the half log and place it back on the block.
“Thanks,” he said, smiling as he turned to face her.
Quil’s breath froze in her throat at the vast expanse of smooth, well-muscled chest that met her eyes where Cam had unbuttoned his shirt.
Noting her wide eyes, Cameron self-concisely pulled the shirt closed with one hand while adjusting his hat.
“You seem to have accomplished a good deal of work,” Aquila offered lamely.
“The wood’s well-seasoned,” Cam commented, buttoning his shirt. “It’s not overly hard work if you know what you’re doing.” He smiled awkwardly at her, still buttoning his shirt.
Quil smiled back, her eyes roving over the handsome cowboy who’d agreed to go so far to prove his worth. His dark hair was still long and fell to his shoulders in an unruly mass. He hadn’t shaved again since the wedding and a short, dark stubble outlined his chin.
“Are you alright?” he asked, adjusting his hat on his head. “You look distracted.”
Quil started, a soft blush spreading across her face. She didn’t like to admit that she found her new husband attractive. After all, the man was her partner in getting the ranch up and running, not someone she needed to be romantically entangled with.
As long as he stuck to his end of the bargain, everything would be alright.
“I hope you’re hungry,” she finally replied, “supper’s ready.”
Cameron Royal was suddenly feeling a completely different kind of hunger as something warm and vital purred deep down inside. He had seen appraisal in Aquila’s eyes, attraction, and it stirred something.
Adjusting his hat again, nervously he licked his lips, remembering the kiss they’d shared in the little church on the hill. He wondered what she’d do if he kissed her again.
“You’ve been at those books again,” he said, a soft accusation in his voice, as he lifted her chin in the palm of his hand, studying her tired eyes.
She had the decency not to lie. “It’s my job,” she said, her voice humming through his hand and sending soft shivers all the way to his shoulders.
He was standing too close to her, her warmth, the smell of honeysuckles, tantalizing. He tipped his head, still holding her fast and watched in wonder as her lips parted and her eyes closed.
Just a taste, the hint of a kiss.
“Quil are you coming or what?” Prissy’s truculent voice echoed across the yard. “The food’s getting cold.”
Cameron dropped his hand and his eyes as Quil turned away, hurrying toward the house. He shouldn’t have done that. No, he shouldn’t have done that at all.
Chapter 12
“Cam?” Aquila’s soft voice drifted across the room to him.
“Yes?”
“Did you really like my pancakes or was that only part of the show for Mama?”
Cameron smiled. This was not the type of question his wife would normally ask. “I genuinely like your pancakes,” he offered, his voice sleepy as he rolled over on his soft pallet. “I’d say they’re much better than Prissy’s.”
“You would?”
“Yes, she’s a fine cook, but your pancakes are lighter.” He wondered if his words had made her smile.
“Prissy really is the best cook among us,” Quil spoke thoughtfully into the darkness. “Sara bakes well, but Pris has a way with just about any food you give her. She really doesn’t like baking, though, and hates to make bread.”
Cam chuckled. “What about you? Do you like cooking?”
Silence hung heavy in the room for so long he started to think she’d drifted off to sleep.
“I don’t mind,” she said, pausing for several seconds. “I’ve always been more interested in other things, I guess. Cooking is just something you need to do.”
Again, silence filled the room. “Do you think that makes me a bad woman?”
Cameron ratcheted himself up on his elbow and gazed across toward the bed. A hint of moonlight spilling through the window made each piece of furniture a slightly darker shadow in the room.
Squinting a little, he could make out the huddled form of Aquila in the big, suddenly inviting bed.
“No, I don’t think that makes you a bad woman.” His smile carried in his voice. “Everyone is made different. I reckon that’s how God planned it.”
Silence wrapped them again, but he didn’t move. He could almost hear the gears turning over in the young woman’s brain. Something was bothering her, and if he gave her enough time, he’d understand what it was.
“What brought this line of questioning on, if I might ask?” he said gently, his voice a soft timbre in the cool night air.
“I guess it’s this ‘playing house’, as you call it,” Quil began. “I mean is there some special way a wife is supposed to act? You, well, you are always giving me little kisses or putting your arm around me, and I think that seems like what a husband would do, but what about me?”
“What about you?” he shifted, sitting up and letting the blanket fall from his bare chest.
“Am I supposed to get all homey now that I’m married? Shouldn’t I be making you special treats or know what your favorite food is or something?”
Cam couldn’t help but chuckle again. “Quil, you came up with this arrangement. I think you can make it anything you want it to be.” Something inside him whispered make it real, but he ignored that. “Besides, I don’t think there’s any one right way to be married. Two people simply learn to get along the best way they know how because they care for each other.”
A deep sigh rose from the bed. “I suppose you’re right. I’ve never been the type of person who cares much about what a house is like, or how to cook something special. I’d much rather keep the books, or even write.”
“What do you like to write?” Cam found he was truly curious.
“Just silly stories.” Quil’s voice sounded embarrassed. “Sometimes I take things that I did as a child and make it into a funny story.”
“That sounds nice. Can I see them sometime?”
“It’s a waste of time I know, but…”
“If it makes you happy, Quil, it is not a waste of time. Everyone should have something they enjoy.”
Cameron settled himself back into his bedroll. The room had grown silent again and he was sure Quil had finally gone to sleep. His eyes were slipping closed when her voice came again.
“What do you enjoy?”
“Leather work,” he answered, suppressing a yawn. “Try to sleep, darlin’,” he drawled, slumber overtaking him. “It’s almost round-up and we’ll be busy.”
Quil blinked up into the night. Had Cameron really just called her darling? Why would he do that when no one was around?
Rolling over, she strained to see his outline stretched out on the floor by the window. She was surprised at how comfortable she was now having him here in her room after only a few weeks. She should feel embarrassed but somehow, she didn’t.
Somehow the two of them seemed to fit. It was all terribly confusing. She even liked it when he kissed her cheek, and when he wrapped an arm around her in the evening while they sat in the living area with her family, a sort of peace seemed to engulf her.
If only she could work out what it meant. “I’m a
silly little fool is what it means,” she whispered, chewing her bottom lip. How had she started to allow herself to care about the man she shared her room with? A man who’s only purpose was to ensure the survival of the ranch.
Over the past few weeks of their sham marriage, she’d become more and more dependent on the man. He was easy to talk to, understood the needs of the ranch and seemed eager to see her each day.
Somehow, in such a short time, she had come to trust him, not only with the working of the ranch, the profits or losses; she had begun to trust him with her heart. She thought of the last time he’d kissed her good-bye on his way out the door.
He’d done it as if it was the most natural thing in the world, not realizing that it set her heart to pounding in a way she never would have expected. Surely, she could not be so silly to be falling for this cowboy who would most likely take his share of the profits from the ranch and leave as soon as he could.
Matthew 6:34 suddenly came to mind: Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
Perhaps that was the best way to go, don’t think about tomorrow, but live today and do your best. Tomorrow could take care of itself with a little prayer thrown in for good measure.
Aquila Adams Royal closed her eyes, turning her mind to a Father who would never leave her and offering her silent supplications as sleep crept in.
***
“Good morning,” Cameron said, walking softly into the kitchen. “Quil’s still asleep,” he spoke to Maud, “hope that’s alright.”
“Heavens is she ill?” Maud asked.
“No Ma’am, just tired I think. She’s been working mighty hard lately.” He offered a smile, suppressing a blush at what his faux mother-in-law must be thinking.
“We’ll let her sleep a bit then. You come and have some breakfast. Sara’s making some strange concoction today, so I hope you have a strong stomach.”
Cameron smiled. Judging by the smells drifting from the stove, he felt he was in no real danger.
