The Major's Daughter

by Regina Jennings

  Caroline rode Hardtack slowly around the two-mile perimeter of her farm. She found a nice well dug near what she was already considering the homestead site. Wedged between the canyon and the river, she’d yet to meet any neighbors. So far, everyone coming from the south had still been looking for land, which meant all the plots around her were spoken for.

  How had Frisco fared? Did he find a place to put his town? Had he settled in the vicinity? It would have been convenient to have a town nearby, especially if Frisco was in charge of it. If he wasn’t still angry with her, that was. He’d been irate when he’d left, but what was she supposed to do? Of course she would stand her ground. Hadn’t he said how he’d admired her strength and resolve? Hadn’t he accused her of forgetting who she was?

  Surely he’d get over it. It had been a trying day. Once things settled down . . .

  Getting off Hardtack, Caroline stood at the cornerstone of her homestead and looked over the green expanse stretching before her. Amber had taken out this way. Had she been able to claim this plot, or did she have to go farther to find available land?

  Caroline stood on her tiptoes at the invisible line and shaded her eyes. Someone was coming over the gentle rise. It was Amber, waving both hands over her head. Dragging Hardtack behind her, Caroline ran toward her friend, meeting her and grabbing her hands.

  “Did you get it? Is this yours?” Caroline asked.

  Amber nodded. Her eyes shone. “Can you believe it? We’ll be neighbors.”

  Living next door to her best friend, being there for her and Bradley as they started a new life together . . . Caroline couldn’t think of a better outcome. She’d done it. She’d secured herself a place in this new land.

  Another horseman appeared on the horizon. No longer were they running. Instead, the weary animal, slick with foam, plodded across the grassland. One after another they wandered by with the same story. They’d raced far and fast, but there was nowhere left for them. Was she interested in selling her claim? They’d pay cash money. Caroline had even been offered a marriage proposal. He’d treat her good, build the house, and do the planting if she’d be willing to be partners on the land. She’d attracted masculine attention over her years, but nothing quite so mercenary.

  Amber waved her hand at the man as he approached, motioning him off her property. With a drop of his shoulders, he turned the horse and rode off, disappearing with the curve of the land.

  “It’s so sad,” Amber said. “Have you had many on your place?”

  “A few.” Caroline’s jaw tightened. The first had been the hardest to drive off. After that, it had gotten easier. But she couldn’t be gone for long.

  She looked over her shoulder. Their celebration could wait, because another contestant had arrived. A Conestoga wagon rolled over the crest on Amber’s side of the field.

  “Excuse me,” Amber called out. “This property is already spoken for.”

  The driver straightened on the bench, even as his wife seemed to shrink next to him. “We are claiming it, fair and square.” He looked at the cornerstone on the ground. “We were here on this side first.” He wasn’t being belligerent, just stating what he thought were the facts.

  A girl of about eight years poked her head out of the hole in the canvas, then seeing Amber and Caroline, she darted back into the wagon. The woman pushed aside her hair with a hand already stained with dirt.

  Amber’s hand reached up to fiddle with the top button of her blouse. Caroline knew that sign. Uncertainty. She stepped to Amber’s side. She understood the sorrow, but Amber and Bradley needed the land, and there was no way for both them and this family to claim it.

  Without her prompting, Amber reached the same conclusion.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “but I’ve had my stake in for hours. This is my neighbor, and she can verify my claim.”

  The man didn’t move, only studied her as if he was waiting for her to slip up and expose herself in a lie. When that didn’t happen, he shook his reins. “C’mon, Nellie. We’re not home yet. We have to find somewhere else.”

  Caroline’s throat tightened as she watched the woman wipe her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Amber said. “My fiancé and I are going to live here and farm. Otherwise I’d let you have it. . . .”

  The man didn’t say a word. Only slapped the reins on the back of his draft team and bounced over the rough ground, hopefully to somewhere unclaimed.

  Caroline linked arms with Amber. Was every victory marred by sorrow for the vanquished? She thought again of Frisco riding away from the land he’d wanted to claim. How did one find the resolve to continue? Caroline stiffened, pulling Amber upright with her. Caroline was the daughter of a major in the cavalry. Her father had faced darker questions and hadn’t wavered in his resolve. Endure through today, and then another test would begin.

  A rider was coming quickly toward them. With this many people still wandering and looking for land, staying away from her plot was foolhardy. Caroline shouldn’t linger. She had to get back to her property or risk finding it under another man’s boots, but she hated to leave Amber to face another challenger alone.

  Thankfully, it was Bradley.

  “Bradley, we got it! We got it. We got the land!” Amber cheered.

  Caroline stepped aside as Bradley slung himself out of the saddle and snatched Amber up in an embrace.

  “You, Caroline? You got a plot too?” he asked.

  “Yes, I should go back—”

  “Wait,” Bradley said. “There’s a nice German family on your west. Name of Schneider. They’re willing to let both of you bunk down with them once it gets dark. Do that. If I hear of either of you sleeping out here unprotected . . .”

  “Schneider?” Amber nodded. “I’ll find them as soon as you’re gone.”

  “Thanks, Bradley,” Caroline said. “That’s a comfort.”

  He managed to tear his eyes away from Amber to grin at Caroline. “We’re in this together. To the homesteaders!” He gave a coyote-like yelp before turning again to Amber, leaving Caroline to go back to her property.

  She rode a quick jaunt around the high ground again and then, finding no challengers, decided to explore the lower banks of the river. It would be better if it were done before dark. Not that she expected to sleep much by some strangers’ family fire, but she’d sleep better knowing that no one was hiding down there.

  Coming along the rough side of the property, Caroline dismounted and walked Hardtack down the slope. The red earth crumbled away from the bank, which was dotted with bright emerald spots of spring grass. The ravine didn’t go far, but it was deep enough that she couldn’t see the high ground from its floor. In fact, only a narrow view of the river was visible through its opening. It might be a good place to hide supplies, unless the river rose.

  Perhaps tomorrow she or Amber could ride over to Darlington to retrieve the supplies they’d purchased. Before then, she could set up a fire pit and gather some wood. Deadwood was plentiful along the riverbank, so she didn’t have to wait until she had an axe to get started.

  Hardtack’s tail swished. She needed to find something to do with him too. A horse standing in the open after nightfall was an easy target. Down below the riverbank looked like the most promising place to hide him. If she could tie him into one of the washouts that wasn’t visible from the high ground . . .

  Caroline rounded the bank and stopped in her tracks. Was that a door? She blinked, then shaded her eyes, but the scene didn’t change. It was a door, but where did it lead? Into the ground?

  She rested a hand on the sandstone ledge and looked behind her. She was still within her boundaries. This was her land, but she hadn’t expected to find a door built into the side of the hill. Now that she looked at it, she could tell the roof was made of tin sheets and covered with sod. Sod bricks finished out the wall on either side of the door, which was held closed with a latch on the outside. No lock that she could see.

  Down in the shade, the damp earth gave her a ch
ill as she knocked. A corner of the door had been chewed away by something. A pack rat? She wasn’t surprised when no one answered. Somehow, she could sense that she was all alone. Someone had built this dugout and hadn’t returned. Someone . . . like Frisco.

  Caroline’s mind reeled. He’d spent days out here before the race, planting crops and digging a well. That was what he’d told her. He hadn’t mentioned a house. She lifted the latch and pushed the door open. Standing to the side to let in the sunlight, she surveyed the little room.

  The raw stone walls looked to be sandstone and unlikely to crumble. In fact, they were unlikely to give even if hit with a pickax. An army-issued blanket covered the cot against one wall, and a simple wooden stool sat against the other. A shelf over the bed held a lantern, a hand mirror, and a stack of books. A pipe stretched up from a small stove through the roof for a chimney.

  Tying Hardtack to the door, Caroline entered and lit the lamp. The books were law books. Frisco’s, definitely. Besides that, the rest of the floor space was covered in crates and barrels. She picked up a turnip, and her stomach growled. Bags of flour and sugar told her that there’d be something for her to cook. He’d planned well.

  And she’d taken it.

  Choking doubts assailed her. The items in here represented a substantial investment. While Frisco might find another plot of land, he wouldn’t find another piece that had a house, a garden, and a well on it. Even if she owned the land, all of this was his property. And yet something told her that he’d gladly let her cart off all his supplies if she’d give the one hundred and sixty acres back.

  But where would that leave her? If she gave the land to Frisco, she’d have to drag herself back to the fort and into her bedroom next to Daisy’s. And where would she go from there? Back to her grandmother’s? There was nowhere that belonged to her, nowhere that she belonged.

  Frisco had all the advantages. He was a man with a career, a reputation, and enough nerve to try anything. He’d known the risks of investing before the land belonged to him. He’d had an unfair advantage, and if he wasn’t able to capitalize on it, he shouldn’t complain. She’d beat him here fair and square. Besides, if she handed it over to him, what would he think? It would only confirm his opinion that she was another weak and simpering lady.

  She would keep the land, and he’d hate her for it. Caroline rubbed her forehead. She hadn’t wanted Frisco for an enemy. Was it worth it? What she had to do was focus on the future and how she imagined this territory would look in five years. By then she’d have accomplishment, respect, and property free and clear. It would be her world because she would have built it. Until then, if she had to live in a house built by his hands, she couldn’t be blamed. He’d left it on her property.

  Were those raisins on the floor? Caroline bent and squinted in the poor light. While the blankets on the cot were mussed, everything else was in place. Had a rat gotten inside? There was a scratching noise from beneath the cot. Caroline lifted her skirt and hurried out the door. From the sound of it, that was one big rat.

  She gripped the plank of wood that formed the doorframe and peeked around the edge. A black nose and two eyes watched her from beneath the cot. She reached into the room and picked up a poker leaning against the potbellied stove. Her father would laugh at her for arming herself against a rodent, but this was no ordinary-sized vermin.

  There was an odd high-pitched cry from the animal. With one eye closed, she aimed the poker, ready for her chance. But suddenly a black-and-white mammal bounded out from under the cot.

  Caroline lowered the poker. It wasn’t a rat, or a dog. It was a tiny black-and-white goat, bleating at her with its pink tongue flapping.

  “Oh, you’re precious.” She propped the poker in the corner and knelt to get a better look. The little thing walked right up to her and bleated, like it was reciting all the hardships it had endured being there alone. Had Frisco left it locked up? But then she looked again at the door. The gap was big enough for the goat to wiggle through. And on second thought, those weren’t raisins on the floor.

  “Caroline!”

  Hardtack neighed at the familiar voice. Caroline steeled her spine as she scooped up the bleating kid. She’d only forgotten about Frisco for a moment and was already faced with another unpleasant but inevitable confrontation.

  Chapter eleven

  Do you know the trouble you’ve caused? I have men who should be officiating the run, but instead they’re out searching for you. I cannot allow such a misuse of my resources on today of all days.” Her father kept an eye on the ravine she’d just climbed out of, as if concerned they might be rushed by hiding outlaws, which wasn’t that unreasonable an assumption. “I expect the troopers to do their best work today, but my own daughter is behaving irresponsibly. Is that a goat?”

  Caroline took a deep breath. She’d answer the easiest question first. “Yes. I think it is.”

  The kid hung out its tongue and bleated at the major. At least one of them could fight back.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked. “Who did you run away with?”

  “No one. This is my land. I won it.”

  A token of surprise flashed across his face as he looked the place over. “I’d imagine not many know how to cross the canyon.”

  “Exactly. And I can ride as fast as any of them.”

  He was reasoning it out. If Caroline had to guess, she knew her logical father was debating between frustration at the inconvenience she’d caused and pride at what she’d accomplished. Anything she could do to tip the balance . . . “This is good land, Father. The best. It has water and timber available. The soil looks rich, and it’s not too far from the fort.”

  “Anywhere outside of my threshold means danger for my daughters,” he said.

  “But I can’t live with you and Louisa forever. Why shouldn’t I take the same chance everyone else is taking to better my lot in life? I’m over twenty-one—”

  “Barely.”

  “But by law, anyone twenty-one years of age is eligible. It doesn’t say anything about having to have their father’s permission.”

  It was no mystery where she’d gotten her stubbornness. He rested his hand on the hilt of his saber. “So you won the race, but that’s not all there is to it. What are you going to do with this land? Farm it?”

  “I’m going to build a boardinghouse, right in the vicinity of the railroad. It’ll be the finest place to stay in the territory. It’ll have gardens surrounding it. I’ll grow lavender or something else precious that ladies will like. That’ll be easier to manage than corn and wheat. And I won’t be alone. Amber and Bradley will be right next door.”

  “I should’ve known Bradley Willis had something to do with this. Did he leave his post?”

  “No. Amber and I raced on our own, but when his commission is up in a few weeks, we’ll have him around for protection.”

  From the droll tilt of his head, her father didn’t think much of Bradley Willis as a protector. “Until you have your inn built, where are you going to stay? Sleep here on the grass? This territory was dangerous enough before. Now every down-on-his-luck drifter has permission to be here. You aren’t going to be outside after dark, and don’t pretend like a tent will protect you.”

  Caroline’s eyes darted down the bank. She wished Frisco hadn’t invested so much into land that now belonged to her, but he had. There was no way to give him back the house and keep the land. And as long as it was there, she might as well make use of it.

  “Follow me,” she said. Setting the goat on the ground, she traipsed down the bank with her father on her heels. He paused when they got down into the shadowy ravine. “C’mon,” she said. “This isn’t a battlefield you need to analyze before you enter.”

  “With you, everything is a battlefield,” he said but continued to the door of the dugout. “What is this? Who built it?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “Look, there’s a latch. I can pull the latchstring in at night, and then I’d be behi
nd a locked door. Besides, no one will ever find this house.”

  Her father pounded on the door, testing it for strength before opening it. Funny how small the room felt with him in it.

  His forehead furrowed when he saw the supplies. “No, young lady. Someone is coming back for this stuff. Someone is going to be furious that you’re here. You’ve made an enemy.”

  “If they broke the law by being here early, then what recourse do they have?”

  “I’m not worried about them taking you to court, Caroline. I’m worried about you being attacked, or disappearing, or any number of things an outlaw might do to a lady when she’s crossed him.”

  He was right. Had it been a random house that she’d found, she wouldn’t have dared stay. She’d be fearful of the owner returning. As it was, she might not want to face Frisco again, but she wasn’t afraid of him. Not in that way.

  “I know whose belongings these are,” she said. “He protested, but then he moved on and has found another property, I’m sure.”

  “You know this outlaw?”

  Caroline couldn’t meet her father’s gaze. She studied the dirt floor, patted firm by the tall moccasins of the man who’d so impressed her years ago.

  But the man who loved her—her father—was no fool. Going to the shelf, he took the top law book off the stack. Opening the cover, he ran his finger down the page, then snapped the book closed.

  “Frisco Smith, who else? Between him and Bradley Willis . . . Why did God see fit to give me impressionable daughters among so many renegades?”

  “I am not impressionable.” Caroline took the book from him and returned it to the shelf. “Frisco wanted me to leave. He cajoled, he threatened, and he tried to intimidate me, but I stood firm. I didn’t let him take anything.” Maybe because she didn’t know this all was here, but it was still true.

  “He threatened you?”

  “Not like that. He tried to convince me that the land office would award him the land because he’d done improvements on it, but I wasn’t fooled. Improvements done before the race don’t count.”