The Major's Daughter

by Regina Jennings

  And once they saw her, theirs was on her too.

  “Ambrosia.” Her mother held out her hands. “What a lovely bride you will make. We did make it in time, didn’t we? I rued every minute on that train, because the air is so detrimental to your father’s constitution. He doesn’t need to be inhaling all that soot, but he never complains, he—”

  “I have no need to complain. Your mother does an adequate job for me.” He took Ambrosia by the shoulders and kissed her cheek. “How’s my daughter?”

  Amber relished the affection from her father. They’d shared some adventures together, but after this week she would no longer be his responsibility. “I’m so relieved you made it. With all the excitement going on, I was afraid the train would be delayed.”

  “Where is Corporal Willis?” Her mother scanned the unit of blue uniforms on the parade grounds. “Oh, he won’t be called Corporal Willis after tomorrow. Just Mr. Willis.”

  “Once we’re married, you may call him Bradley,” Amber said. “And his unit is in Darlington, helping with distribution. They’re keeping him near the fort since his term is nearly up. Now, Major Adams is anxious to visit with you, Father.” Then, remembering who was the more exacting, she added, “And wants to make your acquaintance, Mother. His house is this way.”

  She’d just started leading them to Officers’ Row when she spotted a young woman walking along the road. It was none other than her friend Caroline.

  Was Caroline still her friend? They hadn’t spoken since their spat over Frisco’s land. Amber had never stayed at the fort without Caroline and felt her absence keenly. Knowing that they hadn’t parted on good terms burned even deeper. Amber lifted her chin and clenched her jaw. Had anyone told Caroline when the wedding was? Did she even care? Well, their friendship had too much history to be blown away this easily. Caroline and Bradley were both stubborn. Someone had to offer the olive branch, and if it was going to happen, it would have to be her.

  Patting her mother on the back, Amber said, “That’s Caroline coming from the adjutant’s office. I need to talk to her, but then I’ll catch up with you.”

  Her mother turned to protest as Amber walked off, but she knew her father had the situation well in hand.

  “Caroline,” she called.

  Caroline turned. Her posture stiffened. Amber clenched her fists. She would do this. Their friendship was worth it.

  She relaxed her hands and forced her arms to swing gently as she caught up. Caroline wore a pair of sturdy work boots that Amber had never seen before. Her dress showed wear and a lack of good laundering. Amber knew the signs because she’d suffered the same herself until she came back under the roof of the commander’s house.

  “Caroline, I’m so glad I saw you.” Amber kept a respectful distance while trying to pretend there was nothing amiss. “What brings you to the fort?”

  “A banker.” Caroline shrugged. “I needed to check on something.”

  “Oh.” Seeing that no other information was forthcoming, Amber said, “I hope you didn’t have much damage from the storm.”

  “Some floodwater, but it dried.” Then, after a pause, “And you?”

  “The roof blew off. Most of the materials can be reused, but I’ve been staying here at the fort since then. I go out every day to make sure no one tries to take it, but with the house started and the claim filed, I don’t have to be there all the time. I might as well wait until Bradley is there with me.”

  Caroline’s shoulders slumped, and she started to walk away.

  “Wait.” Amber stepped in her way to stop her. “If you have a minute . . .” She took a deep breath. “Our wedding is this Saturday, and I hope you can come.”

  Caroline blinked. Her eyes lowered. “I really wanted to come,” she said. “Are you sure you want me there?”

  “Absolutely sure.”

  Caroline sighed, then looked toward the barracks. “What about Bradley? What does he think?”

  “It’s my wedding. He’ll think whatever I want him to think.” Caroline and Bradley might both have a tendency to be unreasonable, but Amber was tenacious. She specialized in getting unreasonable people to do what they needed to do.

  “I knew it was going to be a small affair, so I told myself that you might not have room for me—”

  “Nonsense,” Amber interrupted. “We’ll say our vows at the fort’s chapel. Nothing fancy, but we want our family and friends there, and you’re both. Besides, if I understand correctly, you and Frisco have been keeping company. You must have found a way to appease him.”

  At this Caroline brightened. “Oh, I have. I’m working on a way to make amends, and I think I’ve found it.”

  “A process that’s probably agreeable to you both?” Amber raised an eyebrow. Caroline didn’t answer, but her tight smile informed Amber that her friend’s fascination with the rabble-rouser had been resurrected. Amber nodded. “Then as far as I’m concerned, it’s water under the bridge.”

  “I appreciate the invite, and your discretion.” Caroline shaded her eyes. “Are those your parents? I haven’t seen them in years.”

  “Come on, then.” Amber took her arm. “And if I’m not mistaken, you haven’t met the Hennesseys’ baby yet. He’s so precious. I could just sit and hold him all day.”

  “I bet Lieutenant Jack is besotted.” Caroline squeezed her arm. “He always made us girls laugh so. I can’t wait to see him with his own children. Just before the race, Hattie told me . . .”

  And just like that, Amber had succeeded. True, both she and Bradley felt that Caroline hadn’t been fair to Frisco, but maybe they didn’t understand what was driving her. Being a friend sometimes meant holding a person accountable, and sometimes it meant trusting them to correct an offense. Amber felt like she’d done both, and now the stain of a lost friendship wouldn’t cloud her perfect day.

  The wedding was on Saturday. It felt so good to know that their conflict was behind them, that Amber was dedicated to restoring their friendship. Caroline’s chest felt lighter, her heart happier. She reached for Frisco’s Bible. After a long day of working, she’d often searched for comfort and companionship in its pages. Sometimes her search was successful, sometimes not, but this time she knew the passage she wanted.

  She flipped through the pages to the fifth chapter of Matthew. This experiment in solitude had been good for her. It had made her turn to God’s Word time and time again. No longer could she blame others for her malaise or inactivity. Her own character and decisions would determine the outcome of her life, and that realization helped her see how much wisdom she still lacked.

  Her pursuit had been beneficial in surprising ways. She ran her finger down the column of print until she found the passage she was seeking:

  Ye have heard that it hath been said, Thou shalt love thy neighbour, and hate thine enemy. But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.

  She lifted her head with a smile. Frisco had been her enemy, and he was still her opponent, but she would say that she’d come a fair piece toward loving him. She thought of him constantly, of how he’d sheltered her in the storm, how he was ready to stand against the Premiers even if he had to do it alone, of ways he might want to profess his love to her at their next meeting. Yes, she was growing in holiness every day. Scripture was such a comfort.

  But as she moved to close the Bible, her eyes fell on the verses just above in the same column. More edification?

  And if any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also. And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain. Give to him that asketh thee. . . .

  The worn wooden cover of the Bible closed with a soft thud. That was enough reading for the day. She’d already found the encouragement she needed. Amber and Bradley had come around. She stood to place the Bible back on the shelf. She wished she could tell them what she was doing for Frisco, but once they
learned about the money she’d raised for him, and how she was making amends . . .

  The celebration. It was also on Saturday. Caroline leaned against the table. No, it couldn’t be. Not on the same day. Bucky bumped against her leg. How could she miss Amber and Bradley’s wedding? But what about Frisco? She’d told McFarland that she’d help him, and he was willing to pay lavishly for it. How could she justify walking away from that opportunity? What if Amber and Bradley didn’t understand? Her mind darted back and forth between the awful choices before her.

  She’d asked about the banker at the fort, ensuring that the marshals had been notified. Curiously, they hadn’t heard of the crime, and at this late date, it was unlikely they’d catch Sorenson while he was still in the territory. Her deal with McFarland was Frisco’s best chance at getting the money.

  Not that Frisco would ask, not that he’d ever know, but could she honestly look him in the eye and tell him it was more important for her to attend a wedding than to help him absolve himself of his debt? After she’d taken his land, she was going to put a party before his financial well-being? She couldn’t do that to anyone, much less Frisco.

  Amber would be hurt. Caroline would have even more to apologize for after this, but that was what she’d have to do: sincerely and regretfully tell them that she’d already made a commitment, and that it was a matter of great significance to their friend. Surely they could forgive her. Surely, if they understood that without the money, Frisco wouldn’t be able to meet his obligations to his investors . . .

  She’d do everything she could to help him—everything except abandon her own dreams.

  Chapter twenty-three

  Frisco stood at his front door, his hands propped against his waist. The midmorning breeze cooled his skin and ruffled his hair. Even though houses were going up around him, this lot seemed to catch a good breeze. Or maybe it was the high foundation of his house that increased the airflow. Either way, whoever ended up with this place would be lucky indeed.

  Inside the future parlor were Frisco’s cot and books. He’d given Patrick and Millie his tent, a small comfort while they waited out the settlers who might pull up stakes and leave their land to a neighbor. The individual rooms of the main floor were framed but not completed, and the upstairs would remain open to the elements for a while, since Mr. Nesbitt the carpenter had worked off his debt. Not that it mattered. Frisco wasn’t ready to claim this house as his own. He wasn’t ready to unpack his traveling case. Not yet.

  Over the last few days, Plainview had reached a new phase. No longer were people aimlessly scurrying around to find the basic necessities. Stores had been established, wells dug, kitchens set up, and people had routines that made life somewhat predictable. Certainly it was a buoyant, optimistic predictability, but as faces became familiar and buildings became permanent, the progress only increased in pace.

  Frisco was relieved to know he wasn’t knocking the legs out from under all the work that had been done. Today he was going to break the bad news to Mr. Lacroix. He’d done interviews. He’d done the research. He couldn’t represent them in court. The founders’ stories held. There were no inconsistencies that he could find. They’d had permission as deputies to be there early, which meant they’d scouted the place out, but on the day of the run, they seemed to have competed with everyone else. They were one another’s best witnesses, and by the time everyone else had arrived, there was no one to testify against them.

  Just when Frisco needed paying customers, he had to turn down this one. He’d have to get a loan or get Caroline off his land in a matter of days. Those were his two options.

  He reached for his cravat, which was draped over a sawhorse, and pulled it around his collar. The wedding was today, and Bradley had made a special trip to invite Frisco. Under normal circumstances, Frisco wouldn’t have bothered attending, but the mess he found himself in was anything but normal. Falling in love with Caroline Adams wasn’t generally recommended, but if one was going to attempt it, he’d better be ready to face fire from both her and her father. What better place to do that than a celebration of matrimony?

  He stopped by Patrick’s tent to see if there was anything they needed from the fort. As always, he felt a twinge of guilt as he walked past. Patrick and Millie were bringing in work and making friends in Plainview, but every time Frisco faced him, he remembered that there were sixty-three others like him who he’d failed. People he owed.

  And he was turning down paying work rather than accepting money for a lost cause.

  Having said his good-byes, Frisco headed toward the livery to collect his horse. Had he remembered the big celebration planned for the town that day, he might have skirted Main Street to save time. As it was, he ran smack-dab into everyone he’d normally want to avoid when in a hurry.

  “Frisco, are you here to volunteer?” Sophie asked. She’d decked herself in patriotic bunting and liberally applied cosmetics. “It’s going to be a smashing parade and speech, and then there’s going to be a tableau. They’re going to reenact the picture of the founders, but with Ceres, the goddess of agriculture, and Liberty granting them favor. Something like that. It’s going to be beautiful.”

  “I’ve got a wedding to go to,” he said.

  Sophie elbowed him. “It’s about time! I’m surprised you got the courage to ask her. I’m surprised she said yes. I’m surprised—”

  “I’m not getting married. It’s a friend.”

  “Oh.” Her smile vanished, then returned three times brighter. “You’ve got a lot of friends around here now. Just yesterday Patrick and I were telling that Mr. McFarland how it was sure something that the three of us ended up here. It’s like a family reunion of sorts.”

  How had Sophie and Patrick managed to emerge from the same sad place and not mind talking about it?

  “I’m glad you’re here officially now,” Frisco said at last.

  “And I’ll be right here tonight. There’s fireworks! You better get back before dark.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Maybe Caroline was right. Maybe people didn’t always disappear on you. Maybe this could be home. If he didn’t give up his position as the counselor for the city, then he was well on his way to leadership.

  Frisco continued his walk through town. The grass had already been worn down, leaving a marked road. The smell of hot tar drifted over from a building in progress. Now two-story buildings lined both sides of the street, throwing shade where before there had been none. Not that they were completed two-story buildings, but most had enclosed rooms for their goods, offices, or restaurant on the ground floor at least. Above him, men tightrope-walked the beams as they continued constructing upward. If he were to leave town for a week, he wouldn’t recognize it when he came back. New construction was popping up every day.

  City hall now had four brick walls, all about hip high, and against the brick wall stood a round table. The wind ruffled the cloth that had been laid over it to accentuate the display. Frisco looked both ways, but no one seemed to be attending the table. An empty punch bowl waited by a platter that would undoubtedly be filled with sweets later. They were preparing for the celebration. He wouldn’t be surprised if Caroline planned to stay at the fort with her parents for a night after the wedding, but if not, he’d ask if she wanted to accompany him. They might even get to dance again.

  A framed photo rested in a place of honor on the table. Frisco lifted the picture of the Premiers of Plainville that was already familiar to him. How many of these men had Mr. Lacroix accused of cheating? Had any of them conspired to come in before the gunshot that started the race? Standing in the shadow of their accomplishments being constructed around him, Frisco wondered if it even mattered anymore. There was no way to prove anything.

  Shadows used to be scarce on the prairie. No trees, no mountains or hills. Riding alone, it had been only him and his shadow many times. And in this picture, before the buildings were constructed, the only shadows were of the men themselves, stretching out
long on the undisturbed grass.

  Frisco’s heart skipped a beat. Their shadows . . . He held the picture closer. There had to be some mistake. Had this picture been taken at noon or shortly after, there would be no shadows—not shadows like this, anyway. He blinked in case he was seeing something that wasn’t there. But no, the shadows were of the morning, not noon. The shadows of Bledsoe, Juarez, Feldstein, and even the banker Sorenson stretched long and thin. And standing there with them was Ike McFarland.

  What if Frisco was wrong? What if they were afternoon shadows? But then he looked at the empty plains behind the men. Not a person in sight. Frisco lowered the picture with steady hands. He’d been praying to know the truth—Had they broken the law? Were they there too early?—and here was the evidence he’d been lacking. Here was the proof that would take away nearly half the claims on Main Street and make them available to those who’d played by the rules.

  His face blazed. All that concern McFarland had about the case, all the questions he’d asked, and Ike had known all along that they were all cheaters. Himself included.

  So what was Frisco going to do about it?

  He was going to do everything he could. He set the picture down and backed away from the table. It would cost him. Whether he won or failed, he’d be hated by many, but Frisco knew himself well enough to know that he couldn’t ignore the crime. He couldn’t watch them prosper, knowing that people like Patrick hadn’t had a fair chance. He was disappointed in McFarland, disappointed that the favor he’d curried meant nothing. Frisco had thought he’d lost everything, but that wasn’t true. He hadn’t lost his honor. Nor would he.