The Major's Daughter

by Regina Jennings

  “This is as much my town as it is yours,” she said. “Why can’t I play a part?”

  “That’s right,” McFarland replied. “A lady as intelligent and refined as Miss Adams doesn’t need your approval.”

  “You don’t care about her,” Frisco said. “You’re only using her for her family connections.”

  “If anyone has used her, it’s you,” McFarland answered.

  Her throat tightened, and the golden cords that crossed over her bosom dug into her rib cage. What were they talking about? She’d done this for Frisco. She had missed a wedding for him, and here he stood, questioning her intelligence and autonomy before a crowd of her neighbors.

  If she’d had a tomahawk, she would have struck him down. As it was, she stood her ground—the one thing he should know by now that she was an expert at.

  Mr. McFarland had instructed the band to start the music. Her portion was finished. The men with Frisco were leaving. He paused, catching her eye. What was he trying to convey? Her feelings were too raw to care. With a lifted chin and slow, graceful movements, she exited the stage just as she’d planned. But once behind the curtain, she grabbed her boots in one shaky hand and her shawl in the other. Perhaps she could make it to the fort in time to congratulate the happy couple. It might be the last happiness she would participate in for a while.

  McFarland stood in her way with two crisp bills extended between two fingers. “Payment as requested,” he said, “plus a little extra for your trouble.”

  Caroline took the one hundred and twenty dollars, surprised that new bills could feel so grimy. Fear, real fear, was growing inside her. What if Frisco was right? What if she didn’t understand everything that was going on? Caroline could forgive being snubbed or challenged. Have a temper, let a colorful word slip—all could be overlooked. But she couldn’t stand being used. Nor could she stand someone claiming that she was ignorant, which was what Frisco had done.

  The bills crinkled in her hand. This was Frisco’s money. That was why she’d done this. That was why she’d missed the wedding and disappointed her friend. But what had she waded into?

  Without a word, she turned her back on Mr. McFarland and stuffed the money through the loose neck of her tunic. What would Amber think of her appearing at the chapel dressed like this? But it was probably too late. The wedding was over, and she couldn’t make it up to them.

  Caroline shoved her bare feet into the boots, then marched clumsily toward the edge of town. She felt ridiculous. She wanted to get back into her own clothes, wanted to hide in her little cave, where no one could say things about her or put words in her mouth. At first people avoided looking at her, as if they were embarrassed for her, but as she continued through the streets, the people she encountered knew nothing of her recent humiliation. She tried to meet their curious stares with a smile, but her heart wasn’t in it.

  She had wanted to prove that she could accomplish something herself. She wanted to be valued for her own merit, and she’d been willing to work as hard as anyone to do it. But it turned out there were issues she was unprepared for—machinations she hadn’t known to watch for—things that her father would have protected her from. And that knowledge infuriated her.

  “Caroline.”

  She stopped, her bare feet sticking to the insides of the boots. She had nothing to say to Frisco. She stomped forward as he rushed to her side.

  “What was that about?” Was he breathless or angry? “I went to the wedding, hoping to see you there. I couldn’t believe you’d miss it. And then what do I find? You’re helping McFarland?”

  Caroline spun toward him. “Why wouldn’t I help McFarland? He’s your friend.”

  “I thought he was, but no longer.”

  She could feel the heat flooding her face. “Now he’s not your friend? When did that happen? This is the problem, Mr. Smith. You don’t value people. You don’t care about friendships. You’re willing to just walk away, but that’s not right. I, for one, will fight to keep my friends, and I’m sorry if you aren’t of the same mind.” Her heart was breaking even as she said the words, because they were the truth, and they meant that Frisco could never be the man she needed him to be.

  “We will not have this discussion in the middle of the road,” he grumbled. He tilted his head toward his plot of land.

  Caroline’s eyes widened. There was a house there, and although the second story was still open to the air, it looked a great deal like the house she’d designed. She shook her head. “I want to go home,” she said. “I don’t want to stay in this town any longer.”

  “You accuse me of walking away from a friend, but you won’t stay?”

  The hurt in his voice caught her attention. “Are you my friend?” she asked. The wind whipped a strand of hair into her eyes, but she wouldn’t swipe at it.

  “I wouldn’t be so scared if I wasn’t.” His eyes were raw. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You don’t know what McFarland was doing.”

  “Because you didn’t tell me. You had plenty of opportunity, but you didn’t trust me to—”

  The hammering on the house next door had stopped. A guy on a ladder was watching while his buddy holding the base tried to hide a smirk. Caroline glared at them, then stomped toward Frisco’s house. She didn’t allow Frisco time to get in front of her, just swung open the door and marched inside. Frisco followed, slamming the door behind them. He tossed a blanket off a narrow cot and gestured.

  “I’d rather stand,” she said. “I’m just here to clear my name, and then you don’t have to bother with me anymore.”

  One thing she’d always admired about Frisco was his debonair flair under pressure, but now that polished veneer had turned as rough as the newly sawn boards framing his home.

  Frisco was furious. Not with her. She didn’t know. He was furious with McFarland for putting him in this situation and furious with himself for not being savvy enough to avoid it. But whatever happened, it wasn’t Caroline’s fault. After hanging his hat on a nail, he yanked off his gloves and tossed them on top of his closed traveling case. He couldn’t let her take the brunt of his anger. And he shouldn’t be surprised if he was going to take the brunt of hers. He leveled his shoulders as he turned.

  She stood like a work of art, delicate cloth draped over her statuesque figure, soft shoulders, and neck that the ancients couldn’t recreate in marble. Flaming red hair that returned the sun’s burning rays. The impossibility of her beauty made him even angrier. If he was going to have a misunderstanding with a woman, why couldn’t it be one who didn’t captivate him so? One who couldn’t devastate him?

  He lowered himself onto the cot and leaned against the wall at his back. “Before you tell me what you were doing validating McFarland’s claims, why don’t I explain—”

  “No,” she said. “Ladies first.”

  Frisco studied the ceiling, disappointed he couldn’t turn his eyes all the way toward heaven. “By all means. Defend yourself, then leave without hearing my side. That sounds reasonable.”

  She rearranged her costume, tugging on the folds of cloth at her neckline until Frisco grew uncomfortable and had to look away. The next thing he knew, wadded paper hit him in the side of the face.

  He caught the crumpled paper in his lap. It was money. A lot of money.

  “It’s yours,” she said. Her cheeks looked like they’d been touched with a fiery brand.

  “You’re paying me? Did McFarland tell you to give me this?”

  “He paid me for my performance.”

  “One hundred and twenty dollars for getting onstage and reciting some lines when there are dozens of women who would’ve done it for free?” Frisco’s eyes closed as he shook his head. “Caroline Adams, you have to be smarter than that. You can’t take money from the likes of McFarland.”

  “I did it for you.”

  He stilled. She stood proud, but her facade was cracking. She shifted her heavy boots. Frisco’s face tightened as he chose his words carefully. “What do I
need the money for?”

  “To pay back the people who were going to live in Redhawk. Sophie told me about it. She said they were coming after you and that banker had stolen what you had. I thought it only fair since I have your land. . . .”

  He turned over the bills, flipping them between his fingers. It was a large sum, and money he needed badly. If only he didn’t know how it had come to him.

  “Do you know what this is?” he asked. “It’s a bribe, Caroline. McFarland is using you to sway my opinion about the hearing.”

  “He gave the money to me. It has nothing to do with the hearing. I’m giving it to you because of the trouble I caused you with the land.”

  “He already offered the money to me if I’d drop the case against him. When I refused—” He handed the money back to her. “I can’t accept. Even if this was your money to begin with, you won that land fair and square. You’re under no obligation to make up the loss on my speculation.”

  “I’m not taking it back,” she said. “Not after I missed the wedding to earn it.”

  Frisco’s heart began a strange cadence. “You missed the wedding for . . . ?” He could only assume that Caroline was so duty bound that nothing else mattered. That was what he’d assume, because he feared to hope it meant anything more. “I see. This is your attempt to compensate me so that I won’t trouble you over the land anymore. Otherwise, you would’ve felt guilty.”

  There were certain moments in life when one knew that the next decision would mean everything. Awareness danced across Frisco’s face along with fear. Caroline could stay aloof. She could feign disinterest and pretend that her high moral character was what led her to sacrifice her friend’s wedding to pay a debt. Or she could tell the truth. Frisco looked terrified of the truth. So was she, but her father had raised her to be a brave soldier.

  “I didn’t miss the wedding for the money,” she said. “I missed it for you. I wanted to help you, because that’s what friends do.”

  He turned the bills over in his hands. “You’re a good friend, Caroline,” he said at last. “But I’m afraid our relationship has reached an impasse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He folded the money, then set it on top of the satchel he never unpacked. Resting his hands on his knees, he looked up at her, his dark eyes searching. “Our friendship has run its natural course. We started out as acquaintances, more knowing of each other than really knowing each other. You bested me at a contest that meant everything to me, and to my surprise I couldn’t despise you for it. You didn’t despise me when I made it my goal to push you off your land. You didn’t shun my company even though we had this contentious situation between us.”

  “You might have had ulterior motives, but I needed your help.”

  “I did have ulterior motives.” He wrinkled his forehead like the thought amused him. “But I found I was doing it for you, not to protect my property. We’ve covered a great deal of territory, from flirting over your father’s table to relying on each other for support and companionship.”

  Companionship? Something in her chest fluttered. Had Frisco Smith just admitted that he relied on her for companionship? She met his eyes, expecting to see her uncertainty mirrored there. Instead, she’d never seen him more confident.

  “I don’t see anything wrong with recent developments,” she said.

  “But this . . .” He stood and pointed at the money on the satchel. “This means something else altogether. This means you weren’t merely treating me as a friend. You were putting me before your other friends—friends you care deeply for.” He joined her where she was leaning against the doorway, blocking out the light of the cloth-covered window. “And that is why we are at an impasse.”

  Frisco had taken his post opposite her. Caroline remembered years ago when she and Daisy were banished to their corners for misbehavior. If they moved, there were consequences. She looked at the floor between her and Frisco, from her work boots to his patent leather shoes. If the gap was breached, there would be consequences.

  “I apologize,” she said. “I should’ve never presumed to meddle in your business. If you want me to take the money back . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut. What was she doing? She couldn’t retreat. Not now. “No,” she said, more forcefully than she’d intended. “No, I won’t take it back. It was meant for you. What you do with it is your business, but I did it for you. Think what you will, but I won’t lie to you.”

  Her eyes opened when she felt his hand on her waist. His sure grip crushed the soft draping fabric and sent her heart racing.

  “For me to follow the trajectory of our relationship,” he said, “I have to respond with an equal or greater show of devotion. Do you understand?”

  His fingers skimmed over her bare shoulder and traced the contours of her arm, but his eyes never left hers. Her breath hitched. What was he asking? It didn’t matter. She had to know. “I understand,” she said.

  He’d covered the distance. The space between them was all but gone. “Do you object?”

  “Only if you’re acting out of duty and not true feelings.”

  His smile was slow. His lips . . . With a shiver, she wondered what his lips felt like and then speculated that she’d know before long.

  “Everything about me is true,” he said. “I wouldn’t know how to lie to you, nor can I think why I’d want to. All I know is that I can’t imagine any greater gift in this world than your regard.”

  She stood in his shadow, his nearness making her giddy. He pulled her against him, both hands on her waist now, firm against her back. Her hands were on his chest. She tried to keep some distance, some control. A last view of the sky from a ship slowly going under.

  “A woman who dances with abandon like you knows what has to happen next,” he said.

  Oh, she knew, and she’d longed for this since she’d been old enough to understand. Finally in his arms, she felt that this was the culmination of a journey she’d started long ago. As for Frisco, how many years had he spent dreaming of her? Probably a lot fewer.

  And then a blade of clarity pierced her haze. He wasn’t taking her for granted, was he?

  Her mouth tightened. “But you won’t,” she said. “You won’t because—”

  But Frisco wasn’t asking for permission again. He took her lips, took her words, took her breath. She gripped his sleeves, but she wouldn’t stop him. He was holding her with the same tenacity that he’d used to fight her, and this time she would surrender. Her grip loosened, and she rested in his embrace. Her bare arm slid around his neck as he availed himself of her willing kisses. She said his name, little more than a whimper.

  He blinked as his eyes focused. “Do you want me to stop?” He was breathing hard. Shaking, even. Despite his turmoil, he looked ready to give her anything she wanted.

  She touched his face. Ran her finger along the crease beside his mouth and traced his jaw until she could bury her hand in his dark curls. His groan sounded far away, but then it was upon her, humming against her chest as he kissed her again.

  It had all been worth it, she decided as his hands tumbled through her hair. The work, the loneliness at the farm, the conflict—she regretted nothing that had brought her to this moment. Maybe this had been her ultimate goal all along.

  The sun had moved in the sky, and yet they continued kissing, touching, looking into each other’s eyes, and murmuring love that had gone too long unexpressed. It was a shock to realize that she was sitting on his lap atop his cot, but she wasn’t sorry. He’d gone long enough without affection.

  Her lips felt bruised. Her body was exhausted with longing. “I know we should stop,” she said, “but I don’t know how.”

  Frisco followed the neckline of her stola with his finger. His gaze landed on her lips once more, but he closed his eyes and hugged her tight for a brief second before setting her next to him on the cot.

  “It’s past time to get you home.” He stood. Caroline giggled as he braced himself against the wall for a m
oment before taking a step. “I have to talk to that carpenter,” he said. “This floor is wobbly.”

  “It wouldn’t be your knees, would it?”

  He grinned. “Let’s see you try it.”

  She popped up and then, with her first step, fell into his arms. He kept her at a discreet distance, she noticed, which was not what she wanted but was perhaps wise. She smiled up at him. “Take me home, Frisco. My little house in the hill misses you.”

  He swept a lock of hair off her forehead. “Hmmm. As much as I regret it, I’m going to insist on a chaperone. Patrick can go with us. Not to worry you needlessly, but yours truly could be tempted beyond his strength.”

  “So this is what my father has been protecting me from all these years?”

  “Come to think of it, I’ll probably bring someone along anytime I go out to meet you. Or you should spend more time in town, where I have some accountability.”

  “We didn’t need that before,” she said. “What’s changed?”

  “Everything,” he said. “Everything.”

  Chapter twenty-five

  Every morning, Bradley stood at the edge of his field (his field!) and watched the sky come to life. For years his days had started with the call of the bugle, and he’d forgotten what it was to wake up naturally. Now he found that sleeping in didn’t interest him at all. Not when he could work his land (his land!) or improve his house (his house!) or when he could spend time with his wife (his wife!). He’d never thought that anything could induce him to get out of bed early, but now Bradley was often fumbling around in the dark, looking for something he could accomplish before the sun rose.

  This morning, Ambrosia was feeding the chickens that Lieutenant and Mrs. Hennessey had given them as their wedding present. Mrs. Hennessey had also painted them a stunning bridal portrait of Amber. She said they could look back years from now and remember how beautiful the bride was. The chickens were so they could have eggs and not starve in the meantime.