The Major's Daughter

by Regina Jennings

  Frisco looked over his shoulder, as if his house could have moved and someone else’s replaced it. “Yes. If you’ll excuse me, I have some business to conclude, and then I can help you.”

  Mr. Lacroix flipped his reins over his horse’s head. “I’ll see you tonight, and surely we’ll have this thing done,” he said. “Watch your back until then.”

  At least Frisco was succeeding for Lacroix, Deavers, and the others. He had to have that victory, because his relationship with Caroline had failed. But perhaps this was another client he could help.

  “My office is inside,” he said.

  “A chair would be delightful,” Mrs. Hunter said. “I’ve traveled far.”

  “From where?”

  “No need for water,” she said. “Just a place where we can talk. That’s all I require.”

  He led her through the door to the unfinished parlor. Caroline’s chair had been empty since she left it earlier that week. He averted his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the list that still lay on her desk, then reached for the chair to pull it next to his cot, where he always met his clients. The day he had two chairs in his house, he’d know he’d arrived.

  The lady sat, her mouth closed tightly against some news that threatened to burst forth. Frisco sighed. Never had anyone been that anxious to tell him good news. What trouble did she bring?

  “What can I do for you, Mrs. Hunter?”

  The fine lines around her eyes tightened as she tilted her head sympathetically. “There’s really no easy way to tell you this.”

  “Best speak it plain.”

  She nodded, her face looking as delicate as china. “I’m your aunt, Frisco. Or Charlie, I should call you. Your mother is ailing, and she wants to see you before she passes. She sent me. I’m supposed to bring you back to Kansas. I’m supposed to bring you home.”

  Caroline stood at the door of Amber and Bradley’s new cabin with an apple pie. It had taken the last of the canned fruit she’d purchased from Darlington, but she knew Amber’s penchant for green apples, and after missing their wedding, she didn’t feel right showing up empty-handed. The flour-sack curtain billowed out of the open window as Caroline knocked on the rough-hewn door. There would probably be a parade for the first people to get real glass windows. Freighters had wasted no time in bringing every imaginable item of commerce to the territory, but glass windows hadn’t made it to the area around Plainview yet.

  The curtain lifted, and Amber poked her nose out. “We have company, Bradley!” she called and then dropped the curtain. The door creaked but didn’t open.

  “What’s going on?” Caroline called through the window. “If you don’t want this pie, all you have to do is say so.”

  “Coming!” It was Bradley this time, and the door swung open.

  Caroline hesitated, but Bradley grabbed the pie tin, and since she wasn’t ready to relinquish it, she was dragged inside. Compared to her dugout, their house felt fresh and clean. The smile they gave each other upon seeing the pie felt healthy and heartbreaking—for her, anyway.

  With her apple pie in one hand and a knife in the other, Bradley kicked the door closed with his foot. Concentric target rings had been splashed in whitewash on the back of the door. Caroline took another look at the knife in Bradley’s hand.

  “Target practice in the house?” She hiked an eyebrow.

  “It’s my own door. Just don’t open it without warning me.”

  Amber pulled out two plates. “Caroline and I will share a plate, since we only own two.”

  “No bother.” Bradley picked up a spoon. “I’ll eat out of the tin.”

  They deserved this happiness. The two of them had fought for their relationship, maintained it over years of separation and well-meaning folks telling them they could find someone better. Or at least people told Amber that. But they were determined to be together, and here they were.

  Unfortunately, Caroline and Frisco had no such history. She had thought about him for years, but it hadn’t stopped her from courting in Galveston. And it hadn’t stopped him from deciding that he didn’t need her.

  “Uh-oh. Rain clouds are forming on Caroline’s forehead.” Bradley took the pie tin from Amber after she dished out a piece for each plate. “From my experience, if there’s rain with her, there’s likely to be thunder.”

  Amber motioned Caroline toward the sawed-off stump that doubled for a chair. “It’s about Frisco, isn’t it? I thought you were getting along.”

  Caroline dropped to the stool. “We were, but that list that Bradley told me about—Frisco is the one who put me on it.”

  Instead of outrage, Bradley shrugged. “That don’t mean he ain’t the one for you.”

  “The moonlighter list?” Amber shook her head. “Maybe it was an honest mistake.”

  “How can he innocently accuse me of being guilty? It just throws into doubt everything that’s happened between us. His first priority has always been that land. He’d do anything to get it. He failed to get it legally, so I’ve got to wonder if he’s trying to get it romantically.”

  “He wouldn’t dare,” Amber said.

  “A fellow doesn’t need an excuse to court a pretty lady,” Bradley said. “The land is just extra incentive. Extra nice incentive.”

  “You aren’t helping,” Amber said.

  “If it was only the list,” Caroline said, “I’d forgive him, but he doesn’t act like he wants me to. He knows how upset I am, and he hasn’t called on me.”

  “Did he apologize?” they asked in tandem.

  Caroline rubbed the back of her neck. “Shouldn’t he know that the first apology doesn’t count? Especially with me being so mad?”

  Amber nodded, but Bradley rolled his eyes. “He made a mistake. He said he was sorry. And now you’re complaining that he isn’t doing more.”

  “If there were true concerns—” Amber began.

  “But there aren’t,” Bradley said. “She’s just got her feelings hurt that he’s not chasing her down. Why not meet him halfway? Why not go to him?”

  “Because what if he doesn’t want me to?” It was a vulnerable feeling, saying your fears aloud, but Caroline needed an answer.

  “If he doesn’t want you, then you’ll have to say good-bye. If he does want you and you keep hiding in your underground house, then you won’t get a chance to say good-bye, but it’ll be good-bye anyway. What’s the difference?”

  “There’s a difference,” Amber insisted. “But it doesn’t matter. What matters is whether you love him. Whether he’s worth the risk.”

  Caroline’s teeth ground together. Could anything be more humiliating than admitting that you loved someone when he didn’t love you back?

  Cowardly. That was what she was being. Caroline had always stood her ground, unafraid that people might disagree or disapprove. Amber was right. She might not succeed, but she wouldn’t fail for lack of trying.

  She stood, her piece of pie untouched, and walked to the door.

  “That’s it?” Bradley asked. “Just leaving without any thanks for the wise counsel you found here?”

  “Whether it was wise remains to be seen,” Caroline said. “I might come back more heartbroken than ever.”

  “Betcha don’t.” Bradley winked.

  If only the world was as simple as Bradley imagined. Yet he offered clarity when she needed it.

  “Enjoy your dessert.” And Caroline headed to town, determined not to return until she had an answer.

  Frisco’s first instinct was to hustle the woman out of his house and throw rocks at her until she’d been driven out of town. His mother? Mrs. Hunter’s words hit the most vulnerable part of him. His mother? He never went a day without thinking of her, without seeing a woman with a child and wondering why his mother hadn’t wanted him. As he grew older, his questions had changed. Did his father want him? Did he even know about him? If his parents were still alive—and someone put him on that train—did they keep track of the years? Did they think of him as a man, or in
their minds was he always a baby?

  All his unexpressed and expressed frustration now had a target, but the woman sitting before him didn’t look evil. Despite the shock of her statement, her mission was exactly what he’d wanted for years. He wasn’t sure what was harder to control—his anger or his hope.

  “You’re my aunt?” He forced his breathing to slow. “How did you find me?”

  “Alice Maye always knew where you were. She pretended to have found you abandoned on the train. She stayed with you until the foundling hospital was called. She checked on you a few times, knew what they’d named you, and thought you would always be there.”

  Frisco’s skin felt clammy despite the heat coming down from the sunbaked planks over his head. “Assuming that you’re telling the truth, there are some things I don’t understand. For instance, if she cared so much, why did she leave me?”

  “She didn’t think she had a choice. She and your father were in love, but he went to work the railroads so they’d have enough money to get married. She didn’t know she was expecting when he left. She . . . we come from a respectable family. Our parents hid her until the baby came, but there was no question of her keeping it. She figured when your father came back and they got married, then they’d adopt you. People would never know their foundling baby was their own.”

  The story was everything he’d imagined. He’d hoped that his parents hadn’t rejected him, but wouldn’t there be some proof? Some evidence she had to tie him to the family? He had evidence, but he wouldn’t tell her. Not yet. He’d hear her out before he tested her.

  “What happened?” he asked. “Why didn’t they get me?”

  If his parents were alive, why hadn’t they saved him from the beatings he’d taken at the hands of the older kids? Why hadn’t they comforted him the nights he’d cried into his pillow over a fresh separation from a brother? Why hadn’t they fed him when he was hungry and alone on the streets?

  “She went to visit you one day, and you weren’t there. She tried to track you down, but the records were confused.”

  “My name. They changed my name when I was a baby.” The monogram on the man’s handkerchief that was his only link to his origin wasn’t for any Frisco Smith, but he’d held out hope that it belonged to someone who belonged to him.

  “You can’t imagine how devastated she was. She came to my house and cried so bitterly. There was nothing my husband and I or our parents could do to comfort her. She was a ghost until your father came back for her. That was the only thing that brought any light to her eyes.”

  “He never saw me?”

  Mrs. Hunter leaned forward on the edge of the chair. “He wants to now. Your mother took ill, and all she can think about is getting you home so you can meet your brothers.”

  Brothers? Frisco’s throat clenched. He dropped his eyes to hide the hope there. How badly he wanted it to be true.

  Mrs. Hunter continued, “She found someone at the home who located that missing record, and from there it was easy. You’ve made quite a name for yourself in Kansas and the new territory.”

  Frisco stood next to the traveling case. He looked down at the only consistent thing he’d had in his life. Someday he’d unpack this bag for good, and maybe that someday was now and the somewhere was Kansas. Or maybe not. Over the years, the contents had changed, but there was one piece of cloth in it that had been with him through it all.

  “You called me Charlie.” Frisco worked his neck to make the words come out. “Is that my father’s name?” He closed his eyes as he waited for her reply.

  “No. His name is Richard Everett. He never met you, but your mother left his handkerchief with you at the orphanage. She thought . . .”

  She continued speaking, but Frisco dropped his head into his hands. R. E. Those were the initials on the battered square of cloth. Suddenly his suspicions seemed ridiculous. What could this woman have to gain by pretending kinship with him? He’d already falsely accused Caroline. He wouldn’t make that mistake twice.

  “How much time does she have?” he asked.

  Mrs. Hunter clasped her hands together. “I know you have a life here. I know I’m asking a lot. But if she could see you, just once, before she dies . . . If it weren’t urgent, I would’ve sent a letter. I would’ve broached the subject more gently. But there’s no time, Charlie. There’s no time.”

  Everett? Charles Everett? Frisco stood taller as he felt the weight of the name. In his estimation, it sounded too staid, not debonair enough. Then again, wasn’t he aiming for a more respectable life? Pieces started falling together. He’d always wanted a more respectable position. Could it be that it was inborn in him? Could it be that he’d had his position stolen from him at birth, and now he was reaching for his rightful level?

  But all speculation on his origins would be complete if he accepted this woman’s offer. Frisco looked at the house going up around him—the first permanent residence he’d ever owned. He swiftly riffled through his dreams, trying to evaluate them in light of the new information. He didn’t know how he’d fit into this family, but didn’t they deserve a chance? And his mother. If he didn’t do his best to ease her conscience, if he didn’t take this opportunity to meet her face-to-face, he would always regret it.

  Mrs. Hunter was waiting, keeping her eyes down, giving him some room to sort through his decision.

  He had to go. He couldn’t accept the sorrow that would be his if he didn’t.

  “When would we leave?” he asked.

  “There’s a train through Oklahoma Station today.”

  At four o’clock. He knew it well. He had time, and his bag was packed. It was always packed for exactly this situation. But what would it mean to leave? Certainly he could come back if things didn’t pan out in Kansas. Patrick would hold his town claim for him, and as for the homestead, he’d have to send someone with his investors’ money to Purcell to refund them, but it could be arranged. If he didn’t come back, he’d be glad that Caroline got to keep the homestead after all.

  Caroline.

  “I’ll be back,” Frisco said and marched out of the house and off the porch. He couldn’t think with Mrs. Hunter watching him so closely. He needed space. The sun’s strength started a slow, unrelenting burn on the top of his head. He let it burn, wishing it would sear away all the confusion.

  Was Caroline going to be a part of his life? Could she forgive him, or was this just the natural progression of their relationship? Had it only been meant to carry him this far?

  Or maybe Charles Everett would be a more likely man for her. Maybe he’d learn more about himself, more about his people, and she’d be proud to have him. The major’s daughter might be a natural partner for an Everett man. He rubbed his forehead, which felt near to bursting. His aunt wasn’t rich. He shouldn’t get such ideas, but after coming from a foundling home, there was no direction but up.

  He had to go.

  He’d started back inside when he saw a lone form coming down the street. He’d just had the best news of his life, but seeing Caroline jarred him. He wished he could disappear for a few days without anyone noticing his absence. Then, if his visit was a disaster, no one could mock him for his vain hopes. He hated this feeling. This fragility. He was supposed to laugh at danger and welcome conflict, but that veneer had a weakness, and today he’d been struck right in its weakest spot.

  He didn’t want Caroline to see him like this, but he did want to see her. She had spotted him. She didn’t wave but continued toward him. Well, he couldn’t hide. Besides, how he left things here in Plainview might determine choices he made in Kansas. And no matter how much he tried to look for alternatives, he knew that leaving Caroline behind was not what he wanted.

  He knew what he wanted on that account, and he’d be a fool not to settle it.

  Before she’d reached him, Frisco had a plea on his lips. “It’s been two days since I saw you last,” he said. “I’d rather go without food.”

  His declaration caught her off guard.
She flushed. Stammered. “I missed you too. Whatever happened between us—”

  “Forgive me. It’s bad enough that I jumped to conclusions about you. What’s even worse is that I dragged my feet in making amends.”

  She put a hand to her chest as the air left her lungs. Her eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t know if you’d want to see me.”

  “I do. I want to see you every day. But first I have to see about something else.” When Caroline’s eyes wandered over his shoulder, he turned. Mrs. Hunter had followed him outside. “Ma’am,” he said to her, “I want to introduce you to someone. This is Miss Caroline Adams. She’s my . . . she’s my everything.”

  Mrs. Hunter lingered in the shade of the house. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Caroline, Mrs. Hunter is my aunt.”

  Caroline’s jaw dropped. She looked from Mrs. Hunter to him and back again. “I didn’t think you knew any of your family.”

  “That changed today.”

  Chapter twenty-seven

  His aunt? How could that be? Caroline stumbled through the introductions, but her mind whirled like a windmill in a spring storm. Frisco stood quietly as Mrs. Hunter briefly explained what had brought her to him. Chills ran up Caroline’s spine. Having lost her own mother when she was a child, she couldn’t imagine missing an opportunity to know her. She also couldn’t imagine a chance to see her again. If Caroline had heard that her mother was by some miracle still alive, there’d be no power on earth that could keep her away.

  Frisco’s face was blank, his eyes unfocused. Caroline wanted to wrap her arms around him and pull his head to her shoulders. It was the Lord’s leading through the unlikely vessels of Bradley and Amber that had convinced her to set aside her pride and come to him. She was so relieved that she had. He needed someone by his side.

  “Is everything all right?” Pushing a wheelbarrow of tin pots, Sophie Wilton appeared from around the corner.

  Both Frisco and Mrs. Hunter looked spooked. How could he answer? He’d just found out his mother was dying . . . a mother he’d never known.