The Major's Daughter
Page 30
“Just my pride,” Bradley corrected.
“Be careful,” Frisco said. “Getting the floor down is most important. I don’t want her to fall through.”
Mrs. Hennessey stepped into the room with a paintbrush in hand. “I’ve got the mural nearly done. Would you like to see it?”
He followed her into the parlor and gaped. On the wall was a masterpiece.
“I wish I’d had you put it on a canvas,” he said, “because someday we’re going to have to take that wall with us.”
“I don’t think you’ll be moving anytime soon,” she replied.
In the foreground, the distinctive shapes of two scissor-tailed flycatchers were silhouetted on a bare branch. Beneath them stretched out the Oklahoma prairie and a glorious sunset. While the horizon was the focus, when Frisco stepped closer, he could see a faint grid made out on the grasslands below.
“Is that Plainview?” he asked.
She nodded. “Or at least what it’ll look like soon. And look closer to the horizon. To the far west.”
“It’s the fort. And what’s that to the south?”
“That’s Redhawk, going up as planned.”
He beamed. “Thank you, Mrs. Hennessey. That an artist of your stature would do this for us . . .”
“Goodness gracious, if I paint for the pleasure of art galleries, why wouldn’t I paint for my friends and family? Besides, have you ever seen Caroline paint? You don’t want that. Now, Louisa sent these curtains. We need to get them hung.”
It was all coming together. Would Caroline be surprised? He hoped not. He hoped she’d been impatiently waiting for him to ask her the question they’d both taken for granted since the trial. They had talked about the future. She’d agreed to give the bulk of her land to the prospectors who had purchased lots in Redhawk, although for the time being she was keeping her dugout home. And on his end, he’d made arrangements with his investors, and they had started moving in last week. Like Plainview, Redhawk was changing every day.
As for him, he was free and clear of the responsibility. A few days was all it took for him to direct them to the plots they’d reserved, and then he’d left them to their own devices. They didn’t need his help after all. Although he wouldn’t be surprised if someday the towns of Redhawk and Plainview might merge, given their proximity.
He was ready to move on to the next chapter. At any given moment he was liable to race to Caroline’s homestead and blurt out his proposal, but she deserved something finer.
He was still imagining her delight when a banging on the front door brought him to his senses.
“Frisco, it’s Caroline. Are you in there?”
He could’ve been at the fort and heard her, as loud as she was hollering. Mrs. Hennessey grimaced and shrugged. He had to answer it.
Caroline stood with one hand on her hip and the other holding a shawl in a knotted bunch. “I’m leaving,” she announced.
“You just got here.” Frisco looked over his shoulder to see Amber, Millie, and Sophie coming in from the kitchen. But Caroline was on a roll.
“No, I’m leaving the territory. I’m leaving my homestead, or what’s left of it. It’d be nice if I could get some money for it, as otherwise I’m leaving empty-handed and I don’t know how I’ll manage, but if you don’t know anyone in the market . . .”
Without a word, Hattie began gathering her brushes. Amber put out her hands to keep Sophie and Millie from coming any closer. Frisco crossed his arms over his chest. So this was the way she wanted it? Just like in dancing, she’d get too impatient and take out leading if you didn’t move quick enough.
“Thank you, ladies, for your help,” he said.
Caroline hadn’t seen the others until then. She covered her mouth with both hands. “I’m sorry, Amber. I would’ve told you once it was all settled, but you have Bradley. I’m out there all alone.”
Frisco stepped out of the way just in time to avoid Amber, who ran forward and hugged Caroline. “I’m not altogether convinced you’re going anywhere,” Amber said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Now, listen to what he has to say.” She kissed Caroline on the cheek, which seemed to calm her.
Caroline didn’t move an inch as Sophie and Millie helped gather Mrs. Hennessey’s things. Her brow creased as Frisco called Patrick and Bradley down. Patrick walked quickly by, like he was trying not to be seen, while Bradley sauntered slowly with plenty of brow wagging and smirks.
They all filed outside past a confused and embarrassed Caroline. She waited until Frisco closed the door.
“Is there anyone else here?” she asked.
“Who else could be here? That’s pretty much everyone we know.”
“If you’re busy . . .”
“Not anymore. Come. I want to show you something.” He pointed to the sturdy ladder. “You’ve been spending so much time underground, I thought you might want to level out.”
“There’s nothing upstairs,” she said, but she put her foot on the first rung just the same. Halfway up, when her head cleared the opening, she stopped and looked down at him. “What do you have a table upstairs for? You don’t even have the walls finished.”
“Be careful where you step. We’re still working on the floor.” And it was getting dark. He followed her up, feeling edgy as he stepped off the ladder. This was it, then. This was him starting his life on another new venture, but on this one, he wouldn’t be going alone.
Suddenly shy, she turned away and looked past the open framework of the wall and across the expanse of the little town they’d built together on the prairie. Plainview had new leadership now via a more gradual, natural process than the first one. A process that allowed people of talent and integrity a voice instead of defaulting to those who’d manipulated the outcome. Frisco was proud of all he’d accomplished, but there was so much more they could do. And he didn’t want to do it alone.
“So, you’re leaving?” He stood by her side and surveyed the grid of new streets dividing the plots.
“I’m sorry I interfered in the first place. I thought that being dependent on my family was the worst thing that could happen to me. As it happens, that isn’t true.”
“You found something worse?” He brushed his hand across her neck, straightening her collar. Her shiver delighted him.
“We agreed on the land, and your people have started to arrive, but I don’t want to stay there with them. Not this close.”
“It’d make me very happy to give the dugout to Patrick along with a few acres by the river.”
“Patrick, Millie, and Jonathan?” Her smile was bittersweet. “That would make me happy too, but you came up with that fairly quickly. Has that been the plan all along?”
“You don’t know all my plans.”
“I used to. We used to work together. I helped you get your law practice started, but since the hearing, you haven’t asked for my help.”
“I wanted you to stay away.”
“And that’s what I came to tell you. You’re getting what you want.” Her indignation encouraged him. If he’d had any doubt about her druthers, they were gone now.
He found her wrist, then slid his hand along hers, lacing his fingers with hers. “I love you, Caroline.”
She kept her face forward and squeezed his hand. “I love you too. That’s why leaving is so hard.”
“You aren’t a farmer,” he said. “And you aren’t an innkeeper. You belong in a town, but you won’t be happy in Galveston. It’s too settled, too civilized. My Caroline’s talents would be wasted there. You need a rowdy upstart of a town that’s just looking for some ornery women to tame it.”
“I thought I’d found the perfect place,” she said, “but it’d be too hard to be here with you, but without you.”
“Didn’t I invite you to come for dinner?” he asked.
“That was days ago. I haven’t heard a word since.”
“Because I was busy getting the house in order for you. Sophie, Millie, and Amber planned the menu for t
he meal. Mrs. Adams and Mrs. Hennessey were decorating. Bradley and Patrick put the flooring in, and then I hauled this table up here myself—no small feat on a ladder. All to prepare for a very special meal for a very special woman.”
Caroline looked around. She sucked her lips inside her mouth and then smacked them. “I came a day early, didn’t I?” Her eyelashes fluttered. She pulled her hand away from his. “I’m sorry. I’ll come back tomorrow. We can forget—”
“No, it’s too late. Sometimes you only get one chance to do it right.” He caught her hand again and dropped to one knee. Had he had another day, he would’ve gotten a rug placed for comfort, but the time was now. He’d almost waited too long as it was. “Miss Adams, in light of my fervent love for you and my promise to always adore and cherish you, I’m asking if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
Her face glowed. “Are you sure? You know what you’re getting into, don’t you?”
“Absolutely sure. And if we decide this isn’t the place for us, then we have the whole world at our disposal.”
Her mouth quirked. “I think you’re obligated to stay a few years at least, Mr. Mayor.”
Mr. Mayor . . . it was still hard for him to believe. But when nearly all the city council and officials were found to have cheated, there were a lot of vacancies. But she still hadn’t said yes, and that was more important than any election. If she was going to be stubborn, he’d have to be more persuasive.
He hoped she was going to be stubborn.
Standing, he pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest, both of them looking out at the sun going down over the roofs of Plainview and the verdant prairies beyond it.
“If I say yes, we live here?” she said.
“That’s the plan.”
“And the goat?”
“I forbid it from stepping hoof on the property. It goes to Patrick’s family.”
“Then I accept.” She snuggled closer. “But let’s not tell everyone just yet. I’ll come back tomorrow. I want to see this meal you had planned.”
“Not possible. They’ll take one look at my face and know you said yes. Besides, I’m going to be bragging about it to everyone I meet. For the rest of our lives, I’ll be bragging about how I claimed the major’s daughter. In fact, I’m going to Patrick’s tent right now so I can start spreading the word.”
“Isn’t there something you’d like to do before you go to him?” She smiled up at him and tilted her head just so.
“Actually, there is.”
Frisco hesitated just long enough to imprint the moment forever in his soul. The moment that his imperfect planning resulted in the life he’d always wanted. If his kisses were achingly slow, it was because he couldn’t get over the enormity of what had happened. He’d been dreaming about this for days, but there was one other thing he’d waited even longer for.
After Caroline and he had spent a respectable amount of time alone, after they’d found Patrick and accepted his congratulations, and after Frisco had escorted her back to the dugout—perhaps for the last time—he came back and found his traveling case.
He paused after he opened the latches. The bag hadn’t been completely emptied since he was a child, and then someone else had packed it for him. He’d learned to keep his things ready for the unexpected, ready for heartache, and ready to be uprooted, but no longer.
He lifted out his clothes, fishing in each corner to catch them all, and left them in a pile on the bed. Turning the bag over, he shook it out, just to make sure it was absolutely empty.
Amazing how light the case felt now. How easy to haul, but he wouldn’t need to haul it anywhere, because he’d found where he wanted to be.
He was home.
A Note from the Author
Dear Reader,
For me, the most difficult part of writing is the world-building. Before the plot can start rolling, the story must be anchored in a place. Decisions are made on the layout of the town, the floorplans of significant buildings, and the location of physical landmarks. I start with a blank page, and from that I have to create a community for my characters to inhabit.
The participants of the 1889 Land Run had the same task before them, but instead of looking at a blank sheet of paper from the safety of their office, they had a blank prairie. Instead of typing words, they had to pick up their hammers and shovels and construct homes and towns. And instead of there being one author at the keyboard, proceeding in an orderly fashion, there were instantly thousands of “creatives,” all working with their own idea of what the result should be.
As expected, the explosion method of city planning was not ideal. Conflict was rife from before the cannons sounded until today, when some city grids don’t match up because two founders started at different points and neither would compromise. Instead of discovering one quirky historical tidbit to expand on and fictionalize for this story, I had to limit the number of facts I included because many of them were unbelievable, although true.
The boomers’ illegal homesteading, people selling plots of land in cities that didn’t exist, jumping from moving trains, the voting methods and fraud, a photograph of founding fathers being used against them in court, and even the pay-as-you-go outhouses—all of that happened. I couldn’t begin to fit all the madness of that time into this story, so I encourage you to read up on it yourself. Two books I recommend are The Oklahoma Land Rush of 1889 by Stan Hoig and The Birth of Guthrie by Lloyd H. McGuire Jr.
One place where I did take historical license is that the term sooner wasn’t used during the 1889 race. Best I can tell, it was first used in court on October 1, 1890. Before that, the men who snuck across the starting line early were called moonlighters or moonshiners, but as both of those words have other meanings now, and sooner has been embraced as uniquely Oklahoman, I let it appear a year early.
Thank you for allowing me to share Frisco and Caroline’s story, along with some of my state’s history. If you’d like to hear about new projects, you can find me and news about my books at www.reginajennings.com or on Facebook. Please stay in touch. I love hearing from my readers.
God bless, and thanks for reading!
—Regina
Regina Jennings is a graduate of Oklahoma Baptist University with a degree in English and a minor in history. She’s the winner of the National Readers’ Choice Award, a two-time Golden Quill finalist, and a finalist for the Oklahoma Book of the Year Award. Regina has worked at the Mustang News and at First Baptist Church of Mustang, along with time at the Oklahoma National Stockyards and various livestock shows. She lives outside of Oklahoma City with her husband and four children and can be found online at www.reginajennings.com.
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Table of Contents
Cover
Books by Regina Jennings
Title Page
Copyright Page
Contents
Prologue
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A Note from the Author
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
List of Pages
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