What exactly he was promising, he didn’t know, but he wanted something here to be concrete and unchanging. Something that couldn’t be washed away by a good drenching and a strong wind. Something between him and her.
Maybe someday he and Caroline would live on that land together. Maybe she wouldn’t have to lose it after all. As long as he could return the investors’ money, there might be a solution for them.
“This is your photo.” He held it out to her.
“It’s safer in the portfolio. I have nowhere to keep it dry right now.” With her hand on his wrist, she turned it for one last look. “It might be a while before I’m that clean or dry again.” Then she wandered off to direct another injured settler toward the ambulance wagon.
Frisco pushed the photos back into the portfolio, but one got caught on the edge and wouldn’t go in without extra urging. It too contained a lineup of people he knew. With their august personages in a row next to a stack of bricks, it was McFarland and the rest of the Premiers posing like men were wont to do after some worthy accomplishment. At the bottom was written, Town Fathers of Plainview, Oklahoma Territory, April 22, 1889. The pile of bricks that were to become the partial wall of the bank were tumbling on each other as if they’d just been dumped from a wagon.
True to their claim, they’d reached the site first. The prairie behind them was void of the tents, wagons, and horses that littered it immediately afterward. Funny that even the photographer with his wagon had managed to beat lone horsemen. Frisco squinted at the picture. If challenged, they’d undoubtedly produce this photo as proof of their right to the claim. He should tell Mr. Lacroix that this evidence could make his case harder to win. Or maybe his client would be content taking one of the lots from the people who were pulling up stakes today.
Ike McFarland stepped into his light. “A moment to be proud of.”
Frisco looked from McFarland back to his image in the photo. “It is surprising that you were all acquainted before the run. What are the chances that you’d be lucky enough to be the first dozen to arrive?”
“We left together and knew a better route. Getting around that little canyon held a lot of people back.”
Frisco had counted on the same thing. And as deputies, they had access to the land before the guns fired. Plenty of time to plan their route. Of course, it hadn’t worked out as well for him.
“Some people have all the luck,” Frisco said.
“Unfortunately, our luck hasn’t held as well as we’d like.” McFarland squinted into the distance. “As our legal representative—”
“—on a contract-only basis—”
“—you need to be aware of some distressing news. Sometime last night, Mr. Sorenson disappeared.”
Frisco closed the portfolio with numb fingers. “Have you set up a search? If he was down by the river—”
“No, his disappearance seems to be of a more intentional sort. His strongbox and wagon are missing too.” McFarland tilted his head toward the never-completed wall, where Caroline sat next to a girl with a bandaged arm.
Gone? Sorenson had Frisco’s money. Money that people were coming to collect from him. It wasn’t his to lose.
“You have to have some way to track him,” Frisco said. “What bank did he work at previously? What were his credentials? Someone will know his family, his acquaintances. He can’t just disappear.”
“Credentials? In hindsight, that would’ve been a wise step before allowing him to open his doors. As it happened, we were so relieved to have someone settle here with banking experience that we didn’t bother asking exactly what that experience entailed.”
“Didn’t bother asking?” The air around Frisco turned sour. His bones felt like they’d had all the marrow bled out of them. In ten days, that money was due. It was his honor at stake. “I asked you specifically if you could recommend Sorenson. You vouched for his character.”
“You deposited with Sorenson, didn’t you?” McFarland shook his head. “Goodness, that’s a bad turn of luck. I apologize for my error, but I was sorely mistaken about him. How easy it is to be fooled. How are you going to meet your obligations now?”
“One hundred and seventeen dollars, gone.” People moved past Frisco in a blur as he tried to comprehend the loss. “One hundred and seventeen dollars. How am I supposed to recover?”
McFarland patted Frisco on the shoulder. “Fortunately for you, you’ve got good friends willing to help you out if you’ll let them. I imagine I could raise that sum easily among the Premiers. They’d love to see you more at ease, instead of running all over the countryside pursuing land disputes that have no merit.”
Frisco’s acuity returned with sharp focus. “Did you lose money, McFarland? Did Sorenson rob you too, or were you spared?”
“No, I wasn’t a depositor. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be in a position to help you now. Granted, nothing I can guarantee this minute, but by evening I should have a firm offer. I think we all appreciate what an asset you are to Plainview, and we don’t want a turn of bad luck to ruin you. Naturally there might be some special considerations that we’d expect you to make along the way. . . .”
“You want me to drop the land disputes? That’s what you’re suggesting?”
McFarland’s smile spread. “I wouldn’t be so bold as to tell you what to do, but with that kind of investment in your career, we wouldn’t want to see you waste your time representing grievances that are unfounded.”
Frisco couldn’t prove what he’d long suspected, but McFarland’s offer strengthened his hunch.
“I’m sorry, Mr. McFarland,” Frisco said, “but I’m unable to accept your generosity. I’ve already consulted with my clients. How would it look if I took money from you, then reversed course on my decision?” He could barely choke back his disgust, but he would rather win the argument before the land office board than here in the street. He’d wait until the time was ripe.
“Have it your way. Just remember, if you change your mind, the offer is on the table.” McFarland tightened his gloves as he walked away.
Frisco’s lip curled as he watched McFarland leave. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he wasn’t going to take bribes. The absconding of the banker left him without a choice. It was either get the land for his investors or default on his promise. Would Caroline understand? No, he wouldn’t tell her. It was his gamble. He’d protect her from the burden that he carried.
He looked around. A woman hung her dripping bed linens on a leaning clothesline. A man carried a wet bag of flour, looking for a dry place to lay it and perhaps save something before it rotted. Who else had lost their deposits? That money represented lumber, food, inventory to stock a shop once they got established—all things that Plainview needed. All things he needed. All things that the people counting on him needed and planned to buy with the money he had to refund them.
His fists clenched, grinding red mud deeper into his palms. He had imagined this so differently. He pushed up his already rolled sleeves. The storm had taken more than he’d counted on. It had taken what wasn’t his to lose.
The day was well-nigh over, and Caroline had worked harder in town than she’d ever worked on her land. Dredging up pieces of clothing, righting the contents of overturned wagons, holding terrorized children while their mothers doctored their scrapes and bruises—and all done while wearing a wet, sodden mess of a dress that weighed three times what it normally would. It should have been exhausting, but Caroline had never felt more needed. And the fact that she had toiled at Frisco’s side made the day that much sweeter.
With her arms full of household goods that had been scattered, she headed back to the lot where they were gathering all the items. The sun blazed every chance it got between the scuttling clouds, but it wouldn’t be enough to dry anything today. Still, it was good to see people carrying debris and sundries to the collection point as well as picking through to see if anything of their own had been recovered. Caroline found room on the tent canvas for the items
she was carrying, then hung up the fabric pieces.
“Here’s a something for you, honey.” It was Frisco’s friend Sophie, wearing a tray with a strap around her neck like the waiters on the train. She handed Caroline a cup of coffee. “You probably haven’t taken a break all day.”
Caroline had ignored her stomach pangs, knowing that food wasn’t likely on a day like this, making the coffee an unexpected and gracious gesture.
“How did your wagon fare?” Caroline asked.
“I lost my sign, but the canvas held, so the goods stayed dry. Better than I can say for my stockings.” Sophie’s skirt, which only reached to a few inches above her mismatched ankle boots, hadn’t been dragging through the mud, but her colorful stockings were splattered. She eyed the array of goods on the ground. “If you have stuff that goes unclaimed, give me a holler. Mr. Wilton is a right handy tinsmith. He might could tidy up some things good enough for us to resell.”
“I’ll talk to Frisco,” Caroline said, “but I imagine he’ll agree to giving you first priority.”
“And from what I understand, we now own a plot of land here. Someone pulled up stakes and left, so we’re here for good.” Sophie grinned, and for the first time, Caroline noticed a fine scar that ran from the corner of her eye to her hairline. Frisco had claimed that he’d never had good friends, but was Sophie an exception?
Caroline gulped a mouthful of lukewarm coffee before she lost her nerve. “So how do you and Frisco know each other?”
“Don’t worry, miss. Frisco and I would’ve never suited. True, he followed me around like a little puppy for a couple of years, but with him being my brother—”
“Frisco is your brother?” Caroline blurted.
“Not like that. He was in my family group. They grouped us together, and all us—me, him, Patrick—were named Smith and kept in the same area. The idea was that we’d stay together and have a nice growing-up like real brothers and sisters. It would’ve been nice, but then we got a new director, and he didn’t cotton to the idea, so we were back to being on our own. We kept the names, but it was no time at all before they hauled me out of there and sent me to work for a mean old woman on a ranch. I lost track of Frisco and Patrick after that.”
“They told you that you’d be together, and then . . .”
“It didn’t bother me much. I knew better than to get attached, but poor Frisco. He set such a store on belonging to the group. I remember worrying about him.” She shook her head, her natural ringlets bouncing. “Hogwash. He’s fine. Just look at him now. I should’ve learned my lesson. No sense in grieving over things you can’t control. Nowadays I don’t worry about Frisco’s heart, but I do have concerns over this mess he’s got himself into. I don’t know what he’s going to do.”
“Mess? What—”
“You know, don’t you? That town he was going to start. Well, everybody done paid him money up front, one hundred and seventeen dollars’ worth. But now he ain’t got the town or the supplies, and those people will be wanting their money back.”
“He has the money, though. He told me he has it.”
“Does he?” Sophie’s brows drew together. “I heard he put it in the bank, and if that’s the case, then he’s sunk.”
“Why? What happened?”
“I’ll tell you what,” Sophie interrupted, “if it was me, I’d get that sorry bum off my land. I don’t care who got there first, it should’ve been Frisco’s by right. But he’s too law-abiding for his own good. You’d think someone who spent the last four years illegally occupying the Unassigned Lands—”
“The law and the enforcement of the law were at odds,” Caroline said. She bit at a cuticle. “He found a loophole.”
“Whatever you say, miss. About the only thing that can help him now is to loophole that man off his land. Hey, maybe you could get your pa to help. Isn’t he someone important?”
If Sophie thought Frisco was a rule follower, she didn’t know anything about Caroline’s father. And she didn’t know about Caroline, or she wouldn’t be saying this to her. Sophie seemed to have Caroline pinned in her large brown eyes. Maybe Sophie did know something. . . .
“Anyway,” Sophie said, “I’m glad you’re here to help Frisco. He warrants looking after. I’ve got enough on my hands.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Caroline said. “If I think of anything he needs . . .”
She waited until Sophie had carried her generosity to the next worker, and then she spat on the ground. When had she taken to chewing her fingernails? They were too dirty to be anywhere near her mouth. Caroline didn’t feel clean at all. And as muddy as she was, the last person she wanted to run into was Ike McFarland, man about town.
“Miss Adams.” He’d lost his hat. His hair curled in thick blond waves. “Why am I not surprised to see you here, organizing the recovery of our town?”
“Actually, I was enjoying a cup of coffee.” She looked around for Sophie, but she’d moved out of reach.
“I admire your humility, but word has spread about your efforts. Your leadership was much needed today. And even more in the future. I’ve heard tragic tidings.”
“About those poor souls?”
He frowned. “Well, yes. Them, and also that our steadfast Mr. Sorenson has turned out to be a scoundrel. He left town last night before the storm and seems to have disappeared with all the money that was entrusted to him.”
Caroline’s stomach turned. “All the money gone?” So that was what Sophie had alluded to. Caroline scanned the area for Frisco. Did he know? “That’s terrible news, Deputy McFarland. When are you leaving?”
“Leaving? I don’t understand.”
“To apprehend him. You’re the law here. I’ll ask my father if he knows where Marshals Ledbetter and Reeves are. They’ll want to know what evidence you have, but don’t worry—they’ll find you on the trail. No use in waiting.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Adams, but you misunderstand. I’m no longer a deputy. That was a temporary designation. Now I’m set on helping our community in a more tangible manner, and I’d like your assistance, if possible.”
More tangible than getting Frisco’s and the others’ money back? A request followed a compliment just like the smell followed a pig. Caroline hadn’t spent many years navigating society, but she’d learned that rule. Still sickened by the news, she managed to reply, “How can I help you, Deputy—I mean, Mr. McFarland?”
“Before the storm, we were planning a grand celebration for Saturday, and now we think the people need it more than ever. We were organizing a bit of a parade, putting together some music, a couple of tableaux, and serving some refreshments. We want to create a sense of town spirit, something that brings us all together. Would you be interested in helping?”
“A parade when everything has blown away? I don’t know how that’s going to help. And I haven’t even looked after my own house. I might not be a neighbor to the town after today if my shelter is gone.”
“It won’t take much of your time. You’d be representing the spirit of Plainview—don classical dress, read a few lines, and pose in a tableau. It’d be a lot easier than the work you’re doing today. I hope you would think it worthy of your effort.”
“With all the work to be done?” Caroline wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. “My time’s too valuable to be spent on celebrations this week. There are a lot of people who need help.”
Then Caroline spotted Frisco leaning against the framework of a house that had blown down, steadying it while some other men nailed it in place. She’d ruined his plans, and she owed him.
McFarland followed her gaze. A slow smile spread on his face. “We can talk about your friends, if you’d like. Perhaps you have a suggestion for how we could convince you to participate?”
“One hundred dollars,” Caroline said. Her own mouth hung open in disbelief. She couldn’t believe she’d asked for so much, but why not? She recovered her composure and tried to look like a person who might be worth one hundred dollars
for an hour’s performance. Then, because she’d dared so much already, she said, “One hundred and seventeen dollars.”
McFarland smoothed his mustache as he raised his eyebrows. Caroline’s face warmed. Had she been too obvious? But McFarland didn’t scold her.
“It just so happens,” he said, “that we have those funds available. It’s a deal, Miss Adams. If you’re willing to do the presentation, I’m confident that our men will jump at the chance to secure your support. Thank you so much. I’m sure we won’t be disappointed.”
One hundred and seventeen dollars, just like that? But tempering Caroline’s surprise was her suspicion. Who had that kind of money? How could her appearance on a stage be worth so much to these men?
A piece of sun glimmered out from between the clouds, and Caroline blinked into the sudden light. Disasters always caught one unaware, but sometimes so did blessings. If this windfall could help Frisco, who was she to question it?
Chapter twenty-two
Amber shoved away from the window at the first sight of the stagecoach. Yes, she was anxious to see her parents, but she was more excited about what their arrival meant. Now that they were here, it was only a couple of days until her wedding. She ran onto the porch of Major Adams’s house. Ever since the fire and storm had destroyed the beginnings of her house, she’d found warm hospitality with the Adamses, who had welcomed her to take Caroline’s room.
Amber trotted down the gravel walk that hedged the parade grounds to where the stage had stopped. How was Caroline doing? Amber was surprised she hadn’t come back to the fort, but undoubtedly her underground house had fared better than the partially constructed cabin that Amber and Bradley had been working on. Major Adams reported that Caroline had been spied in Plainview, helping with the relief, so she must not have needed help herself. That was Caroline—landing on her feet and in her trooper’s boots.
A minister and his wife disembarked from the stagecoach first, and then her father appeared. Captain Herald stretched his full height and drew a deep breath of Oklahoma air before extending a hand to the carriage. Her mother climbed out and stamped her feet as she shook the wrinkles from her skirts. Amber’s steps hurried as she passed a drilling company. Bradley wasn’t among them—she already knew that—so her focus was entirely on her parents.
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