The Major's Daughter

by Regina Jennings

  Caroline took charge. “Everything is fine, Mrs. Wilton. You have some pots for sale, I see.”

  Frisco was bidding Mrs. Hunter farewell. Sophie raised an eyebrow. “Is that Martha Rosini? What’s she doing here?”

  Rosini? Was that Frisco’s family name? A quick look told Caroline that they didn’t want to be interrupted. “She’s a guest of Frisco’s,” she said. “Do you have any copper pots?”

  With a grumble Sophie rattled through her wares but didn’t come up with one. Just as well. Caroline hadn’t planned to purchase anything. Her sole object was to free up Frisco, and she’d succeeded. Sophie went her way, but not before Mrs. Hunter had scurried off toward the center of town, leaving just the two of them.

  “You’re going,” she said.

  “I have to.”

  “After the hearing in Kingfisher, you can catch the train—”

  “I can’t wait until tomorrow. I’m leaving today.” His eyes darted everywhere, not knowing where to land.

  “Today?” For the second time that day, Caroline was rendered breathless. “What about Mr. Lacroix and the others? Who will represent them?”

  “Come inside,” he said. “The picture is the evidence they need. If you’ll take it to them—”

  “Frisco, I know this is an impossible choice, but they’re counting on you. They’ve hired you to see this through. Without you at the hearing, McFarland is liable to swing everything his way. No one can replace you.”

  He looked ill but determined. “I’ve worked so hard on this case. It’s costing me to leave, but if I don’t go . . .” His throat jogged as he swallowed.

  “I know.” She placed her hand against his cheek. He turned and planted a kiss on her palm. “What if you find everything you were looking for? Will you come back?”

  “I don’t know what to expect. All my life I’ve kept my bag packed, waiting for a real home. She talked about my parents, my brothers. What if I belong there?” He took her hand in a grip that made her wince. “But I will come back. You will see me again. You don’t have to wonder about that.”

  “It’ll make the waiting easier.”

  “Thank you for taking the picture to the men. I’m confident they’ll prevail. If not, we’ll file again and hope for a second hearing.”

  Which didn’t sound like a good idea, but Caroline wasn’t going to argue with him. She couldn’t stand between him and the family he’d always mourned for.

  Frisco gave her the envelope with the photograph, and he already had his bag packed. After a few instructions as to where to find the men, and one scorching kiss, they parted.

  Caroline had done what she was supposed to do. The accusers squatting on their friend’s lot had been full of buoyant enthusiasm until they understood her mission. Then disappointment and hostility set in.

  “He’s leaving town? Today? He told us we’d go to Kingfisher tonight. What’s so important that he had to leave today?” Deavers asked.

  Knowing how protective Frisco was of his story, Caroline could only assure them that it was very important. They weren’t mollified, but there was nothing left for her to say.

  Feeling low, she considered going to the fort. Her father and Louisa would welcome her. And she hadn’t seen Daisy and Allie Claire in a long time. Nothing would lighten her heart like playing with her little sister, unless it was holding Hattie’s new baby boy. She’d need something to help pass the time until she heard from Frisco.

  “Something is bothering you to distraction. You haven’t heard a thing I’ve said, have you?” Ike McFarland was sitting on a chair in the shade of a tarp, his legs kicked up on a barrel.

  She’d already stopped, or she would have pretended that she hadn’t heard him. Yet it might be important. Since Frisco wasn’t here to handle the court case . . .

  “Excuse me. Did I miss something?” she asked.

  “I was wondering if you were going to be at the hearing tomorrow.” As usual, he sounded congenial and genuinely interested. What did he know?

  “It doesn’t concern me,” she said.

  “I thought you and Frisco were courting.”

  “And that doesn’t concern you.”

  He stretched his arms out to his sides before crossing them over his chest. “Don’t mean to pry, ma’am. I just wanted you to know that I harbor no hard feelings toward you or Mr. Smith. As a lawyer, he’s paid to represent a variety of clients. I can’t fault him for taking paying work.”

  This wasn’t a man worried about losing his property. He was confident. Too confident. Had he heard that Frisco had left town and wouldn’t be at the hearing? Caroline had just left the plaintiffs. Word couldn’t have spread that fast. How long had Mrs. Hunter been in town looking for Frisco? Had she talked to McFarland?

  “I found you a copper pot.” Sophie Wilton stepped over a pile of lumber and brandished a pot over her head like it was a torch leading the way to freedom. “I think this is just the thing you’re looking for.” Her short skirt and muddy stockings flashed, and McFarland grinned in derision.

  Caroline had nothing further to say to him. She turned and asked Sophie to walk with her. If she was going to become the proud owner of an unwanted pot, she didn’t want McFarland laughing at her expense.

  “I can’t believe you found one just like I described,” she said.

  “You have particular taste, ma’am. That’s a fact. But I hunted one down and offered top dollar for it so you could have it.”

  Caroline bit the inside of her cheek. She had to buy it now. Maybe Louisa would want it? “Can I pay in goats?”

  “I can’t keep a goat in our wagon.” Sophie laughed and held out the pot. “This will be a dollar fifty.”

  Frisco’s life had been turned upside down and the court hearing interrupted, and here she was, buying pots in the street. That wasn’t what she should be doing. But Frisco had hired a buggy to take him and Mrs. Hunter to Oklahoma Station to meet the train. There was nothing she could do to help him now. Nothing except keep her word to his old friend. She loosened the string on her reticule and fished inside for her money.

  Sophie waited with her hand propped on a shapely hip. “What’s Martha doing in town?” she asked.

  “Just looking to visit with Frisco.” It wasn’t her story to tell, although Sophie would understand better than most. Caroline found some coins, opened her palm, and pushed them around. “I only have seventy-five cents, but I’ll get you the rest after I’ve been home.”

  “Don’t bother. Now that I think about it, I probably didn’t pay quite that much for the pot.” Sophie handed Caroline the pot, then bent to stuff the coins in her sock. “What’s Frisco up to?”

  Her question carried no weight, unlike the pot Caroline was swinging. “I couldn’t really say.” She tested her grip on the wooden handle. Were people always this interested in Frisco’s whereabouts? Then again, maybe Sophie knew about the hearing. That would stir some interest. “Sophie, if you hear something about Frisco, please keep it to yourself for a bit. There’s no good that could come from spreading stories right now.”

  Sophie drew herself up tall enough to minimize her curves. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt Frisco. Don’t worry about me spreading stories.”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t accusing you.” Caroline squirmed under the other woman’s sharp gaze.

  “Does this have something to do with Martha Rosini?”

  “I’ve said enough. I have to follow my own advice,” Caroline said, although the news was burning inside her. Wouldn’t Sophie understand Frisco’s situation? Couldn’t Sophie lend some insight into what he was going through? But Caroline was stubborn. She didn’t know where this urge to ask about his aunt came from, but she wouldn’t betray him. He could tell Sophie about it when he came back. “Thanks for the pot,” Caroline said and turned to leave.

  But she couldn’t. She felt that she was on the verge of making a huge mistake. What would Frisco think to hear that she’d kept his secret for less than an hour? But s
omething was burning to be let out. She’d have to deal with the consequences.

  To her surprise, Sophie hadn’t moved a muscle. “That’s my girl. What’s stuck in your craw?”

  “Nothing is wrong. I just feel like talking to you would be wise. I don’t know why.”

  “You don’t think I have anything to add? Maybe not, or maybe something’s afoot, but I can’t help unless you ask.”

  “Do you feel that same compulsion?” Caroline asked. “Like it’s important we talk?”

  “That’s why I’m still standing here. I’ve learned that God talks to some people’s hearts, but He talks to my gut. And my gut says that Frisco is in trouble.”

  With a jerk of her head, Caroline motioned Sophie toward Frisco’s house on its quiet lane and away from the hustle of Main Street. “You saw that woman,” Caroline began. “Her name is Mrs. Hunter now that she’s married. She’s Frisco’s aunt.”

  “That’s what she said?” Sophie’s mouth turned down. “What else did she say?”

  “That his mother wants to see him—his mother that he’s never met. She’s on her deathbed, calling for him, but along with her are Frisco’s father and whole family. Mrs. Hunter made this trip to bring him back into the arms of the family that never forgot him.” Caroline waited to see if lightning was going to strike her, but no clouds appeared.

  “Every lost child’s dream.” Sophie tugged the open neck of her blouse closed and grunted. “They’re playing him for a fool. Look, Miss Adams, that Martha Rosini isn’t Frisco’s aunt. I almost didn’t recognize her in those respectable clothes, but she’s a riverboat gambler. Makes her money by the turn of a card. Got the best bluff of anyone I’ve ever met. She’s lying to him.”

  Lying? Why would someone do that? And Frisco wasn’t naïve. “The story she told had enough truth to it to convince him,” Caroline said. “Frisco isn’t easily fooled.”

  “He wanted to be convinced, and that story was concocted to hook him good. Besides, I guarantee someone let the goose slip. Said too much about Frisco to the wrong person. You have to figure out why she came. What would she gain by pretending to be kin of his? Why would someone want Frisco out of town?”

  Why indeed? He had warned her that his legal work would bring him enemies, but what did this woman have to do with that? Why would she want him to go on a pointless mission to find his parents?

  The timing. The hearing. Caroline’s fists clenched.

  “The hearing tomorrow. He’s going to miss the hearing. I’ve got to catch him.” Caroline shoved the pot into Sophie’s arms. “A horse. I need a horse.”

  Caroline ran toward the livery. Sophie hiked her skirt and tried to keep up.

  “That man, there,” Sophie panted. “He’s on our side.”

  A gaunt, redheaded man was pouring lead into a bullet mold under the shade of a covered wagon. His horse was tethered nearby.

  “Can I borrow your horse?” Caroline asked. “Please. It’s an emergency. I have to get to Oklahoma Station before the train leaves.”

  “The station? You’re going after Frisco?” He looked up at the sun’s placement. “My horse isn’t saddled.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Caroline reached for the halter and reins.

  “C’mon, Henry,” Sophie urged. “Do you want Frisco there tomorrow or not?”

  “Take it, take it,” he said. “I’ll walk if I have to. Just hurry.”

  Using the wagon wheel as steps, Caroline mounted and was off. Growing up with a cavalry officer for a father had given her advantages her whole life. Being able to ride bareback with the best riders in the West was one of them. Being fearless was another.

  Too bad Mrs. Hunter couldn’t ride like Caroline. In his impatience to get to Oklahoma Station, Frisco felt as tired as if he’d pulled the buggy himself. Maybe he should have. It couldn’t have gone any slower. But they’d arrived before the train. He had enough time to buy tickets. Enough time to wonder anew at the sudden change in his circumstances.

  “Would you like to get something to eat?” Frisco asked. “I don’t know if you’re comfortable going in establishments like the one here, but they’ll serve up a good dinner.”

  Mrs. Hunter shook her head in tight, short jerks. “No. I steer clear of places like that. Anywhere there’s gambling repulses me.”

  Frisco tried to ignore the smell of liver and onions coming out of the new saloon. Another start-up town just like Plainview. Everything growing and in flux. As he looked at the progress, it was easy to forget what he was doing there. As if it were just another day, waiting for the train. And Mrs. Hunter wasn’t helpful either. He’d peppered her with questions from the time they’d rolled out of Plainview, but she’d exhausted her gift of gab.

  If he were in her shoes, he’d want to know everything about his newly discovered nephew. He wouldn’t have been satisfied until he’d heard a complete telling of his life from consciousness to what he ate for breakfast, but she didn’t think along the same lines. She didn’t ask him anything and didn’t seem interested when he volunteered information.

  Then again, she was his aunt, not his mother. Which brought up another question. . . .

  “Do you have any children of your own?” He crossed his arms over his stomach to still the rumbling inside.

  “No!” She drew back as if offended. “Of course not.”

  “I just wondered, you know, if I had cousins.”

  “Cousins?” Her brow wrinkled, then she said, “Oh yes, cousins! No, you don’t have cousins. At least . . . let’s see. You could have cousins from another part of the family, if you want.”

  Frisco noted her complexion. Had she been in the heat too long? “If I want?”

  She shook her head. “There might be cousins. I don’t know. I’m not well acquainted with your father’s side.”

  He mustn’t judge her. She’d done so much for him already that she was entitled to a few quirks. “Coming here to get me must’ve been a huge inconvenience,” he said. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Anything at all for my favorite nephew.” She smiled and patted his hand.

  Favorite? More than his brothers? Frisco’s head hurt from trying to make sense of her willy-nilly pronouncements. Her sister was dying. Surely the stress had affected her, along with the heat, and the journey, and the hunger. The factors contributing to her confusion were myriad. He’d weary himself trying to get answers to everything.

  He was worried enough about the court hearing he was going to miss. Surely the men wouldn’t be barred from a hearing just because their representation didn’t appear. They’d have the evidence in hand, and it was only a hearing with the Land Office, not an official court date. Still, Frisco had seen smaller irregularities challenged and succeed in getting a case thrown out. He shifted on the wooden bench. As much as he wanted to deny it, he’d given McFarland and the Premiers an opening. If they wanted to protest on procedural grounds, they could.

  But what else could he do? After twenty-six years, his mother was asking him to come home.

  The bell hanging from the awning of the ticket office began to ring. A lady in homespun rose off the ground and picked up her crate of chickens. A cowboy waiting in the shade took one long draw from his cigarette before tossing it down and snuffing it out with his bootheel. An Indian in a striped shirt, broadcloth vest, and fringed buckskin trousers checked his ticket again.

  The train was coming. Whatever regrets Frisco had about his decision had to be set aside. He was sorry it was going to turn out this way, but he had no choice.

  He helped Mrs. Hunter stand and took their tickets out of his vest pocket. Who knew when he’d be back? He couldn’t imagine life with a family, but neither could he imagine life apart from the future he had planned in this territory. He couldn’t stay gone for long. Caroline warranted looking after, and—

  He had to be imagining things, because no woman would ride her horse onto the train platform. But if such a woman existed, she’d have striking red hair and
a cavalry trooper walking next to her, clearing the way.

  “Caroline,” Frisco called. He pulled Mrs. Hunter out of the line waiting to board and headed toward Caroline. She saw him. She spoke to the trooper, and he motioned the crowd to part as she eased forward. What was the matter? From the determined line of her brow, she wasn’t coming for a last-minute kiss good-bye.

  She slid off the horse—she’d been riding astride without a saddle—and handed the reins to the clean-faced sergeant. He saluted like she was his superior, then led the horse off the platform, apologizing every step of the way.

  Caroline wasted no time in greeting but threw both arms around Frisco’s neck. Frisco crushed her against himself—whys didn’t matter when embraces were offered. She must have left soon after he had. Another lady inconvenienced on his behalf today.

  But Caroline’s words blasted his feelings of gratitude.

  “Frisco, that woman is lying to you.” She smoothed his cravat. Her eyes were filled with sadness. “She isn’t your aunt. Her name is . . . I can’t remember her name, but Sophie knows her. She’s a gambler.”

  “My aunt is a gambler?” He tried to look past Caroline, but she wouldn’t allow it.

  “She isn’t your aunt, Frisco. The whole story was a lie. A very cruel lie. It isn’t the truth.”

  He wanted to shove away from it all—from Caroline, from Mrs. Hunter, from his packed traveling case, and most of all from the pain that came roaring at him with the speed of the approaching train. The image of his sick mother was too strong, too solid for him to ignore. With numb fingers, he removed Caroline’s arms from around his neck.

  The crowds surged around them. Thick smoke from the train’s smokestack clogged his nose and stung his eyes, but he singled out Mrs. Hunter. She looked over her shoulder at him, and her face was a mask as she joined the line to board the train. Between her fingers was a white slip of paper. Frisco lifted his hand, stunned to see that he only held one ticket.

  “She’s going without me,” he said. “Why would she go without me?”