Major's Daughter (The Fort Reno Series Book #3) , livre ebook

Baker Publishing Group - Regina Jennings

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172 pages

English

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Caroline Adams returns to Indian Territory after tiring of confining society life. She wants adventure, and when she and her friend Amber come across swaggering outlaw Frisco Smith, they find his dreams for the new territory are very persuasive. With the much-anticipated land run pending, they may just join the rush. Growing up parentless, all Frisco Smith wanted was a place to call his own. It's no wonder that he fought to open the Unassigned Lands. After years of sneaking across the border, he's even managed to put in a dugout house on a hidden piece of property he's poised to claim. When the gun sounds, everyone's best plans are thrown out the window in the chaos of the run. Caroline and Frisco soon find themselves battling over a claim--and both dig in their heels. Settling the rightful ownership will bring these two closer than they ever expected and change their ideas of what a true home looks like.

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Historical romance

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Publié par	Baker Publishing Group
Date de parution	03 décembre 2019
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781493420285
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	2 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0461€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Cover
Books by Regina Jennings
T HE F ORT R ENO S ERIES
Holding the Fort
The Lieutenant’s Bargain
The Major’s Daughter
O ZARK M OUNTAIN R OMANCE S ERIES
A Most Inconvenient Marriage
At Love’s Bidding
For the Record
L ADIES OF C ALDWELL C OUNTY
Sixty Acres and a Bride
Love in the Balance
Caught in the Middle
An Unforeseen Match
featured in the novella collection A Match Made in Texas
Her Dearly Unintended
featured in the novella collection With This Ring?
Bound and Determined
featured in the novella collection Hearts Entwined
Intrigue a la Mode
featured in the novella collection Serving Up Love
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2019 by Regina Jennings
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-2028-5
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.
This is a work of historical reconstruction; the appearances of certain historical figures are therefore inevitable. All other characters, however, are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Cover design by Dan Thornberg, Design Source Creative Services
Contents
Cover
Books by Regina Jennings
Title Page
Copyright Page
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
A Note from the Author
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
Prologue
M ARCH 23, 1889 W ASHINGTON , D.C.
F rom the growing ruckus outside the door, President Harrison could tell the time was approaching. Men who’d arrived early had tried to keep their voices down, but their excitement couldn’t be contained.
One scrawled signature, and the news would go flying across the country. Congressmen would rush to their offices, newspapermen would run to their wires, and the message would race from coast to coast.
Rush. Run. Race. That was the chaos his pen would unleash. The greatest race in history, with a starting line over three hundred miles long and the finish line wherever one found it. In less than a month, tens of thousands of people would line up on foot, on horse, in wagons, buggies, trains, and even on bicycles to race for the greatest prize ever—their share of a nearly two-million-acre bonanza, almost three thousand square miles of prairie.
President Harrison took one last sip from his cup of Darjeeling tea and set aside the tariff proposals he was studying. He motioned for his secretary to clear his desk before the impatient guests entered and the ceremony commenced.
This proclamation represented hope to so many—immigrant farmers crowded on the East Coast with no room to plant, black sharecroppers from the South who’d never found the freedom the war had promised, young men and women ready to strike out on their own and leave behind the dusty duty of their fathers’ trades. With all the Indian tribes settled, the Unassigned Lands sat fertile and empty while the nation waited, breathless, for his decision.
Congress had already amended the bill. All it lacked was his signature.
They entered with a burst of energy. Handshakes all around, with whispers from the Kansas delegation about the hordes already amassing on their border. Most of the representatives crowded around his desk, but some lingered by the door, jockeying to be the first out to make the announcement. The country held its breath. Across the plains, cannons were primed for celebratory firing, and punch bowls were set out for more genteel festivities.
There were no guarantees. Many would suffer disappointment, but he was giving them a chance. That was all they wanted.
President Harrison dipped his pen into the inkwell. Let them run. It was in the air and in their blood.
With the stroke of his pen, the matter was settled, and the core of the nation was forever changed.
Chapter one

A PRIL 16, 1889 P URCELL , C HICKASAW N ATION
W e’re getting a town lot, and it’s purt near guaranteed. You see, we ran into this man selling town lots in Fort Worth, so we’ve already put our money down for a corner spot, but we’re going to run anyway. I figure, why not? Make a claim on a 160-acre homestead, and then we can decide whether we cotton to the farm or the town. There’ll be plenty of losers out there to sell to when we decide which one we want. Easy money. That’s what I’m saying.”
In Caroline Adams’s opinion, the train from Garber, Texas, didn’t need steam power. It could have been propelled solely on the hot air provided by its passengers. She turned her face toward the window to squelch the impulse to challenge the braggadocian man seated behind her. Did he not understand the nature of the race? Why did he think someone in Texas could sell town lots in the Unassigned Lands when no one was permitted inside yet? And what town? Besides some depot workers, no one lived in the region. There were no roads, no houses, no neighbors. The whole idea was ludicrous.
Having grown up on the fort that protected the lands, Caroline had insight that no one else on the train possessed, but they wouldn’t credit it to her. They’d think her too fine a lady to know about the untamed lands they were headed toward—just as the society people in Galveston thought she was too uncouth to know her way around a drawing room.
There was a sharp jab on her leg, and Caroline turned to see her friend Ambrosia Herald wielding her parasol.
“You have that look on your face.” Amber’s blue eyes twinkled. “Scowls can cause irreversible damage to your skin, and once a wrinkle appears on the surface, it will never completely disappear. It lurks there, waiting for fatigue or age to summon it and mar your complexion.”
“You and your faux facts,” Caroline retorted. “You’re as full of malarkey as every other speculator on this train.” But while Amber was jesting, the passengers on the overcrowded train believed the tall tales they were spouting.
“Do you think you’ll see him?” Amber asked. “Do you think the infamous Frisco Smith will make the run?”
Caroline rubbed her nose. It had been two years since she’d seen the man in question, and his name still left her disconcerted.
Frisco Smith—roguish frontiersman and boomer—had spent more time in the guardhouse at her father’s post than at the illegal homesteads he tried to establish. She shouldn’t feel foolish about her youthful infatuation with him. He was, after all, uncommonly handsome and debonair. But when she’d left the isolated fort to move into society, she learned what her father had known all along. Men like Mr. Smith had nothing to offer a lady. She had to think about her future, which was exactly why she’d returned to Oklahoma Territory.
“Oh, I’m sure Mr. Smith will be about. He won’t pass up a spectacle like this,” Caroline said. “But you’d better prepare to see Bradley. He’ll be on tenterhooks, waiting for you to get to the fort.”
Bradley Willis was the younger brother of Caroline’s stepmother. Four years earlier, he and Amber met when she and her father were riding a herd of camels across Indian Territory. Of course Bradley would fall in love with a spunky camel-herder. And as both girls were daughters of cavalry officers, Amber and Caroline had much in common. They’d been fast friends ever since, often spending the hot summers together at Caroline’s grandmother’s house in Galveston.
Amber dug the tip of her parasol into the wooden floor of the train car. “I hope Bradley is eager. He claims that he’s determined to let his enlistment expire in a few weeks. If that’s the case, then there’s no reason the wedding won’t go on as planned, as long as he hasn’t changed his mind.”
Caroline snorted. “He fell in love with you in August. In Oklahoma Territory, any two people who can tolerate each other in August are in love. Otherwise the heat would make them too cranky to bear. He hasn’t changed his mind.”
“Purcell Station ahead,” the attendant called. “Last stop on the southern border of the Unassigned Lands. Thirty-minute stop, and then we’re pulling toward Oklahoma Station. If you are continuing on, don’t be late.”
Amber stood and shook out her white-and-green tartan dress. “Come on, Caroline. Let’s see the town—or at least, let’s let the town see us.”
Taking her reticule, Caroline stood in the aisle amid the boisterous passengers collecting their belongings. When she’d heard that the railroad had increased the number of trains to Purcell, she should have expected the town to be crowded, but nothing prepared her for what they encountered when they stepped foot on the platform.
It was like being caught in a cornfield that pushed back. No matter which way she turned, Caroline couldn’t see past the wall of humanity that milled around her. The air was stale with nervous sweat. Someone stepped on her toes. Amber was jostled against her with nothing more than a grunted apology to cover the offense. It was as if the denizens of every bank, tenement, and saloon had congregated in this small town in the Chickasaw Nation. And there was nowhere for them to go. Not enough hotels or public rooms. Which accounted for the odor.
“Have you ever seen the like?” Amber asked. “If you’re looking for a beau, there’s plenty to choose from.”
“Among these men?” Caroline responded. “Needle in a stinky haystack.” Still, the thought of who she might meet was exciting.
“If we want