Chapter thirteen

She could do this. She could.

Amber hooked the heel of her boot on the plow and bounced on it. The reins had gone slack as the horse waited for her command. Convinced she had the clod busted, she called to the horse, and it stepped forward. Success. The plowshare—that was what the instruction booklet had called the blade—sliced through another six inches of red soil, then popped up. Another clod? Amber wiped the sweat from her eyes. She wouldn’t give up. She had to get the field plowed. She threw her weight against the handles to drive the blade back into the ground. Another call to the horse. Another six inches before the blade hopped out again.

This would take forever.

She’d been proud that she’d succeeded in the race, proud that she’d made it to Darlington and back with her supplies, and thrilled when she’d managed to set up a tent on her own land with the help of the Schneiders, but now it was time to settle down and start this farm, and she’d met with nothing but discouragement. The two lines she’d managed to scratch in the dirt snaked back and forth, overlapping each other and separating. The handbook she’d bought described the correct method, but it didn’t explain how to instantly make oneself stronger and heavier to control the plow.

Three steps, then stopping the horse to drive the plowshare back into the ground. Three steps, maybe four if she was lucky. She might get half a line done before it was time for dinner. Or maybe she wouldn’t stop for dinner. It didn’t seem worth the hassle and cleanup. She didn’t have anything hot to eat anyway.

She gasped and dropped the handle of the plow. Pulling off her glove, she turned her hand over to see watery blood trickling from a broken blister. She hadn’t thought to include bandages in her supplies. The homesteaders’ handbook hadn’t listed them as a necessity.

Maybe she’d take time for dinner after all. Keeping one hand clenched, she tried to unhook the trace from the collar to give the horse a break, but her fingers were too weak. Biting her lip, she straightened her hand and pried her numb fingers open. If she were just a little stronger, a little tougher, how much easier this would be. But even then, there was so much to do.

The horse could wait until after she’d eaten. Wearily, she walked to the tent and, taking a knife, cut off a piece of a rag she’d brought along. She wrapped it around her hand. With a wince, she tugged it tight, but tying it with one hand proved more difficult than she’d imagined. Biting on one end of the rag, she made a loop, but before she could thread it, she heard someone outside.

“Amber? Are you in there?”

Her hand dropped to her lap, and she felt giddy with relief. “I’m here,” she called.

Bradley’s outline moved across the tent’s canvas before he came through the door. Her heart swelled at the dashing figure he cut in his cavalry uniform and his shiny black boots. There was no one she’d rather see at that moment.

He stood over her, his hands on his waist. “You can’t quit already,” he said. “You’ve barely got started. If we don’t get the seeds planted before summer hits, then we won’t have anything to show for our first year. Nothing to eat. There’s not time to sit around and daydream.”

Amber blinked. “Excuse me?”

“And you’re doing the furrows the wrong way. You have to put them in against the slant of the land, or the topsoil will disappear with the runoff. Thankfully, you’re only getting started. By the end of the day you should have—”

She jumped to her feet. “You haven’t asked how I am, how I’m doing, or if I’m hurt. You just come in telling me what to do and telling me that I’ve done it wrong. But where have you been? Sitting on a horse and parading around when you could’ve been helping me?” She looked for something to throw at him as her indignation grew, but she was too tired to give it much effort.

“Oh, simmer down,” he said. “I’m doing everything I’m assigned to do, including hauling Caroline’s personal things to her by request of Major Adams. He gave me leave for the rest of the day, so here I am. Now you don’t have to worry about anything.”

Her hand fell on her pillow. If she couldn’t find anything heavier, it’d have to do. He was smiling so big that he didn’t see it coming. Amber swung and walloped him upside the head.

“That’s what you should’ve said in the first place.” She drew back to hit him again, but he intercepted her and pulled her into his arms.

“I’ve always been slow about my lessons, honey. But once I learn them, I learn them good.”

He cradled her head against his chest. Her burden felt lighter, although her hand stung just as sharply.

“First I’m going to tend to that hand.” He smoothed her hair off her damp forehead. “Then I’m going to get behind the plow while you fix us some dinner. I should have an acre or so done before I need to get back to stable call. You know, it would help if you had a real pulling horse and not Daisy’s favorite racer.”

“Major Adams is being kind enough to let me borrow her for now. If you want to buy us something stronger . . .” She stepped back to look him in the face. “How’s Caroline?”

“I haven’t been there yet. We can take her things to her this afternoon. The old major was beside himself when he realized she was gone. Poor Lieutenant Hennessey. He had his hands full keeping the major calm until they located her.”

“Daisy didn’t tell?”

Bradley’s eyebrows shot up. “Daisy knew? No, she didn’t tell. That’s a first.” He straightened his back, and his smile spread. “I think we’ve done it. We’re going to make it.”

“We’re a long way from making it,” Amber said. “Just getting the crops in is more than I can do alone. Even if the crops make it, who knows if it’ll be enough to live on or not?”

“If we come up short, I’ll find work. The fort employs civilians to haul wood. Or I can hire on with the muleskinners and bring supplies to the fort. Louisa knows some fellas out of Kansas—”

“Then you’d be gone.” Amber took his hand. “I don’t want to be here alone any more than necessary.”

“Just think of Caroline at that claim all by herself.”

“She’s fine,” Amber said. “As long as she has a locked door to sleep behind, she can tackle any other problem.”

“A locked door? She has a house?” Bradley shook his head. “That’s Caroline for you. Always lands on her feet. Was it an old Seminole place?”

“No, actually, Frisco Smith built it. He’d come out early to fix things up. Just took it for granted that he’d be here first.” She chuckled. “He was wrong. Never underestimate the power of a determined woman.”

Bradley’s smile faded. “This is someone else’s land? You took someone’s else’s land?”

“Not me. Caroline. Frisco had been hiding out on the land next to ours, and Caroline got the spot he prepared. The well is dug. The house is built, stocked even. All that work, and then it’s gone. Sometimes the luck just isn’t with you.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.” Bradley released her hand after finishing the knot in her bandage. “We’ll have to talk some sense into that girl.”

Amber shrugged. “It’s legal, but don’t go too hard on her. Changing course doesn’t come easy for her.”

“She decided to try her hand at this easily enough. Now she can undecide.”

A spark of worry flared in Amber at Bradley’s set jaw. Funny how simple a stubborn person thought it was to make another stubborn person change their mind.

The rope burned Caroline’s palms as she pulled it, hand over hand, to raise the bucket out of the well. Frisco had given her a start with the garden, but it hadn’t rained in the four days she’d lived there, and the ground looked dry. That meant hauling paltry bucket after bucket out of the ground, then dragging it over to splash against the thirsty soil. After sloshing half the water against her legs, a bucket only covered three feet of ground. At this rate, Caroline would have to make how many trips? She closed her eyes to rest them from the piercing blue of the sky. Not knowing would be better. She should just put her head down and keep working.

The air was so crisp that it felt like she could bend it and it would snap like a fresh stalk of celery. It gave her energy to continue despite the soreness in her muscles and the sores on her hands. She’d keep working, but the sounds from town tantalized her. When the wind was right, she heard voices, animals, and incessant hammers. Occasionally there was music and laughter. None of that was happening where she was, but this was where she needed to be. In town, she’d just be a spectator. On her homestead, she had a future, and that future was becoming clearer every hour.

With the paper and pen that her father had sent with her nightly sentinel—who was completely unnecessary, thank you—she’d sketched out where her house and gardens would lie. She was enamored with designing a garden that would be beautiful and would produce marketable herbs. Already Caroline had a list of starters and seeds that she’d need to order from the seed catalog. She could afford that improvement. The house was another matter.

Before she could borrow money on her business idea, she had to have proof of what she proposed. Setting aside her lofty ambitions, she’d sketched a modest floor plan for the first stage, but lines on a piece of paper didn’t accomplish much. Who would build it? How did she get started? After Amber’s father had retired from the army, she and her mother had designed and overseen the building of their first privately owned home, so Caroline had asked her friend’s advice with the first drafts. When she was ready to build, Lieutenant Bigelow, who oversaw the construction on the fort, would be able to advise her, but he wouldn’t know who she could hire. He had the soldiers at his beck and call. Caroline had nothing.

“Bucky, you stay away from the shoots,” she called.

The black-and-white goat waggled its beard as it chewed on the tender plants. With a grunt, Caroline emptied the water on the kid’s head. It pranced off, stiff-legged and dripping, but not deterred. It would return as soon as she turned her back. Dropping her bucket, she ran after the goat, catching it by its rope collar.

“There’s plenty of grass around here,” she said as she pulled Bucky to her tether. “If you can’t stay out of the garden, it’s back on the rope for you.” When she knelt, she felt every sore muscle in her back. After securing the rope, Caroline paused to stretch, bending this way and that to relieve the parts of her that had worked so hard, but she couldn’t dally. The day would only grow hotter.

Instead of using her arms, this time Caroline tossed the well rope over her shoulder and walked away from the well, letting her legs do the lifting. See, she could learn. While Amber’s book was full of helpful information, it didn’t include things like how to haul water out of a rough, unfinished well, so it was good that Caroline could think for herself.

Was that a government wagon coming across the field? If the fort was giving away wagons, Caroline should be first in line. Then, with some barrels, her chore would be so much easier.

She had time for one last trip to the garden before the wagon was close enough for her to see that it was Amber and Bradley paying a call.

Noticing the bundles in the back of the wagon, Caroline grinned as she gave way to orneriness. “Are you pulling up stakes already? That didn’t take long.”

Bradley rolled his eyes. “Nobody’s quitting—at least on our end.”

His peevish tone took Caroline aback. What was stuck in his craw? “I didn’t mean to insult you. I can’t say that quitting hasn’t crossed my mind over the last few days.”

“Well, you should quit, Caroline. You should.” Bradley threw the brake and helped Amber down from the wagon.

Caroline dropped her bucket and wiped her hands on her skirt. “What’s wrong with you?” If anyone should have been in high spirits, it was Bradley.

“This isn’t a task for a lady like yourself. Look at you, covered in sweat and dirt. Wouldn’t you rather be back at the fort with Daisy and Allie Claire?”

Caroline’s mouth tightened. “I’m not quitting.” She picked up the bucket and headed toward the well.

“Of course you’re not.” Amber ran to catch up with her. “Bradley doesn’t mean anything. He’s just out of sorts.”

“And why would that be?” Bradley called from behind them. “Maybe because she’s claiming land she has no right to?”

That stopped Caroline in her tracks. “Horsefeathers.” She spun around to face him. “You saw us at the starting line. You know I ran a fair race.”

“This is Frisco’s land.” Bradley stomped forward. “You of all people should know how important this is to him. He had people counting on him. A lot of people. I can’t believe you have no concern for him.”

Amber stepped between them. “Caroline doesn’t need our permission to live here. It doesn’t affect us.”

“Absolutely it affects us. We’re her friends—I’m her family. Do you want to be associated with someone who stabs a man in the back like that?” Bradley asked.

Caroline dropped her bucket. “Stab him in the back? I did no such thing.”

“Actually, I’ve always thought you were a little sweet on him—”

Caroline didn’t let Amber finish. “Frisco is doing just fine. He’s got a city lot just over the ridge.”

“With a well and a house and a crop planted?” Bradley’s eyes flashed. “With supplies that he bought and stocked? Room for the people he’s contracted with? I’d rather you say that you didn’t care what happened to him than pretend that he’s better off because of your betrayal. And what did you do it for? As a lark?”

“I’m doing it for the same reason you are—for a future. I have a plan.”

“And what about next year? I doubt Frisco Smith will come and plant you a garden again. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he shows up in a few months and collects his crops. It’s his right, you know. And you couldn’t do anything to stop him.”

“It figures you would take Frisco’s side. You’re both ne’er-do-wells, always looking for some shortcut to riches.” Caroline’s fingernails dug into her palms.

“How is it that I’m taking a shortcut? You’re living in Frisco’s house and drawing water out of his well. You even took his goat.” Bradley’s shoulders twitched. “What did I do, besides expect you to act minimally decent to a friend of ours? Evidently that was too much to ask.”

“I don’t need etiquette lessons from the likes of you,” Caroline yelled back. “I’ve been in high society.”

“Another way of saying that you’ve leeched off others’ profits. For the last four years, I’ve served in the cavalry. You’ve served lemonade.”

Amber propped her fists against her hips. “That’s enough, you two. Caroline, it’s not too late to make this right. Why don’t you give Frisco his land back? Then, if you still want to share in the adventure, you can come stay with me.”

Caroline thudded her boot against the overturned bucket. “In a few weeks, you’ll be married. Then you won’t want me there any longer, will you?”

“No, she won’t,” Bradley said. “You should go back to the fort. You have a father, Louisa, and two sisters. Frisco has no one. It isn’t right.”

“You do realize that if I hadn’t shown you the pass through the canyon, you wouldn’t have your land either? You need to think about that before you start judging me.” Caroline picked up the bucket and hurled it into the well. “I’m staying. I have my father’s approval. I don’t need yours.”

She waited for Amber to make another attempt at reconciliation but was only met with silence. When Bradley stalked away, Amber dropped her chin and turned to follow him.

“That’s it?” Caroline asked. “You’re going to let him talk to me like that?”

“Don’t make me choose between you.” Amber’s gaze was unflinching. “You both need to simmer down. Until then, I have a farm to tend.”

Amber’s answer stung. With a grunt, Caroline pulled the rope until the bucket reached the edge. It was so unfair. For every plot that was claimed, there were three people who didn’t get one. What if someone else had claimed Frisco’s land? Would Bradley think poorly of them, or would he chalk it up to bad luck and move on?

She should help them unload the bundles from the back of the wagon, but Bradley wasn’t waiting on her. Without any preamble, he’d pushed a trunk to the edge of the wagon and let it fall. Despite Amber’s protests, he tossed Caroline’s bags on top of the trunk before lifting Amber into the wagon and driving away.