Historical Romance Collection

By Kathleen Hope

Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

July, 1863

            "Run, Christopher! They're right behind us. Get that nag moving. We're almost at the camp, but they're closing in on both sides!"

            Major Theodore Fields spurred his own small horse and drove it through the darkness of the forest path. He could hear the labored breathing of his brother's horse behind him. "Christopher, you're dropping back! Come on! Just follow me!"

            "I can't!" called his brother. "You go! Your horse is in better shape than mine. This one's too small and just worn out. You go. You have to get back home!"

            Theodore ground his teeth and cursed their luck. His own horse, Pitch, so dark he was nearly black, was hidden by the night and had enough strength left to get him back to the Union Army camp. But Christopher's horse –

            "You should have demanded a better mount!" said Theodore. But most of the U.S. Army horses were even poorer than Pitch. Most were like Cracker, the weedy little cream-colored scrub his brother rode now, and hardly worth the hay it took to feed them.

            Cracker was so pale in color that you could see...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kathleen Hope
• Release date: Jun 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386282235

Book preview

Place of Thunder

By Kathleen Hope

Table of Contents

CHAPTER ONE: GETTYSBURG

CHAPTER TWO: RIDING OUT WITH THE CAPTAIN

CHAPTER THREE: MAJOR FIELDS'S SON

CHAPTER FOUR: AN EXCITING INVITATION

CHAPTER FIVE: THE PROPER CHOICE OF ATTIRE

CHAPTER SIX: FLOWERS AT THE BALL

CHAPTER SEVEN: FINE LADIES AND HOT-BLOODED HORSES

CHAPTER EIGHT: RACE DAY AT FORT HUACHUCA

CHAPTER NINE: LIGHTNING AND THUNDER

CHAPTER TEN: THE BEST PRIZE OF ALL

CHAPTER ONE: GETTYSBURG

Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

July, 1863

Run, Christopher! They're right behind us. Get that nag moving. We're almost at the camp, but they're closing in on both sides!

Major Theodore Fields spurred his own small horse and drove it through the darkness of the forest path. He could hear the labored breathing of his brother's horse behind him. Christopher, you're dropping back! Come on! Just follow me!

I can't! called his brother. You go! Your horse is in better shape than mine. This one's too small and just worn out. You go. You have to get back home!

Theodore ground his teeth and cursed their luck. His own horse, Pitch, so dark he was nearly black, was hidden by the night and had enough strength left to get him back to the Union Army camp. But Christopher's horse –

You should have demanded a better mount! said Theodore. But most of the U.S. Army horses were even poorer than Pitch. Most were like Cracker, the weedy little cream-colored scrub his brother rode now, and hardly worth the hay it took to feed them.

Cracker was so pale in color that you could see him in a coal mine at midnight. He might be good for hunting frogs in the swamps at night, but nothing more. That animal should never have been bought for the Army!

He was all the Cavalry Bureau could get.

Theodore ground his teeth again at the mention of the Cavalry Bureau. Worthless scoundrels, all of them, pocketing the money they were given to buy decent horses and keeping the best animals for their friends. And the dealers they bought from were even worse.

Finally the two laboring horses burst out of the forest, one after the other, and galloped into a vast open field. The lights of the Union camp were down at the far end of it. Maybe they would make it after all.

But the Rebel patrol they'd run into wasn't going to go back empty-handed. Theodore could hear their horses crashing through the woods just behind them.

Cracker stumbled on the rough ground of the field but managed to stay up – though he was dropping back more than ever. Go on, Theodore! gasped Christopher. Get word to our parents! Someone has to be there for them. Go on!

No, Christopher! I won't leave you! I won't –

The little pale horse stumbled and staggered and somersaulted to the ground.

Theodore struggled to turn Pitch, but even as he did the shots from the Confederate soldiers pursuing them rang out. He could see the muzzle flash of their pistols in the dark woods.

Right here! The horse went down! He's ours, boys!

Theodore pulled his pistol and aimed behind him, but the terrified Pitch fought him hard and tried to run back towards the distant camp instead. Christopher! he shouted, forcing his horse around just as another shot rang out.

The last thing Theodore saw was a Confederate soldier standing over his brother and shooting at point-blank range.

By the light of the other soldier's lantern, Theodore saw his younger brother Christopher, just thirty-three years old, lying dead beneath his small and overworked horse in a muddy field at the edge of the Pennsylvania forest.

Christopher would never again go home to the wife and two young children who waited for him.

#

Near Fort Huachuca, Arizona Territory

July, 1885

On a fine hot summer morning, Daisy Mary Fields stood in the doorway of the largest barn and looked out at some unexpected visitors. There were three cavalry officers on small grey horses turning off of the main road and guiding their horses through the gates of Thunder Ranch.

Quickly Daisy stepped back before they spotted her, and then hurried up the ladder to the hayloft. It was quite easy to do since she wore trousers and a boy's shirt and boots. Up there, she could peer out of the large open window and not be seen.

Her mother and father always told her that now, being well past twenty, she was too old for such capering and should stop wrapping her chest and wearing boys' clothes; but she did not care. Daisy was quite happy with her life as it was and had no wish to change it.

But she watched very closely as the three men rode down their lane towards the house, barns, and paddocks of the ranch. Whenever Daisy and her four sisters had gone into the little town called Buena at gates of Fort Huachuca just two miles away, the girls had often seen the soldiers. And her father went regularly to the fort to talk to the authorities there about buying his horses once the colts were old enough.

Today was the first time in the three years that the Fields family had lived at Thunder Ranch, that Daisy had seen any of the soldiers actually come onto their property.

The three riders, all wearing sky blue trousers, dark blue shirts, and yellow neckerchiefs, rode up to the long front porch of the main house where her father stood waiting for them.

Good morning, Major Fields, said the first of the men, as all three of them dismounted. I'm Captain Brian Andrews. These are Lt. Forrest and Lt. West.

I already know these two, said her father, as he stepped down and shook hands with all three of the men. But I don't believe I've met you before.

You haven't, said Captain Andrews, with a nice smile. Daisy was fascinated by his smooth, slightly sunburned skin and light brown hair beneath his large dark blue hat. I just arrived with a few others.

Captain Andrews glanced all around. Nice ranch you have here. I didn't expect to see something like this right outside the gates of the fort.

We've been here for just over three years now, said Mr. Fields. Raising horses is our business. Saddle mounts with speed and endurance.

That's why I'm here, Mr. Fields, said Captain Andrews. I want to see any horses that might be for sale here at Thunder Ranch.

By way of answer, Mr. Fields turned and looked straight up at Daisy where she watched them from the hayloft. Bring out Bell Buckle and Mountaineer, he called. You can go, too. Hurry!

Instantly Daisy turned to go back down the ladder to the barn floor and get the horses. She'd thought she was hidden, but her father knew her well – though she couldn't imagine why he'd want her to ride out with these soldiers to go see the horses out in the fields. He was always scolding her about wearing boy's clothes, but she found them far more practical to wear around the barns. Her cousins, Luke and Paul, always had a few castoffs she could take for her own.

Daisy soon had the two horses saddled and ready to go. Before she left the barn, she tucked her pale blonde braid up under the tall grey cowman's hat she wore and pulled her blue kerchief up close to her chin. Usually she cared nothing for how she looked in her boy's clothes, but today – for some reason – she did not want Captain Andrews to see her looking like this.

Though perhaps if she was lucky, he wouldn't know it was her.

CHAPTER TWO: RIDING OUT WITH THE CAPTAIN

Daisy led the horses out into the yard where the men waited. She caught her breath as she saw the tall captain again, and this time noticed that there was bright yellow cord around the crown of his hat and a wide yellow stripe down the side of his sky blue trousers that ran all the way down to his brown leather knee boots.

Quickly looking away, Daisy gave Mountaineer's reins to her father and then swung up on Bell Buckle. Those two are quite a match, aren't they? said Captain Andrews with a laugh, as he and his two men remounted their greys.

He was right. The two horses did look very much alike. They were both tall sturdy bays – dark brown color with black manes and tails. One of their few differences was that Mountaineer had a white right hind foot while Bell Buckle had a white star.

What breed are they, Mr. Fields? asked Lt. West, as the group started across the yard.

I'd say Thoroughbred and maybe some draft horse, called Lt. Forrest.

You're not far wrong, said Mr. Fields. But I'll show you in a moment.

Together the five of them rode through the maze at the front of the ranch, comprised of the main house, a couple of bunkhouses, two large barns, several work sheds, and paddocks of all sizes with gates that could be opened or closed to make different pathways.

Finally they reached a wide gate in a wire fence – a fence that had just a single line of whitewashed board along the top. We're going into the Middle Pasture, said her father, and moved Mountaineer to stand alongside the gate so he could open it from the horse's back and then close it again once they were all inside.

We have three Bermuda grass pastures of about two hundred fifty acres each. This one, the Middle, is used for our yearlings and other young stock. The South Pasture belongs to Winchester and his thirteen mares, while the North Pasture is the domain of Alexandria and his fourteen. And look –

Mr. Fields sent Mountaineer at a canter towards the South Pasture. I think he's out to greet us! Come with me and I'll show you.

The five horses enjoyed a canter across the pale green Bermuda grass of the pasture. Daisy took a deep breath of the mountain air and happily followed along, watching Captain Andrews on his grey horse right in front of her and thinking of how she had never imagined this when she'd awakened this morning.

Then, as they all approached the board-and-wire fence dividing the two fields, Daisy became aware of a low rumble of thunder coming from across the South Pasture.

That's no storm, said Lt. West.

No, said Captain Andrews, standing in his stirrups a little to get a better view ahead of them. "It seems that Huachuca, the place of thunder, doesn't only refer to the summer storms in the mountains."

Daisy could not help but smile. He was right, for coming up over the rise in the South Pasture amid the thunder of their hooves was a group of bay mares. Appearing alongside them after a moment was the long-legged, long-necked, powerful bay stallion called Winchester.

There he is, with all his ladies, said Mr. Fields.

Thoroughbred? asked Lt. Forrest.

He is. So is Alexandria. Four-mile racers, both of them. I had them shipped from the Belle Meade Plantation in Tennessee and well worth every penny to do so.

What about the mares? asked Captain Andrews. They don't look like Thoroughbreds.

They are not. Mr. Fields nodded towards them. They are the best of the mustangs that run in this area and as far north as the Salt River, some two hundred miles northwest near Phoenix.

I like the mustangs myself, said Captain Andrews. The horse I favor is Lightning, a small chestnut from that same Salt River area.

Endurance, then, but not much speed over just a few miles, said Mr. Fields.

So many bays! said Lt. West with a laugh, nodding towards the mares. It's like looking at a wall of dark brown and black.

Indeed, said Mr. Fields. I'm surprised to see you men riding greys. You could see them in a coal mine at midnight.

But it's a tradition among the Fourth Cavalry to ride greys. And they look very fine on the parade ground, like Seashell here, said Lt. Forrest, patting his horse's neck.

And Oyster, said Lt. West, nodding towards his own grey.

And Francisco, added Captain Andrews.

Francisco?

Daisy caught her breath. She had intended to stay quiet and draw no attention to herself. But the horse's name –

Ah – yes, she said, in a voice as low as she could make it. I can see why a grey might be called Oyster, or Seashell. But Francisco?

It's for San Francisco, he answered, reining the horse around and looking a little more closely at her. And all the fog to be found there.

Daisy nodded and quickly looked away, pulling her grey hat down as far as it would go.

Well, gentlemen, said Mr. Fields, and turned his horse around after a sharp glance at Daisy. If you will join me on the front porch, we'll discuss the horses for sale over a brandy.