rescuing.”
“I disagree.”
“I can see that.”
The river rushed past the building as Charlotte took several deep breaths.
Sawdust floated in the air and stuck to Abram’s wild hair. He looked so different than the man she had met seven years ago at the Fireman’s Ball. Why had Susanne fallen in love with him? Why hadn’t she learned her lesson from Mama’s ordeal? Mama had followed Father from the safety of New York State to pioneer in Iowa when Charlotte and Susanne were young girls. The hard life had taken a toll on Mama’s health. Instead of listening to the doctor and going back to New York, Father had chased one scheme after another, and their mother had succumbed to an early death—just like Susanne.
Tears gathered in Charlotte’s eyes and her chin quivered. She swallowed several times, trying to compose herself. “My sister left civilization, despite my objection, and she met an inevitable fate. I refuse to let you destroy her children in your plan to get rich quick—or to make a name for yourself—or...or whatever it is you’re trying to do.”
The tension fell from his shoulders and he looked at her as if she had struck him. “Is that what you think this is? I’m trying to get rich quick?” He raised his large hands, cracked and bleeding, and indicated his work-worn clothing and his scraggly beard. “Do I look like a man out to make an easy dollar?” His voice shook with an emotion as strong as hers. “I’ve poured my life into this mill, not to mention every last penny I’ve earned. Susanne and I mortgaged everything—”
“Including her life!” The words came out before she could stop them and she slapped her hand over her mouth. Pain filled his eyes—but at the moment her grief was so raw and fresh, she couldn’t stop herself from continuing. “You’re just like my father. You’re filled with an insatiable desire for adventure and challenge. You don’t finish anything you start, because you’re always moving on to bigger and better things—to the detriment of your family—”
“This time is different.” Abram ran his hand through his long hair, causing the sawdust to drift down to his shoulders. “Little Falls will rival any town on the Mississippi. Susanne believed in my vision—”
“Of course she believed in you. She saw the best in everyone—” A sob choked off her words and she turned from him lest he see the tears she could no longer contain. How could her sweet sister be gone? Her short life was snuffed out far too soon and her babies had lost their mama. Robert, the oldest, had just turned five, Martin would be three, and the baby, George, was not quite a year old. The boys had been without a mother for three months. Though Charlotte could never replace Susanne, she would honor her sister’s wishes and do her best.
She finally looked back at Abram. Susanne had been sick for months before she died. She should have gone to a city doctor, yet he had failed to leave his scheme behind to take her. That thought strengthened Charlotte’s resolve. “You can do what you will with your life, but Susanne’s boys deserve better than this, and I intend to give it to them. It’s what she wanted.”
Abram was still a young man, not much older than Charlotte at the age of twenty-five, yet the weight on his shoulders and the anguish in his eyes made him look much older. The fight was gone from his stance as he studied Charlotte. “Do you have the letter she sent you?”
Charlotte nodded and opened the door. Susanne’s wishes were as plain as could be. As soon as he saw the letter, he would agree, and Charlotte could get the boys ready to move.
She left the sawmill and walked across the board plank to the riverbank. Her trunk sat next to the house and she quickly opened it and found the stack of Susanne’s letters bound in red ribbon. She had put the letter on top, knowing Abram would want to see it, and rightfully so.
“Here.” She stood and handed it to her brother-in-law. “This is the letter she wrote right after Robert was born.”
He took the letter and scanned the paper, his brow furrowed.
Charlotte had the words memorized by heart. “‘Now that I’m a mother, I understand how much you sacrificed to provide for me after Mama and Father passed away. If anything ever happens to me, I can’t think of anyone I’d trust more to take care of my children.’” It was quite common for a family member to take over the responsibilities of child care when a father was widowed—especially when there was no one else to help. Surely that was what Susanne had had in mind.
Abram handed the letter back to Charlotte. “She didn’t ask you to take them to Iowa—”
“Of course she did.” Charlotte glanced at the letter to make sure she had given him the right one.
“I’m afraid this trip has been a waste of your time.” He closed the lid of her trunk and effortlessly hefted it to his shoulder before she could stop him. “You’ll have to wait here until the stagecoach returns. Until then, you’ll sleep in my room and I’ll bunk with my employees in the room across the hall.”
He turned to grab the doorknob but she reached out and put her hand on his arm. “Please, Abram. Let me take them back to Iowa.”
He stopped and glanced down at her gloved hand. It looked pristine next to his dingy work shirt. “The children are staying at the mission. I will take you to see them before you leave.” His eyes were filled with a warning. “But I will not let them go to Iowa.”
Charlotte’s chest rose and fell with her disappointment, but she wasn’t surprised by his declaration. Somehow she would convince him that sending the boys to Iowa was the best thing for all of them.
Somehow.
* * *
Abram pushed open the door to his home, cringing at what his sister-in-law would think of the dirty interior. It had been three and a half months since Susanne had died and she’d been sick for several months before that. The house was in need of a good cleaning—especially since five men now occupied the premise.
“I’ll haul this up and put it in the room you’ll use.” He stepped over the threshold and couldn’t help but look to see her reaction.
Charlotte’s brown eyes trailed over the main room and she lifted the hem of her fancy green traveling gown, as if she didn’t want it to get soiled.
He didn’t blame her. It was filthy—but when Susanne was alive, his home had made him proud. A large fireplace dominated one wall and modest furniture was spread around it. Four glass windows, a rare treat in Minnesota Territory, looked out at the river. Susanne had kept them shining, just for him—yet now they were dull with grime, just as his soul felt dull with grief. A shelf with Susanne’s books was near the desk in the corner and several muddy rugs were tossed about the room in no particular order.
A chicken ambled in from the kitchen and he winced. Caleb must have left the back door open again. It cackled at them and Charlotte squealed.
Abram balanced the trunk on his shoulder as he pushed the chicken toward the door with his boot.
“I was under the impression that this was the house.” She glanced around the room once again, a wrinkle wedging between her eyes. “Have we mistakenly entered the barn?”
He couldn’t help but goad her. “Hopefully only the chicken wandered in. We’ve been known to attract a few skunks and weasels, too.”
Her
