Chapter Six
Minnesota Territory
June 26, 1857
There was no telling what awaited Elizabeth Bell and her two sisters when they reached the Northern Hotel. Elizabeth inhaled the humid air, wishing for a breeze as the stagecoach lurched and swayed over the Wood’s Tail. They had left St. Paul early that morning and her anticipation had mounted with each passing mile. By night’s end she would know how much work lay ahead before they could open the hotel. Maybe, just maybe, they would finally have the lives they had dreamed about since Papa abandoned them four years ago.
The last vestiges of daylight streaked across the sky, casting long shadows over Grace, who sat across from Elizabeth. A sudden bump forced Elizabeth to dig her feet into the floor to stay seated. She clutched Rose tighter on her lap so her little sister wouldn’t fall.
“Grace?” Elizabeth spoke quietly so she wouldn’t wake Rose.
Grace, just barely nineteen, stared out the window with thinly veiled hostility, unwilling to acknowledge Elizabeth. She had not wanted to leave their home in Rockford, Illinois, and had made the weeklong trip unbearable. “Could you hold Rose for a bit? I’d like to look at Papa’s letter one more time to make sure we’re going to the right place.”
Papa’s letter had been the only correspondence they had received from him in four years, and it had been written on his deathbed. He’d left them a hotel in Minnesota Territory. It was the perfect solution to so many troubles Elizabeth had faced in Rockford. She could get out from under a domineering employer, start over with a fresh reputation and take Grace away from the rough crowd she’d been going around with. If only Grace would cooperate.
She continued to look out the window and didn’t bother to respond to Elizabeth’s request.
Elizabeth sighed and repositioned herself on the hard bench, causing Rose to stir in her sleep. The four-year-old cuddled close on Elizabeth’s lap, her cheek pressed against Elizabeth’s shoulder, her soft curls tickling Elizabeth’s cheek. Mama had died giving birth to Rose, and Papa had disappeared the moment they finished burying her. His sudden departure had left Elizabeth to provide for her sisters. Thankfully, sweet Rose knew very little about all the pain they had endured and she had no memory of losing either parent.
Elizabeth squinted into the fading sunlight and noticed the first building they’d seen in several miles. She sat up straighter. Was this Little Falls? Their new home? She knew virtually nothing about the town, except for the gossip their stagecoach driver had shared with them—and none of it was good. A failing economy, a gang of desperadoes and a decline in population threatened her plans for the hotel—but surely hard work and dedication would go a long way toward their success.
Anything was better than their life in Rockford.
Another building rushed by, and yet another. The orange sunset sparkled off the Mississippi River in the distance. A sawmill appeared on the banks at the bottom of a hill, with a house and barn outlined in the shadows nearby. Soon dozens of various-sized buildings lined the main stretch of road. A church, a bank, a two-story general store and even a hotel called The Batters House Hotel. Elizabeth hadn’t anticipated competition, but hopefully her hospitality would draw customers to the Northern.
Grace’s stiff shoulders did not indicate any interest in the new town until a group of men shouted a hello at the passing stage.
Here and there people stood on the wooden boardwalks watching the stage roll by. Some came and went out of buildings, and others gathered in small clusters talking.
Most of them were men.
Elizabeth turned her attention toward the Northern. No doubt the hotel would be boarded up after Papa’s death. They might need help prying off the boards to get inside, but maybe the driver would have a tool for them to use. From the date on the letter, and the finality of Papa’s words, Elizabeth estimated that he had died about a month ago. She had mourned his loss, but had little time to dwell on what it meant. She’d worked for a week to sell their meager belongings in Rockford and secure their travel plans.
“We should be getting close,” Elizabeth said, excitement and trepidation making her voice sound higher than she intended. “The driver told us the stage stops right outside the Northern.”
Grace didn’t respond, her blue eyes, so like Elizabeth’s, focused on another group of men walking in the same direction the stage was headed.
The stage came to a stop outside a large white clapboard building. It was an impressive Greek Revival structure that covered the length of one city block, and looked out of place with the humble buildings
