A Family Arrangement

Chapter Two

Charlotte walked up the steep stairs, a lantern in hand, ready for bed. She was exhausted from a week of travel, but she didn’t know if she would sleep. The house her sister had written about was not what Charlotte had anticipated.

She could overlook the filth and the farm animals roaming about, but it was the sparse furnishings and lack of amenities that had surprised her. Susanne had boasted about how well Abram provided for her—yet Charlotte had not seen anything other than the bare necessities.

Charlotte pushed open the door on the left and shone the lantern into the interior. It was just as filthy as the rest of the house—and cold.

She set the lantern on the bureau and crossed the room to close the open window. If Abram thought he could mask the stale smell, he was wrong. What the house needed was a thorough cleaning, and no amount of fresh air would change that.

The room looked toward the west, where the Mississippi flowed under the light of a brilliant moon. Charlotte leaned against the window frame, hugging her arms about her waist, and allowed the weight of her grief to sting her eyes with tears. Would the pain ever subside?

She glanced around the room. A small cradle sat in one corner and Susanne’s Bible lay on a table next to the bed, but nothing else marked her sister’s presence.

Charlotte put her hand over her heart and sank down to the mattress. “Susanne, you had so many hopes and dreams.” She had written to Charlotte about their plans for Little Falls and their growing family. They had been living in Little Falls for three years, yet what did they have to show for their work? Had Susanne really believed Abram would build a town? How long would she have waited for him to succeed?

Forever, because Susanne believed in her husband and his vision. That was why she had left with him even though Charlotte had begged her to stay. The day they’d left Iowa City, without saying goodbye, Charlotte had mourned as if Susanne had died.

It had been just as painful as the day Charlotte’s fiancé, Thomas, had left Iowa City to go west in pursuit of gold. He had gone without saying goodbye and she had never heard from him again. She had half expected Susanne to never write, but thankfully her sister had kept up a steady correspondence.

Charlotte didn’t bother to change into a nightgown.

She locked the door and lay on the bed, curling up in a ball. Tears wet her cheeks and hair, and stained the pillow beneath her head. The last thing she recalled before falling asleep was the scurry of mice along the floorboard.

* * *

A rooster’s crow pulled Charlotte out of a fitful dream. Thomas had been calling to her, and when she’d raced toward him, he’d run away, taunting her to catch him if she could. She opened her eyes slowly and blinked several times before she recalled where she was.

A knock came at her door.

“Breakfast is ready.” Abram’s voice sounded just as stiff this morning as it had yesterday.

She wished her stomach wasn’t growling so she could stay in her room and not face him. Instead she got out of bed and looked at her reflection in the dusty mirror above the bureau. Her hair stuck out in disarray, her eyes were still gritty from the late-night tears and her dress was wrinkled. She tried to smooth down her curls and tucked some wayward strands behind her ear, but it was no use.

She checked inside her shoes for uninvited critters and, finding none, slipped them on and then unlocked the door. The smell of fresh bacon and coffee wafted up the stairwell. Was that all these men ate and drank?

Charlotte descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. This time there were five men at the table instead of three.

Two older men glanced up at her arrival, their coffee cups halting midway to their mouths. One had stringy gray hair and was missing all his teeth. The other had thick red hair and a freckled complexion.

The one without teeth stood and then the other followed, their eyes a bit round.

“Milt and Harry, this is Miss Charlotte Lee.” Abram set the coffeepot down on the table.

The men nodded a greeting as she found her seat.

Caleb and Josiah immediately began to tease her and try to draw her out, while Abram sat at the head of the table, his attention on his meal. His hair was in need of a cut and his beard should either be trimmed or shaved completely. She could hardly remember what he looked like without all that mangy hair. She did recall that he was handsome, and she clearly remembered the first time she’d seen him at a ball in Iowa City.

He had walked into the hotel with an air of confidence few men his age possessed, and he had immediately caught her eye. It had been a year since Thomas had left, and she had been wary of romance, but when he had asked her to dance, she had accepted. The moment he spoke of his dream to prospect a town, she knew right away that he was like Thomas and her father, and couldn’t be trusted. After the dance she had tried to forget him, but it was impossible to ignore him when he came to call on Susanne.

Yes, he was handsome, but that was the only thing she had understood about Susanne’s infatuation, though it wouldn’t have been enough for Charlotte to make her heart vulnerable.

The meal finished and Abram rose. For the first time since she’d entered the room, he offered her his full attention. “I’d like a word with you outside.”

“Are we going to the boys?”

He put on his hat and coat and then stepped toward the back door. “I’d like you to see something.”

She didn’t bother with her own hat or coat, which were in her room, but followed him out the door and into a barren yard. The bright morning sunshine almost blinded her with its brilliance—yet the air was much colder than she had thought. She wrapped her arms about her waist and allowed her eyes to adjust.

Goats grazed nearby, munching on brown grass, while chickens waddled around and a pig snorted from a pen closer to the barn.

Abram walked with a steady purpose up a gentle hill toward the east, away from the river and sawmill. A small grove of leafless birch trees stood off a ways with a white picket fence nearby.

As soon as Charlotte realized his destination, her feet slowed. “Are you taking me to Susanne’s grave?”

He continued to walk. “Yes.”

Part of her wanted to see her sister’s final resting place—but the other part wanted to run in the opposite direction.

Abram entered the small graveyard and stopped beside Susanne’s headstone. A clump of wildflowers, wilted, yet not completely dry, lay on the grave. Had he brought them recently?

Charlotte slowly walked through the gate and stopped just inside the fence.

“It isn’t much.” He swallowed, putting his hand on the dark granite. “I had to send away for the stone, but I was pleased when it arrived.” It had Susanne’s name, birth and death recorded in simple letters. Nothing more. But it must have been expensive.

A lump gathered in Charlotte’s throat and she put her hands to her lips, holding back the tears that threatened to spill.

Abram turned to her, his shoulders slumped. “I know what you’ve always thought of me, but despite my shortcomings, Susanne somehow found a man to love.” He looked back at the headstone. “I never deserved her, and I told her that often. But she treated me like a king and made me very happy.” He put his hands in the pockets of his tattered work coat. “Maybe Susanne didn’t dream of settling a town before she met me, but she wanted it as much as I did when we came here.”

Her sister had been just as optimistic as Abram—even if misguided and unrealistic. If Susanne hadn’t been in love, maybe she would have understood the dangers of life with a man like Abram.

“As her husband, you should have taken better care of her.” Charlotte’s voice caught as she looked at the lone grave. “When she became sick, you should have brought her somewhere with a competent doctor, instead of leaving her here to die.” Father had done the same thing and they had lost Mama.

“The military doctor came from Fort Ripley and he said there was nothing left to do.”

“A military doctor? What does he know of female complaints?”

“I did the best I could—”

“I didn’t get to say goodbye.” A sob escaped her throat and she turned her face away from Abram, clutching the picket fence for support. “Not when she left Iowa and not when she died.” Her body trembled from the cold and grief.

He was quiet for several moments and then his coat enveloped her shoulders. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Charlotte squeezed her eyes closed as the weight of his compassion weakened her knees. She longed to share her grief—yet years of heartache and disappointment forced her to bear it alone.

She wiped her tears with her handkerchief and slipped his coat off her shoulders, handing it back. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

He took the coat and draped it over his arm but didn’t put it on. “Susanne and I wanted to build this town for our sons,” he said softly. “She wanted them here—”

“But don’t you realize things have changed—”

He held up his hand to stop her. “I know it seems impossible, but I believe this place will one day be a great city. It’s a legacy Susanne and I wanted for our sons.”

“You don’t really think you’ll succeed—”

“I do.”

She closed her eyes, tired of the unabashed optimism in his gaze—so like the look her father and Thomas used to have.

He cleared his throat. “Why don’t you stay here to help raise them?”

She opened her eyes and stared at him. “Here? But I have a business and a home in Iowa City.” She had made a living as a seamstress for eight years, since her father had died.

“You could be a seamstress here.”

“I have friends there.” Though not many since she devoted so much time to her work and had resigned herself to being an old maid.

“You could make new ones here.”

“There isn’t even a town here.”

“I’ll have one built soon.”

“How soon? A year, five years, ten? By then the boys will be grown, if they survive this place.”

“A year,” he said. “This place will be a real town in one year’s time.”

She shook her head. “A year?” There was nothing but trees, and hills, and tall, dead grass. “How will you build a town in one year?”

“More settlers are coming into the territory and speculators are arriving in droves at St. Anthony Falls, which is only a hundred miles southeast of here. If I had one or two investors, we could begin construction on more buildings immediately.”

“Buildings do not make a town.”

“What does?”

“People. Teachers, preachers, doctors—”

“There are teachers and a preacher at the mission, and the military doctor is at Fort Ripley—”

“No. Here. To make this place a town.”

“If I had a teacher, a preacher and a doctor living here, would you consider this a real town?”

“Not just a teacher, but a school. And not just a preacher, but he must have a church—a separate building from the school. And there must be at least one doctor in town.” She looked at the empty woods. “And then, yes, I would say it is a town—or at least a good start.”

Abram took a tentative step toward her. “Then this is what I propose. Stay for a year and help me take care of the children. I’m confident I’ll have a teacher, with a school, a preacher, with a church, and at least one doctor by November first of next year. But if I don’t—” He swallowed. “You may take my boys back to Iowa City with my blessing.”

Charlotte stood speechless.

He studied her closely. “It’s my only offer. If you refuse, you will have to return to Iowa City alone, immediately.”

“Why?” She shook her head. “Why are you giving me this option?”

“Because.” He paused and looked down at his weathered hands. “I know how much you want to be with the boys. And—” he let out a sigh “—I’m sure Susanne would want it, too.”

“But I can’t stay here for a year.”

He looked up, a challenge in his eyes. “Why not?”

“I already told you. My business.”

“Is there no one to do the work for you—at least for now?”

Of course there were people who could take over for now—but one year? More important, could she survive in a place like this for one year? Her sister hadn’t, and her mother hadn’t. What made her think she could? Charlotte never took risks. She had learned long ago that nothing good came from taking risks. She was content to stay in Iowa City, unmarried, and be a seamstress for the rest of her life. It was safer that way.

“Why can’t I take them with me and bring them back if you succeed?”

“I have no desire for them to leave Minnesota Territory. If you’re worried about a living, I would pay you to keep my house.” He studied her as if gauging whether or not she could do the work. “If you think you could manage.”

Manage? Hadn’t she been the one to care for Susanne all those years? “Of course I could manage.”

“Then you’ll stay?”

Charlotte wrung her hands. “Why a year? Why not six months?”

“That’s impossible.” He shook his head. “Six months from now is the first of May. I couldn’t build a town over the winter. I need the spring and summer—at least until September first of next year.”

Charlotte quickly calculated. “Ten months.”

He rubbed his beard, as if in thought. “If I found the right investors, I think I could do it in ten months.”

Was she mad to say yes and take a risk? But what choice did she have? She wanted to care for Susanne’s boys. They were all the family she had left. Her house in Iowa City was locked up and her customers could find other seamstresses until her return. There was nothing to stop her but fear.

She spoke quickly, hoping she wouldn’t regret her decision. “Yes.”

He became still. “Yes?”

She glanced at Susanne’s grave. She wasn’t doing this for Abram; she was doing this for her sister and her nephews. She could give up ten months of her life to ensure that Susanne’s boys returned with her to Iowa City.

And maybe, just maybe, she could make Abram realize how foolish his dream was and she’d return to Iowa much sooner.

* * *

Abram stared at his sister-in-law, suddenly unsure of the agreement they had just made. He had set out to convince her to stay on as his housekeeper, yet now he had agreed to send the boys with her if he couldn’t build a town. What had he been thinking? What if he didn’t succeed? How would he live without his boys?

Yet the truth had been evident since Susanne had died and he had sent the boys to live at the Belle Prairie Mission. This settlement was no place for growing boys without a woman to care for them. Charlotte’s sudden appearance seemed like an answer to an unspoken prayer—even if it meant living under the same roof with her.

No matter what, he would have a teacher, a preacher and a doctor living in Little Falls within ten months. Miss Charlotte Lee would go back where she came from, and at that point, the population would boom and there would be other women available to hire as a full-time housekeeper. If he succeeded.

“Are we going now?” she asked.

“Going where?”

“To get the boys.”

He shook his head, still a bit unsettled by the sudden shift in his plans. “Not today. I have another lumber order I need to deliver to Fort Ripley on Monday and I only have today to work on it. We’ll go for them tomorrow.”

She shivered and wrapped her arms around her body.

“You should get back inside,” he said, leaving the graveyard.

“I’ll go after them,” she said, keeping up with his long-legged stride. “I’ll hook up the wagon and fetch them myself.”

“No. The boys have been through enough change these past few months already. I want to be there when you meet them.”

“Abram, I’ve waited five years to meet the boys—”

“And you can wait one more day.” He hated to sound so heartless but she had to understand that there was work to do, and only so much time in a day to get it done. “Use today to get the house ready.”

By the set of her shoulders he could see she didn’t like his answer, but she had little choice.

“See that dinner is ready by noon,” he said. “And then bring us a light lunch in the midafternoon. We’ll work until dark, so have supper ready at eight. You’ll find everything you need in the pantry and root cellar under the lean-to.” He inspected her fashionable gown and recalled how she had responded to the chicken and the dirt yesterday. “Do you think you can manage all that?”

She didn’t respond but set her mouth in a firm line and veered off toward the house like a soldier marching into battle.

Susanne claimed she had learned how to work hard from Charlotte, but he wondered if his wife had been stretching the truth. From her neatly pinned hair to her polished boots, Charlotte didn’t look as if she had ever lifted a finger in her life. Could she keep his home and provide care for his children?

There was only one way to find out.

Abram put his hands in his pockets and walked with determination to the mill.

On Monday morning he would make a trip to St. Anthony Falls and talk with several men who were interested in investing in his town. There had been dozens of men who had come to look over the area since Abram had bought the sawmill and property in 1851, but he had turned each one down, determined to make a go of it himself. After three years of barely getting by—and now his deadline to produce a town in ten months—he had no other options. He needed to find financial partners whether he wanted to or not.

* * *

Charlotte opened the lean-to door and entered the house. After five long years she had hoped to meet her nephews. One more day felt like an eternity.

She stood just inside the lean-to with her hands on her hips and looked at the stack of dirty clothes, the cobwebs in the corners and the dirt on the floor. The housework loomed in front of her like a battlefield. She must strategize an attack or it might overwhelm her—and that was the last thing she could allow. She would prove to Abram that she was more than capable of taking care of his home.

She walked into the kitchen and inspected the greasy stove, the stack of dirty dishes and the mouse droppings. Her mother’s chore rhyme ran through her mind: wash on Monday, iron on Tuesday, mend on Wednesday, churn on Thursday, clean on Friday, bake on Saturday and rest on Sunday. Since today was Saturday, and she would never think to bake in such a filthy kitchen, she would spend the remainder of the day cleaning and then start fresh on Monday morning with the wash.

She went to her room, changed into a work dress and apron, tied a red handkerchief around her hair and then set to work pumping water into a large kettle. At least she didn’t have to sit around all day and fret about Susanne’s boys. She enjoyed staying busy. It was a way to feel in control.

She scoured every surface in the kitchen, including the ceiling, with hot water and lye soap. When that was done, it was time to prepare dinner. She did a quick inventory of the pantry and was surprised at the abundance it contained. Flour, sugar, coffee, dried apples and dried beans. The root cellar was just as impressive with fresh eggs, milk, venison and a barrel full of salt pork. There were several bins of recently harvested vegetables, as well, so she picked out some potatoes, carrots, rutabagas and radishes.

She could make a nice stew with biscuits and dried apple pie for supper. But for dinner she didn’t have time to produce much, so she decided to fry up some bacon. If it was good enough for supper and breakfast, then it should be good enough for dinner, too.

Charlotte removed the last piece of bacon from the grease when the back door opened and Abram walked in with his crew.