by Danni Roan
Used to the convenience of her own two feet, Mari chose to walk the four miles to Pelican Rapids. It felt good to stretch her legs. Back home she had walked the two miles between her cottage and the mill six days a week and the sudden inactivity of her arrival in Minnesota was beginning to tell.
As the sun burst over the trees bathing the damp earth in its golden rays, Marni breathed in the smell of fields, gardens, and farms, things familiar in this unfamiliar place.
Although Marni had told Minnie that she was heading to town, in her heart she knew she was walking in to get a closer look at the river and the pelicans she had heard still landed there amidst the busy town.
Crossing Ottertail Street the young woman skirted the busier street letting wagons, and carriages pass her by with no more than a sideways glance. A few of the drivers called out as they passed, but Marni simply waved them on, her heart and mind set on her goal. However, when a buckboard pulled by a lean bay mare passed, she looked up in hopes of seeing the man who had ferried her to the farm days earlier, only to be disappointed to see a young couple sitting on the bench seat.
Traffic thickened as Marni drew closer to the town, and she turned down Birch hurrying forward as the morning light glinted off the slow-moving water in the middle of the town. In the distance, the sound of a train whistle made her smile, and the soft chime of the church bell echoed over the bustling burg.
Making her way to the bridge that crossed the river on Birch Street, Marni walked out onto the wooden structure and gazed upriver where the roiling water frolicked over hidden rocks below.
Pulling a small pair of binoculars from the pocket of her coat, the dark-haired woman peered along the river catching her first glimpse of the odd-looking birds that had given their name to the river and the town.
Around and above the tumbling water the large birds, so ungainly looking and odd, dove into the cool waters rising again with a bill pouch full of water and fish as they squawked and dodged their fractious kin.
Marni leaned her arms on the thick wooden railings along the bridge and watched the water flowing below. It was such a blessing not to have a bevy of suitors following her, insisting that she would be better-off if she married one of them.
Other than the occasional tip of the hat or good morning from passersby, she had been completely un-accosted by any of Pelican Rapids’ male populace. It was refreshing, and with her guard down, she allowed her heart to turn toward the man she had lost.
Gazing into the sparkling water, Jordan’s face swam before her. He had been a quiet man, but full of laughter and teasing.
Marni had only been eight the first time she’d met Jordan who was fishing in the stream behind his parent’s mill. She had gone to the mill to have corn ground and was waiting for her turn when she wandered down to watch the big water wheel making lazy turns under a cascade of white water.
Jordan had looked up and smiled at her, and the momentary distraction had caused him to slip off the rock he had been standing on with a splash that scared both Marni and the fish.
Marni’s lips twitched into a painful smile as she remembered her foolish reaction. Unable to swim herself she had raced into the water only to be toppled by the racing brook as her skirts tangled around her feet, and she panicked screaming until a strong hand had grabbed her arm.
Jordan, sopping wet, and with his rod still in hand, had scooped her up as he laughed with delight. His schoolboy voice echoed in her brain even now as she remembered his words. “I think you are a danger to yourself and others where water is concerned. I think I’ll have to keep close from now on to see you don’t do yourself any harm.”
A bright tear trickled down Marni’s cheek dropping into the Pelican River to be lost in the rush of water whose long journey would eventually find the sea. She had loved Jordan from that moment onward, and he had kept his word, sticking close until that fateful day when he had answered the call of the militia and left her on her own.
As the war had come to a close, and he hadn’t returned, Marni had been sure that he was dead, but still clung to the hope that he had not been listed among the dead, but as the years rolled by she and her mother-in-law, had both known he was never coming home. When a letter reached home stating that Jordan Simms was missing in action after the battle of Antietam and presumed dead, his mother had given up all hope and faded away.
The raucous squawk of a pelican snapped Marni back to the present and at that moment she resolved to move forward with her life. She had answered Miss Ella’s ad to escape the persistent pestering of the men in Vale Hollow, but it was time to do more. Instead of escaping she wanted to live. Perhaps if Miss Ella could find a man who spoke to Marni’s heart, she could have the life she had once dreamed of again.
Chapter 8
But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19
Leaving the bridge and thoughts of her past behind, Marni walked over Birch Street and onto Main. Exploring the larger city of Pelican Rapids was an exciting change, and she felt invigorated walking past shops, businesses, and booths.
The morning air was still crisp as Marni strolled down Main looking in windows and gazing at shop signs. She passed a barbershop where several men were getting a shave or a trim then stepped on toward the meat market that bustled with early-morning shoppers and sellers. The pungent smell of fresh meat, acrid blood, and even feathers prickled Marni’s nose, and she crossed the street to get away from the press of people.
As she scurried across the street dodging, horse manure and traffic, Marni came to a stop on the river’s side of Main and gazed up at the tall wooden mill that backed onto the roaring rapids.
The tall wooden structure stood stark and bold on a grassy lot, its dark wooden door beckoning her in silent welcome. The sound of the stones slowly turning, crushing corn, or wheat into meal, chattered happily through open windows, and the trickle of men, women, and children dropping off bushels of grain, or walking away with a sack in hand was a dance she knew well.
Walking into the building Marni let her eyes adjust to the cavernous room, then looked up at heavy beams, and wooden structures that capped the heavy timber walls.
The smell of chaff and stone dust hit her, and a wave of nostalgia swept over her, forcing her to close her eyes to collect her inner strength. From the day she had married Jordan, she had worked in the family mill, and the constant effort and the daily grind had given her purpose when he had gone.
Through the lean years of the war, Marni had measured the till provided by the constantly moving grinding stones, collecting every precious dram of flour or cornmeal to keep the community fed. When days were lean or raiders had taken the greatest portion of a harvest, Marni had measured the remains into portions for her community.
She had made it a game for the younger children to find hiding places for freshly processed grain, seeking out spots where roving bands of hungry soldiers wouldn’t garner every last bag of processed flour, easy pickings in storerooms and kitchens alike. It had been her service to those she called friends, and now she hoped that the new owner would be honest and fair. Her time was over in the vale and something new was about to begin.
“Good morning,” a rich baritone voice called and Marni opened her eyes to see a man perhaps two or three years her senior smiling at her. He was tall, dark, and handsome in a very striking way. “Do you have something to be milled?” the man asked looking at her oddly. “It’s busy today, but if you’d like to come back…”
Marni smiled shaking her head. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to see the mill. I’m new in town and my family in Tennessee ran one.”
In the background the splash of water on the large water wheel laughed and babbled as the metal gears turned, teeth meshing in a well-oiled cacophony of sound and spin.
“Tennessee aye,” the man said. “That’s a long way. Are you visiting family here?”
“I’m staying with Miss Ella Milton,” M
arni replied.
“Miss Milton?” another voice echoed and a thick-set man with graying hair walked up the stairs and through a door on the floor. “I didn’t know she had anyone staying with her.”
“I only arrived this week,” Marni said, turning to address the older man.
“I’m Porter Abrams,” the older man said, walking toward Marni, a smile flickering across his lips, “and this is my son Sam,” he added indicating the younger man who had greeted Marni moments ago.
“Pleased to meet you,” Marni said, nodding first at one and then the other. “Have you been here long? The mill is very stout.”
Mr. Abrams smiled nodding. “We’ve been here a spell,” he said. “My father started the place in ’53, and I took over when he grew too old to manage. With Pelican Rapids’ growth, the need has increased, and business is good. Having a train stop in town, means that some farmers can even mill their crop and ship it for sale for a better profit.”
Marni nodded, seeing the benefit of the arrangement. In Vale Hollow, it had been primarily for the community that the mill ran, but she was sure that the business could be expanded as Reconstruction for the southern states continued. So many areas of the south had been decimated by the war, and especially during Sherman’s Campaign that she knew many outlying areas were dependent on what could be shipped in as supplies.
“Is there anything we can do for you, Miss?” Sam asked as he fastened another grain sack under the flour shoot while the milled wheat began to trickle from the stone spout.
“Sam Abrams,” a woman’s voice echoed through the door and Marni stepped to the side as a young woman in a simple calico dress dragged a sack of grain in. “Could you help Sam,” the girl said, standing and resting a hand on her spine. “It’s just so heavy.”
Marni watched as the young man stepped away from the nearly full sack and grasped the bag hefting it onto a shoulder. “I’ll drop it right in, Miss Lorna,” he said. “Don’t you fuss.”
“Lorna Lie Tomlins, why don’t you pop back in this afternoon,” Mr. Abrams said, looking at the girl with a puckered brow. “We’ll have it ready for you then,” he finished with a smile.
“I don’t mind waiting, Mr. Abrams,” the girl called Lorna Lie said, watching as Sam’s boots disappeared upstairs where the grain bins resided.
“It could be a good while,” the older man insisted. “Go on home and come back later.”
“I’ll go on into town,” Lorna Lie said, her eyes still fixed above. “But I’ll be back in a jiffy, and Sam can help me with the flour sacks,” she finished with a smile. “Bye Sam,” she shouted before turning and walking back outside.
“Now,” Mr. Abrams turned addressing Marni once more as the young woman reluctantly shuffled out of the mill. “Did you say you’re a client of Miss Ella? She’s a fine woman and will do her best for you I’m sure.”
“Thank you,” Marni replied. “She is a wonderful hostess, and I’m sure she’ll do all she can for me.”
“You used to have a mill?” Mr. Abrams continued hurrying to the now full flour bag and swapping it out for a fresh one as the smooth white powder continued to flow, like water over the stones. “It’s good work.”
“Yes, my late husband had a mill,” Marni said, finding she could speak easily of Jordan now. “When he joined the war effort, I inherited it.”
“When was that?” Mr. Abrams asked his voice both sympathetic and interested.
“In ’61,” Marni replied. “His mother and I ran it for most of those years, but when she passed two years ago, I became soul proprietress.”
The older man’s eyebrows rose as he studied Marni. “You managed on your own?”
“Yes,” Marni said, nodding as Sam climbed back down from the loft above, looking about him as if he had missed something.
“Lorna Lie’s already gone?” the younger man asked looking around as if she might be hiding in the large open room.
“She had work to do,” Mr. Abrams said shortly. “Miss. I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name,” he said, smiling at Marni.
“Mrs. Simms,” Marni politely. “Mrs. Marilynn Simms.”
Mr. Abrams smiled brightly at Marni and she raised an eyebrow at the smart twinkle in his eye. She could see the businessman peeking through the kindly-looking round face.
“Did you say you had work for us?” Sam asked looking between his father and Marni with a puzzled expression. “I’d be happy to unload a wagon or cart if you need help.”
“No,” Marni said. “I only wanted to see your mill. I enjoyed my work in Tennessee, but that was another life. I’ll leave you gentleman to your work,” she finished. “Have a good day.”
“I hope we’ll see you again soon,” Mr. Abrams called as Marni stepped out the door and another patron entered. It had felt good to see the mechanisms of another mill, and she found the differences and similarities of the building interesting, but she had no desire to go back to what she had been. She could be a miller once more if needed, but for now, she would place her trust in God and Miss Ella and see what the future might hold. If she didn’t find any of the men Miss Ella chose suitable, she was sure that the bustling mill could use an experienced hand, and she filed that away for a day in the future where it might be needed.
Chapter 9
The ear that heareth the reproof of life abideth among the wise. Proverbs 15:31
Marni was halfway back to Miss Ella’s when the rattle and clatter of a wagon caught her attention as a deep voice called whoa and Mr. Prater pulled up next to her.
“Mrs. Simms,” he called politely. “Are you out for a stroll or headed back to the house?”
Marni looked up at the young man in the faded shirt, and dusty hat. “A little of both,” she replied. “I’ve been into town to look around and visit the river.”
Braden dipped his head like a curious dog at her comment but didn’t speak. He’d never heard of anyone visiting a river, but if that was how the young woman saw it, who was he to argue. “If you’d like I can give you a lift the rest of the way,” Braden said instead. “I’m delivering apples to Mr. Walker down the road from there on my way back to the farm.”
Marni smiled. She had walked a good deal today, and it would be nice to return to the house before lunch. “Thank you that would be lovely,” she said, as he sprang from his seat offering his hand to help her into the wagon.
Marni graciously accepted Braden’s hand up into the wagon and smoothed her dark skirts and long coat around her as he climbed back in easing onto the road and letting his horse trot out.
They rode on for several seconds before Marni turned to look at the handsome young man, opening her mouth to speak even as he did.
“I’m sorry about how I acted the other day,” Braden blurted as Marni did the same.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Marni said again with a chuckle. “I shouldn’t have been so sharp with you,” she admitted. “I’m afraid things in my past make it hard for me to believe that any man is doing something to be kind.”
Braden cocked an eyebrow but said nothing. He didn’t feel it was his place to pry, but he couldn’t help wonder about what had happened in the past that had made her so hard and waspish the other day.
“I’m a bit touchy myself sometimes,” the young man admitted, the bitter taste of confession unpleasant in his mouth. “I do a lot of odd jobs around Pelican Rapids, and when I do something to help, it’s hard for others to believe I’m not expecting pay.”
Marni nodded, understanding. Looking at the young man’s worn clothing, and old buckboard, she assumed he worked hard, but didn’t have much ready cash. Owning the mill in Tennessee and also earning the rent from the stone home, Marni had grown accustomed to being able to buy what she needed with little worry. She could see now that she had injured Mr. Prater’s pride, something she would never have intentionally done.
“I didn’t mean to offend,” she said softly. “I truly appreciated your help.”
Braden smiled turning Milly-Be
ll down the road toward Miss Ella’s. “Thank you,” he said, feeling more at ease with the young woman. “Did you enjoy your time in town?”
“It was very interesting,” Marni admitted. “I was able to watch the pelicans on the river, and they are quite astounding, even comical at times.”
Braden chuckled, “Noisy and dirty is more like it,” he said, “but they can be fun to watch. I used to watch them when I was a boy and would try to sneak up on them and steal their fish.”
“You didn’t,” Marni said in shock.
“I did,” Braden confessed. “I was a kid and I liked fish. We didn’t get to town often, so when I had the time, I would head to the rapids while the folks shopped. It became a kind of game I guess.”
“Did you ever get one?” Marni asked. “A fish I mean.”
“Only once or twice, but they weren’t really big enough to keep, anyway.”
Marni smiled, trying to imagine someone stealing fish from the big ungainly birds.
“Did you go anywhere else?” Braden asked. “Perhaps a little shopping?” Though he hadn’t seen any packages it was still possible.
“No, but I stopped at the gristmill. It is a very industrious place.”
“Mr. Abrams runs a tight ship,” Braden agreed. “He’s the second generation of his family to run that mill, and his son will be the third.”
“Mr. Abrams seems like a dedicated miller,” Marni agreed.
“You must have met Sam,” Braden added with a scowl. “He’s closer to my age, but his father still runs the mill and prides himself on efficiency.”
Marni nodded. “They seemed quite pleasant,” she said. “I used to run a mill in my home state, and it was lovely being among something so familiar.”
Braden glanced over at the young woman next to him, wondering if she had liked Sam. It seemed that most of the girls in town were attracted to his classic good looks, dark hair, and gray eyes, and something hard and cold slipped into his belly at the thought.
