“Please call me Ben.” He rubbed his mitted hands together. “Brr. It’s cold out there.”
“Come warm yourself by the fireplace,” Charlotte said quickly. “We’re just about to eat.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt your Christmas meal. I was working my way toward Crow Wing when the snowstorm overtook me. I barely found my way here.”
“We’re happy you’ve joined us,” Abram said. “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Ben glanced at Charlotte and she smiled in agreement.
“Come.” Abram patted Ben on the shoulder and then reached over and took George from Charlotte’s arms. “Do you need any help, Charlotte?”
“Everything is ready.”
Ben removed his coat and hung it in the lean-to with his scarf and hat. He wore a suit much like Abram’s, but his long brown hair remained in braids and he wore large hoops in his ears.
Charlotte took another plate, cup and set of silverware from the cupboard and followed the men into the main room.
They quickly found their seats, Abram said a prayer and then they began to eat. Charlotte had roasted a wild turkey Abram had shot, and she had made stuffing, mashed potatoes, corn-bread muffins, sweet potatoes and baked beans. For a special drink, she had made hot chocolate.
“The boys look good,” Ben said. “How is Robert doing?”
Abram set down his fork and bent his hands, putting the backs of the fingertips together close to his chest. He curved them up and out, and then pointed to Robert. “How are you?”
Robert grinned and took his right hand, his fingers splayed, and tapped his chest twice with his thumb.
“Robert is fine,” Abram said with a smile.
Robert made the same signs Abram had, but this time he pointed to Ben.
Ben, his eyes lighting up, awkwardly touched his chest just as Robert had. “I’m fine, too.” He laughed and said to Abram, “He is doing well. I’m so happy.”
Abram signed “thank you” and pointed at Charlotte. “We only have Charlotte to thank.”
Charlotte warmed under his praise and looked at Robert to hide her embarrassment. The little boy smiled at her as if the sun rose and set on her face. She reached over and ruffled his blond hair and signed “I love you.”
“If Charlotte hadn’t come,” Abram continued, “the boys might still be at the mission and I wouldn’t have investors.”
“Investors?” Ben’s eyes went wide with surprise. “I hadn’t heard.”
Abram quickly glanced at Charlotte, but she busied herself with putting mashed potatoes on George’s plate.
“We’ll draw up official papers after the first of the year, and then we’ll incorporate into a town after that. Hubbard and Cheney have already petitioned the government for two thousand acres around the falls and will have a surveyor here sometime after the incorporation is finished.”
“You’re actually doing it,” Ben said with a bit of awe. “I never doubted you—it’s just exciting to see that your dreams are finally coming true.”
The fireplace crackled and a log fell, sending sparks and smoke spiraling up the chimney.
“What are you building at the top of the hill?” Ben asked.
“A church for Charlotte.”
“It’s not for me,” Charlotte protested, and both men looked in her direction. “It’s for the town,” she said a bit quieter.
Abram’s blue eyes twinkled. “She doesn’t think I’ll have a permanent preacher here by September to take over the church, though.”
“Why September?” Ben asked, looking at Charlotte.
“That’s when she aims to go back to Iowa City.” Abram supplied the answer, his tone a bit flat.
“You’re not staying on here?” Ben asked, again looking at Charlotte.
“I have a business and a home waiting for me in Iowa City.”
Ben glanced between Charlotte and Abram, his thoughts imperceptible.
The wind blew outside and the snow blasted against the house, rattling the windows.
“Would you be willing to be our preacher?” Abram asked their guest.
Charlotte held her breath, her fork stopped midway to her mouth. Was Abram about to have the first of her requirements in place?
Ben clasped his hands together and set them on his lap, his face serious. “I wish I could, Abram, but I’ve devoted myself to being a traveling preacher. I couldn’t stay in one place, even if I wanted to.” He glanced at Charlotte, his gaze soft. “As tempting as the proposition may be.”
Something about the way he smiled at her made her sit a bit straighter. Was he insinuating that she could be a reason to stay? She wasn’t insulted. On the contrary, she had never been more flattered. But she must not encourage him in any way. Though she admired him, and recognized his wandering was part of his calling, she could not live his way of life.
Abram cleared his throat. “I’ll wish you well, then.” He slapped Ben on the shoulder and pulled his attention off Charlotte. “If you happen to find someone who would be willing to pastor our humble church, please tell them to come.”
“I’ll do that.” Ben picked up his fork and took a bite of the stuffing Charlotte had made. “This is the best Christmas feast I’ve ever eaten, Miss Lee.”
“Thank you.”
“What’s this?” Abram asked, his brows coming together as he teased. “You accept Ben’s compliments, but when I offer them, you blush and try to ignore me.”
Her cheeks filled with heat and she reached over and wiped Martin’s chin so she wouldn’t have to meet Abram’s eyes. What could she say?
“She won’t let you compliment her?” Ben asked, his voice teasing, as well. “Is it because she’s modest?”
“I think it’s because she’s embarrassed,” Abram said with a chuckle. “But I don’t know why. She’s only the best housekeeper, cook and caregiver this side of the Mississippi.”
“That’s quite a compliment.” Ben leaned back and openly admired Charlotte.
“Gentlemen,” Charlotte said, rising from the table. “I think I’ll check on the dessert.”
Their good-natured laughter followed her into the kitchen, where the pumpkin pie was in the oven. She removed it from the heat and set it on the table, giving the pie, as well as her cheeks, a moment to cool down.
Abram’s compliments did embarrass her, but not because she was modest. His words made her feel things she shouldn’t feel and set her mind on paths it shouldn’t follow. It was easier to ignore his compliments than to face her emotions.
She returned to the main room and they enjoyed their dessert, the men safely ensconced in a conversation about territory politics.
After supper was finished, Charlotte set a cloth over the table so they wouldn’t have to look at the dirty dishes as they all sat around the fireplace. The candles had been lit on the tree, offering a warm glow, presents had been pulled out of hiding places and the boys waited with shining eyes.
Abram handed the boys each a gift. They unwrapped the brown paper with eager hands and exclaimed over their handmade wooden toys. For Robert there was a boat, for Martin, a little wagon, and for George, a set of blocks.
“Did you make those?” Charlotte asked, looking up at Abram from her rocker near the fireplace.
Abram nodded. “They’re not much.”
“They are gorgeous,” Charlotte said. George sat in her lap and she ran her fingers over the smooth wooden blocks. “Well done.”
“Thank you.”
“Could you hand out my gifts?” She suddenly felt embarrassed, knowing her gifts would pale in comparison to Abram’s.
Each of the boys opened their packages and found a scarf and hat to match their mittens. There was a set for Abram, as well.
“I know it’s practical but—”<
br />
“But perfect,” Abram said, wrapping his scarf around his neck. “I only wish there were more people around to see me.”
Charlotte laughed at the silliness and shook her head.
Ben sat off to the side in a wooden chair.
Thankfully, she had made Abram an extra pair of mittens with her abundance of yarn, and had not given them to him yet. Instead, she stood and pulled them out of her knitting basket and offered them to Ben. “Merry Christmas, Ben.”
His brown eyes lit with delight. “You didn’t need to bother.”
“It’s my pleasure.”
Ben slipped them on and held them up. “I’ll think of you every time I wear them. I wish I had a gift for you.”
“Your company is a priceless gift,” Abram said quickly. He stood and went to a chest in the corner where he kept several documents. “I hid Charlotte’s gift in here.”
“My gift?” Charlotte had not received a Christmas gift since Susanne had eloped six years ago.
“Of course.” Abram removed a brown-paper package from the chest and handed it to Charlotte while taking George into his arms.
Charlotte took a seat and held the package for a moment. It didn’t weigh much, but felt a bit bulky under the wrapping.
Nerves bubbled up in Charlotte’s stomach as she felt all eyes upon her—especially Abram’s. She untied the white string and slowly turned back a corner of the paper to reveal an ivory-handled brush, hand mirror, comb, shoehorn and nail file.
“It’s a dresser set,” Abram said a bit awkwardly, shifting George in his arms and sitting on the rocker next to her. “I picked it up in St. Anthony.”
“When I first came?”
Abram shrugged, appearing nonchalant, but she could tell he was watching her closely to see if she really liked the gift. “I thought of you when I saw it.”
“Abram has always been a generous soul,” Ben added. “Thinking of others before himself.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Abram said, though Charlotte had witnessed it several times. Even if he didn’t have much, he still offered what he had.
“Thank you,” Charlotte said, holding up the mirror. She turned it around and allowed Robert to see his reflection. The boy took the mirror and Charlotte ran her right hand over the top of her left hand. “Gentle.”
“You’re welcome,” Abram said as well as signed. “I hope you like it.”
“It’s the first gift I’ve received since Susanne gave me a hair comb the year before you were married.” She paused, but found it didn’t hurt as much to talk about her sister. “I like it very much.”
Abram was silent for a moment and she looked up at him. Sadness weighed down his brows. “I’m sorry you had to be alone all those years.”
Something heavy and melancholy wanted to press in on Charlotte’s good mood, so she quickly stood. “I’ll go make some coffee. Does anyone want more pie?”
She left the room before anyone could answer and entered the dimly lit kitchen, afraid of the emotions swirling inside her head and heart. It was so much safer holding Abram at a distance—but when he spoke with such compassion, she wanted to pull him close and allow him to heal her wounded soul.
“Charlotte?” Abram entered the kitchen, worry edged between his brows. “Is everything all right?”
She quickly turned toward the stove and pulled the coffeepot to the front. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” His voice was close—too close.
She moved away and turned, forcing a smile on her face. “I’m just missing Susanne a bit more than usual this evening. I’ll be fine.”
He took a step closer to her. “I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories.”
She held up her hand. “It’s fine, Abram. Truly.”
He studied her for a moment and then reached out and took her hand.
The gesture captured her by surprise and she took a step back, her legs pressing against the table.
“Thank you, for everything. I know it hasn’t been easy, but I don’t know what we would do without you. I mean that.”
Pleasure coiled inside her stomach and it took all her willpower not to melt into his arms.
“You’re welcome.”
“Merry Christmas, Charlotte.”
She gently extracted her hand and put it behind her back, wrapping her fingers into a tight ball, trying to hold on to the feeling of his touch. “Merry Christmas, Abram.”
He smiled and then left the kitchen, closing the door softly behind him.
Charlotte sank to the chair, her legs weak and her heart beating an unsteady rhythm. She put her face in her hands and took several deep breaths.
No matter what the cost, she must deny her growing feelings for Abram.
It was the only way she would survive until September.
Chapter Nine
March 15, 1855
Today was finally the day. The winter had passed and spring was proving to be warmer than usual. Abram walked over to the kitchen window and looked out at the pale morning. Patches of dirt showed through the snowbanks, confirming an early thaw, though one could never be too sure in Minnesota.
“All of your pacing is making me nervous,” Charlotte said from her place at the stove.
Abram turned away from the window and took the cup of coffee she offered him. “I can’t help it. I’m a bit nervous myself.” The letters of incorporation had been signed, the partnership made legal, with Abram retaining five-twelfths of the business, Hubbard with four-twelfths and Cheney the remaining three-twelfths. They had called it the Little Falls Company.
“You? Nervous?” She glanced at him as she filled three glasses of milk for the boys.
His sons sat at the table finishing their breakfast, unaware of how important this day was for all of them.
“I didn’t know you could get nervous,” Charlotte said, handing Robert and Martin their milk.
“Of course I can get nervous.” He looked out the window again, though it could be several hours before Hubbard arrived with the land surveyor. “You should have seen me on my wedding day.” He belatedly realized how insensitive his words were, and the look on Charlotte’s face confirmed it.
“I didn’t have the pleasure of attending your wedding, if you recall,” she said, helping George sip from his cup.
Thankfully there wasn’t anger behind her words anymore—just regret. After four and a half months, they had come to a quiet truce over the past and had fallen into a formal, if somewhat stilted, relationship. Something had happened on that long-ago Christmas night, and since then Charlotte had held him at a distance, for which he was grateful. He had left the conversation feeling shaky and unsettled, and had resolved to never put himself in such an intimate situation with her again.
It was best to treat Charlotte like his housekeeper and nothing more.
Abram sighed. “I suppose I’ll get the chores started.” Usually he enjoyed the work, but today he felt too distracted. “There’s no telling when Hubbard will arrive, or if I’ll have a chance to get any real work done today.”
The morning passed quickly. When Abram was finished with his chores, he went to the church, which had taken on shape over the long winter months. Susanne’s grave was now in a real graveyard next to the church. The exterior of the building had been shingled and sided, but there was no door or windows to fully enclose the space.
When he heard Charlotte ring the dinner bell, he put down his hammer and nails and left the church behind, glancing down the Wood’s Trail for a sign of Hubbard and the surveyor.
Abram walked into the house and hung his things on the hook in the lean-to. He washed his hands with the fresh water in the basin and entered the kitchen. Martin was singing a Christmas song, though Christmas was long over
, while George was banging something on the table, talking in his gibberish, and Charlotte was giving Robert instructions about setting the table. She still spoke audibly, even as she signed.
Abram entered the kitchen and she glanced up. “Any news of our guests?”
“Not yet,” Abram answered, signing back. “I expected them long before now.” He sat at his place and reached over to remove the spoon from George’s hand.
A movement outside the window caught Abram’s eye. “It’s Hubbard.” His heart pounded as he stood and opened the door. Two wagons pulled into the yard, both loaded with men. “What in the world?”
Charlotte joined him at the door. “Who are all those men?”
Abram grabbed his coat. “I don’t know.”
“Should I put more plates on the table?”
“You might have to put out more tables.”
She laughed. “I’ll at least get some coffee on.”
Abram walked away from the house and met the wagons when they came to a stop. Timothy Hubbard drove the first wagon, his cheeks ruddy and his eyes shining. “Good afternoon, Cooper.”
“Good afternoon.” Abram glanced at the men in the wagon. “I didn’t realize you were bringing an entire town with you today.”
Hubbard secured the reins to the dashboard and jumped out of the wagon. He indicated a slightly smaller man with spectacles. “This is Mr. Ingalls, the land surveyor. And these men—” Hubbard indicated at least a dozen men piling out of the wagons “—are our new laborers.”
“Our what?”
“They’ve come to clear roads, build bridges and construct buildings. People are pouring into St. Anthony this spring, and they’re looking for work. There are more where these men came from.”
“What buildings will they construct?”
“The company store, for starters, and my house. Mrs. Hubbard gave me explicit instructions to build on the land up the hill from here.”
The men were lifting out boxes of tools, carpetbags and bedrolls from the backs of the wagons. Many of them had started to look around, as if trying to figure out where to begin.
“Where will they stay?” Abram scratched his head. Why hadn’t Hubbard made these plans known to him? He would have found some way to prepare.
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