LITMIR.BIZ

       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

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