“So did you open your mouth?”
He shook his head emphatically. “My throat is private.”
“It is?”
“Uh-huh. Uncle Josh shouldn’t look at people’s private places.”
“Sweetheart, Uncle Josh is a doctor. We’ve talked about this before. You must let him look at your throat.”
Again Adam shook his head. “Not going to.”
Lacey sighed. “Then how about if you drink some tea with honey? Maybe that will make your throat feel better.”
Now he nodded. Lacey turned and put the kettle on the stove. On the floor at her feet, Nicholas pounded the bottom of the frying pan with his open hand.
“He’s going to break it, Mama,” Adam said anxiously.
“No, I don’t think he can break the pan,” Lacey answered. She put some loose tea in a strainer and leaned against the counter to wait for the water to boil.
Francie finally slid off her mother’s lap. “Where’s Caleb?” she asked.
Lacey turned to Adam. “Is Caleb awake?”
Adam nodded.
“He’s upstairs, Francie. You can go find him.”
With her tiny steps, Francie moved slowly across the kitchen. When she had finally passed into the next room, Lacey turned to Abby. “How long has she been walking like that?”
“A few days. It takes me forever to go anywhere with her.”
Lacey furrowed her brow. “Maybe Josh should have a look.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. But I think it’s just a phase. Two weeks ago she skipped everywhere she went, and before that she rolled somersaults all over the house.”
“It’s probably nothing then.” Lacey sank wearily into a chair. Nicholas scooted under the table, dragging the frying pan with him.
“Mama, I’m sick,” Adam repeated.
“Yes, sweetheart, you are.”
“I don’t feel good.”
“I know. Come here and sit on my lap.”
He shook his head. “I’m not a baby.”
Baby or not, he looked like he was ready to cry. Lacey patted her lap, but he refused to come.
The water boiled and Lacey got up to make tea. She put a generous helping of honey in it. Adam shuffled over and took a seat at the table. As Lacey set the tea in front of him, Joshua returned.
“How’s the patient?” he asked.
“What’s the diagnosis?” Lacey countered.
Joshua shrugged one shoulder. “That’s a little difficult to say without a look at his throat. But he seems to have a slight fever.”
Lacey nodded. “I thought so.”
“Up! Up!” Nicholas demanded, and Joshua scooped him up off the floor.
“Uh-huh, Lacey, I think you’d better check the stew,” Josh said.
Lacey flew across the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand. She peered over the bubbling pot and breathed with relief. “It’s okay, but I’d better get back to the biscuits.”
“Here, let me help,” Abby said, snatching an apron off a hook next to the back door. Lacey produced a rolling pin and began to flatten the dough she had kneaded.
Joshua shook his head as he held the squirming Nicholas, who was now hanging upside down from his arms but did not want to be put down. “It’s a wonder you ever get anything done,” Joshua said, with sincere admiration. “This place is chaos.”
“What’s chaos?” Adam croaked.
“That means a place where everything seems out of control,” Lacey explained quickly.
“I’m not out of control,” Adam asserted.
“No, of course you’re not,” his mother agreed, as she rolled her eyes above his head at Abby and Josh.
Nicholas slid a little too far out of Joshua’s arms and landed with a thud on his bottom. He squalled, stunned.
“Nicholas is out of control,” Adam said.
Chapter 3
The back door swung open once more, and the already busy kitchen got busier. Lacey’s husband, Travis Gates, filled the doorway as he entered. Close behind him was Peter Regals, with a roll of wide papers neatly tucked under one arm.
Peter kissed Abby on the top of the head and stooped down to scoop up the wailing Nicholas all in one motion. Travis bent his dark head down to greet his weary wife with a kiss. Joshua watched as his sister’s eyes met those of her husband. He could see the light that flashed between them. Both of them, weary from a long day, still spoke a wordless language that said they were glad to see each other. Peter and Abby looked at each other with similar expressions.
Josh looked from one couple to the other and felt afresh the pang in his heart—Priscilla. He tried to imagine her in this setting, a kitchen bursting with friends and family. She would have smiled at everyone, engaging the adults with her wit and charming the children with her playfulness. Everyone would like her; everyone always did. But Priscilla would not be doing what Lacey was doing—simmering stew, baking biscuits, and soothing a sick child all at one time, after having spent several hours teaching squirming children. The maid that Priscilla had had all her life would have dealt with the cooking and soothing, while a tutor handled the teaching. After a calm and civilized meal in the dining room, Priscilla would suggest a stroll through the streets. He had strolled the streets with her on many occasions. But here there were no streets to stroll, and the neighbors were all gathered in this house at the moment. No, Priscilla would not fit in here.
But who would fit in? The lumber camp was hardly the place to meet a prospective bride. Would he have to do what his father had done so long ago and venture to one of the cities to find a bride who would fit in at the camp better than Priscilla? Joshua had left the peninsula the first time in order to become a doctor. He had not thought much about marriage in those days. Meeting Priscilla had been quite accidental, and nearly two years had passed before he realized she regarded him as a prospective husband. He had allowed his own affection to grow guardedly, suspecting that he would be disappointed in the end—and he was.
Peter balanced Nicholas, who was now sucking his thumb and sobbing only intermittently, on his one hip and laid his roll of drawings on the table across from the mound of biscuit dough.
“No, no, no,” Lacey protested as she scooped up the papers and thrust them back at Peter. “It’s far too crowded in here. Take those drawings in the other room, please.”
“We’ll go to the dining room,” Travis suggested.
Lacey shook her head. “Not there, either. I’ll need to set the dining room table for supper soon. We won’t all fit in here.”
Travis sighed and smiled. “Is the living room floor all right?”
“Perfect.” Lacey turned back to her biscuits. “As soon as Papa gets here, I’ll bake these and we’ll be ready to eat.”
“Can I come?” Adam asked in his most pitiful voice.
Travis furrowed his brow and considered his son. “What’s wrong with Adam?”
Lacey raised her eyebrows at Josh, who shook his head. “I can’t be sure if he won’t let me look in his throat.”
“Adam?” Travis prodded gently.
Adam adamantly shook his head. “I don’t want anyone to look at my throat. Can I see Uncle Peter’s new pictures?”
Travis reached out his hand for his son, and together they trailed after Peter into the living room. Josh followed, also.
Peter squatted on the floor and unrolled his papers. The drawings of a small town had become familiar to everyone in the house, but each time Peter presented them for inspection, they had become a little more complex. Peter pictured a dozen small streets dotted with homes and a main road where the shops and offices would be. Adam snuggled under Peter’s arm and put his face over the center of the map.
“I’ve thought about putting the school here,” Peter said, pressing his finger into an intersection. “Lacey is already working hard with Nathan and Adam, and it won’t be long before Francie and Caleb are ready for school, and then Nicholas.”
Josh raised an eyebrow. “I’d like to see
a school as much as anyone else, but we have only five children.”
“We’re planning for the future,” Peter reminded him. “Someday there will be many more families with children living here. If we build the school first, they will be more likely to want to come here.”
“You have a good point there, I suppose. If we want people to see we’re a town, we have to look like one.”
“Right,” Travis agreed. “That’s why we need a church, too.”
“One thing at a time,” Peter said. “For a while, the school might also be the church.”
At the rap on the front door, Adam sprang up. “It’s Grandpa!” He ran to the front door and heaved it open as quickly as an ill, scrawny six-year-old boy could. His grandfather’s arms were waiting when he threw himself into them.
Daniel Wells lifted his oldest grandchild and pressed him against his chest. With his hand on Adam’s cheek, he said, “You feel warm.”
“I’m sick, but Uncle Joshua doesn’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“What kind of doctor is he, then?” Daniel’s eyes twinkled as he looked at his own son.
“I won’t let him look at my throat,” Adam declared proudly.
“That’s not being fair, is it?” Daniel said.
Adam looked thoughtful, but he did not open his mouth for inspection.
Micah Wells followed his father into the room. Joshua looked on with pleasure at the young man his brother had become. As a child Adam’s age, Micah had often tugged on Joshua’s hand to pull him into the meadow behind their lighthouse home so they could look for deer and butterflies. Now, Micah had his father’s broad shoulders and height, but he still had those sensitive blue eyes that were now being trained to scan the water swirling below the lighthouse for crafts in distress. Micah had the intensity to do the job well.
Micah pointed at the drawings. “Do you have something new?”
Peter pulled a sheet out from under the large map. “I’ve done a sketch of the building that would be a school and church. Here’s the outside and here’s what it might look like on the inside.”
“Lacey should see this,” Travis said. He turned his head toward the kitchen. “Lace!”
She appeared a moment later.
“Come see the school,” Travis said.
Lacey kissed her father and waved at her brother, then squatted to inspect the drawings.
“I know I’m just an old man who lives in the lighthouse,” Daniel Wells said, “but from what I hear whenever I come this way, not everyone is so keen on the idea of turning the camp into a town. They say that if they had wanted to live in a city and take a bath every week, they would have stayed in Milwaukee.”
“I know who you’re talking about, Daniel,” Peter responded. “Troy Wilger makes a lot of noise, but there aren’t so many men following him as he would like us to believe.”
Travis agreed. “I think most of the men are in favor of developing the camp further. A lot of them came up here looking for work so they could save some money. But this is beautiful country up here. Why shouldn’t they be able to settle here and raise families?”
“Well, you’re a city boy and we managed to snag you,” Daniel said. “So I guess there is hope that others will want to stay.”
“It’s inevitable,” Peter insisted. “This area is too rich in natural resources not to attract people. Why shouldn’t we plan for growth right from the start? We’ve already begun doing simple millwork here, and already we’re more profitable. Travis’s father is very close to closing a deal for a partnership with a major mill to move in here. And once the finished wood is more easily available up here, furniture makers and other craftsmen will be attracted to this area.”
Lacey squinted at the drawing. “How many people will this building hold?”
“How many do you want it to hold?” Peter countered. “We could make it bigger.”
“I couldn’t begin to guess how many children we might have in a few years,” Lacey said. “You’re the one who has such a clear picture of the future.”
“Don’t forget your husband,” Peter said. “Without the investment his father has already made here, we couldn’t even think about next year, much less ten years.”
Lacey smiled and nodded. Peter was right. Travis had come nine years ago on a secret scouting mission for his father. He had left temporarily to persuade his wealthy father to invest money for roads and basic mill equipment. And then he had come back to stay and build a future. Travis worked with Tom Saget, Abby’s father, to carefully administer the generous investment his father had left in his hands. If the mill became successful, the senior Mr. Gates would more than make his money back.
“And then there’s Josh,” Travis said. “How many new towns can boast that they already have a doctor?”
Peter poked at the map. “And right here is where the new doctor’s clinic is going to be.”
Lacey gave a mock gasp. “You mean my brother is going to move out of my extra bedroom?”
Joshua eyed his sister. “When do we start building, Peter?”
“By midsummer,” came the answer.
Joshua snapped his head around, surprised. “Really?”
“Really. I’ve organized a small crew, and we’ll get that building up in no time. You’ll have a waiting room and an exam room and a couple of rooms in the back to live in, just what you asked for.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely. After that, the school.”
Lacey chuckled. “You might want to do something about the mess hall first. Old Lars left it in quite a jumble when he stomped off.”
Peter and Travis shook their heads. “What got into him?” Peter asked. “How could a camp cook just up and leave one day between lunch and supper?”
“I don’t know,” Travis said. “But you’re right. He left things in a mess. The new cook is not going to be happy.”
“When does he come?” Joshua asked.
“Any day now,” Travis responded. “His name is Percy Morgan.”
“Is he any good?” Lacey asked.
“He doesn’t have a lot of experience, but he comes with good references.”
“Have you met him?”
Travis shook his head. “No. I didn’t have time to go around looking for a cook. I hired him through the mail. I offered a three-month trial period. If he doesn’t work out, we’ll look again.”
“Uncle Josh?” Adam said softly. He moved in a wilted way out of his grandfather’s arms and toward his uncle. His face was flushed and his eyes bright.
“Yes, Adam?”
“You can look at my throat now.”
Chapter 4
Impatiently, Lacey Wells Gates waited for the water to boil. Another glance at the clock told her that her household would awaken soon—too soon. Lacey had hardly slept all night. Adam’s flushed cheeks had turned into a full-fledged fever that left him thrashing in his bed and calling often for his mother. The cough had begun around midnight.
Not wanting him to disturb three-year-old Caleb, Lacey had taken her older son and settled him on a pallet on the dining room floor. The voice of motherly experience told her that it was pointless to go back upstairs to her own bed, so she had settled in beside her son and snatched a few minutes of sleep whenever he dozed off. Now she wanted the water to boil so she could have a cup of tea in peace before the family awoke and so the water would be ready when Adam needed another dose of tea and honey.
Joshua found his sister slumped at the kitchen table, waiting for the water to boil. “How is he?” Josh asked, his voice low to avoid waking the sleeping Adam in the next room.
Lacey raised her weary head. “He’s been calmer the last couple of hours. Thank you for checking on him during the night.”
“I didn’t really do anything,” Josh answered. “He needed his mother more than he needed a doctor.”
“Still, it was reassuring to me to hear that you don’t think this is a serious infection.”
Lacey sighed. “I’ll try. But you know Caleb. He gets into everything he has a mind to get into.”
Josh chuckled. “Your job is far harder than a lumberjack’s!”
The kettle whistled at last, and Lacey got up to fix her tea. She turned her head at the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
Travis entered the kitchen and kissed his wife gently on the forehead. “I’ll sit up with him tonight,” he said softly.
“Do you want some breakfast?” she asked.
Travis shook his head. “I’ll get something later.”
“What will you get?” she challenged. “There’s no camp cook.”
“Matt Harden is doing his best with the breakfast duty these days,” Travis said. “It will encourage him if I eat his food.”
“Yes, it will encourage Matt,” Joshua said, laughing, “but it may make you sick. The rumor is that you should stay away from his scrambled eggs.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Travis answered. “Probably he hoards his eggs too long, trying to get enough to feed fifty men.”
“He needs more chickens, but he keeps cooking the ones that lay the best.”
“That reminds me,” Lacey said, “Adam is too sick to feed our chickens.”
“I’ll do it,” Travis assured her.
Outside, a horse whinnied and the wheels of a carriage clattered to a stop. The sound so common in a city area was almost unheard of on the northern peninsula.
Joshua raised an eyebrow. “Who is that, so early in the morning?”
Travis shrugged. “We’d better go see.”
“If it’s Micah, you let me know immediately,” Lacey said sternly.
“Micah doesn’t have a carriage,” Joshua reminded his sister.
The horse whinnied again, this time more loudly.
Josh and Travis left the house and stepped into the broad, dusty street outside the house. A few men straggled out of the mess hall and wandered down the street, curious about the early morning intrusion on their routine.
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