“There’s no money to pay them,” Abram croaked, his throat dry and his voice hoarse. “There’s nothing left. Without the logs to mill and sell, and without the use of the gristmill—the only income we have right now is the company store, but that’s not nearly enough.” A sob threatened to overtake him, so he paused and looked at the ground, barely gaining control. “We’re done.”
Charlotte sank down near him, her leg pressed against his. “Abram,” her voice pleaded, “there has to be something left.”
He shook his head and couldn’t look her in the eyes. She had known, all along, that he would fail. Why didn’t she just remind him and get it over with? Now there was no doubt in his mind that she would leave and take the boys with her—and he didn’t blame her. He had one week left to finish the school, but there was no money.
The boys would be better off with her in Iowa, just as she’d always said. This way of life was too unpredictable and too dangerous. Susanne’s death only added more proof.
“The mills are still standing,” Charlotte said. “And there are more logs to be cut in the woods.” She looked around at the debris floating in the millpond. “There are things you can salvage.”
Her words pierced his spirit. She was trying to be optimistic, but there was no point. How would they recoup a forty-thousand-dollar loss? He was done. This dream was over. He had come to the end of it all, and the sooner he accepted it, the sooner he could move on.
“Don’t you see?” he asked. “Forty thousand dollars just floated down the river. Forty thousand dollars’ worth of logs we bought on credit. And the dam will need to be rebuilt—not to mention the repairs needed on the mills. Where will the Little Falls Company come up with money like that?” He’d sent Caleb with a note late last night to St. Anthony, telling Cheney to come—but he had no idea how he would face him.
“You’re just tired and overwhelmed.”
“I’m realistic.”
She looked around again, this time a bit desperate. “I don’t know how you’ll come up with the money, Abram, but you have to try. You can’t give up. Do you remember when you promised me you would prove me wrong? Well, here’s your chance.”
The sun rose behind the town site, casting rose-tinted shadows over the land and kissing Charlotte’s hair. Her brown eyes, which had once looked at him with mistrust and disappointment, were now begging him to do something, to prove to her that he was not like her father or fiancé. But was he? It would be so much easier to move on to something else that held more promise—yet he couldn’t give up on Little Falls. He wanted it for his children, and to honor Susanne’s memory.
Was he a quitter—or was he a fighter? “Charlotte, I don’t know if I can.”
Tears gathered in her eyes and her jaw clenched with anger. “Won’t you at least try?”
He had no fight left in him. Four years of work and sacrifice were lost, with nothing but regret to show for it. He was so weary. He could hardly hold his head up.
The thought of trying again was more than he could handle at the moment.
“I don’t have anything left in me to try.”
Charlotte stood and clutched her coffee mug in her shaking hands. “Don’t do this, Abram. Don’t be like all the others.” She turned away and strode off to the house, her skirts swishing across the wet grass.
Abram let his coffee mug slip out of his hands and he dropped his head to his chest and wept.
* * *
Charlotte stood near the window in the main room, willing Abram to get up and fight, but he stayed where she had left him, dejected and defeated on the riverbank.
Maybe Abram wouldn’t fight, but she would. She had fought her whole life. It was her only defense. She squared her shoulders and marched away from the window.
She quickly fed the boys and, with George on her hip, and Robert and Martin trailing behind, she went right to Mrs. Perry’s home just up the road from the Hubbards’ house. The hour was still early, which meant most people were at home eating breakfast. She hoped Mr. Perry was available and Mrs. Perry would be ready to go into action.
Abram had sacrificed everything for this town, and it was time for their neighbors to sacrifice for him. Many of them had invested heavily in Little Falls and they had a lot to lose if Abram failed.
It didn’t take long to convince Mr. and Mrs. Perry to help, and Mrs. Perry promised to spread the word.
Charlotte spent the rest of her morning going from home to home, spreading the news about the catastrophe. She invited everyone to help clean up the mess, working the day for free, and was pleased to hear so many agree. Dozens of men and boys picked up their tools to get to work, their community spirit a sight to behold.
Around dinnertime, the women started to appear on the street, laden with food, all of them heading to the mill. Charlotte’s stomach growled and Martin yanked on her hand to get her attention as she said goodbye to one final neighbor who lived on the outskirts of town in a covered wagon.
“I’m hungry, Aunt Charlotte,” Martin said. “My stomach is making funny noises.”
“We’ll go home now,” Charlotte said, starting down the road toward home. “Why don’t you sing for me as we walk?”
They crossed the long ravine bridge on the eastern edge of town and followed Broadway until they came to Wood Street. The downtown was strangely quiet. There were no men working on buildings or walking about conducting business. The schoolhouse sat unfinished and the restaurant was closed.
Charlotte swallowed and couldn’t help but feel abandoned. Would this town survive such a terrible disaster, or was everything Abram hoped and dreamed already gone?
The closer they drew to the house and sawmill, the more noise could be heard. When the site came within view, Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat.
Well over a hundred people were working on Abram’s property. Dozens of men were in the millpond, gathering debris and putting it on rafts. Some were floating the rafts to the banks and putting them onto piles. Other men were working on the gristmill, which had suffered the most damage, and already the waterwheel was spinning on the sawmill, which meant they were making lumber.
Women swarmed around the yard, placing food on makeshift tables, and children were running about, playing with cast-off supplies.
Abram stood in the midst of it all, directing people and answering questions, though he looked exhausted. His hair stood on end and his face was lined with fatigue.
A movement on the top of the hill caught Charlotte’s eye and she glanced up to find Mr. Cheney on his horse. He was too far away for Charlotte to see his reaction, but it couldn’t be good.
Cheney spurred his horse down the hill and Charlotte met him near the house.
Terror filled his eyes as he stepped out of the saddle. “We’re ruined.”
“Everyone is pitching in to help,” Charlotte said. “And they’re doing it for free.”
Cheney didn’t appear to hear her. He absently handed her a letter. “The postmaster in St. Anthony asked me to bring this.” He didn’t look at her, but set off toward the river, where he met up with Abram and Mr. Hubbard.
With George still on her hip, Charlotte glanced down and saw elegant script on the letter. It was addressed to the Superintendent of Schools, Little Falls, Minnesota Territory.
Since there was no superintendent of schools, Charlotte decided to open the letter herself and not bother Abram or Mr. Hubbard.
She set George on his feet, thankful to relieve the burden on her hip, and opened the seal.
Dear Mr. Superintendent,
I regret to inform you that I will be unable to teach for your school. I have become engaged to be married and I plan to stay in Moline. I hope this doesn’t inconvenience you.
Sincerely,
Helen Palmer
Charlotte lowered the
letter and looked up just as Abram glanced in her direction. The last thing he needed right now was to learn that the teacher was not coming. Charlotte feared it would be the final push for him to give up and walk away.
Her stomach felt queasy and her head began to pound. September first was one week from today. Abram wouldn’t have everything in place to fulfill his end of the agreement and keep the boys in Little Falls—but how could she leave him now when he needed her most?
She couldn’t.
Chapter Seventeen
Cheney paced in the main room of Abram’s home, his face red and his eyes glazed over with anger. “If you would have milled those logs like I asked, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”
Abram sat on the edge of his rocker, his head in his hands. Exhaustion suffocated him as he tried to keep his eyes open. The sun had already set and everyone had gone after working tirelessly all day. Charlotte had made supper for the Hubbards and Mr. Cheney, and then Pearl had taken the children home, while Charlotte had taken the boys up to bed. Ben had also gone to bed, telling Abram he would give him and his business partners some much-needed privacy.
Now that they were alone, Cheney was letting all his frustrations loose. “What will we do? I’ve already mortgaged my mill in St. Anthony to help pay for this venture. I have nothing left.”
Abram glanced at Hubbard, who looked ten years older in just one day.
“We need to find a way to raise forty thousand dollars,” Hubbard said.
“The banks won’t loan us any more money.” Cheney continued to pace. “And I have nothing left to mortgage.” He looked at Abram. “What about you? Do you have anything left to sell or mortgage?”
Abram shook his head, too tired to speak.
“And you?” Cheney asked Hubbard.
“I have a few lots in Moline I could sell, but that would only buy us a little time before the creditors come knocking.”
Cheney ran his hand through his hair and dropped into Charlotte’s rocking chair.
Abram’s mind began to wander and he couldn’t focus on Cheney’s voice. All he could think about was his bed and the sleep he needed. It would feel good to forget about everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.
Almost everything. He didn’t want to forget about how close he had come to kissing Charlotte, or how wonderful it had felt when he’d seen longing in her eyes—yet he needed to forget about that, too. It would do no good to dwell on the memories. He didn’t deserve a woman like Charlotte, and even if he did, she wouldn’t have him. He had nothing to offer and no prospects left.
“What we need is another income source, not related to the river and the mill,” Hubbard said. “Some other investment that could pay for this venture.”
Abram’s mind returned to the conversation he’d had with Harry yesterday. If what Harry said was true, and men were making money mining for copper, maybe that could be the answer to the Little Falls Company’s problems.
“I think I might know of another income source,” Abram said, suddenly feeling energized. “Harry is planning to go to Duluth and start mining copper. If he strikes the right vein, he could have more than enough money within a few short months.”
Cheney and Hubbard were quiet for a moment.
“That might be a viable option,” Hubbard said. “We need a man to go up there immediately and do some research.”
As the idea grew, the darkness in Abram’s mind seemed to lighten. He still believed in Little Falls, and what it could be, but they needed money to rebuild what they had lost. Once that was done, they could continue on the course they had set for themselves.
Abram’s conversation with Charlotte from the Northern Hotel returned. He wasn’t satisfied yet, because Little Falls hadn’t reached its full potential—and until it did, Abram would do whatever he needed to do. If it meant mining copper in Duluth, then that was what he would do.
“I don’t like it,” Cheney said. “There’s too much risk and we’d be spreading ourselves too thin. We need money, and we need it fast. I think the only thing we can do to remain solvent is create a joint stock corporation and sell public shares.”
“A stock corporation?” Abram swiveled his head to stare at Cheney. “We’re having enough trouble managing with three opinions. How will we manage with hundreds of shareholders’ opinions, not to mention a board of directors? It’s a terrible idea.”
“It’s the only way to generate the cash we need to regain what we’ve lost.” Cheney leaned toward Abram, his posture intense. “We can retain fifty percent of the shares and hand-select the board. Other than an annual board meeting, you won’t even know anything has changed.”
“Everything would change,” Abram said. “I’d have to answer to a board of directors.” And he’d only own five-twelfths’ share of fifty percent of the company. One year ago he had owned one hundred percent. “I can’t do it.”
Cheney turned away from Abram and looked toward Hubbard. “What do you think?”
Hubbard shrugged. “It’s also a reasonable idea.”
“What are you thinking, Hubbard?” Abram leaned forward. “You’ve hated to get permission to spend money the way you want. What happens when you have a board to answer to? This will no longer be our company. It will belong to hundreds of people.”
Hubbard looked between Abram and Cheney, his eyes clouded with indecision. “Both ideas have their merits and their risks.”
“I’m the majority partner.” Abram crossed his arms. “I vote we go with my plan.”
“Together, Hubbard and I are the majority,” Cheney said. “If the two of us decide a joint stock corporation is the way to go, we outvote you.”
Abram rose from his seat and looked between them. “I have four years invested here.” He couldn’t hide the incredulity from his voice. “You’d go against my wishes?”
Cheney also rose. “You might have time invested, but the money I’ve invested came from years of hard work. If this venture folds, not only will I lose what I’ve invested here, I’ll lose my other businesses.”
“We’re all tired,” Hubbard said. “Maybe we should wait until tomorrow to finish this discussion.”
“I plan to leave first thing in the morning,” Abram said, his voice tight. “I’m going to Duluth to do research.”
“And I’m going to speak to a lawyer about forming a joint stock corporation,” Cheney said, his voice equally tight. “I won’t wait to see what comes of your research.”
“If Hubbard and I decide selling shares isn’t the way to go,” Abram said, “then your talk with the lawyer will be a waste of time.”
Again, Cheney looked at Hubbard. “What will it be?”
Hubbard swallowed and shook his head. “I can’t make a decision without knowing all the facts.” He looked at Abram. “How quickly can you be back from Duluth?”
Abram paced to the window, where the moonless night hid the wreckage from view. Duluth was a hundred and fifty miles northeast. If he pushed hard, he could make the trip in a day, and would need a few days to look around and talk to people who had already started mining, and then a day to come back. He turned and looked at his business partners. “I think I could be back by Friday.”
Cheney’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. But I expect you back here on Friday with answers, and in the meantime I’m talking to a lawyer.” He went to the hook by the door and grabbed his hat. “I’m going to the Northern Hotel. If you change your mind, that’s where I’ll be until you return.”
“Wait.” Abram glanced up the stairs where Charlotte was sleeping. He lowered his voice. “Keep my trip to yourselves. I don’t want anyone speculating about why I left. We need people to keep coming to town, thinking the company is thriving. If they hear we’re facing trouble, they’ll move on by.”
Cheney nodded once and then walked out,
slamming the door behind him.
Hubbard slowly stood and put his hand on Abram’s shoulder. “I hope you find what we need. I’ll see you on Friday during the ball at the Northern Hotel.”
The ball.
Abram planned to escort Charlotte.
“Good night, Abram.” Hubbard left the house and gently closed the front door behind him.
Abram stood for a few moments, the fog of exhaustion returning.
Footsteps fell on the stairs and the hem of Charlotte’s dress slipped into view. Soon her entire body was visible and she looked around the room. “Are they gone?”
Abram nodded, but couldn’t move. What had she heard?
“You should go to bed, Abram. It isn’t healthy for you to be awake for so long, especially when you’ve been working so hard.”
He pulled his feet over to the stairs and stopped in front of her. He didn’t want to ask her what she had heard, in case it made her suspicious. But she needed to know something. “I’m leaving first thing in the morning, and I won’t be home until Friday night.”
She blinked up at him, her face half hidden by the shadows. “Where are you going?”
He wanted to tell her, but if he did, she wouldn’t understand. “I’m going with Harry for a few days, but I’ll be back.”
“Harry?” She put her hands on his forearms, her eyes pleading. “Abram, I know you’re upset, but you can’t follow in Harry’s footsteps.”
He shook his head. “It’s not like that. I’m going with him to look into business for the Little Falls Company. I’ll be back on Friday.”
She studied his face, as if ascertaining if he was telling the truth. “The ball is on Friday.”
“I hope to be back by then.”
“I hope so, too. Won’t you tell me where you’re going?”
What would it hurt to tell her? “I’m going to Duluth.”
“Duluth? But why? Especially now?”
“I’ll tell you more when I return, but this is urgent, so I need to go immediately.” If he was successful, he could put the money back into the Little Falls Company and he could stay here and raise the boys.
A Family Arrangement Page 19