A Family Arrangement. Gabrielle Meyer
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It was a mecca for transient fur traders, trappers and Indians. At any time, there were usually about two hundred people living there and very few things were off-limits. He was sure his men had enjoyed themselves.
Charlotte crossed her arms and looked at him with disappointment. “You let them do this?”
“They’re grown men. What am I supposed to do?”
“Tell them to stop.”
He took a flapjack off the top of the stack and put it on his plate, his stomach growling. He almost closed his eyes to inhale the warm scent but refrained—only because she was watching. “I can’t tell them what to do.”
Her foot began to tap again but this time she wasn’t humming. “Well, I can.” She marched around the table and out of the kitchen, her skirts swaying.
Abram scrambled up from the table. “Charlotte!” He raced out of the kitchen and through the dark room just as she opened the front door. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m reforming your employees.” She reached for the triangle dinner bell.
His eyes grew wide. “They’ll skin you alive! They’ve only been asleep for a couple hours and this is their one morning to sleep in.”
She closed the door and marched across the room to the stairs. “This is the Lord’s Day and I won’t live in a house with four men who don’t honor Him.”
He reached for the dinner bell but she pulled away. Instead of grab the bell he grabbed her wrist. “I’m warning you, Charlotte. I don’t know what they’re capable of if woken up right now. They won’t be happy.”
She pulled her arm away and raced up the steps. He chased after her, but before he could stop her, she charged into the room and began to clang the bell.
“Everyone up! Wake up!” The bell drowned out her words and echoed in Abram’s ears. “Breakfast is on the table. Get dressed and ready for church.”
Caleb jumped out of his bed as if there was a fire, his eyes enormous. He stood in his red long johns and stocking cap. “What’s wrong?”
Josiah groaned and threw his pillow across the room. It hit Charlotte right in the head. Her eyes registered surprise—and then anger. The bell stopped clanging for a moment and Abram thought for a split second that Charlotte would throw the heavy dinner bell at Josiah’s head in return.
“Wake up!” Charlotte said instead, this time with more force. “I’m surprised at you men. Is this how you spend your hard-earned money?”
Harry sat up, a scowl on his weathered face, while Milt looked at Charlotte through the hair hanging in his eyes.
Caleb sank back to his bed, holding his head between his hands and moaning.
Charlotte crossed her arms and glared at the men. “I made breakfast and it’s still hot. If any of you ever expect to eat a warm meal at my table again, I’d advise you to get dressed and come down immediately.”
Harry stood and fisted his hands. “Last I heard, you were an employee of Abram’s, same as us. Seems to me that he should be the one making the rules around here.”
Charlotte turned and faced Abram. “You said it’s my kitchen for now. Therefore, I make the rules. I say they eat now or I don’t serve them again.”
Panic swelled in Abram’s gut. If he wanted Harry to stay, he couldn’t take Charlotte’s side—yet, if he wanted Charlotte to stay, he had to give her power over her domain.
“I say we show the lady some respect,” Caleb said, grimacing as he reached for his shirt and pants off the floor. “If she went to the trouble of making us breakfast, the least we can do is come to the table on time.”
Abram sighed in relief.
Caleb nudged Josiah. “Get out of bed and come eat Miss Charlotte’s breakfast.”
Josiah’s black curls were in a mess on his head. He sat up and ran his hands through his hair. The look he cast Charlotte suggested she had lost all appeal in his eyes.
Milt didn’t say anything but he also started to fumble for his clothing.
It was Harry who narrowed his eyes and glared at Charlotte. “I won’t let no woman tell me what to do.” He flopped back into his bed and pulled the covers over his red hair.
Caleb, Josiah and Milt all looked at him—and then at Charlotte—but none of them went back to bed.
Charlotte turned from the room, the dinner bell firmly in hand.
Abram was thankful a disaster had been averted—though for how long, he wasn’t sure.
He followed Charlotte down the stairs, admiring and disliking her backbone all at the same time.
When the men were assembled around the table, and Abram had said grace, Charlotte poured each of them a cup of coffee. Their eyes were bloodshot and they didn’t bother to hide their yawns. No one said a thing as Charlotte picked up Harry’s plate, cup and fork and put them back in the cupboard.
“I’ll expect each of you to join us at church today, too,” Charlotte said, taking her place at the table.
Josiah’s black eyes filled with horror. “Now, look here, Miss Charlotte—”
“What would your mothers think if they knew you weren’t attending church?” Charlotte took a flapjack off the platter and put it on her plate. “I want you to make your parents proud.”
Caleb, Josiah and Milt ate the rest of the meal in silence.
Abram did, too.
Charlotte was the only one who seemed to have something to say.
* * *
The wagon rumbled over the uneven road toward the north and the long-awaited meeting with her nephews. Charlotte huddled inside her coat, a cloud of air escaping her mouth.
The prairie was draped in a thin blanket of snow with patches of brown grass showing through. A large bluff rose up in the east, covered with leafless trees, now stark against the white landscape.
Caleb, Josiah and Milt sat in the back of the wagon, their heads bobbing up and down as if they had fallen asleep, and perhaps they had. None of them looked happy about going to the mission this morning.
Abram gripped the opening of his coat with one chapped hand while the other held the reins.
“Don’t you have mittens?” she asked.
He glanced at her and she was reminded again of how blue his eyes were, especially now in the bright sunshine glinting off the fresh snow.
“The pair I have are worn through. I was planning to buy a new pair in St. Anthony.”
“You don’t need to do that. Buy me some yarn and I’ll knit new ones for everyone in the house.” She loved to keep her hands busy with sewing and knitting. “If you buy some wool, I’ll also sew you a new coat to match.”
He glanced down at his threadbare coat and sighed. “I wish there was enough time to make it before I meet with investors. I’d probably make a better impression if I didn’t look so destitute.”
She couldn’t make him a new coat by tomorrow, but she could at least wash a pair of his pants and a nice shirt this afternoon so they were dry in the morning. She would have to break her Sabbath rest to do the work, but maybe this one time would be okay—though it might help her cause if he went to St. Anthony looking like a pauper. If others saw how poor he was, they would realize it was foolish to invest in his town.
As tempting as the thought might be, no self-respecting housekeeper would let him go the way he looked.
The moment the mission came within sight, Charlotte sat straighter. She didn’t realize she was clutching her hands together until her cold knuckles hurt.