Prologue

OCTOBER 2, 1894—NEW YORK CITY

Watching the person she loved most in the world die was the absolute worst experience ever. Nothing could be as dreadful. Not even dying herself.

Ellie bit her lip and commanded the tears in her eyes to stop.

They didn’t listen.

They puddled in the corners until they spilled down her cheeks in great streams of salty liquid. Licking her lips, she swiped at her cheeks. “Mama? Tell me what to do ... how can I help you?”

Another wail escaped the woman on the bed.

A woman who no longer resembled the loving mother who’d given birth to her and raised her. Gone were the rosy cheeks and brilliant smile. The plump bosom and curvy figure had shriveled into the gaunt frame that couldn’t weigh more than ninety pounds.

Ellie tightened her grip on Mama’s hand, willing the pain away.

But another scream tore out of her fragile mother. Ellie clenched her eyes against the sound. She hated cancer! Hated the doctor for not being able to help. Hated God for allowing this.

Just an hour ago Mama had talked to her. With ragged breaths, she’d pleaded with Ellie to trust God and have faith that all would be well. That His will for her life was perfect.

Ellie had nodded and lied. Anything to make Mama feel better.

She might only be fourteen years old, but she’d witnessed too much suffering, too many horrors to believe that God’s will was perfect. Or even good. No matter what Mama said. No matter what Ellie had believed as a child. No. Not anymore.

Maybe back when she was little, she’d been gullible enough to believe. Back when Mama was well and whole. She’d been so proud that her daughter had placed her faith in the Almighty.

Her mother had been the strongest woman of faith ever ... and this was what God allowed to happen to her?

It wasn’t right.

It would never be right again.

What would she do without Mama?

The hot tears started in earnest again.

Mama’s wails dimmed to moans, but she continued to writhe as the stomach cancer ate at her body.

Doc had said it wouldn’t be long now. Why couldn’t he fix it?

It didn’t make sense. Mama was fighting for life, for each breath. If she was still fighting, why couldn’t the doctor?

Mama stilled.

The silence was worse than the wails.

“Mama?” Ellie scooted closer.

Waited for her mama’s next breath.

She counted to ten before it came.

Mama’s body lay limp beneath the thin blanket. Sweat dotted her forehead and Ellie wiped it away.

“Jesus!” Mama’s voice sounded with sudden strength. “Take me home!” The cry crackled from her throat.

“No ... Mama, please ... I need you. You need to stay with me.” Great sobs racked Ellie’s frame and she gripped her mother’s hand and squeezed.

Mama’s face pinched into a grimace again. An agonizing, guttural sound filled the room.

And then ...

Mama’s face relaxed into a smile. Her body lay limp.

Ellie counted.

Mama didn’t take a breath.

“Breathe,Mama.” The whisper choked its way out. In Ellie’s mind, she started counting again.

When she reached five hundred, everything stopped. The counting. The pleas.

The hope.

Everything inside her shattered. Never to be put back together again.

Why would God do this? Why would He take such a beautiful soul? How could God’s will be for those so faithful to Him to suffer so much?

She shook Mama’s thin hand. Nothing happened.

All color was gone from Mama’s face.

No writhing. No moaning. No wailing.

No grimace wrinkled her brow.

No life.

Nothing.

Ellie jerked her hand away. “No!”

AUGUST 10, 1895—KALISPELL, MONTANA

“Owner of the flour mill.” Dad grinned and gripped Carter’s shoulder tight. “I’m proud of you, son.”

Carter Brunswick stood a little taller. He’d worked hard and saved his money for years to get to this day. It was perfect. And his twenty-first birthday to boot. “Thanks. I couldn’t have done it without the Lord and, of course, you and Mom.”

The smile that stretched across Dad’s face was broader than any he’d ever seen. “Let’s get on home. Your mother is preparing a celebration.”

“A celebration? She shouldn’t have gone to the trouble.” Even still, he allowed the excitement to build. If he were still a kid, he’d be skipping down the street.

“She wanted it to be a surprise, but you know me ... I have a hard time keeping secrets.” His father’s step had a definite bounce to it.

“I won’t tell her that you gave it away, but I need to make a stop first. I’ve asked Pastor Woody to pray over this new venture so I can dedicate the business to the Lord. Mom won’t mind, will she?” He stopped in the street. “I was hoping you would join me.”

“Your mother won’t mind one bit.” Dad’s jaw quivered for a moment as he pinched his lips together. “And I would be honored.”

They walked in silence to the church, and Carter took the time to calm his nerves. All the nervous energy he’d carried around the last few days was a jumbled mess inside of him. But now that the papers were signed, the flour mill was his—and the depth of what lay ahead was sinking in.

He would be responsible for the mill and its workings. A huge undertaking. Then there were all the employees. Their families would depend on him to make good decisions and keep the business growing. The town needed the flour, as did surrounding areas. One day he’d even branch out and send their delicious wheat flour across the country.

His shoulders dipped a bit under the weight of it all. Had he bitten off more than he could chew?

Dad and his partner—Fred—had started their wheat farms ten years ago. They’d even helped another man who’d been through hard times get the mill started because neither one of them could manage their farms and a mill. But when the mill owner’s wife died, the mill went up for sale.

Carter fasted and prayed for three days and knew without a doubt that he was supposed to purchase the mill and run it.

But in the back of his mind, doubts niggled at him. Was he old enough? Was he wise enough? Would the workers respect him? What if he had issues? Financially. Or with equipment or distribution?

They reached the church steps and Dad stopped at the bottom and turned. “Carter, I know you. I can see the worry crisscrossing your face.” He placed his hand on Carter’s shoulder again. “You’ve taken on a massive job, but God will see you through. Just like you said, God has provided and opened the door. Keep Him first, and He will guide you.”

“Yes, sir.” He inhaled deep. “That’s why I wanted to come here. It’s important to give my work over to the Lord.”

“Then, let’s go.” Dad headed up the steps and Carter followed.

Twenty-one. He couldn’t believe it. He was the owner of the flour mill at twenty-one! When he was younger, he’d had lots of dreams. Most of them centered around their wheat farm and the mill. But when several of his school chums courted and got married, envy began to seep into his heart and mind.

His biggest dream had been to get married, have a family, and carry on the legacy his parents and grandparents gave him. But finding the right gal proved harder than it was to dream it.

He’d done his best to set that part of his dreams aside, but inside, his heart yearned for it no matter how much he tried to quell it.

Taking two stairs at a time, he followed Dad. All in good time. God had given him this part of his dream, He would supply the rest. If it was His will.

Man, he hoped it was. Pastor Watkins opened the double doors as they reached the top step. “Welcome. So good to see the Brunswick men today.” He clapped his hands together. “And what a day it is. Am I looking at the new owner of the flour mill?” His eyebrows wiggled.

“That you are.” Dad patted Carter on the back.

“Wonderful!” He held out an arm toward the sanctuary. “I asked the elders and deacons to pray with us—just as you asked, Carter.”

“Thank you, Pastor.” As they walked into the space, the smell of lemon oil filled his senses. Someone must have polished the pews recently.

“Let’s head to the front. If you’ll kneel, Carter, the rest of us would like to surround you and lay our hands on your head and shoulders as we approach the throne of Grace.”

Carter nodded and walked forward.

Now that the time was here, everything else fell away. Silence filled the room and he stepped to the altar and knelt.

Surrounded by godly men whom he’d known half of his life, Carter dipped his head and closed his eyes.

Lord, into Your hands I give my life and my business. May I bring glory to Your name...

One of the elders began to pray, and a rush of warmth filled him as tears streaked down his cheeks.