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Chapter 5

THURSDAY, MAY 12, 1904—KALISPELL, MONTANA

Brunswick Flour Mill was running at full capacity again now that his machinery was purring like a kitten. Amazing what peace that gave Carter. Nothing had felt right since the railroad dropped their announcement. He looked over the list Jack Gustafson had given him and signed at the bottom. Jack had been his right-hand man for over four years now. He had come from the Pillsbury mills in Minnesota and offered expertise that had gone far to teach Carter everything he needed to know.

“Thanks, Jack. I appreciate your attention to detail.”

Jack took the papers and gave them a shake. “Devil’s in the details some say, but for me the details are more of a divine concern. Seems to me the devil’s all about chaos and disorder. God’s the one who sees to the details.”

“True enough. Well, I think it’s important you know that I appreciate that detail.”

His friend quirked an eyebrow at him. “That shiner’s getting more colorful as the day goes on.”

Carter narrowed his gaze, wincing as his eye started throbbing. Again. “Let’s just not even talk about it, okay?”

Jack chuckled and sat behind his desk, opposite Carter’s. “Sure thing. You’re the boss.”

“Why don’t you catch me up on Miriam and the boys? I’ve been praying for them since you told me about the scarlet fever. I’d say that’s a bit more harrowing than me walking into the wrong end of a fist.”

“I appreciate your prayers.” All signs of laughter left Jack’s face. “The boys pulled through all right, thank the Lord. Poor Miriam was up with them around the clock. The youngest is just two and he seemed to suffer the most. On Saturday I intend to load up all four boys and get them out of the house for the day. Miriam needs a rest. I need to figure out what we’re going to do.”

Carter laced his fingers together behind his head and leaned back. “Why don’t you head out to see my folks? My mother would love to see the boys. She misses getting to spend time with her grandchildren back in Kansas.”

“Really? That would be great.”

“Sure. They’ve got some new lambs and a calf, not to mention the horses and chickens. I’m sure the boys would burn off plenty of energy running around the farm. And knowing Mom, she’d probably force you to let her oversee them while you and my dad had a nice long talk.”

Relief relaxed the worry lines around Jack’s eyes. “Sounds pretty good to me. You sure they wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. I’ll send word out to them to expect you. I can well imagine this will make you a hero in Miriam’s eyes, and I’m all about supporting that.” He smiled at his friend, happy he would take him up on his offer. Jack and Miriam were two of the hardest working people he knew. And they loved their boys, but those little guys had endless energy. Carter didn’t know how Jack and Miriam kept up with them.

“Well, thanks, I know she’ll appreciate it. I’d best get back to the inventory.” Jack folded the papers and grabbed a pencil before exiting the office.

Carter jotted a note to his mother. She would take matters in hand and keep those boys busy. It would be a win for everyone.

At noon, Carter called in one of his newest workers. Bill Preston was just seventeen and Carter wanted to encourage him. Jack said the boy lacked a lot of confidence, and he’d heard around town that Bill’s father was an overbearing drunkard who had condemned his family to poverty. Maybe Carter could help Bill change things for him and his family.

The young man was ashen faced as he approached the door.

“Come on in and sit with me a moment.” Carter ushered the tall, skinny boy into his office.

“Did I do something wrong?” Bill’s voice was barely audible.

“No. Just the opposite. You’re doing a great job. Jack tells me you’ve been handling bagging the flour like you were born to it. He said we’ve never had a better worker on the machines.”

Bill straightened a bit. “Thank you, Mr. Brunswick.”

“I believe in rewarding folks for their good work. You’ve been working hard. You’re here early every morning and never hesitate to stay late if you’re asked. I appreciate a man who gives his job his all. It’s time I give you a raise.”

His eyes widened. “A raise? Truly? My family needs the money bad. My ma has a hard time making ends meet.” He pushed back his sandy hair. “I was afraid you were going to fire me.”

“No chance of that if you keep at it like you’ve been doing.” Carter picked up the note he’d written his mother. “I wonder if you would do a personal task for me?”

“Of course. Anything you need.” The boy looked almost as excited by the prospect as if it were his birthday.

Carter grinned. “I figured I could count on you. I need this note run out to my mother. You know where my parents’ farm is, don’t you?”

“Of course. Everyone does.”

“You can take my horse, Mercury. He’s over at the livery. Just deliver this note to my mother, and she’ll feed you. It’s one of her favorite things to do. Then I’d like you to take the rest of the day off. All I ask is that you return the horse before nightfall. Which gives you a few hours given our longer and longer days.”

The boy looked stunned. “You mean, I can just ride around if I want to?”

“Absolutely. Just don’t overdo it. Don’t go too far up into the mountains and wear Mercury out. I might have use of him tomorrow.”

“No, sir. I wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Well, take care of the note and then you’ve earned a break.” He handed the paper to Bill.

“Should I tell your mother that you said for her to feed me?”

Carter chuckled. “You won’t have to tell her anything. She’ll insist. I promise.”

The boy tucked the letter into his shirt pocket. “Thanks, Mr. Brunswick. I ain’t never had an afternoon to myself.”

Carter stood and extended his hand. “Well, it will be just between us. No sense worrying your family about the details. You’re still on the clock as far as I’m concerned. Just doing something other than bagging flour.”

“Yes, sir!” Bill pumped Carter’s hand up and down. He turned and ran from the office, crashing into someone outside the open doorway as he exited. Carter heard his muffled apology, figuring he’d probably run into Jack. Instead, he heard the voice of none other than Miss Briggs.

Carter’s gaze snapped up and he straightened. There she was. With her big, beautiful blue eyes.

He shook off the shock and stood. “Well, hello, Ellie. Come on in.” He suppressed a smile as she stalked into his office.

“It’s Eleanor, but for you, it’s Miss Briggs, if you don’t mind.”

Make that, big, beautiful, fiery blue eyes.

He chuckled. “But I do mind. Miss Briggs makes it seem that we don’t know one another very well, and you and I have a history.”

“We’ve only just met.” Her eyes flashed, but if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a hint of a smile hidden there.

“Yes, but in that meeting we learned a great deal about one another.” This was too much fun. When had he become such an instigator?

She tipped her head to the side, eyebrows drawn together. “Is that so?”

“Absolutely.” He ticked his list off on his fingers. “I learned that you are the daughter of a famous conservationist named Stewart Briggs. You hail from back east and own a bicycle.”

“I said nothing about being from back east. How did you surmise that?”

Carter folded his arms over his chest and shrugged. “Because we’re very nearly as far west as you can go. Just about everything is east of here.”

“Oh. I see.” She nodded, a bit of a twinkle in those expressive eyes. “Go on, then.”

Carter lost no time. “You are confident and of the opinion that your affairs are of the utmost importance. You are careful with your appearance, but not so stuffy that you don’t consider comfort.”

She stopped him once again. “How do you suppose that?” She mirrored his stance, crossing her arms against her serviceable brown jacket.

“I noted that you were wearing well-worn walking boots. Seems to me a woman of means with such boots keeps them for their comfort. I know that’s why I continue to wear these boots of mine.”

She smiled at that. Barely.

But he’d count it. “See. I was right.”

“You are good at deducing. That’s all.”

Carter offered her a chair. “Won’t you sit and tell me why you’ve come today, Ellie.”

She sat on the edge of the chair, hands folded in her lap. “Stop calling me that. You’re giving casual consideration to a relationship that doesn’t exist. Only my parents use my nickname.”

“But I like it so much better than Eleanor. Eleanor is stuffy and formal.”

“Which is what I prefer to be with you.”

He leaned against the edge of his desk and watched her look around his office. It probably wasn’t as fancy as offices she’d seen in businesses back east. But it served the mill well. It was clean and the large windows set in the brick eight feet above them let in enough light to warm the room. “Stuffy and formal? You want to be considered as stuffy? That’s hardly a flattering characteristic.”

She rolled her gaze heavenward and sighed. “You, sir, are one of the most exasperating men I’ve ever encountered.”

Carter laughed. “My mother has often said the same thing. But she loves me dearly.”

“Well, you needn’t fear the same reaction from me.”

He rubbed his chin as he studied her face. “I don’t know, Ellie. I might grow on you.”

“I highly doubt that.” Those eyes flashed at him.

But her lips tipped up ever so slightly. It was a perfectly charming response. She was enjoying this.

“Maybe not today—”

“Maybe not ever.” She pointed to his face. “How’s your eye?”

“It hurts, but I’ll live.” At least the bruise was fading to a greenish-yellow rather than the bold purple from a few days ago.

“Too bad.” Her growing smile softened the sting of her retort. “I didn’t hear at the train station how you came to be so bloody and bruised.”

“The railroad had just made an announcement at a town meeting. People weren’t too happy about it. I happened to walk into a couple punches.”

“Interesting story. Are you sure you weren’t the initiator? You don’t seem to have trouble starting arguments.” She held his gaze.

His jaw dropped. She could definitely hold her own. “I can assure you that I am not a pugilist.”

It was her turn to appear surprised. “I’m impressed that you know the word, Mr. Brunswick.”

“You give me far too little credit.”

She waved a hand. “Never mind. I recently heard about your father’s massive acreage. I’m told that he owns twenty thousand or more acres of land. I want to know why a man would believe himself in need of that much land.”

It took him a moment to catch up to her abrupt change in subject. Why was she asking about his family’s land? “You’d have to ask Dad.”

“You mean you don’t know why your father bought up all that land?” Her tone was sharp. Her chin tipped up.

Who was the instigator now?

“I suppose it was because he needed it for the farm. He and his friend Fred Owens are wheat farmers. They wanted to grow enough wheat to feed Montana and a few other states.”

“But why so much land?”

This conversation was far from the lighthearted banter they shared when she walked in. He didn’t much care for it. “It takes a lot of acreage to produce a lot of wheat. And it takes a lot of wheat to produce flour.” He met her disapproving gaze without flinching. “Is it the wheat you object to, or the land being farmed?”

Ellie brushed at her skirt. “I disapprove of private land ownership. Especially in vast quantities. Land such as there is out here should be open to the public, for all to enjoy.”

“Then where would you get your bread? Or don’t you eat bread?” Carter shook his head.

She looked ready to throw something at him. “Of course I eat bread. Honestly, Mr. Brunswick you are one of the most difficult men I’ve ever met. I’m trying to have a simple conversation about the land, and you try to make it about me. I am not the focus of this discussion.”

He pondered that. “You could be. I have a few questions I’d love to ask.”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I want to know about the land.”

“Then come out to the farm after church Sunday, and you can talk to my dad over dinner. I’m sure he’d love to meet you and answer your questions.” Carter could see it now. That would liven up the dinner table for sure. “You might even come to like me after all.”

“I assure you, Mr. Brunswick, that will never happen.” She rose from her seat and headed for the door.

“Ellie!”

She turned and glared at him.

What was it about that glare that tickled him? “I just wanted to say that it’s not a good idea to say never. I find when I do that, it’s almost like a challenge for God to show me that I’m not the One in control.”

Her eyes snapped as a frown covered her face. “First, Mr. Brunswick, I would have to believe that God took an interest in mankind for that comment to mean anything to me. Second, I am in control of my destiny and the choices I make, whether you are or not.”

Ouch. He shouldn’t have been so flippant. Her anger at God was palpable. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have teased like I did.”

She met his gaze and held it for several seconds. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

Eleanor got on her bicycle and rode as fast as she could back to the Ashbury house. Her hands trembled and her insides felt all flipped upside down. What was the matter with her? Better still, what was the matter with him? How dare he make comments about God being in control and never say never? She’d never heard of anything so ludicrous. She didn’t even know what to believe about God anymore.

God seemed, if He did exist, to hold His creation in complete disregard. Why would Eleanor want to have a relationship with a God who let her mother suffer and die?

Just like God, Carter Brunswick both attracted and repelled her. As a child, she’d felt so drawn to God and wanted to know more about Him. But now ...

It was as if God was dangerous.

Carter had the same effect on her. He screamed of danger. Why, she didn’t know. But she couldn’t allow herself to be attracted to him. No matter how much he drew her in.

Neither Carter Brunswick nor God had a place in her life.

A shiver raced up her spine and she almost fell off her bike. Slowing to a stop, she took a couple deep breaths. What was wrong with her? Everything had been unbalanced for days.

Eleanor got off the bike and walked beside it. No sense taking a tumble. It was a perfect summer day. She took a deep breath of mountain air—it seemed fresher than any she’d ever known. Chicago air had been full of coal smoke and odors too numerous to count. New York wasn’t much better.

But here, the entire sky suggested a purity that couldn’t be had anywhere else. And why? Because man had not been allowed to spoil it with overpopulation and large processing plants or factories. There had to be a way to keep men from coming here to tear apart the land and ruin what was so naturally stunning.

Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind. “God made the world perfect and beautiful. It is man who has wreaked destruction upon it. Man, who destroys it to serve his purposes. God gave the earth over to man to be tended in a loving and productive manner, not to damage it beyond use and then move on to the next place and do the same.”

Mother had loved Father’s conservationist beliefs. She wanted mankind to be taught to nurture and care for the land. She wanted to see the earth thrive and blossom as it surely had in the Garden of Eden. Mother believed that man could co-exist with creation, but only by drawing closer to God to better understand Him.

Oh, for pity’s sake! For so long, she’d pushed away any thought of God. Why was He now coming to mind over and over?

And why did she feel a strong desire to go back to Him? To understand the heavenly Father her mother loved. Perhaps ...

She nodded. The only way to resolve this confusion was to do her research. Ask questions.

It seemed that the Ashburys were God-fearing people. Perhaps she could have a conversation with Marvella and gain some sort of insight into what the older woman thought about God. She’d undoubtedly be as expansive on her thoughts about Him as about the other topics she discussed.

Eleanor approached the Ashbury mansion and started up the long circular drive, compelled to press on toward the answers she needed. Father said each man was responsible to make his own destiny, so she supposed it made sense that she would desire to speak to the older woman or anyone else who might afford her understanding.

As for this ridiculous sense that she had no control whatsoever over her life?

Well, that was absurd. And she’d soon prove it.

Grant stirred the pot of beans and bacon, then put the lid back on. He added wood to the stove, then took a seat, hands circling a cup of coffee. The melancholy and gloom at work still pressed in on him. Many of the men had bought houses in Kalispell and were now faced with selling them and moving to Whitefish, where they’d probably have to live in tents for a time. The housing was so limited in the smaller town that no doubt the influx of two or three hundred men would stretch the available resources well beyond the ability to provide.

Houses would go up in rapid order. They already did. Most would be slapped together at first. Probably little better than shanties.

But here in Kalispell, the town had grown ... nice. Nicer than anywhere else he’d ever lived. There were well-manicured lawns and tree-lined avenues. Stumptown, as many of the railroad workers referred to Whitefish, wasn’t at all pretty. Grant had been up there a couple of times on railroad business, and they had a long way to go to make something out of it. With all the stumps left behind from felling the abundant varieties of evergreen trees no wonder folks called it Stumptown. Those stumps were being pulled, but the land was still so unsettled.

Alvin finally showed up saying he’d found work on building the rail line from Columbia Falls to Whitefish and beyond. He came back on his days off to the small apartment he shared with Grant, but things weren’t the same. His brother was moody and unhappy with the prospects of moving north. Especially since he’d just found a girl he liked to spend time with and she called Kalispell home.

Grant glanced up at the clock. Alvin should be home any minute. Not that he was looking forward to listening to his brother’s grumblings all night. His own attitude was bad enough. He didn’t need to be worrying his brother would go off and do something stupid.

Alvin had always been a complainer, but of late, he seldom did anything else. Still, he’d bring news from the line, so Grant would face his brother’s ire to find out what was happening. Anything to know what was being discussed among those planning out the death of Kalispell.

He rubbed his pounding temples. He’d been left to care for Alvin when their ma died. At twelve, he had done what he could to keep his five-year-old little brother from harm, but there’d been only so much he could do. He’d been a kid himself.

Alvin grew up with a mean streak and sense of dissatisfaction. It was a wonder he’d found a girl to put up with him. But he’d probably made grand promises and was pouring on the charm. For now.

The door opened and the object of his thoughts—filthy as usual—stomped through. The stench of him filled the kitchen. Grant couldn’t disguise his distaste.

“I know. I know. I need a bath. And I intend to have one before I go see my gal, but right now I’m starvin’. You can live with the smell. What’s for dinner?”

“Beans and bacon. Cornbread.” Best not to argue over something as unimportant as a bath. “I’ll dish it up. Go ahead and sit down. Any news?”

Alvin was already halfway into the seat. “A few of the boys and me have been talkin’. We figure the only way to get Hill to listen to reason is to threaten what he cares about.”

“What are you talking about?” Grant spooned their dinner into bowls.

“Keepin’ the railroad in Kalispell, you idiot.” Alvin frowned. “We figure if we threaten Hill’s son that we can get him to change his mind or at least keep both lines open. We haven’t come up with a plan yet, but Hill will be in town soon, and we figure that’ll be the time to strike.”

Grant stopped what he was doing to give Alvin a hard stare. “You could go to jail for the rest of your life if you do something like that.”

Alvin shrugged. “If I get caught. Either way, it’d be better than living in Stumptown.”

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