A Noble Groom (Michigan Brides #2)(46)

“And the five years is ending?”

“This summer. He’ll let us have until fall, until after the harvest. And any farmer that can’t finish paying the loan must leave. He was clear that he’d give no exceptions.”

“That seems a little harsh.” It wasn’t Annalisa’s fault her husband had died. If Jacob Buel were a kind man, he would see that her circumstances were unavoidable, that she was doing all she could. “What if one of the farmers is close? Wouldn’t he extend the deadline another year?”

Uri grabbed his rifle and glanced along the shore, to the island in the middle of Mill Creek, and then up and down the river, his eyes alert. “Mr. Buel has already shown us great kindness. And all the hardworking farmers will have no trouble paying what they owe. Some have already done so.”

“Then you’re saying Hans wasn’t a hard worker?”

A scowl creased the boyish features. “Hans was the worst kind of dummboozle.”

Something in the depth of the boy’s eyes was as murky as a test tube full of explosive chemicals. “So does that mean you were best friends with him?” Carl asked, hoping he sounded playful.

Uri’s scowl deepened. He kicked a rock and sent it into the river. “Hans made Annalisa’s life miserable. So I did my best to make his the same way.”

Carl grinned. “I’d hate to be on your bad side.”

“If you keep treating Annalisa kindly, I’ll keep helping you. But if you hurt her in any way, then I’ll hurt you.”

Carl socked Uri in the arm. “Aw, come on. You need to relax a bit. You’re too intense about too many things.”

Uri turned his attention to the island. “I see that Ward’s men have been out here again.”

The island was surrounded by debris left from the recent river drive—smaller logs, branches, and piles of leaves. As far as Carl could see, everything was as it had been the other times they’d come. Besides, now that the river hogs had driven the logs from the banking grounds down to the mills in Forestville, Ward didn’t need Annalisa’s property—at least for the time being.

Ward hadn’t been back since the night he’d tried to force her to sign over her land. Carl could only hope he’d scared him away for good. He’d made a point of sharing the news of Ward’s attack with Pastor Loehe and everyone else he’d seen. At the very least, Carl hoped Ward had gotten some censure from community leaders for his attempt to coerce Annalisa.

“He wouldn’t come out this time of year, would he?” Carl asked.

Uri pointed to one of the tall beech trees on the island. “See the black X there?”

Sure enough, one of the trees had an X marked on its trunk. “Are you sure it wasn’t there before? Why would Ward’s men be out now that the logging season is over?”

“Because he still wants the land.”

“Doesn’t he get the message that Annalisa isn’t going to sell to him? Why won’t he just leave her alone?”

“Because rich people think they’re entitled to take whatever they want. And they don’t care who they hurt in the process, as long as they get their way.”

A rebuttal pushed for release, but Carl bit it back. He couldn’t say anything to defend the wealthy—not to Uri, not now after hearing about Erik’s death and his own father’s role in it. What if his father and Ward were more alike than he wanted to admit?

“There has to be a way to stop Ward,” Carl said as they started back through the woods.

Uri’s footsteps crunched in the brush. He whipped the new growth aside with the butt of his rifle as if even the spring growth conspired against him.

Carl plodded behind him, knowing he would soon be breathless trying to keep up with the boy’s pace. Even though Carl had grown hardier and stronger over the past month, he still struggled over the ground covered with dead logs and slashings, and against the branches flying back and slapping him.



“There is only one way to stop Ward,” Uri said over his shoulder. “Kill him.”

Carl guffawed.

But from the proud tilt of Uri’s head to the hard set of his shoulders, Carl had the impression the boy wasn’t jesting. Carl’s easy laugh died and his humor evaporated, replaced instead with pity. Uri was in need of laughter and fun and the freedom to be a boy without all the worries of survival and adulthood pressing in on him.

“Uri,” Carl said, “you’ve learned how to be a man. Now it’s time for you to learn how to be a boy. And I think I’ll need to teach you that.”

Uri didn’t say anything but continued as nimble as a young buck through the tangle of woods.

When they reached the clearing and came out by the wheat field, they could see Annalisa kneeling in the vegetable garden, her skirt pulled tight against her ever-expanding waist. Gretchen played in the grass nearby, chasing Snowdrop in carefree abandon.

Over the past several days, the sunlight had brushed the land like a painter, turning the dull, yellowed grasses, withered from winter, into a vibrant green that sprang up with renewed life. Snowdrop stopped his game of chase and rolled in the grass, burying his nose in it as if the new life was too hard to resist. Gretchen dropped next to him and scratched his back. Sunlight glinted off her bare head and swirled in wisps of loose hair.