Chapter 7

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A week passed, and Charlotte did not leave the cabin.

Samuel tried to make her come to church last Sunday, but the idea had made her so upset, the idea of being surrounded by a room packed with people, that she developed a debilitating migraine that lasted several days.

It saddened Samuel to see his niece so fragile. Ever since she was a child, it had always been the same problem. Sometimes, she would be in good shape for a while, and then something would happen that would almost destroy her.

And now, every new person struck fear into her, and Samuel couldn't think of anything he could do to fix it. He was so accustomed to fixing things in a hands-on manner. Mending broken wagon wheels or taking a thorn out of a cow's hoof was one thing, but fixing his niece seemed harder than anything he'd ever faced.

Samuel sat in the cabin's main room and wrung his hands that were calloused from a lifetime of struggling with reins and ropes. Now, more than ever, he wanted to get on a horse and go out into the wilderness as he had done many times before. Ride across strange new mountains, cross rushing streams, find odd jobs on the shrinking frontier.

But he would never leave Charlotte without support. Though he likely would never make another great journey into the West, caring for Charlotte was just as important to him as he often felt she was like his own daughter.

He was angry at his brother James, Charlotte's father.

The week previously, when he told Charlotte to write her father a letter, Samuel wrote a letter of his own to James, expressing his sentiments:

James,

I have never seen you so cowardly. Sending your daughter to a place she's never been without you when she needs you most.

You keep using your work as your excuse, and your grief, but neither makes up for the lack of attention you give her. You only care when she's deathly ill, and when she mends, you're too busy for her. Charlie has become a fearful and desperate girl.

I try my best to soothe her nerves, but what she needs is her father. I've had her send you a letter, and you'd best write her something nice. She's looking to hear from you.

You have no right to be cross at her for her fainting spell. You should have expected something along those lines to happen sooner or later, with the way she pushes herself for you, to try and impress you. She's in a state of tragedy because of it.

Any other woman wouldn't think twice about fainting, but you've made the slightest mistake akin to the end of the world for Charlie. And you'd best get a clearer idea of how long you want her to stay here. 

Don't write to me about your usual problems, all your debts with your law practice. Your responsibility is to your daughter. Make yourself present in her life, and not just as some manager who dictates where and when she plays the piano.

Write fast, James, at least to Charlie, and write her something pleasant.

Samuel had gotten along with his brother when they were young, and they used to come out to this very cabin with their father to hunt and fish. But the siblings drifted as they grew, James becoming so much more serious and smug once he started law school, and Samuel becoming more carefree as he went West.

Of course, Samuel still cared about his brother, but Charlotte needed his care more. 

While Charlotte's migraine was a setback, Samuel found that after a few days, it subsided, and Charlotte got her wits about her again. But she still did not want to go back into town, too fearful. It confused him because he was sure she had made some progress by meeting a few new faces.

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