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someone desperate, someone with a family member up to his eyeballs in debt, and no doubt, like all the Wilsons, blaming me.” He chuckled. “Well, well, Frank Wilson’s daughter is going to wait on me. That should make life a lot more interesting.” He snorted. “She won’t last a day.”
    Wade knew what his father didn’t. Abigail Wilson was made of stronger stuff than that.
    A coughing fit seized him. As George struggled to catch his breath, Blue scrambled to his feet and waddled to his master’s side, then plopped down, draping his head over George’s chest.
    Wade gave his father a sip of water, then grabbed a towel to mop up dribble that ran down his chin.
    “Frank condemned me for calling his loan, yet he signed the papers,” George said as soon as he could speak. “Knew what he’d signed too. Trouble with people like Frank Wilson—they don’t own up to their responsibility. Lay the blame on others for their own failure.”
    “No point sullying the name of a dead man.”
    “He didn’t hesitate to besmirch my name. Instead of finding a job to earn money that would’ve taken care of his family, Wilson did nothing except bad-mouth me, turning public opinion against us, the big, bad Cummingses gobbling up the Wilsons’ eighty acres. The Panic of 1893 would’ve ruined the bank had I not called the Wilson loan and others like it. Everything was legal and within my rights.”
    “Legal, but was it ethical? You bought the Wilson farm then made a huge profit from selling a part of their land a few months later to the Illinois Central Railroad.”
    His father glanced at his bandaged hands. “The railroad’s interest in the land had nothing to do with calling that loan. Time you understood that this family wouldn’t be where we are today if I hadn’t paid attention to earnings. If I’d extended charity to those who couldn’t pay, I’d have gone down in the same sinking ship.”
    Countless times his father had drummed into Wade the importance of making tough choices to ensure a profit, emphasizing that the debits and credits on a balance sheet determined if a man lost everything or emerged a winner.
    Wade wondered what his father had won.
    That fortune he prided himself on accumulating hadn’t given him happiness. His father’s bad temper kept others at arm’s length, even his own family. Valuing money more than human beings made a man hard. So hard that a son couldn’t get close.
    He hoped Abby fared better.

Chapter Four
    A bigail shot up her parasol, angling it against the morning sun then strode up the block, her skirts swishing at her ankles.
    The Cummingses’ mansion wasn’t far in distance, but as far from her life as she could get here in New Harmony. She wouldn’t be welcome there.
    “Abby! Wait up.” Holding on to her hat with one hand, Rachel bustled across the street to Abigail’s side. “I’m on my way to look after the Logan children. Elizabeth wants to divvy up the money from yesterday’s auction in peace. But, quick, tell me about your lunch with Wade.”
    “There’s nothing to tell, really.”
    Rachel’s eyes glittered with excitement. “Of course there is! Why did he buy your box lunch when you two barely speak?”
    “I’ll tell if you promise not to try to change my mind.”
    Rachel lifted her right hand as if taking an oath on the witness stand. “I promise.”
    By the time Abigail finished the explanation, Rachel’s eyes were the size of silver dollars. “What did your mother say about working for a Cummings?”
    “She doesn’t know.” Abigail tightened her grip on her parasol. “I may be fired before noon. No point in telling my family until I see if I’m keeping the job.”
    “How can you work for George Cummings after what he did to your father?”
    If only she had another way. “I want to help Joe and Lois. The auction should supply the lumber, maybe even the building materials, but nothing else. Right now, neither of them can work.”
    “You’re