“Good morning, Abram. We saw that you returned. How was the journey?” Sarah Chellings asked as she walked in the door with Charity by her side. She was wearing a faded and much washed gray and green gingham dress that was nearly worn through in the elbows and cuffs but, nonetheless, she looked neat and clean as she always did. Over her dress she wore a white apron, slightly patched. Her dark grey hair was pulled into a tight thin braid that fell halfway down her straight back and every last stra...