He made his way east, working from Springfield to Sleepy Eye and finally Mankato. He found odd jobs here and there to sustain him, but nothing that took more than a few days to complete. Minneapolis was the next city on his mental check list to visit. He knew there were several small towns and farms along the way and someone was bound to have some task for him to complete. A well to be dug, a roof to be patched, a wood pile to be cut, a rock wall to be built… anything, something.

More often than not he found himself staring at the roof of whatever building he roomed the night in. Tonight in particular he had the fine view of small patches of white paint peeling from all over the ceiling in the run down boarding house he was staying in on the edge of town. He found the building only the day before while he was on his way out of Mankato to find his next job. Farmers who had a bad crop that year all rushed to the city and snatched up any odd job there was available before Chris even had a chance to wander into town.

The house was so dilapidated it looked as though it would collapse in the next good wind storm. Chris figured this was as good of place as any to lodge in. In a way the rickety old structure was kind of like him. Neither had anything good going for them other than the small shred of hope they clung onto. The hope tomorrow would be a brighter, better day. The hope something or someone would come along and make some sort of improvement in their lives.

Chris rubbed the dust out of his eyes. The resident of the room above him was a very large man. Every time he shifted positions in bed the floor below him shook and caused plaster dust to come loose from the ceiling. Chris had the misfortune of occupying the room below him. It was nearly 2 in the morning and he was still awake, finding it difficult to sleep. Chris wasn't sure why; in his travels he became a master of having a lie-down in any position or location he found himself in.

He came to the conclusion it was because of what was nagging at him.

For weeks he had been trying to push it… her out of his mind. Not once had he been successful. Chris would go about his work, whatever it may be, and always she forced her way through everything to the fore front of his mind. A man could go mad this way! It wasn't proper to… oh, not that it mattered anyway.

Chris flopped onto his side, forcing all thoughts of her out of the way. He studied the wallpaper. It, like the paint, was peeling off too. Large strips of flowered paper rolled off the walls. Most of the furniture was in rough shape, too. The night stand was propped up on a stick of wood after one of the legs must have fallen off. The wardrobe in the corner had a door barely hanging by its hinges. Even the bed frame was barely standing up. Why that was it! A smile crossed Chris's face. He finally fell asleep, satisfied in knowing that in the morning, he was going to have himself a job.

The next morning Chris couldn't wait to get downstairs. The boarding house mistress, Mrs. Warner, was just putting breakfast on the table. The large man, Howard Cornwall, was already at the table with the other boarder, Frank Morris.

Mrs. Warner greeted Chris with her warm smile. "Mr. Nelson! You're just in time for breakfast. Sausage, biscuits, and eggs."

"That sounds delicious, Mrs. Warner. Is the mister around this morning? I'd like to speak with him if I could."

"He's in the stable doin' the morning chores. He'll be in for breakfast shortly. In the meantime why don't you have a seat and I'll dish something up for you?"

"No, thank you. I think I'll talk to Mr. Warner first, if you don't mind."

"Suit yourself. I will keep it warm for you…"

"Thank you, ma'am," Chris said. In his haste to get to the stable he forgot to shut door. Mrs. Warner shook her head after Chris and shut the door behind him.

Chris found Judd Warner in the stable, right where the missus said he would be. He was tossing grain in the feed buckets and pouring fresh water in the trough for the horses. Judd sent a glance in the direction of the door where Chris stood.

"Ah, Mr. Nelson. You needn't have come to help me with the chores. I manage just fine."

"I didn't… your wife said you were out here. I wanted to speak with you about your boarding house, sir."

Judd halted, bucket in midair. "The boarding house?"

"Yes, sir. I noticed several pieces of furniture in my room could use some mendin' and the wallpaper is peelin' off…"

"We manage the best we can, Mr. Nelson. What with my boys grown and gone and the boarders we get I don't have much time for paintin' and patchin'."

"I know, sir. That's what I've come to speak to you about. You see, I'm a handyman by trade and I can do almost anything. What I don't know how to do I learn pretty quickly. I would like to offer my services to you and the missus."

"We can't pay you much. I'd have to see your work before I could offer you any kind of payment."

"I don't need payment, sir. Just room and board in exchange for my work is all I ask. I'll stay as long as it takes to get things back to right then I will leave and be out of your way."

"I'd have to talk it over with Mrs. Warner but I don't think she would object, Mr. Nelson. We could use an extra pair of willing hands around here."

"Thank you for the chance, sir."

Judd placed his feed bucket on the hook and picked up the milk pail. "What do you said we go in and have ourselves a nice hot breakfast?"

"I think I'd like that," smiled Chris.

Within the week Chris had all the wardrobes mended in the bedrooms and the wallpaper stripped from every room needing it. In the others he patched it so one could hardly tell it needed it to begin with. He was just preparing to begin the painting when Judd asked him to repair Mrs. Warner's prep table in the kitchen. A few nails and a much needed table leg later, it was good as new.

"Oh thank you, Mr. Nelson! I declare, I don't know how we got along without you before! It doesn't even wobble anymore!" proclaimed Mrs. Warner.

Chris, wiping his hands on his red handkerchief, nodded. "All in a day's work, ma'am. I'd better get back to my paintin'."

"Oh, Mr. Nelson! Before you do, could you swing by the mercantile and pick me up some supplies? I have a list all made."

Chris agreed to. He took Mrs. Warner's list and headed out the front door into the foot traffic on Main St. Within a few blocks he located the mercantile Mrs. Warner frequented and stepped inside. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling with all sorts of goods.

"Can I help you sir?" questioned the man behind the counter.

"I have a list of things here for Mrs. Warner at the boarding house." Chris handed the merchant the piece of paper and watched as he set about preparing the order. Chris stood to the side and studied a shelf with men's watches.

The bell about the door jingled as another customer came into the mercantile, but Chris paid no mind. He was used to blending in with his surroundings, to stay out of the way.

"Ah, Mr. Ingalls! How good to see you again. Just passin' through Mankato?" asked the merchant.

"Good afternoon, Otis. Yes I brought another load for Mr. Oleson. I just wanted to stop to see if you had…"

Chris didn't hear the rest of what this Mr. Ingalls had to say. He stepped closer to examine the man the merchant was talking to. He never saw Caroline's husband up close and personal, but this man looked similar to the one he saw from a distance that day at the farm. The day he hide behind the tree just on the other side of the creek so Laura couldn't find him to introduce to her Pa. Same build, same brown hair, same sort of clothing. Why had he been so jealous then? Like he told Caroline, her husband was a caring man, so why wouldn't Charles care to meet the man who took charge of the building of his addition? From the way the Ingalls girls raved about their father, Chris thought himself a fool for taking cover like a child behind the tree.

"Excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt, but you wouldn't happen to be Charles Ingalls, would you?" he wondered.

Charles looked at the man, surprised. "I am. What can I do for you?"

"Do you happen to own a farm outside of Walnut Grove?"

"I do."

"It's nice to finally meet you, sir," Chris offered Charles his hand. "I'm Chris Nelson. I built your kitchen."

"Mr. Nelson! How good to meet you. Caroline and the girls told me a lot about you. What are you doing in Mankato?"

"I have a job here. I'm a handyman at the local boarding house."

"I need a place to stay the night. I'd sure like to meet the keepers and hear all about your time with my family, if you don't mind."

"I'm sure the Warners would be pleased to have you."

Chris had the merchant put the order on the Warners' account and he and Charles went out to the wagon. The Warners were indeed glad to have Charles and they spent the night talking about Charles's family and swapped stories.

That night, Chris climbed the stairs with a warm feeling in his heart. Tonight he would go to sleep without feeling so forlorn.

By the end of the next day, the majority of the painting was done. Frank, on his way through town, stopped over night at the boarding house and assisted Chris in painting. The two men just stood back to admire their work in Howard's room when Mr. Warner stepped through the door. He paused next to Chris to marvel at his work.

"Well, Mr. Nelson, you've done a fine job," he approved. "Before we know it you'll have the entire place looking mighty fine. If you keep this up we'll have to start paying you for your work!"

Chris and Frank both laughed, knowing Judd couldn't afford to pay much but would give anyone the shirt of his back if it meant he could help them in some way. That night at supper they had company. A young mother, looking for cheap yet comfortable quarters for the evening, stopped by looking for a place to sleep with her two small children, Abby and Barry. Mrs. Warner served the boarders a nice homemade meal. Charles went to bed early that night, as he had to get up early the next morning to leave for Walnut Grove. He had worked hard all day at the train station loading and unloading wagons while he waited for the train to come in with Mr. Oleson's order. After dinner Chris played his harmonica for everyone to enjoy. The children danced for their innkeeper and their guests while the men clapped and tapped along with their booted feet. The children's mother studied Chris carefully while she was darned a shirt.

"Would you do me the honor of a dance, Ms. Hattie?" Frank wondered.

"Frank! 'Tisn't proper to call a married lady so!" tsk'ed Mrs. Warner.

"Oh, that's all right, ma'am. He didn't mean anything by it. It's all in good fun. Besides, I'm sure a proper man like Mr. Nelson here wouldn't let any harm come to me, would you Mr. Nelson?"

Chris stopped playing the harmonica and examined Hattie's face. She was indeed a married woman but she looked so familiar… her hair the color of corn when it is ripe and Hattie's eyes were the same clear blue as hers… This wasn't where he should be! He didn't belong in Mankato at a boarding house, pretending to be someone else's family. He didn't deserve to be so lonely. He found what he was looking for. He thought he wanted Caroline Ingalls but what he wanted was someone like her. She was so warm and caring, smart and welcoming. She was the best mother he knew of and he wanted someone like that to start a family with. All this time he was trying to keep Mary out of his head, trying to hide his feelings, when all along it was her that he was looking for. He'd been on the road since he was fifteen… ten years on the go was enough. He was ready to take the leap. Chris refused to lead such a solitary life style any longer. He was satisfied with living on his own for so long he forgotten what he was like to be loved by a woman… a woman he wasn't a relation of.

Chris stood so swiftly he startled everyone in the room. He thought Mrs. Warner was likely as anything to jump out of her skin the way she clutched at her heart.

"Land's sake, Christopher Nelson! Whatever are you doing?"

"My apologies, Mrs. Warner. Excuse me, everyone. I need to speak with Charles."

Chris took the stairs two at a time until he reached the second floor landing where Charles was staying. He knocked on the door, hollering for Charles until he opened the door, looking like frazzled.

"Chris? What's all the racket for? It's enough to wake the dead!"

"Charles! Sorry to wake you, but I need to know. Can I catch a ride with you to Walnut Grove in the morning? I left things unsettled with Mary… I'd like to speak to her about some things."

"I don't see why not. I'm sure Caroline and the girls would love to have you. You'd better get some rest. We are heading out early."

Chris thanked Charles and headed to his room. The next morning Chris broke the news to the Warners. He was leaving for Walnut Grove after breakfast and wouldn't be back to Mankato for a long while, if he could help it.

On the road back to Walnut Grove, Chris was so excited he was ready to jump out of his skin. He was just itchin' to get back to town. That old Mrs. Oleson was sure to let the whole town know before the day was over he was back. He couldn't wait to see the look on her face. "How much further is it Charles?"

"Oh we have to stop in town to unload the wagon then it's just a few miles to home!"

It felt like it took forever for them to unload the wagon but before long they were on the road again. As they 'rounded the bend in the road, the Ingalls farm came into view. "We're here!"

Laura and Carrie were playing tag in the yard when they say Pa's wagon. They hollered for Ma and she came running out of the house as Pa and Chris rolled into the front yard.

"Why, Chris Nelson! What on earth?"

Mary came out of the house behind Ma, tying her apron in place. Her eyes widened as she saw Pa climb down the wagon wheel with Chris preparing to do the same thing. She rubbed her eyes, scarcely believing what she was seeing. She blinked, and opened them slowly. Chris was still there, only this time standing right in front of her.

"Mary? Why don't you say hello to our guest? He came all the way from Mankato to see you."

"Mary, could we go for a walk after dinner? I'd like to talk with you."

Mary merely nodded her head, hardly believing what was taking place. Her handyman had come back to Walnut Grove!