Kristin gaped. “But I thought … Inga said—”
“Do not talk back to me, niese! Respect your elders!”
“She did not know the rules.” Sam inched toward Uncle Lars.
“Rules! Rules!” Uncle Lars’s glare swung to Karl Sundberg. “Your family should talk about rules? You and that Indian woman—you cast spells on the good folks in Brown County. Where are the rules for that?”
“You are a madman, Eikaas, otherwise I would send you reeling with my fist.”
“Go ahead. I will give you the first punch.”
“Don’t tempt me!”
Uncle Lars sneered. “Ja, and you’re a coward too, Sundberg.”
Sam put his hands on his father’s shoulders. “Enough of this, already!”
Kristin had slowly backed away until she stood behind Sam. Somehow she felt a measure of safety there.
Cool fingers touched her hand, and when Kristin looked to see who they belonged to, she found herself staring into the dark eyes of Sam Sundberg’s stepmother. All day she’d only seen the woman from afar.
Swallowing hard, Kristin realized she’d never seen an Indian up close, although she’d heard about native people during her travels. Some said the Indians had strange, bewitching powers. Certainly Uncle Lars believed that. Was there any truth to the rumors?
Except—Kristin tilted her head—Mrs. Sundberg looked like any other woman, dressed in her dark green, slightly flared skirt and ivory pin-tucked blouse.
“Do not be afraid.” Her Norwegian was very good. Then she lifted her gaze, and Kristin followed her line of vision to the star-filled sky. The woman held onto Kristin’s hand, closed her eyes, then murmured words Kristin didn’t understand.
Uncle Lars caught a glimpse of them and exploded in a rage.
“Get away from my niece! Get away from her, you heathen spell-caster!”
He charged them and Kristin screamed. It took three men, Mr. Olstad included, to hold Uncle Lars back.
And that’s when Kristin decided not to wait and see if he broke free.
Giving no thought to her one bare foot, Kristin sprinted from the lantern-lit churchyard and ventured into the night.
The tender sole of her foot let her know at once when she’d left the grass and came upon the gravelly road. From somewhere behind her, she heard Peder’s voice calling to her, but her hammering heart propelled her onward, past the horses hitched to buggies and wagons.
Darkness enfolded her, her only light came from the clear sky above, and soon Kristin realized she’d left the road. She was accustomed to going barefoot in Norway, but not like this—not in the woods with unfamiliar and uneven terrain. Now the tender flesh on her bare foot felt scraped and raw.
Suddenly, she stepped on something that made her cry out into the night. Angry-sounding insects immediately buzzed around her. Kristin swatted at them as she hobbled in search of safety.
Picking her way over several large rocks, she pushed leafy tree limbs out of her path. The sound of rushing water grew louder, and soon she happened on a narrow river. Moonlight glimmered off the shallow water and its rocky bed. Lifting her hems, she dipped her injured foot into the water, expecting it to be icy like the streams and rivers in the Old Country. Instead, she discovered the water felt cool, refreshing.
She lowered herself onto a flat-topped boulder. Her foot throbbed from the insect bite, although the temperate water had a soothing effect on it.
Allowing herself a moment’s solace, she recalled her dance with Sam and decided she’d enjoyed it very much. But why had Inga set her up as the recipient of Uncle Lars’s wrath? Any trickery tonight had come from Inga!
And Sam’s mother … she didn’t appear to be any kind of spell-caster. But what had she done after she’d taken Kristin’s hand and stared into the sky? Had it been a mystical chant of some sort?
Or a prayer?
The crunching of dried leaves and twigs alerted Kristin of someone’s approach.
“Kristin?”
She recognized Peder’s voice. He’d followed her. “Here I am. By the river.”
He located her within seconds.
“I hurt my foot. I stepped on some sort of insect.”
“Ja, well, it serves you right for running off like that.” Peder handed over her stocking and kid slipper. “I figured you might need these.”
“Takk.”
Peder sat down beside her on the immense rock. “You should not have danced with that Sundberg man.”
“Inga deceived me into playing, and then I could not help who chose me.”
“When you saw it was a Sundberg, you should have refused.”
“In truth, we both considered it. But an important-looking man insisted. Rules of the game. So I complied.” Kristin didn’t add that she couldn’t have asked for a better dance partner. Sam had held her and guided her steps in all gentleness and respect.
“What if the Sundbergs have hexed you, Kristin?”
“Hexed me? That is ridiculous. The Sundbergs are ordinary people.” She shifted. “You do not believe in such superstitions, do you, Peder?”
“I believe in myself.”
“You should believe in God.”
“Sure—and the trolls under the bridges in Norway who disguise themselves as humans by day. Should I believe in them too?”
“There are no such things as trolls.”
“Ja? Then talk to Hans Alsaker.”
“Poppa said Mr. Alsaker drank too much of his homemade cider.”
Peder snorted. “That is my point. Mr. Alsaker was a deacon in our church! If there is a God, He has little power here on earth.”
“Do not speak like that!” Such talk rattled her. Of course there was a God.
“Look what happens among these so-called Christians. Tavern brawls in the churchyard.”
“Sin finds its way into the church too, Peder.”
He didn’t reply. “We had better get back to the celebration.
I will go on ahead so you may put on your stocking and shoe.”
“Takk.”
Once Peder left, Kristin did her best to dry off her foot. It felt bruised and continued to throb. Still, she managed to put her stocking and slipper over it before standing. But after two steps up the riverbank, Kristin knew she wouldn’t be able to walk unassisted.
“Peder? Peder, come back. I need your help!”
Sam had seen Kristin running from the churchyard, and it was all he could do to keep from following her. But then he saw the red-haired man go after her and realized that he’d never found out whether she was betrothed. Maybe he had no right to insist she dance with him, although she’d willingly participated in the event, which signaled she had no commitment to any man.
“You Sundbergs stay away from my family!” Mr. Eikaas behaved like a snorting, raging bull.
Sam and Luke Smith held Pa back while the reverend, Judge Jensen, and John Olstad hung onto Mr. Eikaas as he bucked and sputtered.
Sheriff Brunette stood between them, shaking his head. “Time to go home, Lars,” the lawman said. “Gather your family and go.” He looked at Pa. “You too, Karl.”
Pa squared his shoulders and shook off the hands that held him. “Sam, find your brother and sister.” He spoke from out of the side of his mouth, indicating his anger. “Your mother and I will meet you at the wagon.”
Sam inclined his head.
He turned and discovered Ma and Mary stood hand-in-hand about six feet away.
“Mariah,” Pa called to Ma, “fetch our belongings.”
She stepped away quietly to do his bidding. Mary trailed along to help her.
Sam motioned to his brother, and they headed for the wagon.
“You Sundbergs are a lot of trouble,” Eikaas hollered.
Several other men concurred. A boy standing nearby gave Jackson a shove. Sam quickly intervened before his brother reacted with his fist.
“Problems can’t be solved with violence.”
“Pa thinks th
ey can—and so do I.” Jackson’s voice sounded tight, constrained.
“Pa doesn’t usually behave this way, and you know it.”
Jack didn’t reply.
“We’ve got too much to lose. Fighting will only fuel our enemies’ contempt.”
“I heard Pa say we got a right to defend ourselves.”
“From attack, not a girly little push.”
Jack’s tone lightened. “Guess you’re right.” He turned out a short laugh. “I’ll save myself for the real fight.”
“You do that.”
Sam checked the horses’ harnesses while Jack opened the back of the wagon bed.
“At least you got your dance with that pretty Eikaas girl.
What’s her name … Kristin?”
Sam just gave a curt nod in reply. He knew his little brother meant to goad him good. In fact, he anticipated getting teased for a full week at least.
“Did she smell as pretty as she looks?”
Sam didn’t answer, although he had noticed the hint of honeysuckle in her hair as he twirled her in his arms.
Yes, he enjoyed dancing with Kristin Eikaas. Maybe more than he cared to admit.
“Huh, Sam? Answer me.”
“If you paid as much attention to your books as you do to prospective wives for me, you’d be a straight-A student.”
“I’m already smarter than anyone in my class. But you, Sam … you’re gettin’ old. Don’t you want to get married?”
Sam drew in a deep breath and rounded the wagon until he stood close to his half-brother. “Jack, I suppose twenty-one years does seem elderly to a boy of twelve.” He smiled. “But the truth is, when it’s God’s time for me to get married, He will be bring just the right woman into my life.”
“Maybe it’s Kristin Eikaas.”
Sam glimpsed the smirk on Jack’s face while at the same time he spotted Mr. Eikaas stomp toward his wagon. “I rather doubt she’s the one, Little Fox,” Sam replied, using his brother’s Oneida name. “For now I’ll heed Pa’s warning and stay clear of her. We’ve got enough threats coming from the Menominee to worry about. We don’t need more coming from our Christian brothers.”
“The Menominee will not attack a white settlement, no matter how angry they are.”
“I don’t know. Anger is a peculiar thing. It makes people do things they never dreamed possible. Like our Pa.” Sam wagged his head. “Look what happened tonight because he let his anger get the best of him.”
Jackson grew quiet, and Sam could tell he thought over their conversation.
Several more long minutes ticked by. Finally, Ma and Mary came walking from the churchyard. Pa tagged along, carrying the crate of their belongings. Sam helped the ladies up into the wagon and Pa slid the wooden box into the wagon. Next he jumped in and sat down. Sam took a seat beside Mary. The wagon jerked forward.
“Sam, you and I are going to have a man-to-man talk when we get home.”
“All right, Pa.” Sam didn’t fear his father—not in the sense that he was afraid of any abuse. Pa was a gentleman and, usually, quite reasonable.
They rolled down the rutty road and Sam glanced over his shoulder. He spotted Kristin and her carrot-top friend walking alongside the road. Moonbeams haloed Kristin’s bright-blonde head, but what Sam noticed is the way the man’s arm encircled her waist and how she clung to him.
Sam stiffened as Pa slowed the wagon. No one said a word as they passed by. Under different circumstances Pa would have stopped to offer a ride, even if the traveler was an Eikaas.
Leaning forward, Jackson gave Sam a rap on the arm. “Looks like you’ve got more than Pa’s disapproval to worry about.”
Sam’s good nature turned sour. “Hush up, Jack.” He whispered the command through gritted teeth. “What did we just talk about?”
“We-ell,” the boy replied thoughtfully, “we still don’t know for sure that God didn’t bring Miss Eikaas to town for you to marry.”
Sam decided to change the subject. “When we talk later, Pa, you’ll have to bring me up to date on what transpired in town yesterday.”
“The debate over Indian relocation wasn’t half as lively as the one with Lars Eikaas,” Pa grumbled. “But we will talk more about that later, when there aren’t ladies present.”
“Good.” Sam squared his shoulders, anticipating the future discussion with his father. He’d even welcome the good talkingto Pa promised.
Anything to shift his thoughts—and Jack’s imagination—from Kristin Eikaas.
CHAPTER 4
AS THE WAGON bumped along the jutted road, Kristin couldn’t decide which proved more painful, her sore, throbbing foot, listening to Inga whine because Oskar Frantzen didn’t dance with her tonight, or Uncle Lars’s rants about the Sundberg family.
“The Sundbergs are evil.” Inga’s statement only emboldened her father.
“Ja, ja, they are!”
“And I will not be surprised to find they have put spells on Kristin.”
“Oh, stop, Inga.” Kristin grew weary of her cousin’s illintended pranks.
“No more talking!” Aunt Esther twisted around in her seat beside Uncle Lars. “We will have quiet the rest of the ride home.”
No singing? Kristin found it peculiar. Years ago, before the fever took the lives of her family, they would sing on the way home from church or social events, like tonight’s wedding celebration. But it was just as well that the conversation ceased. How different her uncle and aunt were to Poppa and Mor.
Kristin closed her eyes and saw her parents in her mind’s eye. The cherished memory made her forget how much her foot throbbed. And if she tried hard enough, she could hear them as they sat at the supper table, talking, laughing. Poppa and Mor were outspoken and frequently discussed the issues of the day as well. However, that did not include malicious gossip.
Oh, how Kristin missed her parents and siblings. She wondered once again why God had spared her life and not theirs.
The wagon suddenly pulled to a halt, and Kristin realized she’d daydreamed away the rest of the ride to Onkel’s shanty.
Everyone piled out of the wagon, and Uncle Lars began to unhitch the team. Mr. Olstad helped him.
“Peder!” Kristin motioned to her foot, and he reluctantly assisted her to the ground. But when her toes first touched the ground, the world began to swim.
“I cannot walk.”
“What do you want me to do? Carry you?”
Kristin couldn’t think straight.
“How just like a female.”
In the next moment Kristin felt herself falling over Peder’s shoulder. “I am not a sack of potatoes, you know.”
“True. You are much heavier.”
She ducked her head to avoid the top of the doorway.
“What is this?” Aunt Esther’s stern expression said she didn’t approve of such chivalry.
“Kristin injured her foot tonight.” Peder set her into a chair near the table then hunkered down to examine the inflamed limb.
“Momma, look how swollen it is.” Anna bent to have a closer look.
“A curse!” Inga snapped her fingers.
Kristin sent her cousin a cold stare. “I stepped on a buzzing insect. I did not have a shoe or stocking on because of the curtain dance—a game you tricked me into playing.”
“How dare you blame your disobedience on my Inga!”
Kristin gazed at her aunt. “But it’s true.”
A dark scowl wafted across the older woman’s suntanned face. “Change your clothes, go to bed.”
“But … my foot.”
“Maybe it will be better in the morning.”
No offer of medicine or even a cold compress? Confused, Kristin glanced at Peder. He shrugged and left the cabin.
Aunt Esther closed the uneven door behind him. Without so much as a word to each other, the girls began peeling off their garments. Kristin did the same, managing to sit down most of the while. Then, hopping to her trunk, she carefully replaced her bunad and
threadbare undergarments. She found her cotton nightgown and pulled it over her head.
However, climbing the ladder to the loft proved difficult. Inga gave her intermittent shoves.
Once in the loft, Kristin situated herself on her pallet. Inga climbed up behind her.
She giggled. “What did Sam Sundberg say to you as you danced?”
“Not too much.” She didn’t dare confide in her cousin. “Polite chitchat.”
“He did not tell you how pretty you look or comment on how well you dance?”
“No.”
Inga sat on her pallet and unbraided her hair. “That proves he has no manners.” She jutted out her chin. “Joel Rouland danced with me. He must have commented on my beauty at least three times.”
“He is smitten with you perhaps.” Kristin unknotted her own hair then gave her flaxen tresses a good brushing.
“Every man in Brown County is smitten with me.”
“Hmm … except for one, it seems.” Kristin arched a brow. “Oskar Frantzen.”
“Oh, you would have to bring him up!”
Anna climbed into the loft and quietly slipped into her pallet.
Inga’s voice became a whisper. “It is your fault Oskar didn’t choose me tonight. If you would not have gotten yourself hexed by a Sundberg …”
“What nonsense!” Kristin retied her hair into one fat braid before stretching out on her pallet. “Only an ignorant mind would believe such a thing.”
Her cousin replied with a prissy-sounding, “Hmph!”
“Stop that talking up there!”
Kristin cringed at her aunt’s command, but she didn’t say another word. Erik and Uncle Lars came in from tending to the horses. Aunt Esther shooed young Erik to his corner pallet.
And all the while Kristin’s foot throbbed with every beat of her heart. Another night without much sleep seemed imminent.
“You could have endangered that girl’s life, Sam. Did you ever think of that? Why, there’s no telling what that crazy man, Lars Eikaas, might do out of spite.”
“You acted pretty crazy yourself, Pa.”
A second’s pause. “That man irks me to no end!”
“No excuse—that’s what you’ve taught me all my life. Self-control.”
Pa grumbled.
Threads of Hope Page 5
