Threads of Hope

by Andrea Boeshaar

  Sam laughed. “That’s Pa’s ambition, not mine.”

  “A pity.”

  “Depends on how you look at it. But let’s change the subject. I’ve been hearing enough about politics from Pa these last two weeks.”

  Kristin had run to fetch Ma, and now both of them entered the kitchen by way of the mudroom. Sam glimpsed Ma’s tight features and guessed she was having a bad day. Even so, she smiled and hugged her brother.

  “Have you met Kristin?” Ma asked.

  “Yes.” Running Deer eyed her in a way that caused Sam’s gut to cinch. “She is lovely.” He reached for the braid on her head, causing several hairpins to fall to the floor.

  “Ouch!” Her hand flew to her hair, which had now come undone.

  “Running Deer, you hurt her.” Indignation grew inside of Sam. “Mind your manners, will you?”

  “Mmm, soft hair.” He held Kristin’s long braid in his palm.

  Sam read the fear in her eyes as she tried to pull away.

  “Unhand her, Running Deer. You’re scaring her.”

  He released her hair. “You are very beautiful,” he told Kristin in English. “And your hair is like a rope of fine threads. I would be honored if you were my woman.”

  Kristin stared at him with a blank expression.

  Ma turned to her and translated in Norwegian. A look of horror crept over Kristin’s face.

  “I don’t think she likes you,” Sam half-joked to his uncle, although he hoped to discourage him.

  “Maybe not—not yet.” Running Deer squared his shoulders and slowly ran his hand down his smooth chest. “But I will show her that she has nothing to fear from me.”

  “Oh, no,” Ma said with a wag of her head. “You are not wooing my new house girl. I need her.”

  Sam met Kristin’s troubled gaze. Then slowly, she made her way to Sam’s side.

  “What are they saying?” she whispered in Norwegian. “I do not wish to be this man’s woman.”

  “I realize that.” Sam gave in to the urge to comfort Kristin and set his arm around her shoulders, hugging her to his side.

  “But do not worry. My uncle will not harm you.”

  Ma glanced at him, then Kristin, before looking back at Running Deer. “As you can see,” she said in English, “you’ll have to get into line if you want to court her.” A twinkle entered her eyes.

  “Hmm, yes …” Running Deer’s dark gaze assessed the situation. “She runs to you, Sam. But we will see who she runs to in the days to come.”

  “It’s not a competition.”

  “Good.”

  Sam didn’t like the sound of this, especially since he was leaving in ten days. “Leave her alone, Running Deer.”

  “Do you and she have an understanding?”

  Sam’s gaze slid to Kristin, and he noted her puzzled expression. He wished he could lie, but he couldn’t. “No.” He looked at his uncle now. “We do not.”

  “I say, until you do, I am free to try and win her affection.”

  Running Deer folded his arms, looking Norwegian obstinate, a trait he’d obviously picked up from Pa.

  Sam didn’t know how to argue the point. He glanced at Ma, deciding it was a good thing Pa wasn’t here to see this. He’d send Sam to Madison at tomorrow’s first light instead of at the end of the month as planned.

  “Kristin, we had better start dinner.” Ma changed the subject and spoke in Norwegian.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I have already skinned the rabbits. They are in the sealed pot that I lowered into the well so they would stay fresh.” She looked at Running Deer, reverting to English once more. “You are welcome to have the rabbit fur.”

  “Many thanks.” He tipped his head. “And may I join you for your noon meal?”

  “Of course.” Ma smiled. “But first, will you bring in some potatoes for the stew? Your surprise visit interrupted Kristin, and she didn’t get finished in the garden.”

  “I will take her with me.” Running Deer smiled at Kristin.

  Sam felt her shrink closer to him. “I think not.”

  Running Deer snorted a reply and then marched out of the kitchen.

  Ma laughed softly. “Sam, you’re incorrigible,” she said in English. “And Kristin?” Ma stepped closer to them and spoke in Norwegian. “Please do not be afraid of my brother. He will not force himself on you or hurt you in any way. However, you will have to let him know that his advances are not welcome.”

  “Advances?”

  “He has taken a liking to you, Kristin.” Ma spoke softly.

  “So I gathered.” She peered up at Sam, her blue eyes beseeching him to help her.

  And he would too. “If Running Deer comes too close to you, just say I am not interested in you in English. Try it.”

  Kristin’s pink mouth moved as she tried the words on her tongue. “I ern’t interested you.”

  “Close.” Sam grinned. “I am not interested in you. Keep practicing.”

  “I er not interested you.”

  “In you,” Sam coached.

  Kristin made her way to the well to fetch the rabbit meat. “I er not interested in you.”

  “Good!” Sam smiled and glanced at Ma, who laughed under her breath.

  “I guess that’s one way to learn English,” she said. “I am sure it won’t be the first time she’ll have to use that line against an overeager suitor.”

  Sam prayed that Kristin would never have a suitor—other than himself. And that she would never use that line on him.

  He forced his thoughts to the present and took off his hat.

  Pulling out his soiled handkerchief, he rubbed the sweat from his brow and neck. “I’d best go finish my work while you ladies start cooking.” He peered out the window at his uncle, clad in his sleeveless buffalo robe. Maybe he’d enlist Running Deer’s help too—just to keep him away from Kristin.

  CHAPTER 11

  K RISTIN STEPPED OUT of the church the following Sunday morning, thinking summer made its last hurrah. Already the air felt thick and hot, and the white puffy clouds hung low in the blue sky. After greeting several people, Kristin made her way to the Sundbergs’ wagon. At least it had been parked in the shade of a leafy oak tree.

  As she waited for the Sundbergs there, she watched in amazement as Peder boldly approached her. “God morgen,” he greeted her.

  Kristin gave him curt nod. She still felt hurt, angry, and disappointed in Peder and Mr. Olstad for not coming to her aid nearly two weeks ago.

  “Do you know that a savage has been following you?” Peder set his hands on his trim waist. “I saw him lurking around as you and the Sundberg women bathed in the pond last evening.”

  “You saw us bathing?” Indignation plumed inside of Kristin.

  “I did not stare,” he recanted. “I just … glimpsed you.” To his credit, Peder shifted uncomfortably.

  “Peder, you had no right to be anywhere in that vicinity. That is Sundberg property!”

  “Lower your voice.” Peder glanced around. “I only have a few minutes while your aunt and uncle speak to Reverend Wollums about Inga. It seems she has taken up with the blacksmith.”

  Kristin frowned. “Mr. Frantzen?”

  “Ja, except he denies it.”

  Kristin believed the man over her cousin. But that wasn’t her concern. Peder’s spying was! “You are despicable. I should speak to the reverend about you!”

  “Ah, but you won’t.” Peder’s hazel eyes twinkled. “Because, if you do, I will have to tell your uncle that you did not give him all your inheritance. You purchased garments in town and still wear your mother’s necklace.”

  Kristin inhaled sharply and touched the spot beneath her dress where the gold cross hung. “I used my own money in town and …” She tipped her head. “How did you know about my necklace?”

  “I saw it once when we were on the ship. You were in your chemise, and—”

  “Peder!”

  “I walked into our cabin while you changed
clothes, but quickly left again when I saw you were not dressed. Still, I glimpsed the necklace.”

  “Mor gave it to me. It was a gift.”

  “I wonder if your uncle will see it that way too.”

  Kristin refused to be intimidated. “What I have and what I do is no longer any concern of my uncle’s. He all but disowned me.”

  Peder lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “But that is not what I need to tell you.”

  “Then state your business.”

  “That savage who follows you …”

  “Running Deer? He’s not a savage. He’s Oneida Indian and Mrs. Sundberg’s brother.” Kristin had gotten somewhat accustomed to seeing the man around the Sundbergs’ farm. “He hunts on the Sundbergs’ land sometimes.”

  “Your uncle said the Sundbergs are getting ready to sell you to those Indians.”

  “That’s preposterous.” Kristin didn’t believe a word of it.

  Peder laughed. “I suppose it is.” So he had been teasing, eh?

  Kristin gave her head a shake. “Why do you torment me?”

  All humor drained from his face. “Because it is your fault that I am here in this country, Kristin. It is your fault that I am living with your uncle in poverty, earning no wages. I had it better for me in Norway.”

  “Have you looked for work?”

  “Your uncle keeps me too busy to hunt for a paying job.”

  Kristin understood his frustration. “Soon all the work will be caught up, Peder. You’ll find work. And, here in America, you have a chance to be a landowner someday. That is your dream. Remember?”

  “That dream has left me, Kristin.” He pointed a finger at her. “And it is all your fault.”

  “Maybe not so much as you would like to believe.” Kristin pulled herself up to her full height. “I did not force you to come to America. You chose to come. And I did not hear you defend me against my uncle’s bad temper the day the Sundbergs came to hire me. Maybe they would have admired your tenacity and hired you too.”

  Peder took a menacing step forward. “How dare you blame this on me.”

  “And how dare you blame me!”

  “I think of my mother and Sylvia. How will they ever come to this country? What will they find if they make the journey?”

  The idea wound its way around her heart. Kristin shrank, recalling, yet again, how she felt when she’d first glimpsed Uncle Lars’s home.

  “But you are very comfortable at the Sundbergs’ home, aren’t you?”

  “Ja, I am—but it wasn’t my plan to go there and work.

  Remember? My uncle said I was cursed and wanted me off his property. No one defended me, not you, not your father who acted like my own far after Poppa died. Is the incident coming back to your mind now? After all I suffered, why should I not be happy now?”

  “You should be ashamed. Do you ever think of us? How we might be suffering?”

  “No. I do not think of you. I am very busy, cooking, cleaning, helping with chores around the Sundbergs’ farm.

  “You are selfish, Kristin.” Peder scowled. “And my suffering is a result. You made America sound so good to us.”

  “You read my uncle’s letters, just as I did. Hate him. Not me.”

  “But you encouraged us, Kristin. Every day you fed us pieces of lies.”

  “Bah!” She threw a hand at him. “You hate me because you are a man filled with hatred. That is all.”

  “And I will hate you—forever. Because of you, I am like a man in quicksand with no escape.”

  “What a man thinks in his heart, so is he.”

  The paraphrased piece of God’s truth seemed to rile Peder all the more. He raised his voice. “This is your fault!”

  “Your situation is not my fault, Peder.” She took a step back. “Nor is it my concern.”

  “And how do you imagine that I will get out of the bad situation in which I find myself? I have no money.” Peder glanced over his shoulder and pulled something from his jacket pocket. Lowering his voice he moved toward Kristin. “Look at this.” He unfolded the paper—a page from a newspaper. “It is in English, but there is a man here at church who read it to me. It is the California Star from April of this year and only one of many pages printed about the ‘immensely rich’ gold mines in the Sacramento Valley. The man I referred to is leaving for this territory by the ocean known as California. Men are getting rich very quickly there, and I would like to go with him, but how can I?” Peder’s expression darkened as he refolded the page. “I have no money for the journey!”

  “And that is my fault?” Kristin lifted a defiant chin, refusing to accept blame.

  “Ja, you brought us here!” Peder came at her with his hands poised as if he’d like to strangle her.

  “Hey! Leave her alone!” Jackson jogged over from where he’d been chasing around in the churchyard with some other boys. “Kristin, are you all right?”

  Just as Jackson reached them, Peder spun around and gave the boy a shove. Not expecting it, Jackson landed on his backside.

  Kristin shrieked.

  Peder chuckled. “That will teach you to mind your own business, half-breed.”

  The boy worked to catch a breath.

  “Peder, he is a child.” Shock and rage welled up in Kristin. “Look, you have knocked the wind out of him. How could you?” She went to help Jack to his feet, but he waved her away.

  Instead, he balled his fists and went after Peder. But Kristin jumped in between the two.

  “No, Jackson. Stop!”

  “He’s part savage,” Peder taunted. “He cannot help himself.”

  Kristin whirled on Peder, tempted to knock the man upside the head herself. “Do not speak to Jackson that way.”

  “It is true.” Peder peered at the boy. “They call you half-breed, isn’t that right, boy?”

  “Get out of the way, Kristin.” Jackson clenched his jaw.

  “I will not!”

  Then suddenly everything happened so fast.

  Jackson charged Peder.

  Peder raised his fists and shouldered Kristin out of the way. Except somehow his elbow connected with her chin.

  The blow sent her reeling backward, and she landed hard on the ground. The sound of a freight train filled her head as the whole world went dark.

  “Will you sit down, son? You’re making me nervous!”

  Sam stopped pacing and glanced at Pa. “Oh, all right.” He headed for one of the several wooden armchairs lined up against the wall in Dr. Støen’s office. “I’m just worried about Kristin.”

  “We all are, Sam.” Ma’s soothing voice caused some of the tension in his shoulders to ebb.

  “Olstad ought to go to jail for this.” The chair creaked beneath Sam’s weight.

  “Some people are saying that about your little brother.” Ma sent a stern look Jackson’s way. “Mrs. Hansen said he belongs in a home for wayward boys. It is, after all, his second fight in less than two weeks.”

  “The Hansens always side with the Eikaases,” Pa muttered. “Still, that’s no excuse for brawling.”

  Jack sat up a little straighter. “But I was defending myself and protecting Kristin. The first time I defended Mary and myself.”

  “Now look, son, we’ve told you all your life that ignorant people are going to call you names just because of who you are. You’re to turn the other cheek just like the Good Book says.”

  “But when I do, the boys call me a sissy.” Jack lifted a proud chin. “Running Deer said I’m Oneida, so I should act courageous and brave.”

  “Courageous and brave doesn’t mean brawling, and you mustn’t confront a full-grown man like Mr. Olstad.” Exasperation lined Pa’s forehead. “You’re to respect your elders.”

  Jack sulked but managed to mutter a “Yessir.”

  Sam’s heart ached for his brother—ached for all Indians. And the flame of indignation that burned inside of him was fueled all the more by this incident with Olstad.

  Dr. Støen stepped from o
ut of the back room, pulling the thick blue drape, which hung in the doorway, closed behind him. A husky, white-bearded man, he slowly came toward the waiting area.

  Everyone stood.

  “No broken bones.” Dr. Støen smiled. “But Miss Eikaas has got quite an impressive bruise on her face.”

  “Like my black eye?” Jack asked. “It lasted more than a week.”

  Sam grinned at his brother’s fervor.

  “Yes, well, I’m sure Miss Eikaas’s bruise will only look worse before it fades.”

  “Can we see her?” Ma asked.

  “Yes, in fact, she’s a bit sore from the fall and could use a little help dressing.”

  “Of course.” Ma stepped around Jack.

  “Can I come too?” Mary was right behind her.

  Ma nodded then thanked Dr. Støen, and she and Mary disappeared into the back.

  “Thanks, Doc.” Pa shook the man’s hand.

  “Glad to be of assistance, Karl.” Dr. Støen’s thick lips curved upward beneath his snowy beard. “I’m just glad I was in church this morning when the accident occurred.”

  “Accident?” Sam didn’t see it as such.

  Pa shooed Jackson out of the office. “Wait by the wagon and don’t get yourself into more trouble. Hear me?”

  “Yes, Pa.”

  Sam took a deliberate breath. “An accident, Doctor?”

  “That’s what Miss Eikaas called it. She blames herself. She said she should have run to get you, Sam, or you, Karl, but instead she tried to break up the argument herself.”

  “It was an all-out fight.” Sam’s ire was up. “And Olstad, an adult, started it—with a twelve-year-old boy!”

  “Most unfortunate.” The physician’s eyes narrowed, and his steady gaze held Sam’s. “To tell you the truth, I’m growing tired of all the divisiveness in our little church. It’s downright distracting, not to mention ungodly. The missus and I are going to start attending services elsewhere. We told Reverend Wollums that this morning. And I’ve got to tell you …” Dr. Støen gave a single wag of his head. “There are plenty of folks who sympathize with my wife and me. They’ll likely be leaving too.”

  “Sorry to hear it.” Pa folded his arms. “Seems to me all this mess began when the Eikaases moved here from Muskego. The man’s a troublemaker, and it’s he who ought to find another place of worship.”