“Takk.”
“Come along. I’ll show you around. It will be so good to have someone to talk to.” She linked her arm with Kristin’s. “Oh … and I always eat my meals at the Main Street Café. Your meals will be included in the room and board part.”
“Many thanks,” Kristin said in English.
“Well, now, that is pretty good. I’ll teach you more English so you can talk to the customers.”
“I would like that very much.”
“Do you need to ride out to the Sundbergs and pack your things?”
“No.” Kristin explained the situation. To her added relief, Miss Betsy didn’t think there would be any opposition from the sheriff or his wife.
“Yes, indeed.” Miss Betsy drew in a deep breath. “I believe our arrangement will work out to the benefit of all involved.”
“I do too.” And at that precise moment, Kristin sensed she’d found a trusted friend in Miss Betsy Biddle.
Friday morning a hush fell over the hearing room, and Sam felt himself tense as the lean-faced chairman prepared to read his committee’s decision.
“It is hereby agreed, by this officially appointed committee, that the Menominee Nation will, in fact, cede the western portion of its land as per the signed 1831 treaty in exchange for the Crow Wing area west of the Mississippi River.”
Sam felt a lead ball of discouragement drop straight through him.
“Furthermore,” the committee chairman added, “an extended time period in which the Menominee are to be removed from the aforementioned United States property is set at five years.”
“Perfect,” Mr. Evans whispered to Sam. “We’ll file petitions and use every lawful tactic to delay the removal.”
Sam saw the outcome as anything but perfect.
“Stand and thank the gentlemen for their time,” Mr. Evans prompted quietly.
Sam pushed back the chair and got to his feet. “Sirs, I want to thank you for your time here today and …” He glanced at Mr. Evans then at Soaring Eagle and Chief Oshkosh. He just couldn’t leave this matter as it was. “I would like to inform you all that I plan to take this issue all the way to Washington if need be. I’ll go straight to the president, if I must. The Menominee were essentially bamboozled, and that makes even the best of politicians look like thieves to these people—and to others.”
The distinguished committee members drew back, bushy eyebrows arched in surprise. Mr. Evans cleared his throat and Sam took the hint. He’d said enough. He sat down.
But the chairman grinned, looking amused. “I would expect no less from Karl Sundberg’s son.” He stood. “This meeting is now adjourned.”
As the committeemen dispersed, Sam slowly rose. He turned to Soaring Eagle. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”
“You have done plenty.” No trace of emotion was evident on the brave’s weather-lined face.
Chief Oshkosh stepped around his representative and regarded Sam in a steady gaze. “Our people have time now to survey Crow Wing and determine if the land is suitable. Meanwhile, we will take you at your word, Sam Sundberg. You are a friend to the Menominee.”
Sam inclined his head, honored that the chief deigned to speak directly to him yet a second time.
The Indians filed out of the hearing room, and Sam finally turned to Mr. Evans. “My apologies if I embarrassed you among your colleagues.”
“Nonsense! I go toe-to-to with politicians all day long.” He chuckled. “However, I have made up my mind about one thing.”
“And that is?”
Mr. Evans squared his shoulders. “I want you to work for me, Sam. I need a protégé, a young man who doesn’t intimidate easily.” He set his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “That young man is you.”
CHAPTER 18
APLUME OF DUST swirled up into the late afternoon sunshine as Kristin swept the walk in front of Miss Betsy’s shop. After working here for nearly two weeks, a kind of realization began to dawn. Kristin missed being needed. Oh, she missed the Sundberg children and Mrs. Sundberg. She missed Sam terribly. And while there was always something in and around the shop to keep Kristin busy, by the end of the day she didn’t find that certain sense of satisfaction like she did when her work had been essential in order for a household to function. But, even so, Kristin wasn’t unhappy. She and Miss Betsy had become good friends.
Kristin thought back on the day she’d arrived at Miss Betsy’s. As expected, Sheriff Brunette had given his blessing, and when Kristin viewed the room in which she’d stay, she truly did feel blessed. A real bed jutted out from the far wall—not a pallet or a cot, but two mattresses. Straw comprised the bottom one and the top had been stuffed with horsehair. Together they were piled onto a white-metal frame and were covered with soft linens and a pretty quilt. Lacy curtains graced a single window, and a braided rug lay over the plank floor in front of a small hearth. Kristin had nearly shed tears of joy.
Overall, the apartment above the shop was small. It consisted of a large sitting room with a table, matching chairs, and three armchairs, as well as the two bedrooms. There wasn’t a kitchen in the place, and Kristin longed for the day she could cook a meal again. But, for now, the café down the street sufficed.
Kristin continued sweeping. Down the road she heard the jangling of wagons as the last of the Wednesday farmers’ market wound down to a close. She’d known all morning that the Sundberg wagon wasn’t far off, and she wondered if the family had heard from Sam. Shouldn’t he have been home by now?
Footfalls on the boardwalk alerted Kristin to another passerby. She stopped sweeping and glanced up to see Aunt Esther making her way toward Miss Betsy’s, the last building on the block. As she neared, Kristin thought her aunt looked worn out and weary.
“Good afternoon.” Kristin spoke in English.
“God ettermiddag.” Her aunt added a curt nod before narrowing her gaze. “I heard you work for Miss Betsy now.”
“That is correct.” Kristin was surprised that her aunt spoke to her.
“Your uncle wonders what you did to make the Sundbergs let you go.”
“Of course he does. However, it is not what I did, but who I am. An Eikaas.” Kristin thought she saw an expression of understanding flit across her aunt’s face and pursued the conversation. “Did you help Uncle Lars sell produce today?”
“Ja, the last of our squash and several pumpkins. But we didn’t sell too much. Never do.”
Kristin pulled the broom up closer. “I understand that your, um, cabin and barn were damaged in the storm last month.”
Aunt Esther replied first with another quick bob of her head. Then, after a moment’s pause, she added, “We have no way to repair the damage. But it is good that the Olstads left. Now we live in the barn.”
A small part of Kristin’s heart ached for her relatives, especially her cousins. However, she mostly still believed that her aunt and uncle deserved their hardships—and more.
Aunt Esther climbed the few steps and entered the shop.
But now it was Kristin’s turn to wonder—what was Tante doing in Miss Betsy’s? Surely she didn’t possess the funds needed to make a purchase.
And surely she doesn’t believe that I should pay for her items! After all that had happened, Kristin couldn’t squelch such a thought. Maybe Tante heard about the money she had given to Peder and thought there was more—and that it ought to be spent on her.
Setting the broom aside, Kristin hurried into the shop after her aunt.
Miss Betsy had already greeted her. “How may I help you today, Mrs. Eikaas?”
“I want some things … for my daughters and me.” She strode to one of the bureaus and ran a calloused hand down a soft chemise. “I want store-bought things, like I have never owned before.”
“Well, of course, Mrs. Eikaas.” Miss Betsy cast a curious glance to Kristin.
She replied with a helpless shrug.
“Is it a special occasion?” Miss Betsy queried.
“Ja, you might say so.” Turn
ing around, Aunt Esther lifted a proud chin. “My daughter Inga is getting married soon. Her forloveden gave her money—a gift—for her trousseau. Inga wants Anna and me to have pretty … unmentionables. She sent me to buy them.” A prim expression surfaced on her face. “I think such extravagance is … well, sinful. But, as Inga pointed out, it is not as if I have time to sew these garments, and they are badly needed.”
“Why, of course. I understand. And nobody needs to know what is under your skirts.” Miss Betsy smiled, sending additional crinkles across her lined cheeks.
Aunt Esther looked a bit taken aback by the remark. It was an expression Kristin had frequently seen in Miss Betsy’s shop, as speaking publicly about ladies’ undergarments was disgraceful. However, Miss Betsy knew her business well, and this was the place in which to discuss women’s foundations.
“So, who is the lucky man that Inga will marry?” Miss Betsy made small talk as she sized up Aunt Esther and began gathering the usual. A shift, a corset …
“Mr. Oskar Frantzen, the smithy.”
Several of Miss Betsy’s curls swung as she shook her head. “I do not know him, but I am sure he is a good man.”
“Ja …”
Kristin wasn’t surprised to learn the identity of Inga’s forloveden. She found a girl’s chemise and held it out to Aunt Esther. “How about this one for Anna?”
“Oh, ja. Good.”
Minutes later Kristin followed Miss Betsy to the back room, where they assisted Aunt Esther in removing her clothing. Her present undergarments were threadbare and badly stained, and, even with all the attempts made at modesty, Kristin glimpsed red sores on her aunt’s skin where the stays had poked through her corset.
“Ah, this is what heaven must feel like.” Tante murmured after she’d donned the new foundations.
“I am glad you like them.” Miss Betsy looked pleased. “We will just burn these old garments.”
“Ja, it is all they are good for.”
Kristin helped her aunt finish dressing. The perpetual crossness that lingered on Tante’s features seemed to smooth away. A gentler light seeped into her eyes, and little wonder why. Kristin thought she’d be crabby too if her pinnings continually jabbed her.
And then there was the barn in which Tante was forced to live. Kristin pondered her aunt and uncle’s situation as she walked to the front of the store. Did Reverend Wollums know of their need? Perhaps the congregation would pitch in and help frame up a new house.
Silently Tante stepped up to the counter. Miss Betsy tallied the purchases and Aunt Esther extracted a coin purse from her skirt pocket.
“We will see you at church on Sunday, Kristin?”
“No, I am afraid not.” Was her aunt attempting to reach out to her? “I have been attending services with Miss Betsy here in town.” It seemed easier that way for many reasons.
“Well, at least you are attending church.” Aunt Esther removed a large bill.
Kristin recognized the currency’s value. Her eyes widened.
A smile spread across Miss Betsy’s face. “Can I interest you in something more for the bride-to-be? Bedroom attire for the honeymoon, perhaps?”
A blush worked its way up to Kristin’s face.
Aunt Esther cleared her throat. “No, I think the everyday items you have selected for Inga are fine for now.”
Kristin hurried to wrap the packages in brown paper. She tied them with twine.
“Come back anytime, Mrs. Eikaas.” Miss Betsy saw her out the door. She returned to the counter. “My, my …”
Kristin didn’t know what to say. What a generous gift Mr. Frantzen must have bestowed on Inga. And so good of Inga to share!
Miss Betsy recorded the sale before setting the money into a lockbox beneath the counter. “We did a good business just now.” The corners of her lips curved upward. “After supper tonight, The corners of her lips curved upward. “After supper tonight, we can treat ourselves to dessert.” we can treat ourselves to dessert.”
The next morning Mary Sundberg burst into the shop on her way to school.
“Kristin! Kristin! We got a letter from Sam yesterday!”
Setting down her dust cloth, she wiped her hands on her brown, bibbed apron.
“Sam thought he would be home by now, so he did not bother to write until last Sunday afternoon.”
Prickles of warning climbed Kristin’s spine. Why had Sam decided to remain in Madison? “Tell me what his letter said.”
The excitement brought Miss Betsy from the back room.
“A letter arrived from Sam,” Mary repeated.
“Well, don’t just stand there, child.” Miss Betsy put her hands on her hips. “Talk!”
“All right.” Mary gulped down a breath. “The hearing for the Menominee did not go as Sam had hoped, but the outcome is all right for now.” She lifted her hand, listing off each point. “Mr. Evans’s home is a stately one, and the capitol is large and impressive.”
“Mr. Evans? Your father’s friend?” Kristin had heard the name before.
Mary confirmed the question with a quick nod. “Sam is staying with him and his daughter. In his letter, Sam stated that they attended a symphony, a ball, and a fancy party.”
“They?” Kristin’s unease grew stronger.
Again, the girl bobbed her head. “He and Miss Samantha Evans. Sam wrote that her expensive perfume tickles his nose.”
Kristin folded her arms. “Is that so?”
“And Pa said if Sam married Miss Evans, they would be Sam and Sam.” Mary tossed a glance upward. “Silliest thing I ever heard.”
Marry? Miss Evans? A painful knot swelled in Kristin’s chest.
“And Mr. Evans offered Sam a job in Madison, so he’s staying the rest of the month while he considers the offer!”
Kristin exchanged glances with Miss Betsy, who showed Mary to the door.
“That is a lot of information. Thank you for sharing it. Now run along to school so you will not be late.”
“Yes, ma’am. Bye, Kristin.”
“Bye.” She barely choked out the reply.
So, Sam changed his mind about courting her …
“I would not jump to conclusions.” Miss Betsy moved away from the door.
Kristin stared down at the dark plank floor. Over the past couple of weeks she’d confided in Miss Betsy about her deep feelings for Sam and the words of promise he’d spoken to her before he left.
“As spry as she is, Mary is still a little girl.”
Kristin brought her chin up quickly. “Miss Evans’s expensive perfume tickles his nose?”
A flash of uncertainty entered Miss Betsy’s eyes. “Hard to misinterpret that, isn’t it?”
“No doubt Mr. Sundberg gives his blessing on the match and the new job. After all, he hates me.”
“Oh …” Miss Betsy waved her hand in the air. “I have known Karl for years. He can be as stubborn as a goat. Thank goodness Mariah is a gentle soul.” Miss Betsy tapered her gaze. “And I have known Sam since he was a boy. One word to describe him is … honorable.” She set her palms on Kristin’s upper arms. “You just need to have faith.”
“Faith?” Kristin pulled away. “Everyone I love abandons me. Maybe God has too! Maybe I am cursed, just as my uncle said!”
Despite her efforts to hold them in check, tears leaked onto her cheeks. Covering her mouth, Kristin ran to the back room so if a customer entered, she wouldn’t be seen crying.
Miss Betsy followed. “There, there …”
Seconds later, Kristin found herself sobbing against the older woman’s shoulder.
“Let it out. That’s right. A good cry cleanses the soul.”
Long minutes ticked by. Finally Kristin’s tears were spent.
“All you have to do is count your blessings.” Miss Betsy led her over to where two chairs sat near an opened window that looked out to the schoolyard. “You are not cursed at all. Think of how God spared you from the disease that ravaged your village in Norway.”
&nb
sp; “Yes, but—”
“And God protected you on your journey here to America. Others died, trying to reach our shores.”
“I know, except—”
“God’s hand of mercy separated you from your uncle’s tyranny and Karl Sundberg’s bitterness. Remember, Kristin? Dwell on all God’s goodness and grace.”
She tried. She wanted to think of all the good things in her life. But somehow they seemed overshadowed by one regrettable event after another.
Miss Betsy continued. “When I was a child, it was just my father and me. My mother had passed. I never had any siblings. Papa brought me here from Ohio. I left all my friends and comforts. Then, only months after we settled here, Papa was killed while trapping. A tragic accident. It took awhile, but I overcame the sadness … or so I thought.
“When I came of age, I wanted desperately to get married, as most young ladies do. But the right man never came along. The years went by and by. No husband. No children. I felt so alone and, yes, abandoned up here in the Wisconsin wilderness.
“That is when a dear friend, the woman who owned this shop before me, reminded me that I am never alone. She explained that happiness is not in ourselves—or in another person. Joy comes from God.”
“Ja, I know …” Growing up, Kristin had heard as much from the pulpit.
“But do you know that when our Lord hung on the cross, He cried, ‘My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?’ You see, your feelings of abandonment are not foreign to our Savior. And as He suffered there, He saw your face, just as He saw mine.”
Miss Betsy’s words reached an abysmal chasm in her soul, and Kristin’s tears returned, this time for an altogether different reason. Had she ever thought of the Lord’s crucifixion and death in such a … a personal way?
“And that is only the beginning. God raised His Son up from the grave on the third day. He is alive and with us today.” Miss Betsy closed her eyes. “Praise be to God!”
Somehow Kristin didn’t feel much like praising.
Miss Betsy must have sensed it. “Talk to Jesus. Tell Him about all the hurt you are carrying inside.”
Threads of Hope Page 21
