by Adele Dueck
“Morn, Erik,” called Olaf as he turned toward the yard. “What? You aren’t working?”
“Of course I’m working,” said Erik. “I was waiting for you to come and help me push the wagon over here.”
“What? Did those big strong oxen die?” Olaf swung off Tapper and led him into the shed.
Erik followed, protesting. “I just cleaned in here. If Tapper makes a mess you have to clean it.”
“Fine, fine,” said Olaf. “Now where are these dead oxen?”
Erik laughed, leading the way to the wagon. “They’re not dead, Rolf is breaking land.” He waved his arm to the north. “Somewhere out there.”
“Ah, well, I’m as strong as an ox,” said Olaf. They pushed the wagon over to the shed, then Erik offered a fork to Olaf.
“Since you’re so strong, do you want to shovel manure?”
“I’ll watch,” said Olaf, shaking his head. “See how it’s done.”
“Oh, sure,” said Erik, “like you’ve never shovelled manure.”
Olaf’s head suddenly jerked back, and he whipped around. “Did you hear something?” he said. “I’ll be in the shed with Tapper. I’ll keep him quiet. Don’t tell anyone I’m here.”
“Who? What?” stammered Erik, wondering if he was worried about Rolf coming back. Then he saw three horsemen approaching the yard.
Mystified, Erik stood still as the men rode up to him. Olaf’s friend Jim stayed on his horse, watching Erik’s every move. The other two, Pete from the livery stable and a man with a droopy moustache and bushy eyebrows, dismounted, ground tying their horses where they stood.
“We’re looking for Olaf Hanson,” said Pete. There was no friendliness in his voice. “Where is he?”
What should he say? Olaf didn’t want them to know he was there. All Erik’s English left him.
“What’s the matter?” the other man growled. Erik stared at him, realizing he’d seen him before, not just at the livery stable, but in Hanley. “Can’t you understand English? Stupid Norwegian,” he said without waiting for an answer. “Just like his cousin.”
“Olaf,” said Pete with exaggerated emphasis. “We want Olaf.”
Erik shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know where he is,” he said in Norwegian. He shook his head, then added in English. “Not know where Olaf.” If they said he was a stupid Norwegian, thought Erik, he’d act like a stupid Norwegian.
He stuck his fork into the manure pile and tossed a forkful into the wagon. He hoped they wouldn’t see his hands shaking. He had no idea why they wanted Olaf, but it couldn’t be good, not from the expressions on their faces. Not from the way Olaf hid when he saw them coming.
The men stepped closer, Pete pressing in on one side of him, the man with the black moustache on the other.
“When you see Olaf, tell him Pete’s looking for him. Can you remember that? Pete.”
“He’ll remember,” said the other man. His words sent a shiver down Erik’s back. Erik swallowed hard and nodded. The man grabbed the fork from Erik’s unresisting hands and stabbed it deep into the pile. “Won’t you?” he asked, his face so close Erik could smell his breath.
The men went back to their horses and mounted. Erik didn’t move, watching as they rode back to the trail.
“They’re gone,” he said when they were out of sight. He pulled the fork out of the pile and turned toward the shed.
Olaf stepped into the doorway.
“Why do they want you?” asked Erik. “I thought you were friends.”
“So did I,” said Olaf. His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat. “I mean, Jim and I were friends, but lately…” His voice trailed away. “Something’s wrong. I don’t know what.”
Erik looked at Olaf’s face and wondered if that was true.
“Who were those men?” Erik and Olaf swung around as Elsa came running from the house. “I saw them talking to you and I was too scared to come outside.”
“No one,” said Olaf, “I mean, no one you should be scared of.”
“They wanted to know the way to…Hanley,” said Erik at the same moment.
“I’m glad they’re not going to Green Valley,” said Elsa. “I didn’t like them at all.”
“Tapper likes your shed,” Olaf said, changing the subject. “Can I leave him here overnight?”
“Sure,” said Erik, making no attempt to hide his surprise. “But you’ll have to walk to town.”
“I’ll get him in the morning,” Olaf said. “I’m riding in the races tomorrow at the celebration.”
“He’ll win for sure!” said Erik. “I can’t wait to see him beat the others!”
Olaf smiled, but Erik thought he still looked worried. “Here, let me help you with that.”
Olaf took Erik’s fork and furiously forked manure into the wagon, not stopping till his shirt was wet and sweat ran down his face.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Celebration
When Rolf returned to the yard, he tethered the oxen, then went to the house. “Can supper wait a few minutes?” he asked.
Inga came to the door, holding Leif, with Elsa close behind her. Erik paused beside them, setting a pail of water on the ground.
“Look at our wheat and oats!” said Rolf, waving his arms. “You can almost see the plants grow.”
Rolf took Leif in one arm and put his other around Inga. They walked across the yard, with Erik and Elsa following.
Rolf led them right into the field. The grassy, green plants brushed their legs as they walked, reaching Erik’s knees. The field was bright green, much greener than the prairie around them. Maybe Rolf wasn’t such a bad farmer, after all.
“It looks like a beautiful crop, Rolf,” said Inga.
“We have so much to be grateful for,” said Rolf.
“Ja,” said Erik. “The well.”
“And the calves,” added Inga.
“Baby Leif,” said Elsa.
“The trees,” said Rolf.
“Rhubarb turnovers,” said Elsa. “From our own rhubarb plants.”
Rolf ruffled Elsa’s hair. “Especially the rhubarb plants!” he agreed.
“The whole farm is growing,” said Inga. She took Leif from Rolf, giving him a little bounce so he laughed and waved his fists.
“Just like my family,” added Rolf. “Not so long ago I was alone, and now, look at us all!” He reached out, resting a hand on Erik’s shoulder, his other arm circled around Inga to reach Elsa.
Rolf’s hand felt warm and comfortable. Erik glanced at Rolf’s smiling face. Maybe even a thirteen-year-old needed a father, he thought, if the father was someone like Rolf.
“And tomorrow we’ll go to Green Valley to celebrate,” said Rolf. “They’re expecting hundreds of people to come for the day.”
“Hundreds!” exclaimed Elsa. “I still don’t know why they’re coming to Green Valley.”
“They want to see the town that grew so quickly,” said Rolf. “Most towns would take years to get where Green Valley is now.”
“Can we eat the rhubarb turnovers now?” asked Erik.
“We sure can,” said Inga, “but first we’ll have fish.”
The next morning, Erik woke in the sun-warmed tent knowing it was going to be a special day. He heard a horse whinny and sat up. He’d forgotten about Tapper. Quickly pulling on his clothes, he crawled out of the tent and looked around.
Olaf, walking briskly, was almost to the yard. Turning his head, Erik saw Rolf step out of the house, the milk pail in his hand.
“I thought I’d get the milking done before you got up,” said Rolf, grinning at Erik.
“I can do it now,” said Erik. He took the pail from Rolf and watched as Rolf saw Olaf.
“You get up early,” said Olaf, looking at Rolf.
“Good morning, Olaf,” said Rolf. “You get up even earlier.” He cleared his throat. “I’m surprised to see you walking.”
A whinny from the shed drew all eyes in that direction.
“Tapper?” said Rol
f.
“Yes,” said Olaf. “I needed a place for him for the night.”
There was a pause. Erik knew that Rolf would see through that. Lars had a stable that was much more convenient than this one.
“Is there a problem?” asked Rolf.
“No,” said Olaf. “No problem.” He opened the shed door. A moment later he came out with Tapper and the saddle.
Rolf got a pail of water from the well, bringing it to Tapper as Olaf saddled him.
“Takk,” said Olaf.
“If you need help,” said Rolf, “you only have to tell me.”
“Everything is good,” said Olaf.
Rolf’s face showed his doubt. “If you say so,” he said slowly. “You should know.” They watched Tapper drain the pail.
“Thank you again for the well,” said Rolf. “I shall always be grateful for that.”
Erik saw Olaf lift his eyes and look at Rolf for a long moment.
“You’re welcome,” said Olaf at last. “I’m glad the water is good.”
He swung himself into the saddle and whirled Tapper around.
Rolf picked up the water pail and went back to the well. Erik shook himself and headed for the shed to milk Tess.
Rolf and Olaf had spoken to each other! This day was turning out more special than he’d expected. Of course, Olaf had lied, but it was a start.
When Erik brought the milk into the house, he was greeted with the smell of cooking meat.
“What is that great smell?” asked Rolf, coming in right behind Erik.
Inga looked up from dishing out porridge and smiled.
“Chicken!” Elsa announced joyfully. She tucked a towel over a bulging basket. “We didn’t tell you, but yesterday Mama and I killed a chicken and today she fried it, and we’ll have it for dinner.”
Rolf shot a surprised look at Inga.
“It had a bad wing,” she said. “And this spring’s chicks are half grown already. I thought we could spare one hen for such a special day.”
“But how can we eat breakfast while we smell the chicken?” asked Erik, sitting down on the bench. “We should eat it right now!”
“You have to wait,” retorted Elsa. “But I tasted it. Mama let me have the back.”
“The back doesn’t have any meat on it anyway,” said Erik.
“Does so!”
“Erik! Elsa!” Rolf’s voice cut through their argument. “I’m sure we’ll all enjoy the chicken. At noon.”
Erik bent his head over his bowl, ignoring the little smile Elsa gave him.
The streets of Green Valley were lined with vehicles when the oxen and wagon drove into town. Most were horse-drawn, but there were automobiles, too. More wagons, buggies and carts were near the sports grounds with their horses tied to them. When they parked their wagon there, Erik could see only one other pair of oxen.
“We’ll all meet back here for our picnic before the horse races,” said Inga.
She handed Leif to Elsa, then climbed down from the wagon, careful not to catch her Sunday dress. Erik tied the oxen to the side of the wagon, then carried them each a pail of water.
“Can I come with you, Erik?” asked Elsa.
“Doesn’t Ma want you to help with Leif?”
“She’s going to Aunt Kirsten’s,” she said. “I don’t want to sit around the house all day. I want to be part of the picnic.”
“You can help her find her friends from school,” said his mother. “I don’t want her wandering alone with so many people in town.”
Rolf pulled out his pocket watch. “I must go. I’ll try to be here for dinner, but I can’t promise.”
Rolf had a job for the day. He and eight other men had been hired as temporary policemen to help keep order along with the Royal Northwest Mounted Police from Hanley.
Erik and Elsa walked with their mother to the lean-to behind the store, where Kirsten and Lars were still living while their house was being built. The streets were full of people, all dressed in their best for the Dominion Day celebration.
When their mother and Leif went inside, Erik and Elsa stood on the sidewalk and looked around.
“Where shall we go first?” asked Elsa.
Before Erik could answer, he heard the whistle of an approaching train.
“To the station,” he said. “Let’s watch the passengers get off, then look for Sara.”
They hurried down the street and around the corner, dodging through the crowds. They arrived at the train station just as the train pulled to a stop. Hundreds of people streamed out when the doors opened.
Some of the passengers carried bats and baseball gloves. Others were dressed in fancy clothes, the ladies holding sunshades.
“I thought you would be here,” said Colin, popping up beside Erik. “Did you ever see so many people?”
“Only in New York City when we came to America,” said Erik. After the last person stepped off the train, they went to Sara’s house. Leaving Elsa there, Erik and Colin went to the sports grounds where they watched football and baseball by turns.
He met with the rest of the family for their chicken dinner at the wagon, then Erik went back to the racetrack. The crowds seemed even bigger than in the morning. Erik watched the runners for the first race assemble, choosing the third from the end as his favourite. A white horse with black markings, he looked strong and fast.
Not as fast as some of the others, though, because he placed third.
Colin’s choice was even worse than Erik’s, coming in dead last.
When the next group of horses lined up, Tapper was on the outside edge, with Olaf sitting easily on his back.
“There’s Olaf,” exclaimed Colin. “I bet he wins.”
“He will for sure,” said Erik. “Tapper is the fastest horse ever!”
The horses pranced impatiently, waiting for the race to start. There was some kind of delay and the roar of the audience grew louder. Finally the race began. Tapper was the leader from the first moment. Behind him, Erik heard a man exclaim, “I’ve seen that horse before.”
“Which horse?” asked his companion.
“The dark bay,” he said. “The one in the lead. He won races all over Montana last summer; I’m sure it’s the same horse. He looks the same when he runs, with his tail arched like that.”
Tapper made running look fun. He and Olaf crossed the finish line more than a length ahead of any of the others. After Olaf received his ribbon and prize envelope, Erik ran over to congratulate him.
“Did you win money?” he asked.
“I think so.” Olaf opened his envelope and looked inside. “Five dollars,” he said.
“That’s great!” exclaimed Erik, remembering he’d pitched sheaves for ten days to make five dollars. “Are you racing again?”
“Ja,” said Olaf. He ran his hand over the horse’s heaving side. “We’ll be in the final race to see which horse is fastest of all.”
“That’s the one with the fifty-dollar prize,” said Colin.
“Fifty dollars!” exclaimed Erik. “That’s more money than you can make in a month.”
“Or two months,” agreed Olaf. “But we haven’t won it yet.” He led Tapper away a couple of steps.
“Hey, wait,” said Erik. “I just remembered. A man said he knew Tapper. That he won races all over Montana last summer.”
“If he was a prize winner, Pete couldn’t have bought him for a livery horse,” said Olaf. “They’re mistaken. He’s an ordinary looking horse.”
“All except his scars,” said Erik. “They don’t look ordinary at all.”
“You can’t see them much when he’s wearing the saddle,” said Olaf. “You’ve healed well, haven’t you, old boy?”
“Let’s go back to the races,” said Colin.
“Sure,” said Erik. “We’ll be cheering for you when you race again.”
Olaf smiled briefly over his shoulder. Erik watched them go, the Bar C on Tapper’s hip moving with each step he took. Turning back to Colin, his eye caught s
omeone familiar in the crowd, also watching Olaf. It was Jim, and the dark man with the long moustache. Erik saw them speaking, their heads close together, then he lost them in the crowd.
Erik returned to the track with Colin, but it was hard to pay attention. He was afraid for Olaf, but what could Pete’s men do in a crowd like this? Even so, he would warn Olaf the next time he saw him.
The winner of each heat earned a spot in the final race with Tapper. After a palomino won the last race, Erik sighed with relief.
“Olaf’s horse can beat him, easy,” he said.
“Some of the others will be harder,” said Colin. Erik nodded, but he was confident Tapper was the fastest.
They crossed the racetrack and watched baseball for a while, then moved down to the football field.
“It must be nearly time for the final race,” said Erik. “I wonder where Olaf is.”
“He’s probably getting ready,” said Colin.
“Let’s see if he needs any help,” suggested Erik.
They met Rolf as they pushed through the crowds. “Have you seen Olaf?” Erik asked.
“Right after his race,” said Rolf, “but not since then.”
“His horse is the fastest horse here,” said Colin.
“We’ll find out soon,” said Rolf. “I thought you boys would be watching the ball games.”
“We’re going to help Olaf get ready,” said Erik.
Rolf raised his eyebrows. “What help does he need?”
“We’ll brush Tapper,” said Colin.
“And tie flowers in his mane,” added Erik.
They laughed and left Rolf. Erik expected to find Tapper in the corral on the edge of town, but he wasn’t there.
They turned toward the lumberyard, meeting Elsa and Sara along the way.
Surprisingly, Tapper wasn’t in the stable, and the house was empty. “We must have just missed him,” said Colin. “He’s probably already back at the racetrack.”
Erik nodded, but didn’t agree. It was easy to miss a person in these crowds, but a horse?
Although it was the middle of the afternoon, there were lineups at the hotels and the restaurants. Close to the racetrack, people milled around a food booth in a huge tent.
