Blessing in Disguise

by Lauraine Snelling

  Sweat darkened the hides of his team as he trotted them into town and halted them in front of the livery. He wrapped the reins around the brake handle and stepped down to the dirt street, grunting as his legs warned him they’d been in one position far too long.

  “Can I help you, mister?” A towheaded boy with one overall suspender hooked and the other missing a button greeted him.

  “You work here?” Kane stretched, trying to get the kinks out. He’d rather ride a horse than a wagon seat any day.

  “Yep. Pa’s shoeing a team right now. I can unharness yours for you, brush ’em down, and water and grain them, all for two bits. How long till you need ’em again?”

  “Oh, couple hours. Got some things coming in on the train.” Kane dug in his pocket and flipped a quarter in the air. “You make sure they don’t get too much water till they’re cooled down.”

  “Right, mister.” The boy caught the quarter and shot Kane a cheeky grin. “And if ’n you feel like tippin’ me ’cause I did such a good job, I wouldn’t be one to turn it down.”

  Kane shook his head and smiled back. “We’ll see about that.” The picture of the boy stayed with him as he headed for the hotel, if you could call it that. If and when he had a boy, he hoped his son would be sharp like that. Taking the three steps in one, he pushed open the double doors and strode up to the desk.

  “How can I help you?” The clerk looked up with a smile.

  “I need a bath, a shave, a haircut, and new clothes.” He almost added because I’m getting married this afternoon but clipped that off in time.

  “All right. You go two doors down for the shave and haircut, across the street for the clothes, and we can have a bath ready in between the two.”

  Kane nodded. “You get it hot, and I’ll be back.” He started out, then turned to ask, “Is there a pastor in town?”

  “Sorry, no. Not regular. Itinerant preachers come by, though.”

  “Thanks.” Kane continued on out the door.

  Some time later, clipped, scrubbed, and sporting everything new but hat and boots, he turned in his long list at the general store, checked with the stationmaster to make sure his windmill was on board, and headed for the livery to get his team and wagon. He also inquired to make sure the justice of the peace was in town. Since the judge was itinerant but based in Ipswich, the chance was good he’d be available.

  There was no way he could head out across the rolling prairie with an unmarried female in tow.

  Contrary thoughts kept stabbing at him as he helped the boy harness his team. What if the justice wasn’t there? What if his Norwegian bride changed her mind and didn’t want to marry him, at least not right away? What if she wasn’t on the train?

  He ignored his wayward thoughts the best he could, handed the boy a dime extra, and touched the brim of his hat at the exuberant “Thankee, sir.”

  At least he’d made one person happy today. The train whistle wept from a distance. He took in a deep breath and stepped up into his wagon, then clucked the horses forward. The station was only a short block away.

  He stopped the horses in the shade of an elm tree and, snapping a tie rope to one bridle, knotted it to the hitching post. Was it really this hot or . . . ? He lifted his hat to wipe his forehead with a new red kerchief. He walked on over and stood in the shade of the wide-roofed station house, which looked about as tired as the rest of the town.

  The train eased into the station, steam billowing and wheels screeching. A uniformed man stepped out of the first passenger car and set a metal stool on the platform for the passengers to step down.

  Kane’s breath caught in his throat.

  A man in a black suit swung down with a portmanteau in his right hand.

  Kane took a step forward.

  A woman with a small boy came next. She hadn’t said anything about having a child, so that left them out.

  Two more men, both in the uniform of the United States Army.

  He saw another dress in the shadows of the car. He gulped. A woman, round as she was tall and with hair the color of clean sheep wool, beamed at a young couple who rushed forward and hugged her.

  Kane breathed a sigh of relief.

  The conductor waited. Kane waited.

  A woman’s face remained in the shadow for a brief second, and then the conductor reached up a hand to help her down. A dark skirt topped by a dark jacket and a bit of white at the neck appeared. She was slender but with a strength about her, straight shoulders, long neck, and a face that . . . Oh, thank you, Lord. She is more than comely. She is beautiful!

  He glanced around the platform. Maybe there was someone else to greet her. But the look on her face said that wasn’t the case. He strode forward, hat in his hands.

  “Miss Borsland?” He had to clear his throat and say her name again. He hoped he was pronouncing it right.

  She turned and looked at him with eyes the blue of a summer sky, only more so, if that were possible.

  “Ja, Miss Bjorklund.” Augusta looked around. Now what should she do? The conductor had never said Blessing or Grand Forks or anything she recognized. And since he hadn’t spoken Norwegian, she couldn’t make her questions clear.

  Who was this man? Had Mor sent him to fetch her? How far away was Blessing? The letters on the front of the station didn’t look anything like the ones on the letter in her reticule. She looked up again. I-p surely didn’t look like a B.

  The man stepped forward and, smiling, reached for her carpetbag. “I’ll carry that for you.”

  He seemed to expect her. “Mange takk.” She let him take the bag, grateful for the courtesy. Her legs felt as though she still rode the swaying train, and the platform took on life beneath her feet. Oh, what she would give for a bath or at least a chance to wash up. She’d done her best in the tiny bathroom on the train, but a dipper of water didn’t go very far.

  “Right this way.” The man motioned toward a team and wagon off under a tree.

  If only she could understand what he was saying. “Will you be taking me to Blessing, then?”

  “Ah yes, indeed. Your being here is surely a blessing.” He wished he had been able to learn some Norwegian. How in the world were they going to talk with each other? And those eyes, never had he seen such color. She was tall—tall enough to fit just under his chin, a Nordic princess, for certain sure. It was all he could do to keep his feet from dancing.

  He led her to the wagon and, after helping her up, motioned for her to stay there. When she started to stand again, he shook his head and smiled.

  She smiled back and sat down. He must be in a hurry to get going. How long until I see my family? What a joy that will be. Thank you, heavenly Father, for a safe journey, even though this looks nothing like Mor’s descriptions of the flat prairie. I thought sure from what she said that the train stopped right in front of Penny’s store and Hjelmer’s blacksmith shop. But then, I never saw Grand Forks either. She shook her head and drew a handkerchief from her sleeve to wipe the sides of her face and neck. Perhaps those black clouds would bring cooler air with the rain they must be carrying. Would they arrive in Blessing before the storm hit?

  She watched as the man who’d come for her strode back from the station house.

  A cool wind blew at her skirts and rustled the leaves above. The horses flicked their tails at the flies. She turned her face to the breeze, wishing she could take off her jacket and raise her arms. But that wasn’t seemly in the least, not in this place where she knew no one, grateful as she was that someone seemed to know her and to expect her.

  He smiled at her again as he untied the horses and climbed up in the wagon. He turned them in a tight circle and headed back for the station.

  Surely he was going for her trunk.

  Thank God the crates came in, Kane thought. He glanced at the clouds again. They seemed to be staying south of the town. Maybe they’d clear by the time they were ready to head out. He backed the wagon up to the loading dock and wrapped the reins around the brake ha
ndle. Motioning her to stay seated, he gave her a smile that evoked one in response.

  At least they could smile at each other. Augusta wondered if anyone in town spoke Norwegian. If only she had taken her brother’s advice and learned American. Some of it, a bit, anything. She felt as if her face might crack from smiling. She buried the nigglings of fear under an avalanche of smiles. She watched as they loaded wooden crates into the bed of the wagon, all the time wondering what it was. The two men shook hands, and her stranger returned to the seat of the wagon.

  “We are going to Blessing now?” she asked. If only he could understand her.

  “I agree. Such a blessing.” Why is she so locked on blessing? Kane wondered. “As soon as we pick up the supplies from the general store here, we’ll go to the justice of the peace.” He accompanied his words with a broad smile, grateful for the one in return. Her eyes crinkled at the edges, her dark lashes accenting the blue. Oh, the blue of her eyes.

  He drew his gaze away with an effort.

  More things were loaded into the wagon, filling up the spaces in and around the machinery.

  “My trunk. Where will my trunk go?” She looked from the wagon back to the station platform. Even though her trunk was small, she’d not seen it unloaded from the train. Had it gotten lost? Would it come later? What would she do for clothing in the meantime?

  Kane shrugged. If only he could understand her. Something sure had gotten under her smile. Her eyes darkened like the sky before a storm. He followed her pointing finger back to the train platform and then tried to decipher her hand motions. Something long and deep and square.

  “A box?” He mimicked her motions.

  She nodded, and lo and behold the sun returned. “Ja, my trunk.”

  “Ah.” He nodded, motioned her to wait, and headed back to the depot.

  “Sorry, nothing came in with that name on it,” the stationmaster said. “In fact, your windmill and some things for the store and the hotel were all the freight this time. Real low what with harvest starting. All I can say is check back with us tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow I’ll be halfway home, and the lady will be without her things.” Kane shook his head. It wasn’t like he could run into town anytime he pleased. Should they stay over? He kept on shaking his head.

  “I could have someone going out your way bring it to you when it comes. Sometimes these things happen, you know.”

  “Guess that will have to do. I got to get on home. That binder breaks down again, and no one else there can fix it.” If only he had taught Lone Pine the intricacies of the limping binder.

  When he got back to the wagon, he made the box motions again, shrugged, and shook his head. “It’ll come later.”

  The look in her eyes said clearly she didn’t understand. So he said it louder.

  Why is he yelling at me? Where is my trunk? Augusta chewed on her lip. So she would just have to make do. Obviously her trunk would come on a later train, and they would just have to . . . just have to what? She had no idea at the moment. Her stomach grumbled, and she blinked at a wave of dizziness. It had been more than two days since she’d eaten. Right now that seemed more important than her trunk.

  Kane studied her through narrowed eyes. He heard the sound of her insides. Hadn’t she eaten on the train? Surely he’d sent enough money so she didn’t starve. But at the pale look taking over her face, he had a good idea she hadn’t eaten for some time.

  Well, as soon as they stood up for the ceremony, he would take her to the hotel for a meal. Or he could ask them to fix a basket.

  He nodded and smiled again. That’s what he’d do. They could eat on the way. If they didn’t put some miles under those wheels by dark, it would be another day before he got home. And by then both Morning Dove and Lone Pine would be sending out scouts. He bid her stay again and trotted across the street to the hotel.

  “Now where is he going?” Augusta whispered into the fingers she’d used to rub her temples. Oh, Lord above, I have said I will trust you, but let me tell you, right now that isn’t very easy. Who is this man, and when are we going to Blessing so that Hjelmer can make everything clear?

  After picking up his supplies at the general store, they drove down the street, and he stopped the wagon again. This time he motioned her to step down and held up a hand to assist her. She laid her hand in his, feeling she had no strength left, only to discover a power running from his hand and directly up her arm. She paused in the act of stepping down to the step and looked into his eyes—amber in color with flecks of gold like promises of riches to come. She could see no guile, only concern and a hint of joy, as if the curving of his well-formed lips weren’t enough and he was trying his best to reassure her.

  Taking a deep breath, she placed her foot on the step and swung to the ground, his hand now cupping her elbow. Again came that sensation of a transference of strength. Who was this man anyway? Might he become a friend, or even more? After all, she was single, thanks to that no-good Elmer. But perhaps this man wasn’t.

  She felt like sighing again but refrained. Sighing was not in her nature, and she promised herself she wasn’t about to develop the habit.

  He guided her up the steps and held open a door to an office of some sort. At his direction, she went on in and looked around. Surely a business office. What had they come here for?

  Another man, a book in his hand, entered the room and stood before them. He nodded at her, and she nodded back. Her companion smiled and said a few words to which the older man responded.

  She tried to think of the cool lakes and mountain streams of home, but instead, all that came to mind was a plate of roast beef, potatoes, rutabagas, and pickled beets on the side. There would be a plate of lefse, a cup of steaming coffee, and her mor’s smiling face. Her stomach rumbled again. She could feel the heat of embarrassment color her face even brighter than she knew the oppressive heat already did.

  What would they think of her?

  “Do you, Miss Borsland, take this man as your wedded husband?”

  The man with the book looked at her as if waiting for an answer. What is he saying?

  She looked to the man beside her, and at his nod, she nodded to the man who, now that she thought about it, looked official. Maybe this was something to do with coming into the new land. Hjelmer had talked about how important it was to become an American citizen.

  If only she could understand what they were saying. Now the gentleman asked a question to the man beside her. He also nodded and smiled.

  “I now pronounce you man and wife.”

  Kane felt his heart leap. He’d actually done it. Gone and gotten himself a wife. A beautiful wife. All he had to do was teach her English so they could talk to each other. And he would learn some Norwegian too. Make it easier for her. How, he wasn’t sure, but then he’d learned to speak Mandan, and that was no easy language either.

  The man with the book said a few more things, then smiled and reached out his hand. First the man beside her shook the official’s hand, then motioned for her to do the same.

  After shaking their hands, he turned to a book open on the desk and wrote a few things in it before handing the pen to Kane. He wrote something and handed the pen to her.

  She studied the lines. They must want her to sign her name. Ah, that she could do.

  “So am I a citizen now?” she asked with as bright a smile as she could muster. When she leaned over like that, she had to fight against the dizziness again.

  When they both nodded, she let out the breath she’d not realized she was holding. Becoming an American certainly was simple. Why had Hjelmer made such a big thing of it?

  Kane took her arm, said good-bye to Justice Rhinehart, and took his new bride out the door. From the look on her face, he’d better feed her before she fainted on him.

  He was counting his blessings for sure. Not only was she lovely as the sunrise, she was agreeable too.

  “We’re going to Blessing now?”

  He nodded. “You bet. Bless
ings in abundance. I’ll pick up our lunch basket, and we’ll be on our way.”

  Chapter 7

  Blessing

  September 1

  “Where is she?”

  “Mor, I don’t know.” Hjelmer watched the train pull away from the plank platform in front of the sack house.

  “But Augusta was supposed to be on this train.” In her consternation, Bridget Bjorklund abandoned her newly learned English and reverted to Norwegian.

  “I know she was, but she must have missed a connection somewhere. She’ll be on the train tomorrow for sure.”

  In the small town of Blessing, North Dakota, the St. Paul and Pacific Railroad ran west in the early morning, again around noon, and a third ran east in the late afternoon. And since this train had been late, the group on the platform had been waiting for some time.

  “Will Tante Augusta sleep in a station?” Thorliff, Bridget’s oldest grandson, asked.

  Standing behind Bridget, his mother, Ingeborg, caught his eye and gave a minuscule shake of her head. No sense in making Bridget’s worries any worse.

  “Now, Mor, don’t you go worrying. Augusta is a grown woman, and she’s been out in the world for almost fifteen years, taking the train to Oslo to work with that family and all. She’ll know how to take care of herself.” Hjelmer wiped the sweat off his brow with a kerchief.

  Here it was September and still hot as August.

  “Ja, well, I better get back to the boardinghouse, then.” Bridget shook her head. Uff da! She’d had a feeling when she woke up that the day wasn’t going to go too well. But she’d never thought of something this bad. Father God, please take care of that daughter of mine. I know she is your child, but sometimes a mother worries more than a father. She thought of reminding Him how she felt about His care of her youngest daughter, but one didn’t talk to God that way, leastways she didn’t. Katy and her babe were in heaven, where at least they were safe, not like Augusta, who was only God knew where.