by Gordon Ryan
Robert nodded his head. “I do, Tom. Evanston, I think he said. Gerald Evanston.”
“Right. See if you can contact him tomorrow and set up an appointment for Monday afternoon. I’ve got a proposition involving the two of you.”
“Any clues you might offer?” Robert probed.
Tom just shook his head. “No, not tonight. But I’ll explain it all Monday. Good night, Alice,” Tom said, kissing her on the cheek. “Thanks for coming.”
Robert embraced Katrina and the Thurstons left. Tom waited until they were away from the house, then closed and bolted the door. As they reached the second floor, Tom turned toward their bedroom suite but Katrina hesitated. “I think I’ll see Anders for a couple of minutes before I turn in. Do you mind?” she smiled.
Tom kissed her cheek, gently swatting her as she stepped across the hall. “Don’t be too long, Mrs. Callahan,” he said, raising an eyebrow to her.
Katrina lightly tapped on Anders’s door and received a muted, “Come in.” She opened the door, then closed it behind her. Anders was sitting in his chair, reading. Wearing the new silk pajamas and robe that Katrina had purchased for him, he patted the right arm of his chair and took her hand as she neared. She sat on the cushioned arm of the lounge chair, and Anders looped his arm around her waist.
“I was hoping you’d drop in to say good night.”
“You knew I would,” she laughed.
Squeezing her waist, he said, “Yah, that I did. I have a story to tell you. A remarkable story. First, I must say, Klinka, that you were right all along.”
“Right? About what, Anders?”
“About all of it, Klinka. The story I have to tell you will take some time, but the end of the story is what you really need to hear.” He exhaled, and then took in a long, deep breath. “The gospel, my wonderful, loving sister, is true. It’s all true, Klinka. Everything you ever told me is true. The Lord has shown me.”
Katrina sat speechless for the next several moments as Anders struggled to control his emotions. In the end, she simply slid into his lap and held his head while he cried.
Finally he said, “It had to be you, Klinka. I had to tell you first,” he whispered, embracing her tightly. He gently pushed her to a sitting position and wiped at the tears on his face. “Sit across from me, here,” he said, pulling the adjacent chair up close to his. “This story is long, and I’ve not yet told anyone, although Sister Mary knows most of it.”
Until the light began to creep through the eastern window, Katrina sat enthralled, occasionally laughing through her tears as Anders Hansen, reluctant Mormon, described his rescue in Cuba and the very real way in which the Lord had reached down and cared for him.
Tom had at first waited for Katrina to come to bed, anxious to be with her. In time, he grew a little impatient, then began thinking about Father Scanlan’s admonition. He waited for a long time for Katrina to return—to discuss the issues with her—but had finally fallen asleep alone, oblivious to what kept brother and sister together through the night.
Shortly before dawn, Katrina left Anders’s room and closed his door softly. Tiptoeing to a small desk in the corner of her dressing room, off the main bedroom suite, she got to her knees, and for the remaining time, until the sun broke through the light cloud cover hanging over the tops of the Wasatch Range, Katrina spoke with Heavenly Father, who already knew more of the incident than she was able to recount. It was not in the telling, but in the thanking, that Katrina spent this time praying. There was more than one thing for which she had often pleaded. And if God could provide fulfillment to that prayer, then he could, in time, provide all.
Chapter 8
Tom and Anders were both breathing heavily when they reached the rocky outcropping and found a suitable flat rock to sit on and look down over the entire Salt Lake Valley. The first light snow had dusted the peaks of the mountains surrounding Salt Lake, but their observation post was several hundred feet below the snow line.
“I found this place when I was working at Holy Cross,” Tom said. “After Katrina married Harold, it became a favorite place of mine.”
Anders remained silent, looking over the valley floor and chewing on a stalk of dry grass. Tom held his peace and shifted his position to provide a backrest against a large boulder. Finally, Anders spoke.
“There were a few moments, Tom, back there in Cuba, I mean, when I thought I might never see all this again. There’s beauty all over the world, especially in Norway, but I guess we take it for granted until the day ...” He grew silent again, spitting out the grass and sliding back against the boulder that supported Tom.
“You’ve been good for Katrina, Tom. Considering her condition when we found her in Mexico, she’s recovered well.”
“Aye, she has. But, of a night, she sometimes wakes up, and I know it’s all still there. Less than at first, but there, all the same. We don’t speak of it. She just slides up closer, and I hold her till she falls asleep again.”
“That’s what I mean, Tom. You’ve been good for her.”
“Thank you, Andy. I know how much she loves you, and it means a lot to hear you say that.”
“I mean it, Tom. I really mean it. You saved me from a beating on the ship, bore the brunt of Harold’s false accusations, and assisted me in finding Klinka in Mexico. You’ve become my brother,” he said, looking directly at Tom.
Tom laughed to make light of the matter. “Sure now, I’ve got a paddock full of brothers in Ireland, Andy, and at least one more somewhere else in the world, but I reckon you can never have too much family.”
They heard a bird screech and both looked up to watch a golden eagle swooping down the face of the mountain in the sky above them.
“What will you do now, Andy? Back to Holy Cross?”
Anders thought for a moment and slowly shook his head. “No. I want to go back to the university. I thought about it in Florida while I was ... uh, adjusting to my new dexterity,” he laughed.
Tom glanced at his brother-in-law’s empty sleeve and winced. “Actually, Tom, it’s not so bad. Once I learned to button my shirt and tie my shoes, I became practically independent again. But you don’t want to wait too long, or be in too much of a hurry, to go to the toilet.”
Tom laughed out loud. “What will you do at the university?”
“I’m not sure. I met a fellow in the hospital in Florida. He was a lawyer from New York and a captain in the cavalry regiment. He’d been temporarily flash-blinded when some gunpowder went off in his face. I kind of liked what he said about the law.”
Tom’s ears perked up and he leaned forward. “Andy, now that, interestingly enough, is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh?”
“Absolutely.”
Anders listened as Tom explained his concerns over his lack of knowledge about banking and mining, and his limited ability to manage Utah Trust Bank. “In truth, Andy, I kind of sit at Robert’s feet and, together, we meet with other bankers and mine owners and work on joint contracts with them. I’ve learned a bit, but no one takes me seriously as the chairman of the board of a bank. I need to correct that weakness, Andy, and from what you’re saying, we might be able to go down this road together.”
“I’m listening.”
“Well,” Tom laughed again, “it’s not quite that simple, or,” he paused, looking up again at the eagle, “maybe it is. I want to go to the university and also apprentice with a lawyer. I want to gain a lawyer’s credentials, Andy, with economics and mining knowledge as well. I thought perhaps I could do both together. In fact, from what you’ve said, we could both do it together.”
“I’m still listening,” Anders smiled.
“Well, I’d need your help. I propose that you come to work for the bank. I could put you in charge of the front office, the tellers and all. You can attend classes as required, work the other time, and,” he grinned, “here’s the good part. I’m going to retain the services of a young lawyer who came to the bank a few weeks ag
o looking to represent us. If I retain him, then you and I can apprentice ourselves to his office. I can enroll in the university with you, take my economics and mining classes, and together we can spend part of the day in the lawyer’s office.”
“That’s pretty sharp, Mr. Callahan. You’ve thought this through,” Anders said.
“Aye, ya got that right, mate. So then, we’re agreed?”
“And, Tom, I’m sharp enough, too, you know.”
Tom tilted his head slightly, questioning.
“Thank you for the job, Tom. However neatly it was packaged.”
Tom smiled. “Andy, as I said earlier, you can never have too much family, eh? It’s actually an important job, and I really need someone to brighten the front office, train the tellers, and provide a pleasant atmosphere. I’m counting on the training you got working for your father in the furniture store. I want that kind of helpful attitude toward our customers.”
“Yah, Tom, I can do that. But thank you, anyway.”
“Well,” Tom said, standing. “What say we hike back down for a bite of lunch? Maybe we can take Katrina down to the Knudsford House tonight. They’ve got a dance band in from California, and we haven’t been dancing for quite a while.”
“Thank you, Tom, but I have another engagement to arrange. Maybe another time.”
“Sure, Andy.”
“Tom, do you know a family named Richards? The father would be Albert Richards, I think.”
Before beginning their climb off the rocky point, Tom said, “I’ve heard that name, Andy, but I don’t think I know them.” He paused. “Wait a minute, Katrina may know them. I think she’s in the choir with Albert’s wife. Who are they, anyway?” he asked.
“A final piece of the war, Tom. A promise I gave.”
“I see. Anything I can help with?”
“Thank you, Tom, but no. It’s a personal errand. But there is one other thing you should know, Tom. I explained it to Katrina last night. The details are unimportant at the moment, but, Tom, I’ve had ... well, I’ve changed since we last spent time together.”
“I guess war does that, Andy.”
“It’s not the war. Well ... perhaps it is. But I’ve come to believe in the teachings of the church, Tom. I actually still don’t know them very well, but I know the gospel is true. I intend to follow it as best I can.”
Tom’s eyebrows raised. “I’m glad you found something so important in your life. That’s something Katrina and I are going to have to face. Religion, I’m finding, can be a problem. To tell you the truth, Andy, I’m worried about living up to the promises I made to your sister. Ah,” Tom said, raising his hands toward the sky and exhaling, “but that’s another discussion.” Tom grinned, clapping his hands on Anders’s shoulders. “I must admit, though, I haven’t had much luck with Mormon lawyers over the past several years,” Tom said, chuckling at Anders as he jostled his shoulders.
“It’ll be a long time before either of us is a lawyer, Tom, but I’d say you won out over both of the Strombergs, if that’s what you’re talking about,” Anders replied.
“Hmmm, I suppose I did,” Tom said. “I’m still hungry, Andy,” he laughed. “Stop all the jabbering and let’s go eat.”
“It’s beautiful up here, Tom,” Anders said, taking another look around.
“The Mountain of the Lord, some call it.”
“Yah. I can see why.”
Anders Hansen rapped the bronze door knocker twice and waited in the crisp, October night air. A tall, balding man opened the door and smiled at Anders.
“Please excuse the interruption, sir. I’m looking for the home of Albert Richards.”
“You’ve come to the right place, young man. I’m Albert Richards. How can I be of service?”
“Sir, my name is Anders Hansen, and I knew your son, Anthony Richards, briefly ... in Cuba. I wonder if I might have a moment of your time, sir?”
The older man’s face turned solemn, and he opened the door wider.
“Please, come in, Mr. Hansen.”
Inside, Richards assisted Anders to remove his overcoat and hung it on a coat hook in the entranceway. An awkward moment passed as Mr. Richards noticed Anders’s empty sleeve pinned to his shoulder. “My family is in the parlor, Mr. Hansen. Please, come and join us,” he said, leading Anders through the archway.
In the parlor, Anders quickly scanned the room. Two young boys, one about twelve and the other perhaps nine, were lying on a rug covering the polished wooden floor. A woman Anders took to be Mrs. Richards sat on the sofa, and a man about Mr. Richards’s age sat in an overstuffed chair. A young woman was seated on a divan. The group sat silently as Mr. Richards escorted the unknown guest into the room.
“This is Mr. Anders Hansen,” Richards announced to all. “Mr. Hansen, this is my family. This is my wife, Althea, our daughter, Sarah, and our two sons, Phillip and Nephi. And this is one of our family friends, Reed Smoot.” Richards motioned toward a seat across from the divan and invited Anders to sit down.
The size of the family gathering caused Anders some distress and he took his seat awkwardly.
“Mr. Hansen knew Tony in Cuba,” Mr. Richards announced, taking a seat by his wife. Mrs. Richards covered her mouth with her hand, then glanced at her husband and back at Anders. She leaned against her husband, and he took her hand as he settled into his seat. All were silent as Anders sat on the edge of his chair, gathering his thoughts.
“Mr. Richards, I apologize for coming without prior announcement,” he said, fear beginning to override his determination to fulfill this mission. “Perhaps,” he continued, glancing at Smoot, “in light of your visitor ... I mean, if this is an inconvenient time …”
“Mr. Hansen,” Mr. Richards said softly, his kind, but sad eyes encouraging Anders, “as you can well imagine, this has been a very trying time for all of us. We’ve lost our two oldest sons in one sudden instance. Their bodies,” he paused to compose himself, “were returned to us just over a month ago, and since the funeral, we have tried to adjust to their absence. But sir, … we have not spoken with anyone who knows anything substantive about what happened. Captain Young, their battalion commander, has not yet returned, although he did write and inform us the boys had ... died, but if you know any of the particulars, we would be most grateful to hear what you can tell us. Please, you are most welcome here.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Richards, I, uh, I ...” Anders lowered his head and stared at the rug for a long moment.
“Mr. Hansen,” a gentle voice said. Anders looked up at Sarah. She was in her late teens and had auburn hair which she had piled in a becoming way up on her head. A pair of ringlets framed her pretty face and Anders could see tears in her eyes. She struggled to speak.
“Anthony and Fletcher were my heroes, Mr. Hansen. They were my friends and my guardians, as well as my brothers. Please, Anders,” she said, using his first name. “If you can tell us anything about them we will be so grateful to you.”
Anders looked back at Sarah’s parents, both of whom were looking directly at him, tears also rising in Mrs. Richards’s eyes. He glanced quickly at Mr. Smoot, who gazed at him with interest, but held his silence.
Anders nodded, and took one further glance at Sarah, who was trying to smile through her tears.
“Brother Richards,” he started, establishing his church connection, “I knew Tony very briefly, and I was not blessed to, uh ...” he stumbled, “I did not actually know Fletcher. Sir, Tony asked me to deliver a message to you when I returned, but I find it very difficult to deliver that message without explaining how I ... Sir, I need to tell you the story behind the message and that may take some time.”
Mr. Richards slid back into his seat, and placing his arm around his wife, he nodded his head toward Anders. “Please go on,” he said. “We have plenty of time.”
Anders took a deep breath then leaned forward in his chair. “Sir, Tony asked me to tell you that Grandma Richards is taking good care of him and Fletcher, and that you are not
to worry or grieve for them.” Anders exhaled slowly, his breath coming more evenly now, the message having finally been spoken.
Mrs. Richards gasped at the words, burying her face in her hands and allowing an audible sob to escape. The two young boys on the floor looked to their mother, and slid closer to the sofa at her feet. The older boy reached for her hand. “It’s all right, Momma. I told you they were all right. I knew they were,” the young lad said.
Sarah Richards had taken a handkerchief from her sleeve and was blowing her nose and wiping at the tears on her face. Gaining strength from his vision of this family’s grief and compassion, Anders continued. “Lieutenant Richards and I met when I was on a medical team out to recover wounded soldiers and return them to the hospital area. Perhaps you know that Holy Cross Hospital here in Salt Lake sent a medical and nursing detachment to aid in the war effort. I was a part of that detachment. On that particular afternoon ...”
Near midnight, with the younger lad asleep on the floor at his mother’s feet, Anders completed his story—including the loss of his arm and the message Tony had delivered just before Anders had crossed the ridge and begun his descent toward the field hospital. Sarah’s tears had ceased, and her acceptance of the incredible story was evident in the radiance that encompassed her face. Throughout the telling, Anders had found himself moved by her obvious love and concern for her brothers, while he was at the same time confused by the instant attraction he felt for her. Her face, so reminiscent of the young lieutenant’s who had given him a blessing over three months before, provided for Anders a possible explanation for his otherwise unusual affinity toward this beautiful stranger.
