Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2)

by Vikki Kestell

  Betta Harvath, a newborn in her arms and a toddler leaning against her legs, sagged with fatigue. Their family was at the head of the line, and her husband was presenting his papers to the official.

  “We will be through this soon,” Jan encouraged her gently.

  Ah, Lord, he prayed, I thank you that Elli is not pregnant during this difficult journey. But when we finally have our land, could you please send another little one? It has been a few years now since we had a new baby.

  He paused as the conversation between Per Harvath and the official reached him.

  “Did you come to America with any money?” the man asked in passable Riksmaal. “We cannot have immigrants living on the streets, you know.”

  It wasn’t the question that caught Jan’s attention; it was the way the official glanced casually to each side before he asked it.

  Again the official checked on the location of the supervisors and, not seeing one near, lowered his voice a bit. “I see you have a sickly wife. How do you expect to get her through the inspection?” The official noticed Jan and turned a suspicious eye on him.

  Pretending he had heard nothing of their conversation, Jan leaned away from Fru Harvath and waved to Søren, several yards down the line. Søren offered a weak, confused wave in return.

  After a moment, Jan backed a step closer as the exchange between the official and Mr. Harvath resumed.

  “I have money!” Harvath protested. “We have family in America, too. We will not be on the street. We will not be a problem!”

  He leaned toward the official. “You don’t think the doctor will turn her away, do you? She is only tired. She had a baby just a month before we left.”

  The official pretended to think. “I don’t know . . . but perhaps I should see if you truly do have money and will not be a burden to our country. Show me what you have.”

  Jan slid his hands into his pockets and nonchalantly angled toward Mrs. Harvath again, but cut his eyes toward the official’s table. Herr Harvath, obviously anxious, opened his wallet and withdrew a thin stack of currency. The official took the money and rifled through the bills. Jan saw as he slid two of the notes under his book.

  “You may pass,” the official said at his normal volume. He stamped the entrance papers and waved the man on.

  “But, but, you, you took my money!” Per protested, his face reddening.

  The official fixed him with a cold eye. “You may pass, I said.” He dropped his voice and added, “Do you wish me to alert the doctor of my concern about your wife?”

  Per’s flushed cheeks turned white as he looked about him in anger and frustration. Reluctantly, he gathered his papers and shouldered his family’s belongings. Turning to his wife and children, he shepherded them on to the medical inspection. The next family in line moved up.

  Jan had already returned to Karl’s side. “Let me go first,” he muttered.

  “What? Why should I?” Karl shot back. “I don’t want you joking with the official and causing us any problems, Jan.”

  Jan’s temper sparked. “Karl! Give me your papers and let us go first.”

  Karl sighed. When his brother got his back up, it was useless to argue. Jan spoke quietly to Søren and to Elli, who cradled a dozing Kristen. They gathered their luggage and moved ahead of Karl, Amalie, and Sigrün. By then all the Thoresens had noted the change in Jan’s mood and had become quietly observant.

  When it was Jan’s turn in line, he handed papers for both families to the official. The official looked down the line, counting heads. Just then Sigrün coughed, and Jan saw the sly look slip across the official’s face.

  “Have you money to begin your new life in America?” he asked, his voice low and solicitous.

  I am glad this man understands Riksmaal, Jan thought. He leaned close to the official’s face. “What I have is no concern of yours. We are not poor immigrants without property, nor are we ignorant or stupid. I saw you take money from Per Harvath. You will not do the same to me. I will call your supervisor, if need be. You will lose your position.”

  The official’s jaw dropped in shock and fear. Jan pointed to his papers. The official gave them a perfunctory inspection and hurried to stamp them. Avoiding Jan’s stony glare, he gathered the papers up and handed them back.

  Just before Jan stepped away from the table, he reached out and nudged the official’s book to the side. Without a word, he scooped up the currency he found there and shoved the bills into his pocket. He stepped out of line and gestured to Elli and Søren to join him.

  Karl looked from Jan to the official and back. The official jerked his head, indicating that Karl should follow Jan, but he would not meet Karl’s eyes.

  Karl, his brow furrowed, gathered up their things and steered Amalie and Sigrün toward Jan. “What was that all about?” he whispered.

  “Ja, I will tell you, but first we must find Herr Harvath.”

  After they passed—without incident—through the medical inspections and entered their names into the immigration logs, they were herded into the rotunda.

  “Oh, my,” Elli gasped.

  They were standing under the dome of the largest building they had ever been in. Across the wooden-planked floor of the great, round hall, families stacked their belongings and arranged makeshift beds.

  Jan looked for Per Harvath and his little family. “Herr Harvath!” Jan shouted. His words were caught up in the din and carried away.

  “What is it?” Karl asked. He had to shout to be heard.

  Jan put his mouth near Karl’s ear. “The official! He stole money from Per Harvath. I took it back. I must find him and give it to him.”

  “Stole!” Karl’s expression was shocked. Jan knew that Karl was just as shocked by Jan taking back the money as he was by the official stealing it in the first place.

  Jan braced himself for a lecture but made an attempt to distract Karl first. “Do you not remember the warnings?”

  Karl and Jan had read all the literature they could lay hands on regarding immigration. The brochures and newspapers included cautionary tales—how newcomers were bilked during currency exchanges, overcharged for goods and services, extorted by officials, and even led into dark alleyways to be set upon and robbed.

  The most concerning warnings told of unscrupulous men who managed to separate young women from their families and, under cover of the teeming crowds, spirit them away. As Jan and Karl read those accounts they had exchanged long, grave looks.

  Sadly, the literature disclosed that many of the perpetrators of these crimes were people of their own country—men who had been in America long enough to know best how to defraud their own countrymen upon arrival.

  “Per Harvath!” Jan shouted again. He may as well have been spitting into the wind, but at least he’d distracted his brother.

  Karl leaned close to Jan. “Let us get our families settled. Later you and I can walk around and find him, eh?”

  The two men spotted a small open area and led the way toward it. Within a few minutes the women had arranged their baggage to form the three sides of a “u” shape. Elli and Amalie unpacked a few blankets and laid them out.

  Toward evening as the crowded rotunda began to settle for the night, Karl and Jan split up and searched for the Harvaths. Jan had been looking for half an hour when he spied Karl and Per Harvath making their way toward him.

  “Herr Thoresen! Your bror tells me you have my money! How can I thank you enough?” The relief in the man’s weary eyes was thanks enough for Jan.

  “It is nothing. I am glad you will have it back,” Jan replied. He pulled the folded notes from his pocket and handed them to the man.

  “But, but this is more than he took from me!” Per remonstrated.

  “It is?” Jan rubbed his chin. “Then he surely stole from others, too.”

  “But what shall I do with it?”

  The three of them thought for several minutes. It was no small thing, having in one’s possession money or property that did not bel
ong to you. Per held the extra bills in his open hand as though their owners might claim them on sight.

  “We have no way to return these,” Karl said at last. He was nervous, and Jan knew he was concerned that the official would somehow point them out and make trouble for them. Karl sighed and gazed out at the throng spread throughout the hall.

  Per followed his gaze. “Someone like me is in sore need of this money.”

  “I suppose,” Karl suggested slowly, “we could just divide the bills between us?”

  Jan shook his head. “I would not feel right, would you?”

  “No,” Karl admitted. Per nodded in agreement.

  Jan rubbed his chin again. “So! I have an idea. How much is there?” He explained himself in a few words. Karl and Per thought for a moment and nodded. .

  Their eyes again turned to the mass of people within the rotunda. Jan motioned to Per who separated the three extra bills, giving one to each of them.

  Per looked uncomfortable. “I’m not a good pretender,” he confessed.

  “Watch me,” Jan said. “It should not be hard.” He wound his way along the perimeter of the hall until he reached a family he knew from the ship and greeted them.

  “Hei. Hallo.” Jan nodded to the young man, Sänder. His wife, Pergunn, huge with child and worn, could not raise her eyes. Jan knew this family had exhausted their resources just to make the trip. Their three small children had eaten from Elli’s hand several times during the passage. Even now, their hungry eyes stared at Jan with undisguised hope.

  Jan squatted near the man. “Sänder, look here. We found this; I think you must have dropped it,” Jan handed him the bill.

  The young man stared at it. “Nei, I thank you, but I did not.”

  Jan stared back. “I assure you, this is yours,” he insisted. His hand stayed outstretched until the young man, hesitating, took it and blinked his eyes against the sudden moisture that filled them.

  Jan returned to Karl and Per. “See? It was easy.”

  The other men shook their heads and both of them handed him their bills. “You are good at this, Jan.” Karl grinned and punched his brother on the arm. “It is that impulsiveness of yours, ja? Come. I will point out the family I have chosen.”

  “I have one picked, too,” Per added, eager now.

  The three of them paused, suddenly serious. Karl struggled to put what they were feeling into words. “It is a right thing we are doing, a good thing, ja?”

  “Ja,” Per slowly agreed. “It was wicked that someone stole this money. But God has shown us a good use for it.” He scrunched his face, thinking. “Is there not some Skriften that says this?”

  Jan nodded. “Ja, Herr Harvath. I think it reads, They meant it for evil, but God meant it for good.”

  ~~**~~

  Chapter 2

  Just after dawn the crowded hall began to stir. Jan stretched, trying not to disturb Elli who was asleep in the crook of his arm. He glanced at Kristen snugged against Elli’s back. On the other side of Jan, Søren slept on his back, his mouth agape, one arm thrown above his head.

  Jan watched his sønn with pride. Søren was no longer a “little” boy. Intent on becoming an American, Søren had already learned a few English words and used them whenever possible.

  Jan and Elli were not as eager to learn a new language. They were taxed enough keeping track of their children and belongings and managing the day-to-day concerns of traveling without also worrying about new words.

  Jan thought ahead to this day’s challenges. Today the shipping agents would release their property, the cargo they had shipped with them from Norway. Then the immigration officials would help arrange transportation across the river to the rail station and explain how to ship their belongings by train. Some officials, their Norwegian ship captain had assured them, would speak Riksmaal and would not defraud them.

  Yes, Jan and Elli would worry about learning the English later.

  Jan was most concerned about the five weaner pigs from his father’s Landrace herd. He and Søren had fed and watered them before leaving the ship, and they appeared healthy. But a long train ride was still ahead of them and many more miles by wagon.

  An hour later, after eating a simple breakfast and grooming themselves as best they could, the two families knelt in prayer. “Thank you, Herr, for bringing us safely to America,” Karl prayed. “Lead us this day in paths of righteousness for your name’s sake. Amen.”

  The adults looked at each other. They were far from their destination but they were together, healthy and whole. Sigrün’s cough seemed to be subsiding. They had much to be grateful for.

  They packed and shouldered their belongings. Joining the long lines, they passed through the exits and onto the docks where they were released onto the teeming streets.

  The Thoresens again stacked their belongings into a pile, this time on the other side of the immigration lines. Karl left Jan with the women and children and went to stand in line for the shipping agents.

  Hundreds, perhaps thousands of new arrivals were doing the same as they. Jan watched fathers and mothers with anxious faces juggle their possessions and herd their children in one direction or another. He shook his head and checked that their three little ones were safe nearby.

  He realized Elli was watching him, her eyes calm and understanding. Kristen’s sash was wound about Elli’s hand; Søren sat, still and obedient, on her other side.

  Jan sighed and smiled. Ah, my Elli! You know my heart so well, don’t you? He smiled at Elli until she blushed under his knowing gaze.

  Jan glanced over to Karl’s family. Amalie gripped Sigrün’s hand and they sat atop their belongings. Satisfied, Jan turned back. He spotted another family they had crossed with, Oskar and Marta Forgaard.

  He watched, curious, as Oskar turned in a complete circle, scanning the crowd. His wife clawed at his arm, fear etched on her face. Oskar shook her off, calling something that Jan could not hear.

  What? Where was their datter, Freda? He swept his gaze over the crowd, recalling the sweetness of Freda’s young face. He was suddenly worried for the Forgaards.

  I must get up high as I did yesterday, Jan realized, where I can see over this crowd!

  He strode toward an immense stack of barrels and clambered to the top. He heard shouts, but ignored them as he scoured the crowded docks and street for a glimpse of Freda’s strawberry blonde hair. His expression was fierce as he cast about for the girl.

  There!

  He spied two burly men, one on either side of a limp Freda, hustling her toward the street. A third man standing in the driver’s seat of a covered cart gestured for them to hurry.

  Jan leapt from the barrels and ran toward the cart. He plowed through the crowd, tossing aside anything or anyone impeding him, keeping the cart’s covered top straight before him.

  The man on the cart noticed the stir as Jan bulled his way through the throng. He caught a glimpse of Jan and called for his companions to hurry.

  Just before the two men holding Freda’s arms reached the cart, Jan caught up to them. He grabbed their shirt collars and jerked them backwards. In a single motion, he slammed their heads together. They crumpled to the ground, unconscious. So did Freda.

  The man from the cart rushed at Jan. He “ran into” Jan’s left fist and dropped to the cobbled pavement.

  Shouts and police whistles sounded all around Jan. The crowd parted, revealing Jan standing above the felled men and unconscious girl.

  Four police officers, taking in the scene, confronted him with billy clubs. They shouted orders. Jan yelled back in Norwegian, but they did not understand. Many in the crowd, however, did.

  As the battered thugs began to stir and get up, other Norwegian men crowded forward, shouting and gesturing to the police. The police, waving their clubs, warned them to stand back.

  The indignant men in the crowd grew more incensed and the mood turned ugly; several bystanders managed to reach the three men. As the thugs resisted, the men who had g
rabbed them landed punches on their heads and chests.

  The police whistled for reinforcements and used their clubs to push back what was becoming an angry mob. One of the policemen landed a blow across Jan’s shoulder and gestured for him to kneel. Jan did so, but he realized he only had a moment to stop a riot.

  “Who here speaks the English?” he shouted.

  A young man, his head and shoulders topping most in the crowd, pushed forward. “I do.”

  Jan called out to him. “Tell the police I have something to say!”

  The boy yelled to the police who were guarding the three thugs and Freda from the crowd and keeping Jan pinned down. Wary and with one eye on the threatening crowd, the policemen turned toward Jan.

  Jan explained to the boy what had happened, pointing to Freda. As Jan spoke, the boy translated to the policemen.

  At that same moment, the girl’s father and Karl broke through the crowd. Karl’s face turned red when he saw Jan in police custody. Jan sighed. Surely another lecture would be coming his way soon.

  “Freda!” Oskar Forgaard looked about, frantic.

  “Here!” Jan replied. To the boy he added, “This is her far.”

  As Oskar and Marta knelt and cradled their datter in their arms, the police reassessed the situation and grabbed the three men they had been protecting.

  To the crowd’s amazed satisfaction, the policemen turned their billy clubs on the would-be kidnappers, landing several blows on each of them before hauling them away. The crowd cheered in wild approval.

  But Karl stared down at Jan, his mouth set in a thin line. As Jan got to his feet, Karl started to say something. Before he could utter a word, however, Jan poked him in the chest. Hard.

  “Do not speak to me of this, Bror,” Jan warned.

  Karl opened his mouth again but did not say anything. Jan’s expression counseled him not to. Oskar Forgaard embraced Jan; Marta, with many tears, thanked him. Jan only nodded to them and strode away.

  Instead of feeling happy that things had ended well for the Forgaards and their daughter, Jan was livid. Some of the cheering crowd recognized the dark expression on his face for what it was and backed away, letting him through.