To the Copper Country

by Barbara Carney-Coston

  Mama looked into the bowl. She bent over and inhaled. “It’s almost ready. Go get Papa.”

  Mihaela walked through the main room of the cabin, passing the rough, wooden chairs near a large fireplace at one end of the room. Smooth, gray rocks surrounded the hearth and continued up the chimney. A mantel over the fireplace held a rectangular clock that made a quiet ticking sound. A black wire screen stood in front of the hearth, where white wisps curled up from a few dying embers. Next to it was a pail filled with ashes. A small shovel and a big basket of sticks rested nearby. Mihaela sniffed a memory. She hadn’t smelled the scent of burning wood since she left Croatia.

  “Mihaela?” Papa had come into the room.

  Mihaela jumped, startled.

  “You were far away, eh?”

  “Yes, sorry, Papa.” Mihaela lingered. “The smell of smoke reminded me of home.”

  Papa nodded. “Smells can bring strong memories.”

  Mihaela put her hand into her father’s. “Mama says it’s time to treat your eyes. We have things ready.” She led him back into the kitchen.

  Mama gestured. “Petar, sit here.”

  Papa took a seat.

  Mama chose one of the strips she had torn and dipped it into the chamomile herb mixture. She wrung it out over the bowl, and then draped the cloth across Papa’s eyes.

  Mihaela watched, observing everything her mother did.

  “Very soothing.” Papa tilted his head back a little more.

  Mama motioned for Mihaela to dip another strip into the bowl. She took the first cloth from Papa’s eyes.

  “I’ll do the next one,” Mihaela said. She wrung out the cloth and gently applied it to her father.

  “So, you’re learning these skills, too?” Papa asked.

  “Trying.”

  “Mihaela brewed a remedy that was just right when I bumped my head on the ship,” Mama said. “I had a concussion. It was her good care that helped me get well enough to pass the health inspection when we went through immigration in New York.”

  Mihaela remembered how scared she had been then that they wouldn’t be admitted into the United States. She was so relieved she had been able to help Mama.

  “With both of you here, I’m sure I’ll be cured quickly,” Papa said.

  Mihaela changed the dressing a few more times, then wrapped the remaining herbs in a cloth and put them on a shelf. She was glad Papa’s eyes were still covered. He wasn’t able to see the worried look on Mama’s face.

  4

  Settling In

  Mihaela left the kitchen and climbed up split log steps to a loft that held twelve beds, six on each side of the room. Her brothers were already there.

  “Mihaela, watch this.” Luka jumped from one row of beds to the other.

  Blaž had already tried and missed. He rubbed his knee.

  Luka hopped from bed to bed. He stopped when Papa appeared.

  “This is the boarders’ sleeping room,” Papa said. “You’re not to disturb their things. Now that you’ve seen it, don’t come back up here.”

  “It looks just like our loft in the domaćinstvo,” Mihaela said.

  “Everyone, come.” Papa picked up Blaž. “Mihaela, I need to show you your room.”

  Mihaela descended the stairs and saw that one part of the wall had the outline of a door. When Papa pushed on a protruding wooden handle, it opened into a small room. The space inside was just big enough to hold a bed and a washstand with a scrap of mirror above. There were pegs on the log walls to hang clothes. A little window let in light. Two fluffy pillows were propped against a log headboard, and a heavy woolen blanket covered the mattress.

  Mihaela was amazed. “A room just for me?”

  Papa smiled. “Da.”

  Mihaela hadn’t imagined anything like this. She ran her hand over the blanket and touched the soft pillows. The last time she had slept in a real bed she had been with Katarina and her other cousins, crowded together in the loft back home. For a moment, she felt like a princess with a space all her own, almost as private as her secret forest nook.

  Bong, bong, bong … A chime sounded from the main room.

  Mihaela moved toward the fireplace mantel and squinted at the clock. “Is it really nine o’clock? And still light outside?”

  Papa nodded. “The clock is right.”

  “How can that be?” Mihaela asked.

  “I can’t tell you the scientific reason,” Papa said. “But the sun rises and sets here later than back home.”

  Mihaela pulled on her braids, thinking hard. She wanted to know the answer to that. She wanted to know about everything! “Where did this clock come from? It’s beautiful.”

  “I traded for it. Another lucky miner got one of those wonderful shirts your mother made me.” He turned to Mama. “I thought you would need a clock, and it’s a good one.”

  “I do have this.” Mama touched the watch hanging around her neck.

  “It needs to be wound just once a day,” Papa said.

  “So lovely. I am honored that one of my shirts could command such a price. And with two timepieces, I will know exactly when I should have dinner ready, eh?”

  Papa scratched his neck. “It’s hard to wait for the food to cook after a long day in the mines.”

  “And what about breakfast? What time for that?”

  The edge in Mama’s voice had returned.

  Papa cleared his throat. “A little later than at the domaćinstvo.”

  Mama closed her eyes for a moment and then shook her head. “I think we’d all better turn in soon.”

  Mihaela couldn’t stand their first day together after so long ending like this. “Wait! We told Papa stories. Can’t he tell us one?”

  Papa looked at Mama and she nodded. “Just for a little while.”

  They sat down and Blaž climbed onto Papa’s lap.

  “You’ve already seen that America is a lot different than Croatia,” Papa began.

  “Huge buildings in the cities,” Mihaela said.

  “Different foods,” Luka said.

  “And here’s another difference. Peddlers are not the custom around here like they were in our village. There are many stores in Calumet, not far from the train station.”

  “What do they sell in the stores?” Mihaela asked.

  “Everything! There are butchers and shoemakers, and some stores sell bolts of cloth and readymade clothes. Others sell flour and salt, cheeses and pickles. The biggest pickles you ever saw! They’re kept in a big, wooden barrel full of brine.”

  Mihaela wrinkled her nose and laughed at the mention of giant pickles.

  Luka made a smacking sound with his lips.

  Papa reached into his shirt pocket and produced a small brown paper package that he slowly unwrapped. He held out five sticks, swirled with red and white. “I almost forgot. One of the things sold in town is slatkis.” He offered the first to Mama, then one each to Mihaela, Luka, and Blaž.

  Blaž noticed there was one left. “Who for?”

  “Me!” Papa took a big bite.

  Mihaela savored the sweet and spicy flavors of the candy. She had never seen a pretty stick like this. As she licked it, the red on the tip soon disappeared and only a white point was left. Taking a small bite, she let the crunchy bits melt on her tongue. She glanced at her brothers and saw that they had as much sticky red on their faces as in their hands. “When can we go to these stores?”

  “Soon,” Papa said.

  The clock on the mantel chimed once more.

  Mama looked up. “Goodness, now it’s nine thirty.” She stretched. “Children, time for bed. Idi spavati.”

  Mihaela didn’t protest this time. After washing her face in her very own basin, she looked around at her very own room, her very own bed. She climbed under the covers and let out a deep sigh as she snuggled beneath her blanket. No rocking ship or snoring passengers. She was finally in Michigan. But seeing Papa’s eyes and then learning about the boarders was such a shock. She felt grateful her
family was together, and she was happy to have a full stomach, but what was going to happen? Could they manage all the work? Could she help Papa? She reached for Dijana, the carved wooden doll Papa had made for her long ago, and tried to go to sleep. Maybe in the morning, things would make sense.

  5

  Boardinghouse Chores

  Mihaela woke to the sound of a whistle. She thought for a moment she was back on the ship, but when she sat up, there was no rusty, peeling paint or slimy steel beams overhead to avoid. There were no strong smells from tightly packed people or fumes from the ship’s engine. She got on her knees to peek out the window. The sun was rising, and the first light revealed pines and birches growing near the cabin. The call of a gull high overhead made her look up. It soared through a ribbon of smoke, drifting into wooly clumps of clouds. Noisy birds had begun squawking before dawn, but she had already been restless, thinking about Papa’s eyes.

  She lay back down, not wanting to leave her comfortable bed, when a wonderful aroma wafted into her room. Bacon! She flung back the covers and felt the hard wooden floor under her bare feet. Rinsing her mouth with water from the pitcher on the washstand, she looked in the mirror. Her eyes seemed bluer in this light, and her hair darker brown. She quickly braided two plaits and pulled on her dress. Laboring over her stockings and shoes, she managed to fasten the shoe buttons without the shoe hook. Finally ready, she walked into the main room of the cabin.

  A few of the boarders were still seated at a long table, finishing their breakfasts. They greeted her cheerfully.

  Mihaela opened the door to the kitchen.

  “Just in time.” Mama and Papa were placing a large platter of eggs and bacon on the table for Luka and Blaž.

  “Looks like everyone but me has been up for a while,” Mihaela said.

  “Papa cooked breakfast this morning. He needed to show me where everything is before he leaves for the mines.” Mama seemed a little less tense.

  “And I hear the mine whistle again. That means I’ve got to go. Help your mama today, children.”

  “Petar …” Mama’s words faded.

  Papa paused. “Tereza, don’t worry. I told the men not to expect too much tonight.” He gave her a kiss and was gone.

  “More eggs, please,” said Blaž. His legs dangled from the big chair.

  Mama still stared at the door. “Of course, but your sister hasn’t had any yet.” She handed Mihaela a plate and piled it high with eggs and bacon. Then she gave Blaž another serving. “Luka, how about you?”

  “Da.” He sucked bits of bacon from his fingers. “What are we going to do today?”

  “There will be plenty of work,” Mama said. “We’ll do the dishes. Then there’s food to prepare, laundry to wash, sixteen beds to make … ”

  “Sixteen! Why so many?” Luka made a face.

  “Twelve boarders, three children, and one for Mama and Papa,” Mihaela answered. “I haven’t done sums in a long time.” She grew wistful for a moment. “I miss that.”

  “I’m glad you can still do your arithmetic. We need to have our lessons again,” Mama said. “But these chores come first. It will be my job to make the boarders’ beds, and you children will have to make your own, like you did at home. When you’re done with your breakfast, Mihaela and Luka, take the bucket hanging there by the door and go and find the pump. Blaž, I have a job just for you.”

  Mihaela enjoyed every bite on her plate and licked the last crumbs from her lips. It was nice to be able to eat as much as she wanted.

  Luka pushed back from the table and retrieved the large wooden bucket, then swung the screen door open.

  Mihaela was close behind.

  One side of the house had a grassy expanse, ringed by thorny bushes and surrounded by pine trees, with birches to one side. Farther out were dense woods. The other half of the yard glowed in the morning sun, rich with wildflowers that swayed in the breeze. Lacy white stars, yellow petals with big black centers, and pods with purple flowers bobbed gently. Mihaela wondered what they were called here. The lacy ones looked similar to a wildflower they had in Croatia, with a root like a carrot. As she scanned the yard for more plants, she wondered whether any of them could help her father’s eyes.

  Mihaela walked farther into the yard and heard the soft drone of insects and bees. Shading her eyes with her hands, she saw four tall weathered posts in the middle of the grass. Thin ropes were strung between them, and a lone pair of black socks hung secured by wooden pins. Turning, she noticed the two small huts they had all visited last night, their doors slightly ajar now. The privies would seem far away in bad weather. At least the pump was nearby.

  Luka was looking at a bug, so even though he had the bucket, Mihaela was first to the pump. She lifted the handle and began the up and down motion that brought the water gushing.

  Luka placed the bucket under the spout just as the water flowed. “I want to do it!” He shoved Mihaela aside to grab the pump handle.

  “I was first!” Mihaela cupped her hands and scooped a shower of water onto her brother.

  The cold water startled Luka, and he stopped to catch his breath. He reached into the bucket and did the same to Mihaela. They both began to laugh.

  The water fight grew until their whoops and screams brought Mama to the door. “What’s going on?”

  Mihaela grinned. She took the half-full bucket and dumped it over Luka’s head.

  Luka sputtered.

  “Mihaela, enough! Luka, you’ll have to wait for your revenge. I need the water. Come!”

  “He started it!” Mihaela could see that her mother was trying not to laugh.

  “It’s finished now. There’s work waiting.”

  Luka flashed an impish smile. “I’ll get you later.”

  Mama watched as they filled the bucket and walked into the house. “You’re soaking.” She shook her head but didn’t scold. “Put the water in that black pot.”

  They carefully poured it in.

  “After you get on dry clothes, you can bring me the dishes from the boarders’ table.” Mama fed more kindling under the burners. “Be careful. They’ll break if you drop them. They’re not wood, like our bowls in Croatia.”

  Mihaela and Luka stopped to look at Blaž. His little hands were working hard. “What’s he doing?” Mihaela asked.

  “He’s tearing up pieces of stale bread to put into the chickens we’ll cook for dinner tonight. Papa’s idea,” Mama said.

  “Into the chickens?”

  “Yes. Papa says it’s because the chickens are baked in the oven, not on a spit over an open fire, like we did at home. He learned about this from Mrs. Milcher. Stuffing, he called it. All the men think it’s delicious.”

  Mihaela shrugged. “The pasties were good. Maybe this will be, too.”

  “I guess we’ll need to try many new foods,” Mama said. “Papa also said that the men expect some kind of sweet, but different from our Croatian cakes. I suppose I’ll learn to make them. But not today. Now, go and change, then bring me those dishes.”

  Mihaela put on a green dress that was almost the same as her everyday blue, but a little less shabby. It was the dress she wore to church back home.

  Blaž was still tearing bread when Mihaela and Luka returned to the kitchen.

  “That’s enough stuffing, Blaž,” Mama said. “We’ll make beds next.”

  Mihaela had finished smoothing her blanket when she heard a noise overhead and realized that Mama was in the boarders’ sleeping loft. Twelve beds to make. She walked to the foot of the steps and called out, “Want some help?”

  Mama came to the top of the stairs. “Your father said you weren’t to come up here, but if you’re with me, I think it would be all right. Yes, I could use the help.”

  Mihaela joined her mother and they moved from bed to bed, straightening blankets and pillows. The men had few possessions to avoid. Were they sending all their money home to hungry families, too? A chair stood between each bed, and pegs on the log walls held their spare shi
rt and trousers. Mihaela could see cracks of daylight between the logs that formed the roof. She shivered, imagining what it would be like when the weather turned cold.

  As they made the last bed, Mihaela turned to her mother. “Was the chamomile we used last night on Papa’s eyes helpful? It’s funny to think that something we can drink as a tea can also be used on eyes.”

  “It can reduce skin irritation.” Mama gave the blanket a pull, then hesitated. “But I’m not sure it’s helping Papa’s eyes. We’ll try that again and the other herbs we have, but we probably won’t know for a few days.”

  “What if we don’t have the right herbs after all?”

  Mama shook her head.

  “What about the stores? Maybe they sell things we can use. Or an American doctor?”

  “Papa has seen the local doctor.”

  “Your medicine is better, anyway.”

  “I hope so.” Mama sighed. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

  6

  Cooking and Cleaning

  Chores needed finishing, and laundry came next.

  Mihaela and Luka took turns carrying buckets of water to be heated on the stove. Mihaela helped Mama scrape the dirt from the boarders’ overalls in the yard and placed them in the big metal washtub near the door. Mama scrubbed them against a wavy metal washboard until all the grime was gone and rinsed them in a second washtub. Then Mihaela and Luka dragged the heavy, wet garments to the clothesline and hung them in rows.

  After the laundry was done, everyone was hungry. On the farm, dinner was always at noon, but here, the main meal was in the evening. Lunch was warmed-over pasties from the night before. Mihaela thought they tasted just as good the second day.

  Mama cleared the table when they finished eating and turned to Mihaela and Luka. “We need to start dinner preparations soon. We’ll need lots of potatoes and carrots to go with the chickens. There’s a root cellar under the house where things are stored. Papa showed it to me this morning before you were awake.”

  They followed her out the back door. Mihaela saw two plain wooden doors close to the house on an angle to the ground. She went down steps into a small room with a dirt floor. The ceiling was so low that she had to duck her head when she got to the bottom. It was cool and dark in the cellar, but enough light from the open doors let her see burlap sacks full of potatoes and bags of carrots on wooden shelves above the ground.