“Hello, Sheriff, welcome to Blessing.” Haakan stepped away from the threshing machine so he could be heard.
“Sorry, this isn’t a social call, Haakan. I come on business.”
“How can I help you?”
“Could you point out your son Andrew to me?”
“I can, but you mind telling me why?”
“Don’t go making this hard for me. I don’t like this any better than you do. But I got to arrest your boy for beating Toby Valders near to death.”
“I see.” Haakan took a step back. “Toby didn’t die, you know?”
“I know, but we can’t have men going around and losing their tempers like that. Sets a bad example for the younger ones.”
“There are a lot of circumstances to consider here.”
“Be that as it may, I’m going to have to take him in.” He looked around, studying the men. “That him in the blue shirt and straw hat?”
“Ja, it is. But I need him here for threshing. He’s one of my crew.”
“Sorry. But the law is the law. Since this is Friday, he won’t go before the judge until Monday. You better be praying that the Valders boy don’t die.”
“We don’t need a threat to do that, Sheriff.We’ve all already been praying.” Haakan walked with the sheriff to where Andrew was forking wheat bundles onto the conveyor belt.
“Andrew Bjorklund, you are under arrest for the beating of Toby Valders. Will you come with me, or do I have to put handcuffs on you?”
Andrew looked to his father, who nodded. “Jail? Did Toby die?”
“No. Just come with me, please.”
“Yes, sir.” Going to jail. I’m going to jail. Lord God, save me, please.
I’M GOING TO JAIL.
Andrew stared out the train window, the train carrying him to Grafton and the jail. He glanced at the man beside him who gazed stoically forward. How did he know I’d beaten Toby senseless? Trapping any of the thoughts ricocheting through his mind took more than he had to give at that moment. So quickly. This happened just yesterday. Toby is still alive. The telegraph. He nodded. Of course, someone sent a telegraph. Who? Who else but Mrs. Valders? The way she’d glared at him the night before still sent chills up his back.
Pure hatred. Not just anger—she had a right to be angry—but hatred. Why? What have I done to her?
Other than beat her younger son into a coma and possible death. Oh, Lord, you know I didn’t mean for this to happen.
But if he started that fire . . . Andrew ground his teeth and clenched his fists. The roiling in his stomach gave him a bitter taste. This whole thing gave him a bitter taste. The more he thought, the angrier he grew. Toby! It is all Toby’s fault!
The sheriff cleared his throat and looked at Andrew. “Now, we’re almost to town. You’re not going to run or do something foolish, are you?”
Only if I had any chance of getting away. Andrew shook his head. “No.”
“Good, because I got handcuffs right here if need be.”
“I won’t run.”
“Sure sorry about this, son. Fine young man like you.What made you do it?”
“He started the fire that burned my barn down.”
“You know that for certain?”
“He was there. Someone saw him.”
“Don’t mean he set the fire.Why would he want to do something terrible like that?”
“He and I . . . well, when we were kids in school, he’d pick on the younger, weaker ones, and I’d stick up for them.”
“Meaning you two got into fistfights.”
Andrew nodded. “Pastor Solberg always set us to chopping wood to work it off.”
“And you think that this Toby bears a grudge?”
“Seems so.” He calls me Prince Andrew. He’s jealous as all get-out.
“You could say there’s no love lost between you two?”
“You could say that.”
The train slowed, iron wheels screeching against iron tracks.
“But you didn’t set out to kill him?”
“No.” If I’d wanted to kill him, no one would have stopped me. But I did want to kill him. He hurt Ellie. Back and forth his thoughts raged, ripping his insides with each volley.
He walked beside the sheriff to the jail and preceded him into the office. The door closing behind him made him flinch. When the cell door clanged, he stumbled forward and collapsed on a wooden cot covered by a tick filled with hay.
“Someone will bring you supper after a while. The slop bucket there is for your use. I’ll bring you a jug of water.”
“Thank you.” Andrew ground the words past clenched teeth. If he kept his teeth together tight enough, perhaps he could keep from screaming.
That evening the Bjorklunds gathered around the kitchen table at Thorliff ’s house so that Ellie could join them. “So what can we do?” Haakan asked.
Thorliff looked over to his father. “There’s not much anyone can do right now. I’ve sent a telegram to Olaf and asked him and Goodie to go visit Andrew in the morning. They’ll let us know how he is.”
“Should we take him some clean clothes? You know he went straight from the threshing.” Ingeborg kept up her knitting, the needles flashing in the lamplight.
Elizabeth left the room to fetch Inga, who’d announced it was time to eat. For a change she’d let her mother have supper without any interruption. When she returned, Elizabeth asked, “Did the sheriff say anything more before he dragged Andrew off?”
Haakan thought a moment. “Just asked if he needed to use handcuffs and that he was arresting Andrew for the assault on Toby Valders. I tried to tell him of the circumstances, but he didn’t want to hear anything else.” Rubbing his tongue around his teeth, his eyes slitted as he thought back.
Ingeborg watched her husband, praying that he would remember anything that might help them. Her son, her dear Andrew, was in jail. Lord, was there something we should have done about his temper? Did we fail him? I know we did the best we could, but what if the best wasn’t good enough. She held herself together through sheer force of will, wanting instead to throw herself into Haakan’s arms and cry until there were no more tears.
“So there is nothing more we can do until tomorrow.” Haakan looked each of the others in the eyes. “Except pray.”
They all nodded.
Thorliff shook his head. “If this is anything like the cases I’ve sat through in Northfield when I worked for Mr. Rogers, the judge won’t see him until Monday. He will either release Andrew at that point, possibly asking for bail, or will order him left in jail until there is some word on Toby.”
“If Toby dies?”
“Then Andrew will be tried for murder.”
The silence after Thorliff spoke seemed to suck the air out of the room. One after the other they coughed or cleared their throats.
Astrid broke the silence. “Andrew, I’m so mad at you I could beat you up myself. Why did he do such a stupid, stupid thing?” She stamped her foot on the stupids, as if pounding on her brother.
Ingeborg laid down her knitting, one needle falling out of the last row of stitches, and gathered her daughter in her arms, where she cried on her mother’s shoulder. “Shh, shh. I know. See how easy it is to be angrier than you ever thought possible?”
“Aren’t you mad at him?”
Ingeborg nodded. “And at Toby, at all of it. But what does being angry do?” She paused to listen inside herself. And at Hildegunn Valders. Why does she always make things worse? Will I have to forgive her again?
Elizabeth returned from putting the baby in her cradle. “Mor, would you please go check on Toby? I heard his folks leave a bit ago.”
“You are sure they are gone?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Why?”
“I don’t want to see that woman right now.” Anger flared inside Ingeborg in spite of her good intentions. Leave it to Hildegunn Valders to cause more trouble than was needed.When the good Lord was handing out compassion, she’d been somewhere else fo
r sure. Remember? She and Anner took those boys in? Uff da, why did God always have to remind her of the good side of someone she really wanted to despise?
Sleep never brought Andrew a reprieve that night. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could see and hear was Toby and the sound of his head hitting the ground. So he lay in jail staring at the heavy joists in the ceiling. The bars of his cage threw shadow bars on the floor until he felt them closing in on him, driving out the air. He leaped to his feet and stuck his face against the bars of the window opening.
In the morning he smelled the coffee before a woman arrived with the tray. “I brought this myself, since you’re the only prisoner right now. Most likely that will change by the time midnight rolls around. Sheriff Becker always has to throw someone in for being drunk and disorderly.” The woman, her gray hair knotted in a bun and a oncewhite apron covering her clear to her toes, held the tray in front of her. She peered at him through the bars. “You come and get this now.” Bending over, she slid the tray through a slot near the floor.
“Thank you.” His mother’s drilling on good manners stood him in good stead, but he didn’t change positions.
“You might want to eat while it’s hot. I hurried it over right quick so you could have a hot breakfast. Might make your day go a little better.”
Andrew nodded. The thought of food made him gag. The hours before him marched like soldiers in a line without end. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he propped his head in his hands and scrubbed his scalp with vicious fingers.
“Just slide the tray back out when you are finished.”
“Ja, I will. Thank you.” Take it now before I kick it across the room. Self-condemnation rode him with Spanish spurs and a merciless quirt.
“Can I bring you anything else?” She sounded like his mor, a Norwegian accent pleasant to the ear.
He shook his head. “No, nothing, thank you.” He heard her say something to someone in the office, and then a door closed behind her. So many doors closing. All locking him in.
Sometime later a different man stopped at the cell door. “I’m Deputy Bronson. There’s a man here to see you. Says he is Olaf Wold.”
“No.”
“He says he’s a friend of your family.”
“No. I mean, I don’t want to see him.” Andrew looked up from his study of the pits and rocks in the concrete floor. “I don’t want to see anyone. Tell him no one is to come from Blessing either. I don’t want to see anyone.”
“Suit yourself, but that’s kinda rude, being as he came over here and all.”
“Just tell him.” Andrew swallowed. “Please.”
“You didn’t touch your breakfast.”
“I know.”
“Push that tray on out, then. Shame to waste good food like that. Della is a good cook. She feels right bad such a fine young man as you . . .”
Get out of here! Andrew clamped his mouth shut before he said something he shouldn’t. He glared at the deputy but got up off the bed to push the tray back. He could hear the discussion going on in the office, and before long, the door closed again.
Deputy Bronson returned. “He said I was to give you this and don’t take no for an answer.”
Guilt wore spurs too. After all the things that Onkel Olaf had made for him and Ellie, he should have . . .
“Olaf doesn’t deserve to be treated like that,” Ingeborg’s voice whispered in his ear. Andrew stared at the man holding out a leatherbound book. A Bible. Olaf had brought him a Bible. “Always remember, Andrew, no matter how bad things are, you’ll find help in the Word of God.” Again his mother’s voice. Andrew stood and walked across the cell to take the offered book.
“Thank you.” He set it on the foot of the bed and took up pacing before he ripped the pages out. Three paces to the bars, three paces back.
You’re not a destructive man. Why do you want to kick and rip and pound? The inner argument picked up again. One side against the other. Sometimes his mother’s voice, sometimes Haakan’s, sometimes his own. Even Pastor Solberg threw in his counsel.
When he turned down dinner, Della tsked and shook her head.
“Ya can’t fight to live if you don’t eat.”
What difference does it make? Toby dies, and they’ll hang me. Or send me to prison. Dear God, let Toby live! Or has he died already?
Ellie held the spoon to Toby’s lips again. “Please drink again, Toby.” She set it between his lips and tipped the water in. She watched his throat, and sure enough, he swallowed. Never had she been so grateful for such a simple act. She repeated the routine until her arm ached. If only he would show some other sign that he was still in there.
Elizabeth would say she’d done well. Who’d have ever thought that she would be helping care for Toby Valders and Andrew would be sitting in jail? Oh, dear Lord, please bring your love and compassion to work in this whole mess. She touched the turban of bandages she wore. Even though she knew the burns weren’t serious, she never would have dreamed superficial burns could hurt so much. Of course she remembered burning her finger on a sadiron one time. How badly that had hurt.
It must be time for her willow-bark tea again. Between that and the honey, her head and throat were both soothed. Just the thought of coughing made it happen. She took her cup and spoon out into the hall and leaned against the wall while she sucked in more air, forcing herself to breathe deeply, as Elizabeth insisted she do. Fighting to breathe reminded her of the fire and the fight. The fight and the fire. Both entwined with years of angry words and torment. Sometimes she wished she could knock their heads together. More violence. Violence begets violence.
Ingeborg joined her in the hallway. “You go on to bed now, and I’ll sit with him.” She motioned Ellie to the bed she’d just left.
Ellie nodded, her breathing easier again. “After I heat my tea.”
“I’ll do that. You go to bed. Do you need more pillows?”
Recovering from the coughing attack, Ellie just wanted to melt into a puddle and leak away, she was so weak. She shook her head and staggered to the bed, sinking down on the edge. After drinking the tea Ingeborg brought her, she lay back against the stack of pillows and tried to relax her breathing. Lord, please help us all. Only you can do this.
“What do they mean, he won’t have visitors?” Thorliff stared at his father.
“Here’s the telegram; read it for yourself.” Haakan handed the piece of paper to his son.
No one is to come Stop No one Stop Andrew said Stop Gave him a Bible Stop Olaf Wold.
Thorliff made a face. “What did he do—leave his brains at home?”
“Now, now.” Ingeborg refilled their coffee cups. “I have a feeling Andrew is wrestling with more than we realize. Think how you would feel.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I believe God is answering our prayers but not exactly the way we think He should.” Ingeborg looked up to see Ellie staring at her out of red-rimmed eyes. You poor child. Father, hold her tight in your mighty hand. She thought to the many prayers she’d sent up, the times in the night when she got up and sat with her Bible on her lap, leafing through it to find the verses she needed. Verses to give her strength for the new day. Lo, I am with you always. She would repeat that over and over until she fell asleep in the chair, where Haakan often found her at daybreak.
“I’ve been praying too, but sometimes I can’t stop crying,” Ellie whispered. “I am so tired of crying.”
“I know.”
“I was going to take the train over to Grafton.” Thorliff propped his elbows on the table and sipped from his cup. “So the question is, do we abide by his wishes or do what we think best?”
Haakan and Ingeborg stared at each other. Haakan nodded. “We honor his wishes.”
“If you say so.”
“What about the court hearing on Monday?” Ellie asked.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” Ingeborg glanced at the clock. “We need to be heading home soon.”
> “I’d best get over to Solbergs’ to help with the threshing.” Haakan stood. “Come, I’ll give you a ride home.”
Ingeborg kissed Ellie’s cheek. “I’ll be back later. See if you can get some sleep.”
The hours stretched, measured by heartbeats and heels clanking the concrete. Late in the evening Sheriff Becker lived up to his reputation and threw two men in the other cells. “Sleep it off. That way you won’t go hurtin’ anyone else.”
Andrew ignored their drunken questions and comments. Soon they were snoring on their beds, the fumes of alcohol overlaying the stench of despair that seeped from the cold concrete walls.
Dreams deviled him through the night, and he woke to the peals of church bells greeting the dawn of Sunday morning. The Bible lay clenched in his hand.
“Well, that’s better,” Della said when she came to retrieve the tray. “You don’t go giving up hope, boy. Your life ain’t over yet.”
“Thank you. Mind if I keep the cup?”
“Not at all. I can bring you a basin of water if you want to wash up. Bronson’ll be along later to empty the slop pail.”
Andrew rubbed his jaw, finding a still tender spot from where Haakan had clobbered him. Wheat tares from the harvesting must have imbedded in his neck, the way it itched. Washing up sounded mighty good. “If it’s not too much trouble.”
Andrew scrubbed face, arms, and neck, dumped the water into the slop bucket, and settled against the wall behind his bed, the Bible propped on his knees. At least when he was reading, the voices in his head put an end to their argument.
He read of Joseph in prison in Egypt for something he didn’t do. God brought him out of it. He read of the disciples in prison. They sang and worshiped, and God caused their release, Paul’s more than once. He read the Psalms where David pleaded for God to show His face, to hear him, to never forget him. What about me? I deserve to be in jail. When night came, he tucked the Bible under his head again and slept deeply without the nightmares that had pursued him the night before.
A Promise for Ellie Page 28
