Ransacker

by Emmy Laybourne

  “Why didn’t you tell us before?” Hanne asked.

  Owen stretched his neck side to side and blew out a deep breath. “Guess I knew I couldn’t go,” he said. “So I didn’t want to make a fuss.”

  “Do you think they still need you?” Stieg asked. “Are you thinking you could go?”

  “They’d pay at least thirty or forty a month for me,” Owen said.

  “But you’d be gone for two months,” Hanne said, then quickly added, “Of course, we could manage.”

  “Well, Hanne … you could come along,” Owen said. “Sometimes they like to hire wives on to help with the cooking. Keeps the cowboys a bit settled down to have a lady around.”

  “Hanne’s not a lady,” Knut said with a laugh. “She’s just Hanne.”

  “I’m not a wife,” Hanne said. “That’s the real problem.”

  “Let’s get married, then!” Owen said. “We could get married tonight!”

  Sissel imagined her sister’s tense posture. Owen had wanted to marry for a long time, but Hanne wanted to wait until they could afford a wedding.

  “You don’t need to get married to go,” Stieg said. “You only need to pretend to be married.”

  There was silence as everyone mulled this over.

  “What if they didn’t want to hire me on? What if they don’t want me there at all?”

  “Then you can come back,” Owen said. “Not like you’ll be in danger.”

  “I don’t know. There’s Sissel to think of. I worry for her health,” Hanne said.

  “Sissel, Knut, and I could move into town,” Stieg said. “We could take Isaiah McKray up on his offer and stay in his hotel. I have the remainder of my salary coming to me, only twenty dollars, but it will be plenty until you get back.”

  “It would be good for Sissel to be in town,” Hanne said.

  “And Alice is such a cheerful and lively girl,” Stieg added. “She’s good for Sissel.”

  Sissel lay perfectly still, anger and shame fighting for control of her emotions. Her siblings were deciding her fate without even asking her, because she was just a child to them. A child and a burden.

  “I’m not sure that works,” Owen said. “Knut, would you like living in town?”

  “Yes, what about you?” Hanne said, turning to their brother. “Would you be all right? You’d have to be very careful about what you tell people. You can’t talk about where we’re from. If someone recognized you, things could get ugly again.”

  It was a risk with Knut. He frequently slipped up, mentioning their hometown of Øystese, or their father’s name, Thorson. There was still a risk that someone would connect him to the murders in Norway that had caused the Hemstads to come to America back in 1883. They all worried that someone might see an old wanted poster and come for their brother, even though the warrant had been canceled.

  Sissel couldn’t make out Knut’s face. His back was to her. But she knew his brow would be furrowed, and he’d be thinking hard.

  “I will hire out as a farmhand,” Knut said. “The farms that did not get burned away, they will be needing help. Many times, the Lilliedahls have asked me to come work for them, and I always say no. But I can tell them yes.”

  Hanne and Stieg exchanged a look of surprise.

  Sissel herself was surprised. This was the first time Knut had ever ventured an idea about his own life or future.

  The Lilliedahls were an older couple whose son had gone east to find work. They usually kept several laborers with them all summer long and well into the fall.

  “That sounds like a good plan, Knut,” Stieg said.

  A huge grin had spread over her brother Knut’s face. She could see the lift of Knut’s shoulders. He sat up tall and proud.

  “They’d pay you a fair wage, plus room and board,” Stieg went on. “And, as you say, you like them. That’s important. And Sissel and I can come visit you, to make sure you are happy.”

  Knut nodded. He returned his attention to his bowl of beans.

  “It is decided, then,” Stieg said. His voice was loosened by a clear note of relief. “Owen and Hanne will go see if they can find a place on the cattle drive. Knut will hire on to help the Lilliedahls with their harvest, and Sissel and I will move to town.”

  The talk grew animated and hopeful as they began to discuss packing their few belongings and planning what would need to be purchased in town.

  Sissel lay on her back, looking up at the endless stars in the broad Montana sky. She was inconsequential, it turned out. They didn’t need or care to hear her opinions on the future of the family. They hadn’t even asked her if she’d mind moving to town.

  Worse than that, she couldn’t help. She was too thin and weak to hold a real job, not to mention too young. All her cleverness in school counted for nothing—she could not help her family when they most needed it.

  Sissel turned her back on them and tried to get to sleep without crying.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  In the dark barn early the next morning, Hanne dressed in the work clothes the Ladies’ Aid had provided—a used white blouse and plain gray skirt, cut wide enough to ride in easily. Then she dragged the saddlebags outside so she could pack them in the dawning light.

  She put the rest of her clothing into one saddlebag, including some of her smoke-tainted skirts. She imagined that a sour smell wouldn’t matter too much on the trail. Into the other saddlebag she packed Owen’s clothing. He had even less than she did. In the remaining space she packed their coffeepot and stuffed it with some venison jerky, a paper knot of coffee, and the remnants of a small sack of cornmeal. She added in a heel of brown bread, and some thick-rinded sheep’s milk cheese Mrs. Baylor had sent over. They needed to head through town to procure a horse, and she could pick up more food for the trail then.

  Owen said they’d be at the Bar S Ranch in a day and a half, stopping in a town called Fitch on the way.

  “Almost ready?” Knut said from the door.

  “Yes,” Hanne said. “You should gather up the chickens.”

  “All right.” Knut sighed. “Easy to say. Hard to do.”

  Owen hauled his rig off the hook on the wall where they’d had it stored. Daisy trotted into the barn. Excited by the mere sight of Owen handling his cowboy gear, she went to Owen, then to Hanne, then back to Owen, nearly dancing with joy.

  “I see Daisy is happy about our trip,” Hanne said. She stopped to scratch behind Daisy’s ears. The dog’s tongue lolled out as she grinned at Hanne.

  “I have my clothes in one side, and yours on the other,” Hanne said, indicating the saddlebag. “What else will we need?”

  “We’ll each need an oilskin slicker for the rain, and a couple bandannas for the dust and the smell. It gets pretty ripe out there, I have to warn you.”

  “So you’ve said. What else will we need? Bedrolls, I suppose?”

  “Mmmm,” Owen said. He stood scratching his head for a moment. “About the bedrolls … We can get singles. But…”

  “What?” Hanne said.

  “If we’re to appear to be married…”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” she said.

  Hanne felt a ferocious blush creep up her neck.

  “Of course,” Owen rushed on, “we won’t … act married … in the bedroll.” He looked mortified, and Hanne burst out laughing.

  “It’s a good idea, Owen, and I know you will behave in a respectful way.”

  “I will,” he said, gruff with embarrassment.

  Hanne kissed him lightly.

  “Are you going to call me ‘missus’?” she asked.

  “I am. But mostly I’ll just holler, ‘Wife!’”

  They laughed. It felt so good to laugh with him.

  “Are you ready?” Sissel said from the door. “Stieg is eager to leave.”

  * * *

  OUTSIDE THE BARN, Knut stood looking over the ruins of their home. There was a dejected slump to his broad shoulders. Hanne felt for him.

  “See how things ar
e starting to grow already,” Stieg said to Knut, pointing to some green shoots that were peeking through the charred soil. “Fire is good for the land. The grass will come back as thick as it was, or better, this time next year.”

  “I don’t care about the grass. We needed the wheat crop. And now we must leave,” Knut said.

  Stieg clapped a hand on his brother’s arm.

  “We’ll be back,” Stieg said. “We’ll build it up again, don’t worry.”

  “I know. But I’m just sad for a moment.”

  “I suppose that’s the right way to feel,” Stieg said. “I won’t try to cheer you out of it.”

  “Everyone ready?” Owen asked. Daisy was certainly ready. She kept running a few paces down the road, then turning and panting at them with a plaintive look in her eyes, then circling back.

  Sissel’s expression was sullen. She listened when Stieg had told her the plan with pursed lips and said nothing.

  Sissel was exhausted, it was clear to see. Hanne prayed that a few weeks living in town would do her good.

  “Are you sure you feel well enough to walk?” Hanne asked Sissel. “We could go ahead and ask James to come for you.”

  “I’m fine,” Sissel said. “Let’s go, for heaven’s sake.”

  Hanne was stung, but tried to hide it. Maybe some distance between her and her sister would be for the best, after all.

  Knut hoisted the beautiful old trunk to his shoulder without the least bit of strain. In it was packed Stieg’s and Sissel’s clothing and a few small personal items they might be able to use at the hotel, along with the family Bible and the girls’ hand-embroidered traditional clothes from Norway.

  Owen carried his rig and the saddlebags; Stieg carried a bag with Knut’s clothing in it; and Hanne carried the surviving hens, all quieted down, in a gunnysack.

  The chickens were to go with Knut—a gift to the Lilliedahls. The hens would not survive long left alone at the farm. A fox, a weasel, or a raccoon would come for them if they slept in the barn with the door open.

  Sissel had expected to carry something as well, so Hanne gave her their water pail, in which she had stored some leftover pie for Knut’s lunch, as it would take him until the afternoon to walk to the Lilliedahl farm.

  Sissel swung the pail as she limped along behind them. Hanne couldn’t pinpoint what was bothering her sister, but knew that asking would not help. They walked in stubborn silence.

  The boys ambled along ahead, trading remembrances about the last time they were all together on a journey, the winter before last.

  “I only knew Daisy was fighting the mountain lion because of the colors and the sounds,” Owen said. “I could hardly tell one animal from the other.”

  Daisy looked up at her master, happy to hear her name mentioned.

  “I remember the scream of the cat,” Stieg said. “Sissel on the ground, and Daisy between them.”

  “I thought Daisy was a goner and then Hanne ran at ’em.” Owen shook his head in wonder. “I never saw a person move so fast. She was down the hill and on that animal like lightning.”

  Hanne looked sidelong at her sister. Sissel had her head down, limping along, miserable.

  “Hanne saved your life, Daisy,” Owen said to the dog, who wagged her tail in response.

  “She saved Sissel’s life, too, don’t forget,” Stieg added. “And that was not the first time, either.”

  Hanne saw Sissel sigh. She must be tired of hearing these stories, Hanne thought.

  “Will you miss us, do you think?” Hanne asked Sissel. “I know that I will miss you. But you’ll have Alice to keep you company, and I imagine Mrs. Oswald will invite you and Stieg to supper as often as you’ll accept—”

  “I’m not worried about being lonesome.”

  “What is it, then?” Hanne asked.

  Sissel’s mouth was pursed tight.

  Hanne suddenly made a decision.

  “I won’t go. I shouldn’t,” Hanne said. “I don’t know what I was thinking to even consider it. You’re not well and you need me here—”

  “Stop,” Sissel said.

  “No. I’ll tell Owen. I’m sorry, Sister. It was a bad plan. I’ll be happy to stay here and take care of you—”

  “No!” Sissel said, her voice raised. She stopped walking and stood, landing a furious gaze on Hanne.

  “I’m not upset that you’re going. I’m upset that I wasn’t asked,” Sissel said. Her eyes were bright and focused. “You all decided what I would do without asking me, without even thinking I had an opinion.”

  Hanne stepped back. “We thought—”

  “I know what you thought. You thought that I am sick and weak and must be protected,” Sissel said. Hanne was horrified to see tears jump from Sissel’s eyes. “And I don’t blame you. That’s what I am. Only … only I’m so tired of it!”

  The boys had stopped and were watching. Stieg took a few steps toward them, but Hanne waved him off.

  Sissel rubbed away her tears.

  “What would you have said, if we had asked you?” Hanne said. “Are you unhappy with the plan?”

  Sissel resumed walking. Hanne hauled the heavy bag over her shoulder again and moved to keep up.

  “It’s a good plan,” Sissel allowed stiffly. “I would have said so.”

  Hanne sighed.

  She walked alongside her sister, but then allowed her natural pace to take her ahead. If Sissel didn’t appreciate it, didn’t even want her there, then Hanne would not suffer herself to linger behind.

  Walking, catching up with the boys, Hanne wished she could teach her sister that life was easier when you wanted what you had.

  But, Hanne thought, perhaps if she had as little as Sissel had, she would also feel bitter.

  CHAPTER NINE

  It wasn’t yet eight, so Russell Peavy was in the store tidying up and doing some bookkeeping before opening for the day. James sat in the back room, writing his report of the events of the day before.

  He drank his coffee heavily sweetened with condensed milk—a perk from operating a general store that James enjoyed daily.

  Peavy would include the document James was writing in the sheaf of papers he sent every week to Chicago. From there, a report would be typed and sent to the Baron Fjelstad in Bergen, Norway.

  James had spent some time thinking about this Baron. To his mind, the most obvious reason for the man keeping such close watch on the Hemstads was that they were family. Distant family, perhaps. Maybe Stieg was his heir.

  He liked that thought. Stieg Hemstad was a fine teacher and a pleasant fellow. As a teacher, he was encouraging, yet strict, and always fair. James had enjoyed school for the first time in his life. Back in Chicago, he had attended a cramped, boisterous school with teachers who hit hard. Reading and arithmetic had come easy, but he got in trouble for flirting with the girls and dropped out when he hit fourteen.

  After James finished the report, he planned to put together some foodstuffs for the Hemstads and ride out, as he’d taken to doing since the fire. Many of the townsfolk kept asking him if he knew when school was starting up again. They had only three weeks left before the term must end—the harvest wouldn’t wait for them to wrap up their studies. Then school would be dismissed until early December, when the three-month winter school term would begin.

  James jumped as the back screen door was jerked open and shut with a bang. It was Rollie, and James could see his horse outside, lathered up.

  “Where’s Peavy?” Rollie said.

  “In front,” James said. “What happened?”

  “The Hemstads broke camp this morning. They’re on foot, headed to town,” Rollie said. “They’re carrying just about everything they own.”

  Peavy strode in from the front room.

  “They see you?” Peavy asked.

  Rollie nodded. “I passed them on the road. Just tilted my hat at ’em and came on. Thought you should know right away.”

  “Well, hopefully they’ll come in here for supplies.
You should take some grub and some hardtack. Make quick about it. Then lie low out of town a bit and watch for ’em.”

  Rollie began taking food off the shelf, and James helped wrap up a great bunch of hardtack. Rollie loaded the items into his rucksack.

  “If I were you, Peavy, I’d telegram the offices—” Rollie said.

  “You ain’t me,” Peavy said.

  He hit the return on the cash register, and it sprang open with a heavy clang. He gave Rollie twenty dollars from the till.

  “We’re gonna need more men if they split up—” Rollie said.

  “We haven’t needed more men until this very instant,” Peavy said. He threw a new canteen at Rollie’s head. Rollie caught it neatly.

  “James,” Peavy said. “Go get your horse from the livery, just in case they do split up.”

  “Me?” James sputtered. “But I don’t know the first thing about surveillance.”

  “Keep your drawers dry. It’s just in case. You ride behind them, well behind, and wait to see where they go. Come report back when it gets dark.”

  “When it gets dark?”

  “God, but you’re greener than a hickory switch.” Peavy pushed him toward the door. “Get on and go.”

  * * *

  IT TOOK MR. HENNINGS, the livery master, an age and a half to get his horse saddled. James would have done it himself, only he hadn’t quite gotten the trick of it.

  By the time Mr. Hennings brought the gelding out and tethered him to a stable hook, James could see Sissel, Stieg, and Knut walking down the street right toward the livery.

  He hung back in the shadows.

  “You riding out or not?” Hennings asked.

  James held up his hand.

  “Not just yet,” he said. “I forgot something at the store.”

  Hennings grumped off to tend to the other animals in his care. James watched Sissel, Stieg, and Knut approach the Royal Hotel. It was a stately wood building, two stories high with ornate gingerbread cornices.

  Knut had their antique trunk hoisted up on his shoulder as if it were no heavier than a basket of apples. Hanne and Owen were nowhere to be seen.