Ransacker

by Emmy Laybourne

  Mrs. Lilliedahl had cut Knut’s blond hair quite short. Hanne had always left it longer when she cut it. But the shorter cut favored Knut’s square jaw. He looked cheerful and well fed and had kept up a steady patter of the events at the farm, most of which featured the antics of a goat named One-Eye.

  Knut had, with great pride, handed over twelve dollars, the bulk of his pay these past two weeks. Stieg had asked if Knut needed any of the money to buy things for himself, but Knut said he did not. Stieg had paid down most of their hotel bill with the money from the first gold Sissel found. With this money, he brought their bill up to date. Then, to celebrate Knut’s visit, they decided to dine at the Royal, instead of the boardinghouse.

  Sissel changed into her best dress, the tan one Alice had given her, and Stieg put on his Sunday suit, but they couldn’t do much for Knut, except let him wash up in Stieg’s room and brush off his work clothes as best he could.

  Knut stepped into the dining room as if entering church, meek and awestruck.

  A young waiter wearing a black vest over a crisp white shirt with a long canvas apron tied around his waist greeted them at the door.

  “Good evening,” he said. “Will you be joining us for dinner tonight?”

  “Yes,” Stieg said. “Three, please.”

  Nodding, he led them to a pleasant table near the window.

  Sissel had to admit, it was a lovely restaurant. Each table was set with white linens, silver cutlery, a covered glass dish with sugar, and a small silver pitcher of cream. Another waiter swooped in and offered them menus, Sissel first.

  “This place is too fancy for me,” Knut said in Norwegian. He cast a shy glance at the table next to them, where two wealthy-looking men in dark suits seemed to be discussing business.

  “Nonsense,” Stieg said. “After all, it’s your good work that’s paid for us to be here!”

  Sissel leaned over and whispered to him, “Just watch your elbows and we’ll be fine.”

  He rewarded her with a grin.

  The menus were printed on cream-colored card stock. Sissel traced the items with her finger as she read. There was such a range of foods! Two soups, chicken broth and fish chowder. There were more than ten choices of entrée from mutton with caper sauce to roast chine of pork to Irish stew with dumplings. One section listed all sorts of mayonnaise salads: potato, chicken, even steelhead trout.

  As they read over the choices, Knut’s stomach let out an audible rumble.

  The two men in suits looked over with displeasure. Sissel stifled a laugh.

  Knut set his menu down. “Will you order for me, Brother?”

  “I will,” Stieg said.

  Then he set his menu down, too.

  “I can’t hold in my good news for one moment longer,” Stieg said. “I’ve been offered a class in Helena! Eighty dollars a term, with three terms a year!”

  He sat back to take in the delight that dawned on his siblings’ faces. Two hundred and forty dollars a year? It was a tremendous amount!

  “What wonderful news!” Sissel said.

  “Very good, Brother!” Knut said. “Is it better than the one here?”

  “Quite so,” Stieg said. “It’s no one-room schoolhouse. It’s a two-story brick building with four classrooms. I’ve been offered the youngest pupils, from age five to eight.”

  Sissel saw how her brother’s eyes were shining and knew how happy this made him. He liked teaching the youngest classes best.

  The waiter arrived, and Stieg ordered for himself and Knut—venison steaks with red currant jelly. Sissel chose something called Duffield’s Sugar Cured Ham with champagne sauce, though she had no idea where Duffield was. The waiter asked if they would like wine, and Stieg said yes—so it was a celebration, indeed. They never had wine at home or anywhere. It was water or coffee.

  “What does your job mean for the family?” Sissel asked once the waiter had left. “Would we all move?”

  She had heard much about Helena from Alice, who went there with her parents to shop for goods every so often.

  “I’m not sure,” Stieg said. “We have the land here. It might make more sense for me to go to Helena and teach for a year. We’ll have to see what Hanne and Owen want to do.”

  “I don’t want to live in a city,” Knut said.

  “It’s not such a big city as all that,” Stieg said.

  A waiter came with three glasses of red wine.

  “Let’s toast to Stieg’s fine job offer,” Sissel proposed.

  They clinked their glasses and drank. Stieg sipped his wine as if measuring the bouquet and Knut just drained the glass. It tasted fine to Sissel—she didn’t know enough about wine to have an opinion. Then the plates came, all three plates at once, delivered by the two waiters and a cook’s aide.

  Stieg’s and Knut’s venison steaks came slathered in a thick, creamy gravy. Each got his own little crystal bowl heaped with quivering red currant jelly on the side. Sissel’s ham steak smelled wonderful. Cloves studded the edge, crusted over with browned sugar.

  Next, one of the waiters set down three small side dishes on the table—candied carrots, fried green squash, and thick-cut slices of potatoes cooked in cream.

  “I could get used to this!” Stieg said, tucking his napkin into his collar. He cut into his steak and popped a gleaming bite into his mouth. “Mmmm…”

  “With eighty dollars a term, you may as well get used to it,” Sissel quipped. She took another sip of her wine.

  Her own ham was delicious, and soon the conversation faded away, replaced with happy sounds of the table.

  With her brothers engrossed in their plates, Sissel took a moment to look around the fine room. It seemed a terrible shame that she couldn’t tell Knut her own big news, but he was no good at keeping a secret. He might very well tell the Lilliedahls about Sissel’s Nytte. She and Stieg had decided together to wait until the family was reunited to announce her gift.

  She wondered what would happen if she opened her mind to her Nytte right now. What would the collection of silver cutlery sound like? What about the gold edging the plates? Could she draw it all to her if she pulled?

  Sissel was quite absorbed in her own thoughts and did not see McKray approach until he was at their table.

  “How’s dinner?” he asked.

  Sissel jumped. She choked on a bite of ham, and Knut gave her a wallop on the back. She took a sip of her wine to clear her throat.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you,” McKray said. “I apologize.”

  Sissel gave him a brisk nod.

  “The food is delicious,” Stieg said. “Everything is perfectly prepared.”

  “Yes,” Knut said. “Very good.”

  “Yes,” Sissel said, lamely echoing her brother. She hadn’t spoken to McKray since their frustrating exchange. They had passed several times, both in the hotel and in the street. Each time, Sissel had tried to pretend she didn’t see him tipping his hat to her.

  She’d been cutting him, on purpose, and now he was barreling on as if nothing had happened.

  “Robert,” McKray said, stopping one of the waiters. “Their meals are on the house tonight.”

  “Yes, sir,” Robert answered.

  “That’s not necessary!” Sissel protested.

  “We are happy to pay,” Stieg said. McKray waved their protests away.

  “I consider this a business expense,” he said.

  “How so?” Stieg asked. “We are not in business with you.”

  “Well, that’s the thing. I’d like to make you an offer on your land,” he said. “May I join you for a moment?”

  Stieg welcomed him to do so. McKray grabbed an empty chair and dragged it over to their table.

  Sissel’s heart began to thump. If he mentioned seeing her on the land, Stieg would know she had lied to him. What could she do? How to get McKray to stop?

  “As Sissel likely told you—”

  Sissel shook her head. Just a small, subtle shake. Stieg and Knut had their eyes on M
cKray and didn’t see it.

  McKray cleared his throat. “As she likely told you … she and I ran into each other in the street the other day.”

  Sissel let out her breath.

  “I don’t believe she mentioned it,” Stieg said, unsuspicious. He put another bite of venison into his mouth and chewed.

  “Here’s the thing,” McKray continued on. “I saw the state of your lands back after the fire. I know they’re not going to produce anything for you, not until next season, anyway. I think it should be mined for ore. I like the look of the hill there, on the west of the property. I’d like to sink an exploratory shaft into it. I’ve been doing this in several places around the town. I believe there’s gold in the hills around Carter.”

  The two men dining at the table next to them looked over. McKray gave them no notice.

  Sissel was perplexed. She studied McKray. Did he believe there was gold on their land? He shouldn’t. She had heard his surveyor tell him there was nothing there.

  McKray wouldn’t quite meet her eye. He seemed, in fact, to be studiously ignoring her. She should find his face disagreeable, but she had to admit the symmetry of his thick, rugged features was pleasing to the eye. He was no fine-chiseled beauty, like James—James and McKray side by side were a thoroughbred and a quarterhorse.

  McKray caught her looking at him. She ducked her eyes, picked up her wineglass, and studied the contents instead.

  “Have you gotten any gold out of your existing mines?” Stieg asked.

  Sissel saw that the two gentlemen were still eavesdropping.

  McKray cracked his neck. “No, but they’re promising.”

  “Yet you want to buy our land?” Stieg asked.

  “I’ll offer you what you paid for the land, plus five percent. That’s a good offer—a very good one!”

  “Not so good if you truly think there’s gold there,” Stieg said.

  “An exploratory shaft can cost thousands,” McKray said. “It’s a big gamble I’m willing to take. My gamble, my profit.”

  “I’ll relay the offer to the rest of the family,” Stieg said. It was all very providential—Stieg getting a job offer and then McKray saying he’d buy their land. But Stieg wouldn’t make such an important decision without consulting Hanne and Owen.

  McKray didn’t seem too pleased with Stieg’s moderated response. He gave a dissatisfied grunt and then rose. Stieg stood as well, so Sissel and Knut also rose to their feet.

  The two men shook hands, Stieg tall and lean, McKray short and square.

  McKray turned to Sissel, and she offered him her hand. With more confidence than he’d displayed weeks ago in the lobby, he kissed the back of it. His lips were warm and his grip strong.

  She watched him walk his short-legged stride out of the dining room. The waiters gave him a slight bow. He ran an excellent hotel, that was indisputable.

  “Eat, you two, your food is getting cold,” Stieg said.

  Sissel sat and returned her attention to her plate. She speared a carrot and put it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

  “This is so good,” Knut said. “McKray wants to buy our land. You have a new job. Could we get a new farm down there?” He forked a big bite of venison into his mouth.

  “I’m sure we could,” Stieg said. “But we must consider the needs of everyone in the family. Sissel has a beau. She might be unhappy to move away from Carter.”

  Both Stieg and Knut looked up at her.

  She hadn’t thought of James Peavy in hours.

  “It’s all very sudden,” she said. She ducked her head and turned her attention to her plate.

  “I wonder why he thinks there’s gold on our land, though,” Knut said. “That’s silly. I don’t think there’s any gold there.”

  Nor do I, Sissel thought.

  “Sissel,” Stieg said, changing the subject. “Tell Knut about the upcoming dance. I know he’d love to hear about the preparations.”

  Knut nodded, and Sissel was glad to move on to safer territory.

  “Alice’s dress is a dotted swiss pink chenille. It’s so lovely. And Mrs. Oswald is letting Alice wear her golden dove hair combs.”

  Sissel let herself get carried away, telling her brothers all about the dresses and the slippers and who was planning to go with whom. This kind of gossip wasn’t her usual choice of topic, but she embraced the role of giddy schoolgirl. Anything to avoid talking of gold or Isaiah McKray.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  James had indeed rented a buggy to take Sissel to the dance.

  The buggy was small, built for two. It had a fringed canopy and padded leather seats. The wheel spokes were painted yellow. George, the Peavys’ piebald gelding, kept looking nervously over his shoulder at the wheels, as if he expected them to swarm up and sting him.

  James stood at the horse’s neck, calming him, as Sissel stepped out of the hotel.

  Sissel smoothed the front of her dress. It was by far the fanciest garment she had ever worn, and she was nervous about it. James turned and saw her.

  His face was wide-open, expression unguarded.

  “Goodness, Sissel, you keep getting prettier,” he said with a startled honesty.”

  Sissel was flustered by this. The dress was beautiful, with tight sleeves giving way to fullness at the shoulder. The waist was small; the housemaid Bridget had helped Sissel to tighten her corset to a wasplike width. Below her waist generous skirts swelled from the hip down. The gentle blue of the fabric gave her eyes some color. Alice had even persuaded Stieg to give Sissel money for dancing slippers. The delicate shoes peeped out from beneath the skirts. Sissel’s feet felt almost barefoot in them, they were so thin and light.

  “What a lovely dress,” James said as Stieg came out of the hotel. He had tempered his tone a bit.

  “I agree,” Stieg said, stepping forward to shake James’s hand. Stieg looked over Sissel’s outfit with pride. “You look regal, my sister.”

  “All right, enough, you two,” she said.

  “And I like the way you’ve done your hair,” Stieg added.

  Bridget had helped Sissel with her hair, brushing it until it shone, then pulling it into a low bun at the nape of her neck. No plaits tonight. Sissel meant to look thoroughly modern and American. Sissel had tipped Bridget ten cents for her help, then when she’d learned Bridget was planning to go to the dance herself, Sissel helped Bridget with her own hair.

  “I do as well. Sissel, you look like a fashion plate,” James said.

  “Enough!” Sissel protested. She could feel her blush spreading from her face to her neck.

  “Time to go,” Stieg said. “Shall we?” And he moved as if to climb into the buggy. James looked stricken for a moment.

  “He’s joking,” Sissel explained. She elbowed Stieg in the side.

  “No room?” Stieg sighed. “Well, I can see where I’m not welcome.”

  “No, no, we can squeeze you in,” James offered, smiling back.

  “I’m walking,” Stieg said. “It’ll warm up my legs for dancing. I’ll see you there.” Stieg waved and headed off on the road.

  “Don’t mind him,” Sissel said. “On festive occasions, he thinks it’s his duty to tease everyone.”

  “Shall we go?” James asked. Sissel nodded.

  James held the horse’s reins with one hand and helped Sissel climb up into the rig with the other. Then he climbed in beside Sissel. Their legs were pushed against each other’s by the snug fit of the carriage.

  Across the street, she saw Minnie from school being helped into a wagon by Nate. Though Minnie wasn’t friendly to Sissel at school unless Alice was nearby, now she waved. Sissel waved back. James gave George a tap with the lines, and they were off.

  * * *

  THE FAHAYS’ BARN was lit from within. The sound of chatting and laughter spilled into the night through the great, open doors. It was easy to see why the Ladies’ Aid Society had asked the Fahays if their barn could be used—it was enormous, a two-story structure with a larg
e gabled roof. Mr. Fahay raised prize heifers, and their dairy was known statewide.

  Members of the Ladies’ Aid Society stood at the door, taking the admission fee. It was a quarter for each person. James handed over two coins to Mrs. Denmead, who gave him a friendly nod.

  “Be sure to try the pecan pie with the cutout of an eagle on top,” she told them. “That one’s mine.”

  She nodded to two long plank tables laden with pies and sweets that stood against one of the side walls. There was a large tub at one end, filled with lemonade, and another at the end with plain water. A collection of tin cups to be shared stood near each.

  The Ladies’ Aid Society had outdone themselves with the space. The barn was thoroughly swept out. Streamers of crepe paper looped between the railings of the hayloft. The hayloft itself had been cleared and swept. Tables and chairs had been set up there so people could enjoy the scene from above.

  Below, the support beams were wrapped in crepe paper streamers. Wildflower bouquets were affixed to them, one on each side. The place smelled nice, too. Pine needles had been scattered on the floor to mask the scent of the animals who usually lived there.

  “Oh, look at the band,” Sissel said. She gave James’s arm a squeeze.

  Musicians were tuning up in the corner. Sissel counted two fiddlers, a mandolin player, and a fellow with a washboard and some spoons. There was a very short man who looked to be in his fifties, wearing a red vest, with a brown shirt underneath and trousers in an even brighter shade of red. He seemed to be gargling.

  “That’s the caller,” Sissel said. “He called the dance in Fort Benton last summer.”

  “That pipsqueak?” James asked.

  “Wait until you hear his voice!”

  Everywhere, the young and old of the town were milling about, all dressed in their finest. Sissel even saw Mr. Collier there, chatting with some employees from the hotel. There was Bridget, on the arm of one of the porters.

  Alice came pushing through the throngs of people, Howie in tow. She glowed in her dotted swiss pink chenille. She had risked rather more than Sissel in the décolletage area.

  Alice’s hair was piled on her head in an elaborate style. Sissel saw Alice’s mother’s gold hair combs fetchingly arranged at the back—the two golden doves that seemed to nest in the brown curls.