Threads of Hope

by Andrea Boeshaar

  Sam watched him pace the dusty floor of his office in the corner of the barn. Pa moved his political life out here so he could keep Ma’s house free from the clutter and still oversee the animals. The horses, oxen, and cows were in stalls on the ground level, unless outside in the grassy fields and hills beyond, while the pigs and sheep had pens of their own on opposite sides of the barn, and they too grazed outside much of the time. Hay and feed were stored in the upper level of the barn along with the chicken coop—and now Pa’s office.

  “Judge Jensen insisted I dance with Miss Eikaas, so I did—and I’ll take full responsibility for her well-being. If her uncle lays one hand on her, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” Pa ceased his pacing and narrowed his eyes, making his bushy brows look like dark slashes across his tanned face, a stark contrast to his wheat-blond hair.

  “I’ll report him to the authorities, of course. I gave her my word.”

  “Hmm … I think I told you that I forbid you to court an Eikaas.”

  “Who’s talking about courtship?” Sam stood from the wooden chair in which he’d been sitting. “It was a dance, Pa. That’s all. Besides …” He tried to ignore the jab of disappointment. “She’s obviously spoken for.”

  “Ja, so it appeared when we saw her strolling back to church with that young man tonight.” Pa lifted his stubbly chin. “And for your sake, as well as hers, I hope she is betrothed.” He moved his stocky frame toward his desk. “You have more pressing issues to occupy your time.”

  “Such as?” Sam stepped forward. He’d been hoping to discuss the outcome of yesterday’s meeting with Pa long before now. “Does it concern what happened in town yesterday?”

  “Ja, it does.” Pa expelled an exasperated-sounding sigh. “As you know, the Menominee are refusing to cede the remaining western half of their land.”

  Sam gave a nod.

  “Do you recall our brief meeting with Chief Oshkosh?”

  “Of course.” The round-faced brave had been a protégé of the war chief Tomah and was now the Menominee leader.

  Pa sat on the edge of the scuffed table, which served as a desk. “Oshkosh reminded government officials that a little more than fifteen years ago, the Menominee protected white settlers in Green Bay against the threat of attack from the Sauk Indians.”

  Sam could just barely recall the fear that had spread like wildfire. He and his family had been forced to leave their farm and take refuge with friends in town until the threat from the warring tribe abated. Sam recalled how at night he and Pa would keep up with the news by reading the local newspaper, the Green Bay Intelligencer.

  It had whet Sam’s appetite for politics, specifically United States Indian affairs.

  “Chief Oshkosh feels whites should be grateful for the protection. I assured him that we are, but …” Pa folded his arms across his barrel-shaped chest. “Oshkosh wants me to prove it by helping to pass a petition in hopes of amending the treaty. As you know, the Menominee were not properly represented at the committee meetings.”

  “So you agreed?”

  “I did. Already Oshkosh and other Menominee braves have signed it.”

  “I’m of age. I’ll sign it too.”

  “I knew I could count on you, son.” The corners of Pa’s blue eyes lifted. “But I’m going to need more than just your signature. I need your help in collecting signatures. You can begin tomorrow after church.”

  Sam set his hands on his hips. “Of course.” He arched a brow. “But I won’t count on Lars Eikaas signing your petition.”

  Pa snorted then his shook his head. “The Sundbergs have lived here for more than a decade. The Eikaases only half that time. Even so, Lars has had more impact on our community with his hatred and bigotry than I have trying to spread a message of unity and camaraderie with the natives of Wisconsin. But, no, Eikaas has divided our congregation and turned men who I thought were friends against me.”

  Sam had heard this discourse before. “Our true friends stick by us, Pa. And don’t forget, they make up the majority of the business community.”

  “That’s right.” Pa’s lips pressed together, and he exhaled through his nose.

  “You could try to reason with Mr. Eikaas. There was a day, long ago, when you two were friends.”

  “The man is unreasonable, Sam. Mark my words, it won’t be long and that pretty niece of his will turn her nose up at the Sundberg family. Lars will poison her mind against us—and all our friends too.” He shook his head. “Spells … bah! Neither your stepmother nor any other Indians hold that kind of power. Lars probably believes that trolls live under the bridges in Norway too. What nonsense!”

  “I don’t know, Pa.” Sam returned to his seat and stretched his legs out in front of him. “Kristin seems smarter than to believe her superstitious uncle.” He grinned, recalling the determined glint in her eyes when she spoke about her future in America.

  “I think you’re smitten, son. But I’m warning you—”

  “If we’re done talking …” Sam stood. “I’ve got chores in the morning and then church, so I’d best get my sleep.”

  Pa folded his arms but said nothing.

  Spinning on his heel, Sam left the barn and set off for the house.

  The next morning Sam glanced over his shoulder in time to see the Eikaas family and John Olstad enter the back of the church.

  Lars removed his hat while his wife and daughters kept their bonnets securely tied under their chins. Where were Kristin and her carrot-topped beau?

  Looking straight ahead, Sam told himself he didn’t care. He shouldn’t.

  But then Mary elbowed him. Looking at her, he noticed his sister’s troubled expression. Sam followed her gaze and he saw what most folks did—Kristin Eikaas limping into church on the arm of the man in question. Her white ruffled bonnet shielded most of her face, although Sam thought he saw her wince before she slipped into the pew.

  That ogre beat her like he’d threatened yesterday after the wedding! Tension spread across his shoulders.

  Suddenly Ma’s hand came to rest on the sleeve of his wool dress coat. Sam’s eyes met her cool brown gaze. Though he knew Kristin was none of his concern and that she was already spoken for, he felt the need to do something. “I plan to speak with Sheriff Brunette after the service.”

  Ma slowly lifted her hand, but Sam saw a glimmer of approval in her eyes.

  Reverend Wollums began the service with a hymn, and Mrs. Hansen made her way up the outer aisle and sat at the square grand piano. Sam couldn’t help a small grin as he recalled how their little church acquired the ornate instrument. Made of Brazilian rosewood, the piano had been shipped from Chickering & Sons in Boston to Jakob Adams, one of Green Bay’s most prominent citizens. When the piano arrived, there was notable damage to one side, although it still played and sounded wonderfully. Since it was to be a gift for his talented son, Mr. Adams donated this piano to his friend, Reverend Wollums, and promptly purchased another one for young Lawrence.

  The congregation stood, and Sam thought he heard a gasp coming from somewhere behind him. Had it been Kristin? Collectively they sang a hymn based on Psalm 62:8.

  “Trust in him at all times, ye people, pour out your heart before him, God is a refuge for us. Selah and selah.”

  Reverend Wollums motioned everyone to sit down, and he opened his Bible. After a word of prayer, he began his sermon.

  Sam tried to concentrate. He never treated the Word of God with flippancy. Nevertheless, while the reverend spoke, Sam couldn’t help but think of Kristin. At one point he even went so far as to cast a glance at her from over his shoulder. He saw her dab her eyes with her hankie. Was the pain so bad from her uncle’s thrashing that she now struggled just to keep her composure?

  The service finally ended, and Sam stood to find Sheriff Brunette. The man and his family usually sat three rows behind the Sundbergs. Locating his man, Sam leaned over to shake his hand.

  “Well, good morning, Sam.” The sheriff gave him a jo
vial smile.

  “Could I have a word with you?”

  “Of course.” The sheriff stepped out of the pew and met Sam in the far aisle. He smoothed down his light-brown beard. “What’s on your mind, son?”

  Sam relayed his concerns.

  “Well …” Sheriff Brunette puffed out his chest, and his steely gray eyes shifted toward Lars Eikaas. “I’ll investigate and let you know. Thank you for calling the matter to my attention.”

  With an incline of his head, Sam watched the sheriff return to his family and exit the pew in the center aisle. Would the man look into the issue soon? Right away? Kristin’s very existence might depend on it!

  “Everyone has almost left the church, Kristin. I think we can go now.”

  “But—”

  “You needn’t be embarrassed, Kristin. You hurt your foot and you have me to lean on as we make our way from the sanctuary.”

  She glanced at Peder, grateful that he was so willing to help her, and then at the lingering few, chatting between the pews. Sam Sundberg was among them, and try as she might to keep her eyes off the man, she couldn’t help sneaking a glance at him from time to time. Dressed in a brown wool suit that accentuated his strong shoulders, he looked quite handsome. And his necktie looked interesting. Slung around the collar of his ivory linen shirt, it appeared to be a strip of leather with beaded work on the ends. It clipped together so it dangled down in front.

  “I do not know how long your uncle will wait for us.”

  Kristin forced her attention back to Peder. “You think Onkel will go home without us?” A sense of horror rippled through her very core. “I cannot walk out of this church, let alone all the way back to my uncle’s farm.”

  “You want me to go outside and make sure he waits, don’t you?”

  “Yes. And I am sorry for the inconvenience. I would do it for you.”

  Peder tossed a glance at the ceiling then stood.

  Kristin turned her knees to the side to allow Peder to exit the pew. She watched him leave the church, feeling like a burden. Her aunt and uncle told her at breakfast this morning that they would not accept any excuses from her tomorrow, the first day she was to begin doing her chores on the farm. They gave her a place to sleep, they fed her—just barely—and she would be expected to work like everyone else. Except how? She’d scarcely got her foot into her leather ankle boot this morning and could not pull the laces tight. The sole of her foot burned while a painful throb traveled from her toes to her heel and up her leg.

  Kristin lowered her head, wondering how she’d manage.

  A man cleared his throat close by. She looked up to see a bearded man standing just a few feet away.

  “Miss Eikaas?”

  “Yes?” She noted that Sam stood behind the man along with Mrs. Wollums, the reverend’s wife.

  “I would like to inquire over your injuries.” He spoke in Norwegian.

  “Injuries?”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Wollums leaned forward. “We saw you limp when you came into church, and you have not walked out yet. Are you able to?”

  “I do not think so.” Kristin lowered her chin.

  Sam came around and hunkered next to the pew. “Did your uncle make good on his threat because I danced with you last night?”

  “No!” She looked up in surprise. “Not my uncle. I did this to myself. I stepped on something with my bare foot. Buzzing insects rose up like smoke. And now my foot is hopelessly swollen.”

  The sheriff’s features relaxed, although a slight look of concern lingered. “I hope your foot is better soon, Miss Eikaas. A poultice might help.”

  “As do I.” But where would she get the ingredients for that at Onkel and Tante’s house?

  The sheriff gave her a quick half bow before donning his hat. “Sorry to have troubled you.”

  “No trouble.”

  The man took his leave, passing Peder on his way out of the church.

  “Kristin,” Peder called from the doorway, “your uncle said he will wait only a few more minutes.” He stopped short and narrowed his gaze at Sam.

  Mrs. Wollums spoke up. “Mr. Olstad, I believe.” She smiled cordially.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Peder gave the minister’s wife a smile and a courteous bow. They had been introduced at yesterday’s wedding celebration.

  “Since you are new to Brown County, I would like you, your father, and Kristin to be my guests for our noon dinner. My husband will drive you all home this afternoon.”

  Hope like she hadn’t felt since arriving filled Kristin.

  Mrs. Wollums’s smile widened. “Please go tell Mr. Eikaas that he does not have to wait.”

  “Well …”

  Peder glanced at Kristin, who decided getting acquainted with the Wollumses appealed to her more than returning to her uncle’s farm. She nodded.

  “Ja, all right,” Peder said at last. “Thank you for the invitation.”

  “You are very welcome.”

  Once Peder had left to do her bidding, Mrs. Wollums gave Sam instructions. “Help Miss Eikaas out through the altar door and into my house. I will find your mother. She’ll know what to do for such a sore foot.”

  “As you wish.”

  Kristin’s heart felt like an anvil, dropping through her insides. If Uncle Lars discovered her alone with Sam Sundberg …

  “Not to worry.” He seemed to have read her thoughts. Then he took her hand and helped her to stand on her one good foot. “If we hurry, no one will be the wiser.”

  Kristin tested her foot and winced. “Forgive me, but I do not think I can walk.”

  “Nothing to forgive. The problem is easily solved.” Wearing a slight grin, Sam leaned in and, moments later, scooped Kristin into his arms. “I will carry you.”

  She clung to his thick neck and tucked her chin. “I am heavy.”

  “Like a feather.” He chuckled.

  The compliment momentarily won over her concern. “But what if someone sees us and my uncle learns of it? He might follow through with his threat to horsewhip me.”

  “Dear Lord, command Your angels to guard the doorway,” Sam prayed aloud as he took the few steps leading up to the altar. “And keep any busybodies away from the Wollumses’ home until I can get Kristin settled.”

  “Amen!” Fear allowed her to only eke out the response. But, under different circumstances, she might have enjoyed her close proximity to Sam. He smelled quite appealing, like strong soap and sweet hay.

  They came to a side door and Sam bent at the knees. Instinctively Kristin turned the knob, and Sam carried her into a breezeway that led to the square, brick parsonage. Another door. Sam hunkered. Kristin opened it.

  Inside, the kitchen area looked neat and clean with its simple furnishings. Two towheaded little girls stood by the table and stared, wide-eyed.

  “Miss Eikaas, please meet Belinda and Margaret Wollums.” He explained why he carried her.

  The girls stared at her foot.

  Sam walked into the sitting room and stopped in front of a blue upholstered settle. Kristin let her arms fall away from his shoulders and noticed he didn’t huff or grunt when he set her down into its horsehair cushion. He paused before straightening and sank his sea-blue gaze into her. Kristin held her breath, unsure if he meant to say something. Was he tonguetied—or did he have other intentions?

  Like stealing a kiss?

  She hoped so—The thought startled her.

  Kristin looked away, uncomfortable with the rush of emotions warming her insides. Was she wicked to have such thoughts about Sam?

  “Hold still.” He touched her bonnet, and when he pulled his hand away, she saw he held a fat black bug between his thumb and forefinger. Had that been the object of his scrutiny all along?

  “Beetles … annoying things. This one got himself stuck in the ruffle of your bonnet.” Sam looked from it back to Kristin and grinned. “You are not afraid of bugs, are you?”

  Was he teasing or mocking her? “No, but I do not like them much.”
r />   A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “To tell you the truth, I dislike them too.” He strode to the front door, walked outside, and disposed of the insect.

  The littlest girl strolled in and pulled out her bottom lip. “Wook.”

  Kristin smiled at the space between the girl’s small white teeth.

  “Did you lose a tooth, Margaret?” Sam asked.

  “Ja.” The girl bobbed her head.

  “That means you are becoming a big girl now.” Kristin’s smile grew.

  Margaret grinned broadly.

  With the door still open, Sam leaned against the frame and folded his arms. His gaze was fixed off in the distance. “Your aunt and uncle are leaving with Mr. Olstad. I can see their wagon turning onto the road.”

  “Do not let them see you since they know I am here.”

  “They cannot see me. They would have to look hard through the evergreens.” Sam swung himself from the entryway. “Besides, your forloveden is on his way to the house. He’ll be here in a moment.”

  “My … forloveden?” Kristin wasn’t sure she understood. Had Sam misused the Norwegian word? He must have meant to say the English word friend. “Are you referring to Peder?”

  Sam replied with a curt nod. Margaret put her hand over her lips and giggled.

  “I had best take my leave.” His pleasant tone turned brusque, and a muscle worked in his jaw as he stepped out the door.

  “Takk—thank you,” she called after him.

  “Glad I could help,” Sam muttered.

  Why did he look miffed? Kristin opened her mouth to ask, but it was too late. Sam had gone.

  CHAPTER 5

  KRISTIN BIT HER lower lip as Peder unlaced her boot.

  “If you take it off,” she warned, “we might never get it back on.”

  “Mrs. Wollums will be back soon with medicine to put on your foot. Your boot and stocking must come off in order for her to apply it.”

  Peder gave the boot a tug, and Kristin cried out in pain. A moment’s dizziness caused her to recline on the settee. “You might take some care with my injured foot.”

  “I wanted to remove it quickly instead of agonizing and slowly.”