Threads of Hope

by Andrea Boeshaar

“The slem gutter are long gone,” Kristin said of the boys, “but Mary knows of their identities.”

  “Yes, Jack told me who they are.” The muscle in his jaw flexed before he glided his gaze to his sister. “Are you all right, Mary?”

  She nodded and turned to her brother. Her eyelids were puffy from so many tears. Her hands flittered to the tear in her dress. A piece of the tiny floral-print fabric from her shoulder to her sleeve had been ripped in the assault. “Look what they did!”

  “It can be repaired.” Kristin fingered the fabric. “Quite easily too, I must say.”

  “But I will miss school today.” More tears trickled down her tanned cheeks.

  An idea came to Kristin. “Will Miss Betsy lend me a needle and thread? I can fix it for you. It will not take me long.”

  “If I know Miss Betsy,” Sam said with a grin, “she will be happy to help out.”

  Kristin wondered if Miss Betsy held a special interest for Sam.

  He honed his gaze in on his little sister. “Mary, go and introduce Kristin to Miss Betsy while I speak with the sheriff about those boys. I’ll meet you right here in about …” He glanced at Kristin. “An hour?”

  “Ja, that is all the time I need.”

  “Once your dress is sewn,” Sam said, looking back at his sister, “I will see that you and Jack get to school without any more problems. Pa finished his business at the bank, so he can watch the wagon.”

  “Yes, Sam.” Mary stepped back, taking hold of Kristin’s elbow.

  “And, Miss Eikaas?” Sam’s tone softened.

  She met his eyes and a warm feeling poured over her. She thought she’d like to bask in his gaze all day long.

  “I cannot begin to thank you enough for helping my sister and brother. Not everyone in this town would. Takk.”

  She smiled, feeling a blush in her cheeks. She’d try out her English once again. “You well-comb.”

  Sam pursed his lips. “Not too bad.” He grinned before turning and making quick strides down the boardwalk.

  “Come with me.” Mary tugged on her arm, causing the glow of that special moment to vanish. “You will like Miss Betsy.”

  They walked back to the shop and up a few steps to the door. Heavy ivory lace curtains hung inside the windows, making it difficult to peer into the establishment. Once they’d entered, Kristin realized why. Ladies’ foundational garments and pinnings hung on racks. Filled with cotton drawers, chemises, corsets, camisoles, and starched petticoats, Miss Betsy’s shop seemed to have everything a woman required.

  A thin, older woman approached them. She greeted Mary in English and then eyed Kristin curiously. Her face resembled a dried apple and her wiry gray hair looked like it belonged on the end of a scrub brush. However, she had a warm, welcoming smile that somehow managed to soothe Kristin’s still-jangled nerves.

  Mary made the introductions. “Miss Betsy, please meet Miss Kristin Eikaas.” She went on to explain the situation, both outside with the boys and how her dress got ripped, further stating that Kristin was a friend—unlike the rest of the Eikaases.

  As she listened to the child, Kristin almost laughed aloud at herself for imagining that Sam would have a romantic interest in the older woman. For all intents and purposes, Miss Betsy could be his grandmother.

  “I am happy to lend you a needle and thread. Come this way.”

  They followed Miss Betsy into the back of the shop. A few strides later, fingers of dread ran up Kristin’s spine. If Green Bay resembled her village in Norway, then gossip spread like floodwater from the mountain top. Soon Uncle Lars would hear of Mary’s mishap with the boys as well as Kristin’s benevolence toward her—a Sundberg. What then?

  Miss Betsy showed Kristin where to find everything she’d need to repair Mary’s dress. Kristin threaded a needle while Mary slipped out of the torn garment.

  “Takk, Kristin.” The girl sat on a stool and watched.

  “I do not mind.”

  “But you are frowning.”

  “Oh, it is nothing.” But that wasn’t the truth.

  “Tell me.”

  “I am concerned that my uncle Lars will be angry with me if he learns I am mending your dress. I am already being punished for allowing your mother to help me with my sore foot—which, by the way, doesn’t hurt me anymore.” Kristin smiled. “I am ever so grateful.”

  “How are you being punished?” Miss Betsy’s gray brows pulled together. “And for what?”

  “My uncle thinks the Sundbergs put a spell on me. You see, Mrs. Sundberg and Mary treated my sore foot and it healed quite miraculously. So I sleep in the back of the wagon. I am not allowed in the house or barn. They also refuse to speak to me.”

  Kristin glimpsed Mary’s frown. “But, as I said, it is nothing.”

  She hated to make the little girl feel worse than she already did.

  “Oh, that ornery Lars Eikaas!” Miss Betsy folded her thin arms. “He is always blaming someone for something.”

  “Ja, so it would seem.” Kristin blinked away the sudden moisture accumulating in her eyes and concentrated on her sewing.

  “My father, Daniel Eikaas, was nothing like Onkel.”

  “Oh?” Miss Betsy sounded interested, so Kristin went on.

  “He was a good man, soft spoken, kind to everyone. And he loved Mor very much. But my family perished with the smallpox a couple of years back.”

  “I am sorry to hear it, dear.”

  Mary sat quietly by, her brown eyes looking wide and sorrowful.

  Kristin decided to change the subject, lest she give in to her misery and upset Mary further. “Miss Betsy, your shop is quite unique.”

  “The only one like it around here.” Miss Betsy’s light greeneyed gaze swept over all the feminine items. “So much in life belongs to men. But I decided a woman needs to feel pretty, even out here in the rugged territory. And with all the ships sailing in and out of Green Bay, I can order all manner of dainty foundations, from New York—or even London, England, if I choose.”

  Kristin decided she liked Miss Betsy Biddle’s spunk.

  Several minutes ticked by, and Kristin began pondering her situation again.

  “You are fretting, Miss Eikaas,” Mary observed. “There is a little pucker in your brow, so I can tell.”

  Why deny it? “It is just that if Uncle Lars finds out I am here … and especially with you, Mary.” Kristin groaned. “He is so unreasonable about curses and spells.”

  “I know!” Mary snapped her fingers. “You can tell him that your good deed today canceled the spell from last Sunday and then everything will be fine.”

  Kristin couldn’t quell a bit of laughter. “Ridiculous as it sounds, the explanation might suffice.”

  Mary bobbed her head.

  At last Kristin finished the repair, and Mary slipped her dress over her head.

  “Now we shall fix your hair.”

  Removing the only remaining ribbon, Kristin retied Mary’s hair, this time into one silky braid that came to rest between the girl’s shoulder blades.

  Mary primped in the looking glass, wearing an expression of pleasure. “Thank you.”

  Kristin smiled, deciding to try out her English once more. “You well-comb.”

  With a laugh, Mary skipped out of the store. Kristin followed her as far as the windows and couldn’t help peeking through the lacy curtains. As she anticipated, Sam stood on the wooden walkway, waiting for his sister just as he promised. He glanced at the window, and Kristin pulled back so that she wouldn’t get caught staring at Sam for the second time that morning.

  “He is a handsome man, that Sam Sundberg.”

  Kristin pushed out a smile through her embarrassment.

  “Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

  “As a matter of fact …” Making her way to the rack where a variety of undergarments hung, Kristin pointed to them. “I am in need of some foundations.”

  “Then you have come to the right place!”

  “It�
�s none of our business!” Pa stacked some empty baskets and tossed them into the back of the wagon.

  Sam eyed him through a narrowed gaze. Frustration pumped through his veins. “But Mary said they’re making Kristin sleep outside in the wagon.”

  Pa didn’t reply.

  “It’s our fault!”

  “No, it’s not. It’s that crazy uncle of hers!”

  As if on cue, Lars Eikaas came stomping down the road, accompanied by the sheriff and Ole Thomassen, his deputy.

  “Any idea where Lars’s niece ran off to?” Sheriff Brunette called to them. “I need to ask her a few questions about the incident earlier.”

  Sam debated whether he should say. Mr. Eikaas appeared sufficiently agitated already. He hated the thought of Kristin getting into more trouble on account of his family.

  Pa sent him a glare then looked at the sheriff. “Did you try Miss Betsy’s? My children were attacked between her place and the school.”

  “Just heading that way.” The sheriff nodded. “Thanks.”

  Sam watched the men round the corner before tossing another stack of baskets into the wagon bed. Not even midday and they’d sold out most of their wares. The rest Mr. Hinshaw at the General Store agreed to purchase.

  Pa came to stand beside Sam. “I got a message this morning. The Menominee will have their hearing in Madison next month.”

  “That’s great news!” Sam’s features lightened with a smile.

  “Of course, that doesn’t mean anything other than the government is willing to listen to the Menominee’s arguments.”

  “It’s something, anyway.” Sam straightened. “When will you be leaving?”

  “Well …”

  A commotion in the street stymied Pa’s answer. Sam turned to see Mr. Eikaas tugging Kristin by the elbow. The skirt of Kristin’s brown and red printed dress swirled around her ankles, causing her to suddenly trip on the hem, although, thankfully, she didn’t tumble.

  Sam stepped forward to intervene, but Pa held him back. “She’s none of your concern, son. Besides, Sheriff Brunette’s following them up the walk. You can see as plain as me. He’s got his eye on Eikaas.”

  Just then Mr. Eikaas shifted his weighty frown, aiming it at first Pa, then Sam. He slowed his pace as he passed their wagon with Kristin still in his clutch. Perspiration stained the front of his gray shirt. “Stay away from my niece!”

  “But, Onkel, I am trying to explain.” Kristin tipped her bonneted head. “Someone told me that my good deed this morning removed all evil spells. They are gone now.”

  Puzzled, Sam raised his brows. First time he’d heard that bit of lore. Then he caught Kristin’s surreptitious glance followed by a timid roll of her shoulder. He understood at once. A placating tactic. Good try.

  Quickly he wiped his mouth to cover his grin.

  “Is this true, Sundberg?” Mr. Eikaas squared his broad shoulders. “Any spells over me and my family are now gone?”

  “Believe what you will,” Pa said. “When did you ever listen to me?”

  Mr. Eikaas snorted.

  The sheriff moved around to Mr. Eikaas’s other side. “Lars, your niece’s actions today have brought honor to your family’s name, not shame.” The bearded lawman clapped him on the shoulder. “She did the decent thing by stepping in and helping the Sundberg children. Don’t be so angry about the whole thing.”

  Confusion wafted across Kristin’s face as she obviously struggled to understand what had just been spoken in English. Sam’s gut reaction was to translate for her, but under the circumstances he thought better of it.

  Mr. Eikaas grumbled and eyed the emptied wagon. “Ja, sure, and you might ask how the Sundbergs manage to sell their produce before noon.” He gave Pa a glare. “Each week they park in the best spot at the market.”

  “It’s our habit to get here before sunup, Eikaas.”

  He arched a bushy, platinum brow. “Or maybe you hex everyone and cause them to oversleep on market days.”

  “You’re a madman.” Pa waved a hand at him.

  “And you are—”

  “That’s enough, gentlemen.” The sheriff held up his hands. “Eikaas, move along now.” He looked at Kristin and dipped the brim of his study brown hat. “Again, my thanks for your help this morning, Miss.”

  Evidently she understood a few words because she gave him a polite, parting smile before her uncle resumed hauling her down the street. His manhandling of Kristin irked Sam to no end.

  “We will see to it your youngsters get home all right after school today,” the sheriff promised.

  As he and Pa shored up the details, Sam’s focus remained on Kristin. She ran to keep up with her uncle’s wider strides. Sam’s instincts told him something had to be done to protect her, but what could he do?

  Seconds later he glimpsed Peder Olstad’s approach into the street. Sam realized Pa had been right. Kristin’s welfare was none of his concern.

  CHAPTER 7

  THE MIDAFTERNOON SUN beat down hard on Kristin, causing her skin to blaze beneath her lightweight dress. Underneath it she wore her new garments. Beads of perspiration trickled down her neck. How she longed for some shade and a cool drink of water.

  Shortly after noon it became apparent that selling any more produce was not to be, and Uncle Lars turned the team of horses and the wagon toward home. He’d made mention to Peder that he had earned a few coins, but not nearly as much money as he hoped. Kristin glanced around her. Most baskets still contained Uncle Lars’s harvest, although it now withered in the heat. She recalled the plump, juicy fruits and vegetables she’d seen in the Sundbergs’ wagon, causing her to wonder what Uncle Lars did wrong—and what the other family did right. “Ask her why she was in Miss Betsy’s store this morning,” Uncle Lars called to Peder over his shoulder. “Did she make a purchase? And what did she use to pay for it?”

  Peder fixed his gaze on Kristin and raised his brows.

  As she bumped along in the back of the wagon, she debated whether to lie or come straight out with the truth.

  “Aw, you know how women like to talk, Mr. Eikaas.” Peder set his elbows on the side of the wagon bed and reclined. “My mother and sister can chatter for hours with neighbors and shopkeepers.”

  “Ja, it is true.” Mr. Olstad smiled and wagged his head.

  Uncle Lars muttered, and Kristin felt herself relax.

  “You owe me,” Peder said under his breath.

  Kristin gave him a speculative glance. However, before she could inquire, the wagon lurched from side to side as it rolled past the orchard. Staring into it, she wondered why Uncle Lars hadn’t picked a bushel of apples to sell this morning. Ripe red fruit hung on leafy limbs, and suddenly her mouth watered as she thought of the refreshing taste of tart and sweet on her tongue.

  Dust from the road plumed in the wagon’s wake, and soon Uncle Lars turned and drove the team into the yard. No sooner had he parked when Erik came running from the barn. The girls and Aunt Esther followed, and Kristin noticed their solemn expressions.

  “Far, the cow … she is sick!” His blue eyes were wide with worry.

  Uncle Lars jumped from the wagon and glanced at the boy then at Aunt Esther, who replied with an affirming nod.

  Kristin climbed down out of the flatbed and found Inga and Anna staring at her. Were those accusations in their eyes?

  Shaking herself, Kristin wondered if she had begun to feel overly self-conscious. Of course her cousins would not blame her for an animal’s sudden illness …

  Would they?

  Peder met her gaze with a stern expression as he came toward her. Uncle Lars and Mr. Olstad made their way into the barn accompanied by Aunt Esther and the children.

  “What sort of trouble is this?”

  Kristin stared at him. “How would I know, Peder? I have been away from the farm most of the day.”

  “But you associated with the Sundbergs … again. And if this cow dies, your uncle might get so angry with you that he will throw my father and m
e off his property because we brought you here. Then what?”

  “My aunt and uncle asked me to come. You did not bring me here.” Exasperated, she placed her hands on her hips and tipped her head. “I thought you were my friend. You should defend me.”

  “My father and I need a place to stay until we can buy our own land, Kristin.”

  “And it may cost you more dearly than you know to stay here.”

  Like our childhood-long friendship!

  “Kristin …”

  She ignored the warning knell in his voice and swung around.

  Then she stomped off, unable to help her display of temper. In the last few months it was never more apparent than now that Sylvia and Peder were quite different from each other. Sylvia, like Kristin, would fight for a friend. They had come to each other’s rescue several times while on the playground or off. But Peder …

  Come to think of it, Kristin didn’t recall much about his character. But the lack thereof shone through today.

  Kristin trudged through the dried cornfield. At its end stood a row of tree stumps and, beyond them, a pond. She’d never seen it before now, as her aunt had kept her busy with chores the last two days. Tall weeds grew around the side closest to her, but she could still see that the water looked cool and inviting.

  It beckoned to her, and suddenly she couldn’t resist the urge to take a quick dip. What harm could come of it?

  Squinting, she scanned the vicinity and saw no one, so she sat on a stump and removed her bonnet, shoes, and stockings, followed by her dress, petticoat, brand-new corset, and camisole. She’d worn her newly purchased items so Uncle Lars wouldn’t learn that she’d kept money from him. She was grateful that the Olstads distracted him.

  Clad in only her drawers and chemise, she waded into the pond. Just as she anticipated, the water felt refreshing against her hot skin. She cupped her hands and drank, realizing she’d been as thirsty as she was hot. After submerging her head, she floated on her back and gazed up at the cloudless sky, marveling as she typically did at its vastness.

  What would her future hold? It appeared dismal, at best.

  An unnatural rustling in the brush caught Kristin’s attention. Her senses on alert, she quickly looked toward the bank. Several birds flew toward the sky, but Kristin saw nothing else. She figured the sound had come from animals.