Another growl of thunder, louder this time, resounded from above.
“A storm is coming, sure as the dawn.” Mrs. Sundberg sat back in her chair. “It will clear the air.”
Kristin wondered if she referred to the impending conversation between Sam and his father or the thundershowers moving in.
“Your ma told me that Kristin wanted to use the spinning wheel.” Pa fetched one of Ma’s tall baskets. “I sold most of the wool already. Just have this here bundle left.” He lowered the tightly woven container from the upper level of the barn and into Sam’s waiting arms. “It has been to the carding mill already. I think your mother was saving it for batting. But there’s plenty more.” Pa climbed back down the ladder. “Tell Kristin she can have this bundle to spin, if she’s so inclined. I don’t mind.”
Sam felt impressed. “That’s real nice, Pa.”
“Ja, well …” He muttered the rest of his reply.
“I’ll be sure Kristin gets this.” Sam balanced the basket on his shoulder. It didn’t feel heavy, just awkward to carry.
“Sam?”
He turned.
“I don’t guess I have to remind you to keep your eye on the prize and don’t get distracted.”
“Oh, I’ve got my eye on the prize, all right.”
“I don’t mean the Eikaas girl.”
Sam swallowed a chortle.
“Sam, you’re a man of twenty-one years, and Wisconsin is a brand-new state. There will be openings in all branches of the legislature, and with your smarts, easy manner, and good looks, you’re sure to be elected.”
All laughter aside, Sam strode to where his father stood. “Pa, you raised me right, in the admonition of the Lord, and now you’ve got to trust me. You said yourself that I’m a man. That means I have to make my own decisions. I’m willing to go to Madison. I’m looking forward to seeing what God has for my future—and I’m not sure if Kristin is a part of it or not. But that’s between the Lord and me.”
Pa narrowed his gaze. “Even Moses went to his father-in-law for advice. Don’t discount my words, Sam. This Eikaas girl will do your future no good.”
“Because she’s an Eikaas?”
“Because she has no influence, not to mention she has no idea of how the United States government is comprised.”
“She’s intelligent. She can learn.”
“But you don’t know this girl!” Pa lifted his hands, emphasizing his point.
“I guess that’s what a courtship is for, right?”
Pa let out an exasperated groan.
“Unless you can think of a biblical reason, not a political one, that I shouldn’t court Kristin, then you’ve got no argument. No case against her, other than your own prejudice.”
“What? I don’t have a prejudiced bone in my body.”
“Perhaps, then …” Sam chose his words carefully. “…you have a spirit of unforgiveness, which taints your view of Kristin.”
“That’s ridiculous! And how dare you question my faith and my spirit.”
Sam exhaled. “I meant no disrespect. I want your blessing, Pa. And I want to court Kristin. Won’t you, at least, pray about the matter—as I am?”
Pa’s lips formed a firm line of disapproval before he marched out of the barn.
Still a no. Couldn’t Pa see that he behaved like a hypocrite?
Somewhat discouraged, Sam followed, carrying the wool. Dark clouds now concealed every trace of daylight, and a flash of lightning split the sky. Just as they reached the back door of the house, fat raindrops began to fall.
“We’ll get our rain, all right.” Pa paused in the mudroom and glanced out the wove-wire screen, covering a third of the door. Because of the overhang, the rain didn’t spray into the house.
“Crops need the water.” Sam had been praying for rain. He walked around his father and placed the basket of wool in a dry corner of the mudroom. Then he traipsed through the house and out onto the front porch.
The first sight that greeted him was Running Deer standing near Kristin with three fox furs, dangling from a bow-supported line.
“What are you doing?” Sam leaned one hand against the house and stuck the other on his hip. As usual, his uncle wore a buffalo-skin robe, breech cloth, moccasins, and “dingle dangle” around his neck, as some whites called it.
“I am offering a great gift to my woman.”
“She’s not your woman.” Sam had tired of this game already.
“Running Deer,” Ma said gently, “Kristin already said she’s not interested in you.”
Sam hid a grin.
Pa sauntered out onto the porch and stretched. He did a double take when he saw Running Deer. “What are you doing here?”
“I can’t come to visit my family?”
“Of course you can. You’re welcome anytime. You know that.” Pa set his hands on his hips. “I just didn’t expect you, is all.”
“He’s offering a gift to Kristin.” Mary reported the situation with wide eyes. “I went to fetch wool in the barn but couldn’t find Pa. Instead I ran into Running Deer, and he told me he wants Kristin to be his woman.”
“Is that right?” Pa’s eyes darted to Sam.
Sam ignored the silent goad.
Pa snorted back a chuckle.
“Look what he’s giving her.” Excitement rimmed Jackson’s tone as he ran one hand over the reddish-brown furs. “Three fox skins. They’re worth a lot of money, aren’t they, Pa?”
“Three months’ worth of wages, at least.” Pa glanced at Running Deer. “You really think your people will accept a blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman as your wife?”
“They will if I say so.” Running Deer tipped his head. “They accepted you as Mariah’s husband, didn’t they?”
“Yeah, Pa.” Sam slapped his father on the shoulder blades. “They accepted you.”
“That’s different.” Pa grumbled the reply and tossed a warning glare at Sam.
He laughed.
Running Deer turned to Kristin and again offered the fox furs. “Translate for me, Mary.”
“All right.”
Sam disliked his little sister’s eagerness.
“I give these furs to you, Kristin, as an offering of my affection.” He bowed and held out the skins. “I ask for nothing in return. So take them.”
Mary translated in Norwegian, adding correctly that if Kristin refused the gift, Running Deer would feel a great insult.
Sam watched as a mix of reluctance and apprehension pinched Kristin’s lovely features. But she accepted the furs and thanked Running Deer in English.
“You’re welcome.”
He inclined his head.
Kristin gave him a slight smile as she touched the furs. “My, but they are luxuriously soft, aren’t they?”
Mary reverted to English. “She likes them, Running Deer.”
And that was all it took. The native man’s stature increased by at least two inches.
“Heaven help us,” Sam muttered.
Now it was Pa’s turn to laugh.
Beyond the porch the rain came down in sheets.
“Will you stay for supper, Running Deer?” Ma asked.
“No, I must return to my own home.” He turned and looked at the inclement weather. “This storm will not stop soon, so I will go now.”
“Be careful.” Ma hugged him before cupping his face with her hands.
“I have nothing to fear. This is not an angry storm. It was sent to nurture our crops.”
Ma’s smile was skeptical at best, and Sam knew why. Running Deer didn’t profess to be a Christian. Rather he’d formed his own opinions and beliefs about God, and they changed as frequently as the Wisconsin skies.
Running Deer took his leave. As soon as he left the porch, he sprinted through the downpour toward the road. Sam knew he’d keep up the pace all the way to his cabin, over a mile away.
As a kid, Sam often tried to outrun him as only a five-year difference spanned their ages, Sam being the younger. But, de
spite his best efforts that led into adulthood, Sam never won a race with his uncle.
Turning his gaze to Kristin now, Sam caught her eye. She sent him a tentative grin along with an uncertain shrug. Sam smiled, praying the gesture would help to assuage her insecurities and fears.
And, in that second, he knew the race to win’s Kristin’s heart was one he couldn’t abide losing.
CHAPTER 13
THE STORM INTENSIFIED, and Mr. Sundberg suggested everyone go inside the house.
“Want to play a game of draughts, Pa?” Jackson was on his heels as his father entered the sitting room.
“Oh, I suppose so.”
Kristin stood holding the fox furs, wondering if Running Deer had made it to his home before the thunder and lightning erupted from the heavens.
“Allow me to take those to the mudroom for you, Kristin.” Sam took the bow supporting the three animal hides. Only then did she realize how heavy it had been to hold.
“Thank you, Sam.”
“If you would like, Pa can take them to town and sell them for you. Running Deer will not be offended.”
“That is a good idea.” Kristin didn’t know what else she’d do with fox skins.
Mrs. Sundberg tapped Mary on the shoulder. “Come and help me set out some repast for supper.” Together they strode to the kitchen.
Kristin followed. “May I help?”
“No. You rest. I will need your help tomorrow.”
“Ja.” Kristin knew Mondays were quite busy. She sat down on the deep burgundy-upholstered settle and watched Jackson set up the board game. “Where did you learn to play such a game?”
“I met a Canadian trapper years ago,” Mr. Sundberg began, “and he taught me the game. We played all night because I could not stand to let him win.” He chuckled. “Years later I saw this game for sale at the General Store, and I bought it.”
“And Pa taught Sam, Mary, and me to play with him.”
“I am still trying to win.” Mr. Sundberg smiled, and crinkle lines appeared at the corners of his eyes.
In that moment the man didn’t seem so cross and overbearing to Kristin. Perhaps he didn’t dislike her, as she’d assumed, but rather disliked her Uncle Lars. And who wouldn’t?
Sam returned and eyed the game. “Draughts, eh?”
“I will play you next, Sam, after I beat Pa.”
“Hey, now …” Mr. Sundberg frowned. “We have not even begun, Jack. How do you know I will lose?”
“You usually do.” Jackson smirked.
Kristin found herself smiling at the banter. She was grateful the Sundbergs spoke Norwegian so she could understand what they said.
Sam returned and seated himself beside her.
Kristin noticed Mr. Sundberg’s heavy frown as he glanced their way. But Sam didn’t seem troubled in the least.
Mr. Sundberg spoke English to him. A warning? Kristin scrutinized Sam’s expression as he replied, then gauged Mr. Sundberg’s glowering countenance.
“You think we should not sit together?” Kristin stood, peering directly at Mr. Sundberg.
“I do not feel it is wise, no.”
“Well, then we do not. This is your home, Mr. Sundberg.”
Sam pushed to his feet. “This is my home too.” Hands on hips, he glared at his father.
Mr. Sundberg, however, concentrated on his game and didn’t reply.
Kristin moved to a nearby chair just as thunder exploded and lightning pierced the darkened sky.
“It is quite a bad storm.” She hoped to alleviate some of the tension by changing subjects.
Sam lit a lamp before leaving the sitting room. Kristin watched the board game, unsure of what to think. It seemed obvious that Mr. Sundberg disproved of her budding friendship with Sam. Was it because she was his wife’s house girl and lower than their social class? Or was it because she was an Eikaas?
Minutes later Sam returned, carrying a basket. He exited once more then came back with his mother’s spinning wheel.
Setting it near the hearth, he looked at Kristin. “Pa found a bundle of carded wool and said you can spin it if you would like.”
Hope bubbled up inside Kristin and came out as a little laugh.
“It was Pa’s idea.” Sam glanced over his shoulder. “Right, Pa?”
He looked up. “Help yourself to both the wool and spinning wheel.”
Kristin smiled. “Thank you. This is a most precious gift.”
She removed the basket’s lid and felt the rough woolen fibers between her fingers as she scooped out a handful. Sitting down near the spinning wheel, she began to roll and twist a twelveinch lead on her lap. After supper she would begin to spin. She would remember everything Mor had taught her. But more importantly, her finished products would forever be a reminder of Mor.
“Lars Eikaas is the biggest fool in Brown County.”
“Lower your voice, Pa.” Sam nodded toward the basement steps. “Kristin might hear you.”
“She doesn’t know English.”
“She can pick out certain words.” Sam sent Pa a warning look. “She understands.”
Pa took a sip of coffee and inclined his head toward the sitting room.
Sam followed him through the quiet house. Everyone else was in bed and sleeping—all except him and Pa. It would seem they both had too much on their minds to relax just yet.
“Lars could have made a fortune on that girl. She spins … well, just as good as your mother did.”
“High praise, indeed.” Sam lowered himself into an armchair. “I’ve heard you mention how gifted my mother was at the spinning wheel.”
“And it’s so.” Pa stood by the opened window. The wind had shifted and a pleasant breeze wafted in.
Sam glanced at the spinning wheel, feeling pleased it was in use again. He had to admit too that he was glad his gift outweighed Running Deer’s.
“I think I’ve prepared you for your trip to Madison as best I can.” Pa stared into his coffee cup for a long moment before looking at Sam. “I heard back from my friend John Evans. He’s got a stately home not far from the Capitol building.”
It sounded good to Sam. “I had assumed I’d stay with Oshkosh and his men.”
“No …” Pa appeared thoughtful. “I think it best you stay with John and his dau—” Pa coughed. “Excuse me. John and his family.”
“All right.” Sam trusted his father’s judgment. After all, Pa was usually the one who did the traveling as well as the negotiating.
“You’ll enjoy this adventure, Sam. I can promise you that.” A faraway gleam entered Pa’s blue eyes. “You’ll dine with educated men who smoke fat cigars and talk about current events.
They recline in rooms with rich, dark paneling, leather chairs, and entire walls dedicated to bound books.” Pa’s gaze returned to Sam. “I never learned to read English well.”
“What?”
“Oh, I speak English fluently, but reading …” Pa shook his head.
“But when I was a boy, you and I read the newspaper together every night. Then we’d discuss various issues.”
“Who read the newspaper?” Pa arched a brow.
Sam thought about it, remembering. “I read the newspaper.” He’d never realized it before. “You would ask me to read the articles.” He grinned. “I thought you were just making me practice my reading.”
“My intention was twofold, you might say.”
“I never knew that about you, Pa.”
He gave a deep shrug. “I learned to speak English as an adult—when we first came here from Norway. I had no reason to learn to read. I was a widower who needed to earn a living and support myself and my young son. The skills I acquired, even some farming techniques, were thanks to the trappers and the Indians who taught me. As for the negotiations I’ve made, they’ve been verbal and penned by Territory officials. But now that Wisconsin is a state, a more learned man will be needed.” Pa gave a single nod. “You are that man, Sam.”
“I’m flattered you think
so.” Sam stood. A niggling inside him couldn’t be ignored. “But I’m not sure politics is for me.”
“You haven’t tried it yet.”
“I know. And I’m willing. It’s just …”
“This is all new to you, Sam. It’s normal to feel some anxiety.”
“It’s not that, Pa.” Sam didn’t think he had an anxious muscle in his body. “It’s—”
“That girl!” Pa’s expression darkened. “Putting a little distance between you two won’t hurt. I’d say you’re leaving at just the right time. Wish it were sooner!”
Sam felt the same old frustrations coming on. But discussing them with Pa didn’t seem to make a difference. Lord, was there ever a stiff-necked man such as this one?
“Good night, Pa.” Sam left the sitting room and made his way to the stairwell. How could he influence an entire committee if he couldn’t even sway his own father?
The room he shared with Jackson felt hot and stuffy, despite the wind’s shift. Sam opened the window wider then climbed onto the lower bunk and stretched out. Felt good. Staring at the ceiling, he silently prayed, Lord, my future is and always has been in Your hands. You said let any man ask for wisdom and it would be granted unto him … well, I’m asking. For wisdom and for Your Holy Spirit to guide me to Madison, help me to complete the job I’m sent to do, and bring me back home safely.
Sam’s eyes fluttered closed, and that’s the last thing he remembered until the pinks of dawn shone through the window and the smell of Kristin’s strong coffee signaled that his chores awaited him.
Kristin began her Monday morning a bit tardy, and as a result, she hadn’t yet pinned up her hair before she made the coffee. Her bruised jaw felt more sore this morning than yesterday, and the purplish mar from Peder’s elbow had grown in size. Still, she’d managed to get herself dressed and planned to retreat to her room and tackle the task of winding her waist-long hair around her head once Sam and his father poured cups of their morning brew. But for now it would have to hang in a long, fat braid down her back.
Lighting the woodstove, she recalled the dream she’d had this morning. Mor and Poppa and her brothers were alive and healthy. They smiled and waved to her from Norway.
But, alas, it had only been a dream. And even though a couple of years had passed since their deaths, Kristin’s heart still ached for her family.
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