by Sara Luck
“Gehen jetzt schnell! He must not see you go.”
“Aren’t you going to tell Greta good-bye?”
“Ja. I will tell her.”
Jana stepped out into the hall to keep her eyes and ears alert for the sight or sound of her stepfather. Behind her, she heard her mother’s voice, quiet and anxious. She heard, too, Greta’s voice, questioning at first, then acquiescing.
Finally, wiping the tears on her apron, Marta stepped back into the hallway.
“Mama, the school! I can’t just leave without them knowing what happened to me. You must send word that I will not be coming back.”
“I will. Hurry, mein liebes Kind.”
Jana went back into the bedroom and found Greta sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Jana, are we leaving tonight, as Mother said?”
“Yes. Get packed, but only take what we can carry in one case between the two of us.”
“I’ll light the lamp,” Greta said, reaching for the matches.
“No, the light will be too bright. Light a candle. That’s all we’ll need. Hurry now.”
As Greta was packing, Jana withdrew a wooden picture frame from her drawer in the chest. It contained a wedding picture of Johann and Marta Hartmann, a happy young couple with no inkling of the sorrow to come. She held the picture, wanting to take it with her, but then she decided against it. It would just take up much-needed space in the case, and if she left it, she would have a good reason to return someday. Turning the picture around, she withdrew seven $10 bills she had managed to save from her salary last year. She stuck that money into a pocket of her dress. Then, helping Greta pack, Jana put in her own packet of paper and charcoal pencils for drawing.
“Do you really think we should do this? We may never see Mama again.”
Jana stopped and looked at Greta, who was standing in the light of the candle. She looked so fragile, so delicate, and Jana was hit with the enormity of the situation. Her mother had asked Jana to take on the responsibility of what both women thought was necessary to save Greta’s life, but no one had asked Greta if she wanted to do this.
“Greta, you’ve had no say in this, so I ask you now. Do you want to do this? Or would you rather stay?”
“I’m sad to leave Mama, but I’ll go wherever you take me.”
Jana gave her sister a hug, then picked up the case, handed the bag of food to Greta, and quietly they left the house.
Marta stood in the dark upstairs hallway and watched through the open window as her two daughters walked down the lane, then turned on the road toward Dewey Gehrig’s farm. She knew that she would likely never see either of them again, and she wiped the tears from her eyes before she went back to her bed. Frederick’s heavy snoring told her that he knew nothing of the girls’ escape.
She crawled into the bed beside him, then said a quick and silent prayer that she had done the right thing, and that Gott would look after her two daughters.
Bismarck, Dakota Territory—September 1882
Drew Malone stood in his law office and poured two cups of coffee. He looked back at the rather stout woman who was sitting on the other side of his desk.
“Ma’am, do you take cream or sugar?” he asked.
“I can’t always get cream or sugar, so I always drink it black.”
Drew handed her the cup of coffee, then sat down behind his desk. He held his cup in both hands for a moment.
“Tell me a little about yourself, Mrs. . . .” He glanced down at his paper. “Considine, is it?”
“Yes, sir. Elfrieda Considine. Well, I’ve been in the Dakota Territory for almost ten years now—came when they opened Fort A. Lincoln. My husband was proud to bring the best laundress Fort Riley ever had.”
“Your husband was Sergeant Considine?”
“No, sir. Martin was my second husband. He was killed with General Custer, rest his soul, but John Dalton was killed by a civilian in a drunken brawl. Do you drink, Mr. Malone? Because if you do, there’s no need for this conversation to continue.”
Drew’s eyebrows raised in amusement at the turn the interview had taken. This woman, who stood close to six feet tall and weighed at least 230 pounds, was interviewing him!
“I’ve been known to take a drink now and then.”
“I didn’t ask if you took a drink. I asked you if you drank. Believe me, there is a difference.”
“I am not a drunk, Mrs. Considine.”
“Good. Then when do I start?”
“Don’t you want to know what your duties will be?”
“I expect you want me to take care of the two little boys that you’ve been shufflin’ from pillar to post since your wife died.”
“Are you sure you were a laundress and not a detective?” Drew laughed openly.
“A woman alone in the world can’t be too careful about who she takes up with. I’ve buried two husbands, or rather, the army has buried two husbands for me, and, Mr. Malone, I want you to understand right now, I’m not in the market for another man.”
“That’s good to know, and I’m not in the market for another wife, so we should get along fine. Besides looking out for the boys, I’d like you to do some cooking, some housekeeping, and laundering. Are you agreeable to that?”
“Your ad in the Tribune said as much, so I’m expecting to do that. My cooking’s not fancy, but it’s tasty, and I run a clean house.”
“That’s all I ask. When can you start, Mrs. Considine?”
“Tomorrow will be right fine. My friends call me Elfrieda, and I would be honored if you would call me that as well.”
“And you may call me Drew.”
“No. While I never wore stripes, bein’ married to two soldiers and doin’ laundry for the bunch of ’em, I was in the army same as if I stood reveille ever’ mornin’. And the army taught me that rank has its privileges. You will be Mr. Malone to me.” Elfrieda stood and offered her hand for a shake. “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Elfrieda left, Drew stood and watched her from his window.
What a strange interview. She hadn’t asked him where he lived, what her living accommodations would be, how old the boys were, not even how much money he would be willing to pay her. He smiled. Something told him that with the introduction of Elfrieda, his household was about to be a whole lot different.
Drew hoped that was so. He had just put Rose Denton on a train back to Chicago. Rose was Addie’s mother and had come out to Bismarck to take her grandchildren back to “civilization,” as she called it. Thank God he’d gotten her on the train without his boys.
What business was it of hers how he raised his children? They were healthy and seemed happy. Maybe Sam couldn’t read as well as she thought he should, and maybe Benji said “son of a bitch” too often, but they had the love of every cowboy who rode the range at Rimfire Ranch, and the attention of every single woman in Bismarck. To get Rose to leave, he had agreed to hire a full-time nanny.
He laughed. Could Elfrieda Considine be considered a nanny?
The boys and he had been without a woman’s presence for two years now. Two painful, lonely years, he thought, and returned to his seat behind the desk.
TWO
July 4, 1880
From the Bismarck Tribune:
FOURTH OF JULY
The committee on grounds has prepared what is pronounced by competent judges to be the finest race course in the territory, and the speakers’ stand, seats, refreshment booths, official headquarters, the barrels for ice water, the bandstand, decorations, etc., are so nearly completed as to afford the most positive assurance that nothing will be lacking by July the 4th.
Cannon from Fort Lincoln will be fired at intervals during the day, and the combined bands of Bismarck (eighteen pieces) will furnish excellent music.
At 10:00 p.m. the grand pyrotechnic display will be held. The citizens of Bismarck can expect a glorious birthday celebration, as it has been reported that the goo
d merchants have put up $1,000 for this extravaganza.
When the marshals were assembling to head the parade, Drew Malone, who was one of the parade marshals, took his place beside Clement Lounsberry, the editor of the Bismarck Tribune, and Sheriff Alex McKenzie.
“You’ve done a great job promoting this celebration,” Drew said to Lounsberry. “Look at all the people. They’re everywhere.”
“I’m doing my damnedest,” Colonel Lounsberry said. “I want the Territorial Legislature to move the capital from Yankton to Bismarck, and it’s events like this that will get the word out. Anybody here will spread the word that we’re the town to watch.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling having so many folks in town. I’ll bet there’s at least twenty-five thousand people here, and when that many congregate, you know there’s going to be trouble,” Alex McKenzie said.
“I think you and your men can handle it,” Drew said.
“That’s why we keep electing you sheriff,” Lounsberry added.
“But this is different. You get all these people liquored up and bunched together. I don’t like it, not at all.”
When the marshals had walked the length of the parade route, Drew hurried back to join his wife, Addie, and their two children, who were sitting on a quilt spread out on the boardwalk in front of Drew’s office. A sign in gold leaf was painted on the door: PARTNERS, FRANK B. ALLEN & ANDREW B. MALONE, ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
Four-year-old Sam was sitting patiently, watching everything that was going on, while Benji, who was two, was making the acquaintance of a stray dog that had wandered up on the boardwalk.
“Stop it, Benji. Leave that mangy old thing alone,” Addie said as she moved the boy to another spot. But as soon as she sat down again, Benji went after the dog.
“Here, doggie, here, doggie,” Benji said as he jumped off the boardwalk, falling onto the street. When he did, his face puckered up, but he did not cry.
“Now look what you’ve done. Can’t you sit still like your brother?” Addie helped Benji to his feet and began to brush the coal cinders off his knees. “Where’s your father?”
“I’m here,” Drew said as he approached his family.
“Good. You take him. I should have kept them both at home,” Addie said.
“But Sam would have missed seeing the callithumpian band if you would have done that.” Drew picked up his younger son and put him on his shoulders. “Now you can’t get in any trouble, little man.”
Benji began to run his hands through Drew’s thick brown hair, making it stand up in stiff tufts.
Addie shook her head as she watched her son. “What am I going to do with him? He’s going to be the death of me yet.”
Drew put the boy back down. “You stay here with Sam, and Benji and I’ll go find something to eat. I’ll bet someone has ice cream. What do you think?”
“Don’t give him ice cream. That’ll be all he’ll eat if you do that.”
“Addie, it’s the Fourth of July. That’s what you do. You eat ice cream and you have a good time. Don’t worry, we’ll bring you some, too,” he said with a wink.
Just then a stovepipe cornet band, a washboiler drum corps, and a squeegee orchestra passed in front of them.
“Sam, look. The callithumpians. Clap your hands.”
Sam flashed a big grin at his father and began clapping as the men passed in front of him. One of the squeegee men ran over to the young boy, as if attempting to wipe his face, eliciting a squeal of laughter from Sam.
“Boys, come with me. You can help me find ice cream.”
Drew and his sons began moving through the crowd, speaking to first one person and then another. Drew was well-known in Bismarck. He had come out from Evanston, Illinois, in 1878 to handle land claims for the Northern Pacific Railway and had joined Frank Allen in a law partnership. Now, with more and more talk of statehood for the Dakota Territory, Clement Lounsberry and Alex McKenzie were talking to Drew about the possibility of his standing for Congress.
His father had long been a congressman from Illinois, and Drew had grown up going back and forth to Washington. He was particularly interested in it now, especially since Addie had just made it known that she was pregnant again.
When Benji came along, he was truly a handful. Drew had already decided he would surprise Addie by hiring a full-time girl to come live with them. Many upstanding immigrant girls were coming into Bismarck every day, some wanting to homestead themselves, and others just wanting to earn money to help their parents prove up their claim. Addie would like that he’d been thoughtful and love the help.
When the parade was over, Addie joined Drew and the children near the refreshment stands. Addie’s prediction had been accurate; after the ice cream Sam wasn’t interested in eating anything else, but finally accepted a piece of pilot bread and some cheese, while Benji was eagerly eating a cruller that was slathered with a sugary glaze.
“Andrew Malone, I’m not going to let you take care of them ever again. You just give them anything they want.”
“I’ll be good, Mama, I’ll never do it again,” Drew said as he gave Addie a kiss.
“Drew, someone will see you.” Addie looked around to see who might be standing nearby that would know her.
“I can kiss my wife anytime I want to.” He kissed her again as he drew her to him and held her.
Drew had never thought of any woman but Addie. They had known each other since childhood, having grown up next door to one another. Drew’s father, Samuel Malone, was a US congressman who spent most of his time in Washington, and Addie’s father, Eli Denton, was a professor at Northwestern University. Drew and Addie’s relationship was, and had always been, comfortable because it had been assumed by both families that they would marry someday. They were married soon after Drew graduated from law school at Northwestern, and Sam, their perfect child, was born within a year. Then Benji, their wild child, was born two years after that. They were a happy couple, a happy family.
“I want that,” Benji said as he grabbed at Sam’s hardtack. “It’s mine.” He tried to take the cracker as Sam, with much patience and practice, kept turning away from his brother, protecting his food.
“I think he’s had enough. If he’s going to be up for the fireworks tonight, he’d better take a nap,” Drew said. “Come on, let’s go home.”
“I’ll take him. I know how much you like this stuff.”
“Let me go with you. If I carry him, Benji may fall asleep on the way home and then we can just put him in bed.”
“All right. Sam and I may lie down, too, when we get home, right, Son?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sam answered.
When the family was within a block of home, they were met by an excited Sheriff McKenzie.
“Drew, you’d better get over to the glass-ball shoot. When I left, Major Bates was closing in on the record Fritz Kimball shot at St. Paul,” the sheriff said.
“How many has the major hit?”
“When I left, it was 236, and the record is 245. This is the first time we’ve used Mole’s trap to throw up the balls. That’s the key. If we keep that thing and practice, our team will beat Mandan every time.”
“I’d love to see him break the record, but . . .” Drew looked to Addie.
“Go ahead. I can get them home from here, and if Benji has to walk the rest of the way, he’ll be really tired,” Addie said.
“Thanks, honey.” Drew put Benji on the ground. “I’ll be home as soon as the major misses.”
“You don’t have to. Like I said, I need to lie down, too.”
Addie took Benji by the hand and started to lead him down the street.
Drew and the sheriff had walked no more than half a block away when Drew heard Sam’s scream, the scream that had brought him and the sheriff back to the scene. Addie lay prostrate on the ground, blood gushing from her neck, as Sam cried, “Mama, Mama, Mama,” over and over. Benji was, uncharacteristically, trying to comfort Sam. “Shuuuu, Sam, Mama’s sleeping.”
Her final words were: “Get a good woman to take care of my boys. I love you.” And then she died.
They never found out whose stray bullet hit her.
Chicago, Illinois—September 1882
Early Sunday morning, the Illinois Central rolled into Chicago’s Great Central Depot, where Jana and Greta left the train. The depot was crowded, and for an instant Jana was terrified. Chicago was a city of over half a million people, yet her mother had confidence that she could find one person among the multitudes. What if this cousin—this Marie Gunter, whom her mother had not seen in fourteen years—didn’t even live in Chicago anymore?
Jana felt for the cloth pouch that contained the savings that she was sure had taken her mother years to put aside. It was safely in her pocket. If she couldn’t find her cousin, she had more than enough money to go back home.
No, she had enough money to go back to Highland. She would not think of the farm as her home ever again. If she dwelled on that, she could not do what she knew she had to do. She would protect Greta no matter what it took.
Greta was staring at everything around her much as a child would, and when they stepped out into the crisp autumn air, Greta smiled. “Look, Jana.” Greta pointed toward the sun rising over Lake Michigan. “Isn’t it beautiful? I know when we find Mama’s cousin, we’re going to love Chicago. Could we walk down to the water right now?”
Jana looked up at the street signs and located them on Randolph Street and Michigan Avenue. She withdrew the money pouch from her pocket and looked at the letter her mother had asked her to give to Cousin Marie. Marie’s address was on the envelope.
“Let’s wait until we find Cousin Marie. Maybe she doesn’t live too far from the lake and we can come here for a picnic sometime.” Jana checked the address on the envelope. “Mama says she lives on Forty-Seventh Street. All we have to do is find someone who will take us there.”