Tracie Peterson, Tracey V. Bateman, Pamela Griffin, JoAnn A. Grote

by Prairie Christmas Collection

  Erik was even less impressed.

  As a hired hand, Erik had made a routine of sharing the morning and sometimes the evening meal, with Tilly and Sigrid. He seemed to resent having to share his sanctuary with fifteen to twenty rowdies every morning. Sigrid ignored his scowls and comments that the men would just tear up the place. She was happy to have something to focus on other than her mother’s death and her brother’s insistence that she move. She’d even managed to make a small peace with the railroad. She would never embrace this mode of transportation as being of particular importance in her life, but she could overlook their intrusion so long as it meant she could keep her parents’ home intact.

  “My, my, but aren’t you the sun in the sky,” Ruben said, as he joined the men who were filing into the living room for breakfast.

  Sigrid said nothing, but glanced down at the yellow calico gown. It was worn, yet serviceable, and she’d put it on with the intention of brightening her own day. She was tired of the dark woolens she’d worn all winter and tired of feeling a sense of loss for her mother every time she reached for something black. Spring was a time of colors and Sigrid wanted to bring such color back into her life.

  “Smells mighty good in here, ma’am,” a burly man with a matted black beard announced. “Hope you’re servin’ them thar Swedish pancakes again.”

  Sigrid smiled. “There are whole plates of them already on the tables, and I’ll be in directly with ham and eggs.”

  Ruben followed her into the kitchen and reached out to touch her arm. “I meant what I said. You are about as pretty as a picture today. I like what you’ve done with your hair, too.”

  Sigrid reached a hand up to the carefully pinned blond bun. She usually just braided her hair and pinned it up at the nape of her neck, but today she’d felt like something different. With a surprising flair of artistry, Sigrid had woven her hair atop her head, leaving wisps to fall around her face. In a moment of pure vanity, she’d even taken a fork and heated the tongs to carefully curl each wisp until it conformed to her desired style.

  “It really makes you look much prettier,” Ruben said. “Not that you weren’t already quite pretty to start with.”

  Sigrid felt her cheeks grow flushed and turned in a panic to check on the biscuits. Bent over the open oven door, she hoped that the redness of her cheeks would be explained away by the heat.

  “You shouldn’t find my praise so embarrassing,” Ruben whispered as she straightened up. “I’m quite sure any of these men would agree with me.”

  “You do go on, don’t you?” Sigrid said, busying her hands with slicing additional pieces of ham. “You’ll have to excuse me, I need to get these on the table.” She lifted two large platters of ham and eggs, but Ruben took them from her and leaned close to her ear.

  “Perhaps you would honor me with a walk later?”

  Sigrid jumped back, startled at the way his hot breath made her skin tingle. “I … ah … I have too much work to do.”

  “It can wait,” Ruben said with a roguish smile. “But I can’t.”

  He left her standing there cheeks flushed and heart racing, to stare after him. Sigrid had no idea how to deal with his attention. She’d never allowed herself to enjoy the attentions of any man, and now Ruben Carter was putting her resolve to the ultimate test.

  But why not enjoy it? she thought. I’m twenty-seven years old. It’s not like men are beating down the door to court me.

  Erik watched from the doorway as Ruben wooed Sigrid with his smiles and words. A pang of bitter jealousy coursed through him, and he didn’t like it at all. He’d known Sigrid for what seemed an eternity, but more than this, he’d loved her for nearly as long. And, he’d come to think of her as belonging to him.

  He remembered the first time he’d seen her at a church youth function. At least, it was the first time he’d seen her as anything other than a child. She was fifteen and the new pink gingham dress that she wore more than showed off her womanly charms. She had just started to pin her hair up and looked so very grown up that, for a moment, Erik had wondered who she was. It wasn’t long until he realized that this was the little Larsson girl. And, she wasn’t so little anymore.

  As Ruben passed by with the ham and eggs he gave Erik a sideways glance. Erik, feeling rather embarrassed, realized that he was scowling. He was even more embarrassed when he found Sigrid staring at him with a questioning look.

  “Something wrong, Erik?” she asked, before turning to pull biscuits from the oven.

  Erik crossed the small kitchen amidst the noise of the railroad workers’ hearty approvals. “This is wrong, Sigrid,” he said flatly. “You have a house full of rowdy men and no chaperone to keep you from their attention should somebody get out of hand. You know what they’re saying in town, don’t you?”

  She straightened and put the pan of biscuits on the counter. “No, I’m sure I don’t. I scarcely have time to lounge around town listening to gossip.”

  Erik’s conscience smarted, but not enough to leave the thing alone. “You’re risking your reputation here, and I think that Carter fellow is way too familiar with you if you ask me.”

  “Well, I didn’t. Stop playing big brother to me and stay out of it.”

  Erik wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her that being a big brother was the furthest thing from his mind, but instead he crossed his arms against his chest. “So you don’t care what people think?”

  “Not when they are misjudging me without bothering to learn the truth,” she said rather defiantly.

  Erik wondered if he was included in that group. Had he misjudged the situation? Was it mere jealousy that fanned his concern? He waited while Sigrid took out biscuits and coffee and tried to think of what he would say next.

  When she came back into the kitchen, she looked up at him for only a moment before heading to the back door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need more wood,” she said, motioning to the empty bin beside the stove.

  “Let me get it,” he offered.

  She looked at him hard for a moment, then nodded. “All right, but you must promise no more lectures.”

  He smiled. “I have to promise good behavior in order to haul wood?”

  He watched her fight back a smile before rolling her eyes. “No, but if you want breakfast then you must mind your manners.”

  He went outside into the darkness of the morning and noted that the faintest light was now touching the eastern horizon. They followed the well-worn path around the side of the house and Sigrid began picking up logs.

  “Here,” Erik suggested holding out his muscular arms, “just load me up.” Sigrid did as he told her and they worked silently for the remaining time.

  After making three more trips, the bin was full and the coffee perked cheerily atop the stove. The day was dawning, and with it, the railroad workers were taking their leave. One by one they filed out the front door, stopping only long enough to leave bits of change in the jar by the door. Ruben seemed reluctant to leave, but Erik made it clear that he was staying on and in no hurry to go about the farm’s daily chores. Returning Erik’s look of unspoken challenge, Ruben finally donned his hat and bid a busy Sigrid good day.

  “I’ll stop by later,” Ruben assured her, “with a railroad check. Maybe you won’t be too busy to take that walk then?”

  “Thank you, Mr. Carter, and we shall see,” she called over her shoulder, her arms filled with empty plates.

  When Carter had let the screen door slam behind him, Erik picked up a stack of plates and followed Sigrid into the kitchen. He wanted to question her about Carter’s mention of a walk, but he knew she’d only take offense.

  “You really shouldn’t wear yourself out doing this,” Erik began. He wanted to plead a case that would appear entirely sympathetic to her own condition. “Getting up at three-thirty and adding this to your other chores is taking on way too much.”

  Sigrid laughed at his concern. “Erik, I need the money, and y
ou know as well as anyone that a little hard work never hurt a body.”

  She was plunging the greasy plates into soapy water, but Erik took hold of her arm anyway and pulled her with him to sit at one of the empty tables. “I want to talk to you about all of this.”

  She wiped soapsuds onto her apron and shook her head. “There’s nothing more to be said. You heard Sven. He wants this place sold or he wants the money entitled him. I can work hard and give him the latter, but I can’t lose this place. Not yet.” Her expression softened and her gaze traveled the interior of the room. “I’m not ready to say good-bye yet. I know it might sound foolish, but that’s just the way I feel.”

  “I’m not asking you to say good-bye, nor to sell the house, unless of course you want to include me in on the deal.” He held up his hand as she started to protest. “You’ve got to understand, in many ways, I’m just as tied to the place as you are. After all, I’ve been helping to farm it for almost thirteen years.”

  “I know all of that,” she said, her voice edged with irritation. “That’s why you should understand how I feel.”

  “But I do,” he softly replied. He studied her confused expression. Her blue eyes seemed to search him for answers, and he wondered if he could go through with what he planned to do.

  “Then why can’t you understand my feeding the workers?” she asked flatly. “Why can’t you see that by the end of autumn the railroad will be finished, and I’ll have saved enough money to buy out Sven and Ina. It’s the only way.”

  “No. It’s not the … only way,” Erik said, hesitantly.

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  “You could marry me. I’d be happy to pay Sven and Ina whatever they thought fair.”

  Sigrid’s mouth dropped open. She stared at Erik with such a look of alarm that he wondered if he’d actually offended her.

  “Marry you? You must want this land bad to offer me marriage.” She got up from the table and Erik could read the anger in her eyes. “You’ve treated me like an unwanted little sister all of my life. When you ran around with my brother you ignored me or else teased me unmercifully and when it was just Moder and me you … well you—” She stopped mid-sentence, her face reddened from the tirade, eyes blazing in accusation. “Uff da!” she exclaimed in exasperation. “Why does everyone suddenly seem intent on putting me out of my home?”

  She ran from the room before Erik could offer a single word of explanation. Not that he was entirely certain that he would have even tried to speak. She was more angry than he’d ever seen her, and yet he couldn’t help but smile. Little sister, indeed, he thought. I’ve seen you as something more than a little sister for a great long while. But this thought only frustrated him more as he remembered that Ruben Carter obviously looked upon her in other than brotherly fashion.

  Leaning back in exasperation, Erik ran a hand through his hair and contemplated the situation. How can I convince her that it isn’t her land I love?

  Chapter 4

  SWEDISH RYE BREAD

  1 cup potato water (water from a boiled potato)

  ½ cup all-purpose flour

  1 potato (boiled and mashed)

  2 cups rye flour

  1 T. salt

  1 package of yeast

  2 cups water (or buttermilk)

  Mix and leave to rise until double in size.

  Boil together:

  ½ cup sugar

  ¼ cup shortening

  ½ cup molasses

  ¼ cup orange peel, finely grated

  Cool and put into doubled bread mixture. Work this well with 5 to 6 cups of flour to make a dough that doesn’t stick to the board. Form into 2 or 3 medium-size loaves and let rise until double. Bake at 3750F for 1 hour.

  A week later, Sigrid found that there were still no easy answers to the questions that plagued her mind. Erik made himself her constant companion so long as the railroad men were in the house. He was also more than attentive when Ruben Carter chose to spend time with her, and Sigrid felt great frustration with his interference.

  Even now, as she pounded out those frustrations on the bread dough she was working, Sigrid found Erik staring at her from over the rim of his coffee cup. He went later and later into the fields these days, and Sigrid knew that it was because of Ruben’s attentions. He’s appointed himself my guardian, she decided, and the thought of answering to yet another “brother” left a completely sour taste in her mouth. “Aren’t you worried about rain?” she asked, patting the dough into a ball.

  Erik glanced at the window, as if contemplating her question, then shook his head. “It won’t rain today. Maybe tomorrow. I’ve got time.”

  “Well if you’ve so much time on your hands you could fix that section of fence my cows keep escaping through. I did my best, but it won’t do much to keep them in if they get very determined to seek greener pastures.”

  “You want me out of here for a reason?” Erik asked, eyeing her seriously.

  She looked at him for a moment, thought of an angry retort, then bit it back and turned away. She couldn’t very well tell him that he made her uncomfortable. Everyone made her uncomfortable these days. She couldn’t even go to church without getting an earful of how scandalously she was behaving. It didn’t matter that she was working herself to death in order to save her home from being sold.

  “Well? Is that the reason? Is Mr. Carter headed back to fill your head with more nonsense?”

  Erik was referring to a conversation he’d come in on earlier that morning. Ruben had been telling her about his home in Kansas City. Well, home seemed a paltry description, compared to the glorious details Ruben had offered. Anyway, it wasn’t any of Erik’s business, she reminded herself.

  “Sit here all day, if that’s what you want,” she snapped and glanced out the window in time to see her brother coming up the walkway. “Oh, great. Now I’ll have two of you to deal with.”

  “What?” Erik said, getting to his feet. “Carter is back, isn’t he?”

  Sigrid turned angrily. “It’s Sven, if you must know. Now sit down and finish your breakfast. You might as well talk with Sven, because I have nothing more to say to either of you.”

  She covered the rye dough with a clean towel and went into the living room to pick up the last of the dishes. Sigrid could hear Erik greet her brother with an offering of coffee. She felt herself tense, wondering why she couldn’t understand Erik’s protective nature. He’d never been one to watch over her like this. Then again, Moder had always been alive to keep watch over her. But I’m twenty-seven, she thought with a sigh of exasperation. I don’t need someone to look after me. Then she thought of a prayer she’d been taught by her mother.

  Gud som haver barnen kar, Se till mig som liten ar.

  “God who holds the children dear, Look after me so little here,” she whispered.

  Tears came to her eyes. “Oh, Moder,” she whispered. “I miss you so. I do need God to look after me. I know that. But I don’t need—”

  “Well, Erik said you were hard at work,” Sven boomed, coming into the living room. “I don’t suppose you’re ready to put an end to this foolishness?” He didn’t bother to wait for her to answer. “I’m tired of hearing the talk about you in town.”

  Sigrid gave him a casual glance of indifference. “But I suppose you aren’t too tired of it to repeat what you’ve been bothered by.”

  Sven’s broad face tightened at the jaw, but otherwise he showed no other expression of emotion. “Those men seem to have a right good time taking their breakfast here.”

  “Good,” Sigrid replied and went back to wiping down the table.

  Erik had joined Sven by now and added his own thoughts on the matter. “I heard your name bandied about by that Carter fellow. He’s taking an awful liberty if you ask me—”

  “Well, I didn’t,” Sigrid replied and gathering up her things, whipped past both men before either one could respond.

  Sven was first to follow, and when he caught up with her he took he
r by the arm and made her come to sit at the table.

  “You’re going to talk about selling the land,” he said. “I know several people who are interested in buying—”

  “No!” Sigrid interjected. She crossed her arms and glared at both Sven and Erik. The men took seats opposite her and waited for her to calm.

  “Sigrid,” her brother began.

  “No, Sven. I don’t want to leave. Maybe next year. But not now. I need this house. I need to feel Moder’s presence. It gives my heart peace. I need to think about what I want to do. Where I want to go. Is that so hard to understand?”

  “No, but as I’ve already said, Ina and I could use the extra money.”

  “I’m planning to buy you both out,” Sigrid announced, surprising her brother. “That’s why I took on the job of feeding the railroad workers. Ruben, that is Mister Carter,” she added after noting the look on Erik’s face, “has seen to it that I’m amply paid.”

  “You think you can make enough to buy us out?” Sven asked with a look of disbelief.

  “How much are you expecting to make?” she asked, happy to at least have his attention turned in a direction she could deal with.

  “Well, I figured there would be at least fifty dollars for each of us. Tom Anderson said the place is worth at least one hundred fifty dollars, maybe more.”

  “I know I’d pay you that,” Erik threw out quite casually.

  “Fifty?” she asked, her voice faltering. “Each?”

  “Ja, that seems more than fair.”

  Fifty to each, she thought. That was one hundred dollars, not counting her own share. It might as well be a million for all the good it would do. She did a quick mental calculation and realized that if the railroad stayed in the area until November, she could amass the money needed. Maybe even by then, she could sell extra vegetables from her garden, as well.