They crossed the wooden platform, and he held the door for her to enter the one-room building. In a half-walled cubicle at one corner, a man sat at a desk, green eyeshade in place, fingers busily tapping out the Morse code of the telegraph. Benches lined the walls, and a potbellied stove stood regally in the center of the scuffed wood floor, ready to pour out the heat soon to be needed.
Hjelmer waited until the man finished sending his message and looked up. “Good day. We’re looking for a rancher named Elkanah Moyer. He was to meet this young woman at the train. Might you have a message for Miss Asta Borsland?”
“Nope, no messages.” The station manager flipped through a brief file of telegraph messages and checked another cubbyhole. “Sorry.”
“But I sent him a letter.” Asta leaned her hands on the counter. “Surely there is something.”
“You might try the post office right across the street at the general store. Miz Monahan knows about everybody in these parts.” The clicking began again, and the man returned to his work.
Hjelmer and Asta did as suggested, but the answer was the same. No message for Miss Borsland.
God in heaven, what do I do with her now? I can’t find the woman I want, and here I end up having this one to take care of.
“Wait a moment,” the postmistress said. “Did you say Elkanah Moyer?”
“Yes. I believe he has a ranch near here.”
“Not near here, and he doesn’t come into town often, but I believe something came for him the other day.” She sorted through a stack of envelopes. “Aha. I thought so.” Waving the letter, she returned to the window. “See.”
Asta crumpled in on herself. “That’s my letter. I wrote it clear back in July. He never knew I was delayed.” She turned stricken eyes on Hjelmer. “What do I do now?”
Hjelmer turned to the woman behind the counter again. “Do you know where his ranch is?”
“Not really, just the general direction.” She smiled at a man waiting behind them. “Howdy Judge, be with you in a second.”
“Any idea who might know where he lives?”
The woman shrugged again. “How about you, Judge, you know where Elkanah Moyer’s ranch is?”
The white-haired gentleman shook his head. “That name surely does sound familiar, though.” He extended his hand to Hjelmer. “I’m Judge Rhinehart, circuit rider for South Dakota. Ipswich is not only one of my stops, but it is my home. Why is it you are looking for him?”
Hjelmer introduced himself and his companion, then translated for the woman at his side. “Miss Borsland here came from Norway to marry Mr. Moyer on one of the arranged marriages. He purchased her ticket and all.”
“Moyer, Elkanah Moyer.” The judge snapped his fingers. “That’s it. I married him and a Norwegian woman, oh, about a month ago, the last time I was home for a while. She seemed a mite confused, but I put that up to the strange land and all.”
When Hjelmer translated again, Asta gasped, her hand to her throat. “But . . . but . . . he was supposed to marry me. I . . . I have the contract right here.” She fumbled in her bag and drew forth an official-looking document. “S-see.”
“Can you tell me what the woman he married looked like?” Hjelmer was almost afraid to ask.
“Well, she was tall, her blond hair in a bun. Oh, I know, she had the bluest eyes.” He glanced up at Hjelmer, who stood about six inches taller than he. “Like yours. Couldn’t get over the color of her eyes. You related to her by any chance?”
“I might be. If she’s my sister, that is. I’ve been searching for her for the last month. She was supposed to come to Blessing, North Dakota, but somehow got on the wrong train, and it looks like she got off here. Why in the world would she . . .” Hjelmer shook his head. “I don’t want—no, I have to find her. You have any idea where this ranch might be?”
“Someplace west of here. Shame the land plats aren’t here in town, or we could look ’em up. Tell you what. You could go to Pierre to the land office. They could tell you what sections he owns.”
“Could I telegraph for that information?”
“Good idea. That you could. Would surely be faster. Ah, these modern miracles. Takes some getting used to.” The judge stuck his hands in his vest pockets and rocked back on his feet. “Shame I got all my paper work done and sent in, or I’d have a copy of their marriage license here.”
“What is he saying?” Asta tapped Hjelmer on the arm so he would translate, which he did with obvious hesitation.
“Married! I can’t believe it.” She took a handkerchief from her bag and wiped her nose. “Now what will I do? I have very little money left, I . . .” She looked wildly around the room like an animal caught in a trap and fearing for its life.
“Easy, now.” Hjelmer turned back to the judge. “Is there a hotel or boardinghouse”—he nearly choked on the word—“where she can have a room until we sort this out?” How much he’d rather be at his mother’s boardinghouse, even though she’d be haranguing him to find his sister. Even the arguing Congress would be better—and that was where he should be.
“Of course. Right across the street and down two buildings. Fine hotel, serves meals, full bar, cardroom. Can’t ask for more.” Judge Rhinehart offered his hand again. “I have an appointment, but if there is anything else I can do, please ask. I’ll be here in Ipswich for another week or two. Holding court right there in the private dining room at the hotel.”
“Thank you. I’ll get Miss Borsland settled, then send that telegram. You’ve been most helpful and I—we appreciate it.” He took Asta by the elbow and explained things to her as they went out the door.
But even after a nap and another recitation of the facts, Asta alternated winding her fingers together and dabbing at her eyes with a bit of cambric. Sitting at the supper table in the hotel, she asked again, “What am I going to do?”
Hjelmer heartily wished he were home hammering steel into a new shape. Right then he felt like hammering about anything. “I wouldn’t make any hasty decisions until you speak with Mr. Moyer.”
“But what if he really is married to your sister?”
And I have to be the one to tell my mor. Lady, you think you got troubles. But he kept his thoughts to himself and a concerned look on his face. “There are plenty of men in the Dakotas who need a wife. Have no fear, you’ll be married soon.”
The look on her face told him immediately that he had said the wrong thing. Why, oh, why had he been polite and invited her to supper?
Because your mor always taught you to look out for women. That is the polite and Christian thing to do.
As soon as was decently possible, he hustled her back up the stairs to her room and escaped to walk the town and ruminate on his own thoughts. He would drive out to the ranch, grab his sister, and drag her back with him to Blessing. But what if she doesn’t want to go? The little voice in his mind could go jump in the Missouri for all he cared.
Here he had a perfectly wonderful wife at home, whom he loved being with. Her cooking far surpassed that of the cook in the hotel, and she would rub his shoulders when they were tight as knots. He consciously rotated his neck and let his shoulders slump. God, please take care of Penny for me and, if possible, let her have a child, since that is the desire of her heart. You know I don’t particularly care one way or another right now, but she does. And please comfort Mor when she receives this latest bit of bad news.
He strode on, not really seeing much of the town at all. Lights glowed from windows since dusk crept in around him, but the street was empty, making him even more aware of how lonely he felt. Whatever was he doing in Ipswich, South Dakota, when everything he held dear was miles to the north?
“Uff da!” He turned back to the hotel and made his way up to his room, bypassing the cardroom, where a group of men seemed to be having a fine time. If only he hadn’t made that vow. He shook his head. He could probably even recoup the money he’d spent on this chase to find his sister if he sat at the card table for a time. Cards ha
d always liked him.
He sighed again, pushed open the door to his room, and went to bed. Somehow in the morning he’d have to talk Miss Borsland into staying here in town while he went searching for the Moyer ranch.
But convincing Asta Borsland to stay in Ipswich was like trying to stop the Red River from flooding in the spring.
He should have just left without her.
After a breakfast filled more with arguing than food and armed with a telegram that gave the section numbers of the Moyer ranch, he and the stubborn Miss Asta Borsland set out in a rented team and wagon. The man at the livery assured them that ranchers along the way would be glad to give them a room at night. Visitors were few and far between, making strangers all the more welcome.
Two letters addressed to Elkanah Moyer accompanied them, one of them sent by Asta herself.
“I really think it would be better for you to stay in town until I return.” Hjelmer tried to argue his point again. “After all, this is not seemly, me a married man and you an unmarried woman.”
“Ah, what am I to do if he really is married?” At that she broke into tears again. The very thing that had undone him earlier. Soaking handkerchiefs seemed to be a special skill of hers.
Hjelmer never had been able to ignore a woman’s tears.
Chapter 28
Blessing
October 1
Ingeborg felt as though she were trapped in mud and couldn’t run.
Grace held a handful of black dirt up and let it run through her fingers, unaware of the impending danger.
The horse pounded closer.
“Run, Grace! Oh, God, help!” Ingeborg could hear herself screaming as she ran. Someone else was running too.
A form flashed past her. Paws headed for the horse like a bullet shot from a thirty-ought-six. He leaped for the horse’s nose and clamped on. The horse reared, flailing forefeet trying to dislodge the thing on his nose.
Ingeborg scooped up the little girl, clutching her to her breast. Heart thudding like a steam engine in full throttle, Ingeborg watched as Paws was flung across the yard by the terrified horse. Two men got hold of the bridle and brought the beast to a quivering halt.
“Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you.” She panted the words, patting Grace who had begun to whimper. “It’s all right, little one. You’re fine now.” She kissed Grace’s cheek and handed her to her mother. “That was a scare, for certain sure.”
“Mor, Paws!” Andrew darted to the dog’s side and knelt in the dust. “Paws, good dog, you stopped the horse.”
Thorliff skidded to a stop beside his brother. He knelt and felt Paws’ chest. “He’s still alive.”
“He’s not bleeding. Is he broken?” Andrew looked up with tear-filled eyes. “He’s such a good dog. Please, God, let him be all right.”
Ingeborg and Haakan reached the boys at the same time. Haakan opened the dog’s mouth and peered at his gums. “Doesn’t seem to be bleeding internally.” He put an arm around Andrew and held him close while the boy struggled against the tears.
“Mor, he saved Grace’s life.” Thorliff stroked his dog’s ears, turning his head so that he could wipe his cheek without seeming to.
“I know. Thank the Lord for that.” Ingeborg stroked Andrew’s hair. “Easy son.” Please, God, this little dog gave everything he had. Let him stay with us, please. You say you care about everything that we care about, and you can see how my boys are sorrowing.
“Let’s get a gunnysack and carry him over to the barn in the shade.” Haakan nodded to Baptiste, who ran to the barn.
“If he’s breathing, maybe he just got knocked out,” one of the other men offered.
“Let’s hope so.” Haakan lifted the dog’s eyelid. Paws flicked his hand with a weak tongue.
“Ma, did you see that?” Andrew’s blue eyes sparkled through the tears.
“Thanks be to God.” Kaaren, hugging Grace to her shoulder, said what everyone else was thinking. “Thank you, God, for a little dog who stopped a horse like that.”
As she passed, all the women reached out and patted Grace. Sophie clung to her skirts, eyes still wide from the scene. The men went back to work on the cheese house, and the sound of hammers and saws again filled the air.
“Let’s put him on a quilt by the stove instead. He could be cold from the shock.” Ingeborg looked to Haakan, who nodded his agreement.
Thorliff and Baptiste slipped the sack under Paws, then Haakan and Thorliff carried him, depositing him on the folded quilt by the stove in the kitchen. Andrew knelt beside him, and Paws tried to wag his tail, barely brushing the floor but moving nonetheless.
“Go get a dipper of water and trickle some into his mouth.”
Thorliff did as told, and Paws licked his hands.
Ingeborg carefully felt the dog’s ribs and along his back, watching for any sign of flinching. “I think he might have a broken rib.” She felt the bone again and nodded. “I think so. That would make him hurt awhile, but like people he’ll heal from it.”
“I wish my grand-mère was here. She’d know what to do.” Baptiste joined the boys in stroking the dog.
Ingeborg smiled at the boy’s certain voice. Metiz had helped save other lives in the years they’d been friends, and Ingeborg missed her every day. It seemed she’d been gone for years and not just two months. She used to be gone all winter, but now that they’d built her a good solid house, she stayed through the year.
“I’ll be glad when she gets back.”
“Me too.”
Ingeborg left the boys with the dog and went back outside to see what she could do to help. Grace came up and pulled at her skirt.
“Hi, little one.” Ingeborg squatted down to be on eye level with her niece.
Grace’s fingers flew in the signs for thank you.
“Slow down.” Ingeborg made a slowing motion.
Grace grinned at her and nodded, then moved her fingers more slowly.
While Ingeborg had to concentrate, she got the drift. Now how to answer? Slowly her fingers formed y-o-u a-r-e w-e-l-c-o-m-e. While she knew Grace could do some lip reading, she felt honor bound to try to learn the signs like everyone else.
Grace flung her arms around her aunt’s neck and kissed her cheek.
Ingeborg hugged her close, blinking several times. Such a terrible close call that had been. And it wasn’t like no one had been watching her. In her mind’s eye she could see again the little girl happily playing in the dirt. The others were running hither and yon, but Grace seemed to enjoy being alone at times.
Grace tugged on her hand, so Ingeborg followed her over to the rising walls of the cheese house. Grace peered in the section left open for a wide door. Since the floor was three feet down, one of the men was hammering together boards for stairs. Grace indicated the whole scene with a sweep of her arm and, grinning up at her aunt, clapped her hands.
Ingeborg smiled back, dropped a kiss on the little nose, and clapped her hands too. “Yes, my cheese house is wonderful.”
“Sure ’nough will be big.” Mr. Rasmussen grunted as he set another block of sod on the wall. He indicated the wall with a crooked finger. “I’m learning how to build a soddy. That is good, huh? That way I’ll know how to get my own up. Did Mr. Bjorklund talk to you ’bout what I said yet?”
Ingeborg shook her head.
“I asked if my wife and young’uns could stay the winter here with you. I’ll head west in the next couple of weeks and go scouting for land, then when I find some, I’ll come back and work out the winter for Haakan. Soon as spring comes, we’ll all head out. Take the train to Bismarck or Minot or so and get a horse and wagon for the rest.”
Ingeborg nodded. “Seems a sound plan to me. I’ll be glad for the extra hands here.”
“Mor!” Andrew called from the back stoop. “Come quick.”
“I’m coming.” She smiled at Mr. Rasmussen and headed for the house. “What is it?”
“Paws is sitting up. Come see.”
Ingebo
rg took the hand he extended and followed his tugging into the house. Paws indeed was sitting up, panting, but he lay back down with a slight whimper when she stroked his head. “Let’s just let him sleep, all right?”
“But when we started to leave, that’s when he sat up. I think he wants to follow us. You know how he likes it when so many people are here.” Andrew sat down beside his friend.
“Maybe you should stay here with him for a while, then. You want me to get Deborah and Ellie so the three of you can play checkers?”
Andrew nodded. “Thanks, Ma.”
After sending the girls inside, Ingeborg wandered over to the fire where the coffeepots hung steaming from iron tripods. Geese honked their way south overhead, making her wish for a chance to go hunting. She saw Baptiste look up and knew he felt the same. Once the cheese house was done, he would be free to hunt every afternoon after school. That’s why he and Thorliff had been splitting so much wood to keep the smokehouse going.
She poured herself a cup of coffee and blew on the steaming mug.
“Come on over,” Kaaren called. “We’re discussing our school for the deaf. Agnes has a really good idea.”
Chapter 29
The Ranch
October 1
“I’d like you to meet my wife, Mrs. Moyer.” Kane nodded to the major standing beside him. The men had just come in for supper after the day spent rounding up the remaining cattle to be transported to the army post.
“Pleased, I’m sure.” The officer tipped his hat. “Major John Grunswold at your service. This is a recent occurrence?”
“Yes, about a month ago. The difficult part is that she doesn’t speak English, only Norwegian. We are trying to teach her to speak English.” Kane smiled at Augusta, who wore her stoic look. He knew she wondered what they were saying.
Augusta watched them talk, wishing with all her heart she knew what their words meant. It seemed to be about her, the way they kept glancing in her direction. Oh, Lord, I am so weary of not understanding the people talking around me. Please give me some hint of what they are saying.
Blessing in Disguise Page 22