Hjelmer kept his gaze frozen on Swen’s. He slid out two dollars.
Swen’s smile twitched. “I got those three Jacks beat, which means I got to have that third King in the hole, don’t it? Well, I’m a gonna see your two lousy bucks and raise ya another two.”
Hjelmer sat without moving a muscle for a good thirty seconds. He didn’t even breathe. This was it. His four Jacks gave him the lock on the hand.
Swen’s mouth twitched again and nearly broadened into a real smile.
Throwing four silver dollars in the pot, Hjelmer softly but firmly whispered. “I’ll see your two dollar raise and bump you back two.”
Swen’s eyes narrowed, his brows meeting in a straight gash across his forehead. His voice deepened, like a bear about to roar. “You better not have another Queen in the hole for a full house. If you do, I know you been cheating, dealing seconds like I been suspecting.” He propped his elbows on the table. “I call your two dollar raise. Whatcha holding?” He flipped over his hole card. “There’s my third King.”
“I don’t have a Queen in the hole.” Hjelmer could hear an intake of breath by the spectators.
Swen let a touch of unholy glee light his black eyes for only an instant.
As he rolled over his hole card, Hjelmer murmured. “What I got is four Jacks.”
The sparkle turned to lightning. “You been cheatin’!” Swen exploded. He slammed both hands on the table, and a roar of obscenities blistered the ears of those at the table and anyone within a city block. “I’m going to cut your heart out and feed it to the fish. I’ll kill you, you . . .” Swen reached across the table with both hands, fingers wide to clamp around Hjelmer’s neck. The young man ducked sideways, scooped the remainder of his winnings and leaped to his feet.
The monster came at him, tables, chairs, and bodies flying in all directions. One pile-driver fist caught him a glancing blow on the shoulder, and Hjelmer staggered back, saved from crashing to the floor only by the arms of his friend.
“Run!” Tor yelled in his ear.
The two pelted out the room.
“I’ll find you, you thieving whelp. . . .” The thunder behind them leant power to their legs. “You can’t run far enough,” the giant bellowed behind them. “I’ll find you.” The string of Norwegian curses promised all manner of damage to his person, his family, and anyone in any way connected to him.
After a mile of turns and pounding feet, Tor leaned against a wall, struggling to catch his breath. “He means it.”
“Naa, it will blow over by Monday. I won that hand fair and square.”
“I know that, and you know that. But I saw Swen hit a man one time, and the man never got up again.”
“The police—”
“You think those Irish loudmouths care what happens here to us Norwegians?” He stood upright again. “You better get your stuff and head west to that homestead you told me about.”
The two walked on, feeling safe now that they could no longer hear the raging Swen.
“But my job—”
“Hjelmer, listen to me. That man will kill you. He said he would and he meant it. You took every dime he had. And worse, you made him look the fool.”
Hjelmer spun around. Was that footsteps he heard behind them? He saw no one, but the hairs on his arms and neck stood at attention.
Lars’ foot will most likely have to come off,” Haakan said to Ingeborg one evening at the supper table.
Ingeborg looked up from cutting the venison steak into small pieces for Andrew. “There must be some other way to save it. How will Lars get around with one foot missing?”
“I could carve him a new one. Wouldn’t be good as the real thing, but better than nothing. I heard tell of men after The War between the States who hobbled around on less than that.”
“Ja, they hobbled.” Ingeborg shook her head. “Kaaren has lost so much in her life already. How can she endure this one more thing?”
“Lars is the one losing the foot, not Kaaren.”
“I know.” Ingeborg got up for the coffeepot.
“Is there a doctor in St. Andrew?”
“No. The closest one’s in Grand Forks.”
“How do you cut off a foot?” Thorliff looked up from mashing his potatoes.
“Eat your supper.”
“I am. How do you cut through the bones?”
“The same way we cut through wood.”
“With an ax?”
“No, more likely with a saw.”
“What would you do with the foot?” Thorliff propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward, the light of curiosity gleaming in his eyes.
“Thorliff Bjorklund, this is not a subject we need at the table. Finish your supper.”
“But, I—” Her look quelled any further questions.
Haakan quailed under the look she shot him, too. Andrew banged his spoon on the table and laughed as if someone had just told a marvelous joke or tickled his tummy.
Ingeborg rolled her eyes heavenward. “Hu tu me tu!”
After the children were tucked in bed and sleeping, she brought up the subject again. “We have been massaging Lars’ foot and using both hot and cold water soaks, but the blood circulation doesn’t return, and the pain is getting worse.” She thought about her dwindling supply of herbs. Something in there should be good for frostbite and the blisters that were now forming, but if the gangrene took hold, she had no idea what to do. Either cutting off the entire foot or amputation back into the healthy flesh seemed the only options.
“I will take the foot off if we need to.” Haakan sat by the fire carving on a piece of wood. The shavings mounded at his feet and released the sweet smell of cedar into the warm air.
“Have you done such before?”
He shook his head. “Have you or Kaaren?”
“Nei. In Nordland we had a doctor who attended such things. My mor was the local midwife, so I learned much from her, and then after we arrived here, Metiz taught me about the local roots and herbs. I need to grind up some more willow bark to help ease the pain. I wish we had some laudanum. That works so much better.”
“You want I should go to St. Andrew to get some?”
“If you rode, you could make the trip fairly quickly.” Ingeborg picked up her knitting that always lay ready for her in the basket by her chair. As the needles began their clicking song, she heaved a sigh. “Somehow we have to save that foot.”
Later, after Haakan had made his way to the barn and his bed in the far stall, Ingeborg took out her Bible and turned to the stories of Jesus healing the lepers. Wasn’t this chilblain much like leprosy, only instead of the diseased part falling off, it had to be cut off? Either way, the sufferer lost a part of himself. And for a man without a foot, the prairie could exact a terrible price.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the carved back of the chair. “Father in heaven, I know not what to do. The pain is making Lars talk gibberish at times, and Kaaren is weak from the little one she is carrying. Please, help us. As you healed the lepers with your touch, I ask you do so again.” She rocked and prayed, prayed and rocked. Wood settled in the stove with a gentle whoosh. Paws barked outside the door, then settled back down again just as she was about to go see what was bothering him.
“Thank you for Haakan who has come to help for the summer.” He’d looked chastened like a small boy when she scolded him and Thorliff at the supper table. She could feel the smile that rose from her midsection and bloomed on her face. He made her laugh at times, and he made Thorliff laugh, which was even more important. No eight-year-old boy should bear the responsibilities that he did. A sigh followed the smile. What would they do when the man left to return to the Minnesota north woods as he planned?
She could hear her own mor’s voice as if she stood right behind the rocker. “Let the day’s own troubles be sufficient for the day.” She couldn’t worry about fall. She had to get through the spring first.
And the red blisters forming on the dead,
white flesh of Lars’ foot.
She took the willow bark over to Kaaren’s in the morning. “Here, make a tea of this for him to drink. It will help ease the pain.”
“I know.” Kaaren accepted the packet of powder. “Willow bark.” She rubbed her forehead with one hand. “I think I’ll drink some, too.”
“Haakan said he’d go to St. Andrew for laudanum.”
“But Haakan needs to be out in the fields. Besides the pain, being unable to help with the work is what’s driving Lars insane. We had such big plans for this season.” She poured water from the steaming teapot into a small kettle and added some of the willow bark. “How much should I use?”
“About that much again. I’ve been wracking my brain for something else to try.” A line of shouted gibberish erupted from the bed. Andrew tangled his fists in her skirt and stared, big eyed, at the bed. Ingeborg picked him up and jiggled him on her hip. “There now, it is only Onkel Lars.” At another shout, Andrew buried his face in her shoulder and whimpered.
Kaaren poured some of the steeped liquid into a cup and crossed the room. “Lars, here, drink this.” She sat down on the board that edged the rope-strung bed and leaned forward to help her husband sit up to drink. Instead, he waved an arm, catching her on the side of her head and knocking her backward. The cup flew up in the air, liquid flying every which way.
“Hu tu mi tu!” Ingeborg ran across the room and helped Kaaren sit upright. “Has that happened before?”
Kaaren shook her head. “He’s not been violent. I know that the pain is driving him wild, but this—” She rubbed at a reddening spot on her cheek. Tears filled her eyes and she dashed them away. “We have to do something, Ingeborg. Haakan is needed in the field, and knowing you, you’d like to be out there, too. I will ride into St. Andrew.”
“And who will watch over Lars?” And the boys? Ingeborg thought but didn’t add.
Kaaren shook her head. “I don’t know what to do!” She wrapped her arms around her middle and swayed back and forth, trying to rock the pain away.
Ingeborg tied Andrew in the rocker with a couple of spoons to play with, returned to the stove, and once again filled the cup with warm liquid. “First, we must get this into him so he can endure the pain.” She carried the cup back to the bed. “Lars! Lars! Listen to me.” His eyes fluttered open, vague and without sense. “Lars!” The command in her voice cut through the vapors clouding his head.
“I hear you, Ingeborg. Need you holler so?”
“Thanks be to God,” Kaaren whispered.
“Drink this. It will help with the pain.” Ingeborg propped him up with an arm beneath his shoulders and held the cup to his lips.
He made a face but drank the brown liquid. Pain had sculpted canyons in his face from nose to chin and furrows across his brow. He lay back when finished and took in a deep breath. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
Ingeborg and Kaaren swapped looks of consternation.
“You don’t have to treat me like I’m an invalid, you know. I’ve seen people with frostbite and chilblains before. I know how the treatment must go.” He looked to his wife, now sitting on the edge of the bed again. “If we must take off the foot to save the man, so be it. Just don’t wait too long to make the decision. I want to be around to see that babe of ours born and help him grow up.”
“Him, him. Don’t these men ever think about having daughters to care for them in their old age?” Ingeborg set the cup on the table. The twinkle in her eye belied the brusqueness of her tone.
“After a boy, we will have girls, then more boys and then more girls.”
“Ja, you will keep me breeding all the time. Who will teach that school all of these children of ours are going to need?” Kaaren laid a hand protectively on her belly. “And besides, I think this one is a girl. She will help me with all those boys you want.”
Andrew, tired of playing with his spoons, began to whimper in his chair.
“I better get about my chores.” Ingeborg stood and crossed to the rocker where Andrew beamed her a smile fit to break any woman’s heart. She untied the dish towel and lifted him into the air, kissing his ruddy cheeks and blowing on his neck. The child’s chortles made even Lars smile around his pain. “I will see you later.”
Kaaren followed Ingeborg out the door. “If you want to ride to St. Andrew, I will care for the boys and make the supper. If you go now, you would be back in time.”
“Ja, I thought of that, too. Let me tell Haakan what we plan. I just wish Metiz would come back. She might know of something to help. Laudanum will only dull the pain, not cure the foot.”
Ingeborg strode across the field to her own soddy, carrying Andrew because she had no time for him to examine every worm and leaf along the way. If curiosity were wealth, Andrew would be the richest child in the world. Thorliff was out with his sheep, and Haakan was plowing to the west. She could see him moving slowly down the furrows, the rich earth turning over behind him. They should have two teams out there so the planting could be finished. If it wouldn’t scandalize Haakan too much, she would join him in the morning. Why was it men reacted so strongly to a woman’s being capable of handling teams and machinery? If one of them felt like washing dishes or baking bread, she surely wouldn’t be offended.
She quickly slipped her men’s pants on under her skirt, bundled some bread and cheese into her pockets, and snatched up Andrew as she went out to the corral to bridle the mule. One of these days, they should think seriously about getting a saddle. She led the mule and carried Andrew out to the field to tell Haakan the plan.
“I’m riding to St. Andrew for the laudanum. Kaaren will care for Andrew and make the meals for the day. Would you please tell Thorliff what is happening?” The words came out in a rush, for with the first ones, she could tell he wasn’t pleased.
“I told you I could go.” He pushed his hat back on his head.
“I know that. But there is so much to be done in the fields, and with only one man—well, I just thought I am the most dispensable one.”
“But you don’t have a sidesaddle or a saddle of any kind.” One of the horses stamped its feet and started to move forward. “Whoa, there.” He tugged on the reins. “It’s . . . it’s—”
“Unseemly, I know.” Ingeborg heaved a sigh of frustration. “But out here on the prairie some things are more important than what’s seemly or not.” Her inflection on the word said clearly what she thought of it. “Besides, I have my britches on.” She lifted the edge of her skirt to show the hem of the men’s pants she wore. “I will be all right, and with both on, I’ll be warmer, too.” A brisk breeze had sprung up. While not as warm as it had been, still the prairie would dry quickly because of it.
Andrew began to wriggle on her hip. “Down, Mor, down.”
“In a minute. You want to ride on the mule with me?”
A grin turned his cheeks to rosy apples. “Me ride.” He reached for the mule’s bridle, so close beside him. The mule jerked back.
“I better be going.”
“You’ll be careful?” The look of concern that creased Haakan’s forehead made a warm glow begin in Ingeborg’s middle.
“Ja. This old mule can lope all day. We’ll be back before dark.”
“We’ll have lamps in the windows, just in case.”
The glow spread. “Here, if you could hand him up to me?”
Haakan took Andrew. Ingeborg turned to belly herself up on the mule.
“Let me help you.”
She paused and turned to face him. He offered a hand on one bent knee, Andrew clutched in the other arm. While the baby tipped the man’s hat off his head and chortled in glee, the man held her gaze with his.
Frissons of delight raced each other up and down Ingeborg’s back. With a swallow and a nod, she placed her foot in his hand and swung aboard the mule, settling her skirts down as far as possible on her legs. When she looked down at him from her fussing, he stared up at her, his eyes blue like bits of the sky above had come down to visit ear
th.
Her breath caught in her throat. “M-mange takk.” The words cracked. The wind lifted his hair, giving her the insane urge to smooth it back. He held the baby up to her, and in the passing, his fingers touched hers, warm, safe, and comforting.
“Hurry home.”
She thought of his words as she turned the mule to go. Looking back once, she saw him retrieve his hat and slap the dirt off it on his knee before settling it back in place with both strong hands. “Gidup, Jack.” She clapped her legs against the animal’s washboard sides. Was that a promise she’d seen in his eyes? Surely he had felt the same when their hands touched?
She shook her head. What was the use? He was leaving in the fall, so she’d best not be mooning over a man about to leave. “Come on, mule.” She hugged Andrew to her, and the mule broke into the same ground-covering lope that would take her to St. Andrew and back.
After depositing Andrew in Kaaren’s waiting arms, Ingeborg again set off north across the prairie. She let her straw hat fall behind her shoulders on its ribbons and lifted her face to the sun. She had freedom for the day. What a heady thought. There were no meals to cook, no bread to bake, no cows to milk, and although she would probably be back in time for evening chores, no child clung to her skirts. She was free!
The temptation to take her braids down and let the wind blow through her hair shocked her back to sensibility. She shook her head and laughed at herself. One would think she were twelve instead of twenty-eight. Ducks quacked overhead on their northward flight. A meadowlark sang his spring courting song. The rich smell of burgeoning spring on the prairie made her sniff more than once. She gazed ahead at the hurt-your-eyes green of the growing grasses rippling before the wind. “Mange takk, Lord above. What a wondrous thing you have created here.” And since there was no one around to remind her that whistling was not proper for women, she pursed her lips and, in the cadence of the cantering mule, whistled “O God, Our Help in Ages Past” while the words ran through her mind at the same time.
By the time the sun reached its zenith, Ingeborg was wishing she’d brought a flask of water along. She chewed the dry biscuits with a slab of cheese in each and reminded herself to be grateful for the food and to quit wanting more. The brown water that flowed in the Little Salt didn’t appeal, so she knew she wasn’t too thirsty.
Lauraine Snelling - [Red River of the North 02] Page 15