Jan knew his actions were not at fault, yet he had no peace. Instead, his heart was in turmoil. Every beat of it seethed with anger toward the men who had tried to steal an innocent girl. With that anger, long-buried resentment toward his brother and father boiled toward the surface.
“Jan.” Karl finally caught up to him. “Jan, wait.”
Jan rounded on Karl so quickly that they nearly collided. “What? What do you have to say, Karl? Eh?”
Karl backed away a step, confused. “I, I only wanted to say how glad I was, how proud I was, that you saved Freda Forgaard.” He scowled. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw that policeman hit you—how could they have not seen what those men were trying to do and that you were saving the girl?”
As Karl talked, his face settled into the same angry lines Jan had witnessed while on his knees surrounded by the police.
Jan blinked. Karl had not been angry with him?
“I thought . . . I thought you were going to lecture me on my temper,” Jan stammered.
“Nei, brother! Why would you think that?” Karl expostulated.
Jan stared at Karl for a few moments. Ah, Lord, what has this shown me about my heart? Maybe . . . maybe what I have allowed to fester inside is the real reason I am angry? Letting out a long sigh, Jan clasped Karl on the shoulder. “I am sorry.”
Karl just grinned and punched Jan in the arm. Jan punched him back.
It took the shipping clerk and immigration official more than two hours to clear their cargo through customs. The official exchanged their Norwegian currency for American and helped Jan and Karl to hire a freight wagon. Its driver would haul the Thoresens and their cargo to the ferry and then the rail yard.
Jan stacked the crates holding the weaners in the shade of the clerk’s awning and instructed Søren to water the piglets and stand watch over them while the rest of their goods were being loaded. When the wagon was loaded and ready, Karl strapped the piglets’ crates to the wagon while Jan and Søren left to get the women and girls. When they returned, the Thoresens seated themselves atop their freight, and the teamster set out for the ferry.
The teamster drove the wagon onto the steam-powered ferry. Jan had seen ferries in Norway; it would not be a long trip to the shore they could see across this river. Once across, the wagon driver would take them on to the trains.
Hours later they were met at the rail yard by other immigration officials. One of them pointed Jan and Karl to a boardinghouse where they could rent rooms. Jan and Karl left the women and girls there to bathe, wash clothing, and arrange some hot meals.
The freight manager pointed out a box car on a siding. With an immigration official’s help, Jan paid for the use of the car and its transport to Council Bluffs, Iowa. There they would disembark the train, unload their freight car, and ferry across the Missouri. On the other side of the river they would be in the city of Omaha where they would board another train.
Jan and Karl had read all they could find about the audacious Pacific Railroad—some were beginning to call it the Transcontinental Railroad—and its progress. Three railroads were racing to build a single line that would connect the eastern and western shores of the United States!
One railroad would build the line from Oakland to Sacramento, California. The Central Pacific Railroad would build the next segment from Sacramento eastward to Utah Territory. The third line, built by the Union Pacific, was to start at Council Bluffs, Iowa, on the eastern shore of the Missouri, and run west until it met and connected with the Central Pacific Railroad.
Building a bridge across the Missouri from Council Bluffs to Omaha, however, had proven too difficult, so the Union Pacific began their segment in Omaha and had laid a few hundred miles of track along the Platte River from Omaha deep into Nebraska Territory. Jan and Karl intended to ride that track until they reached the northernmost point of the Platte River. The land they had determined to claim lay farther north.
The immigration man tore a piece of paper from his notebook. He wrote “district land office” on it in Riksmaal and opposite it the same words in English. He did the same for “ferry,” “homestead claim,” “please,” “thank you,” “hotel,” “buy wagons,” “lumber,” “how much?” and a few other useful words and phrases.
“Takk,” Jan replied gratefully. He shook the man’s hand and handed the paper to Søren. The boy studied the paper for a minute and then folded it carefully and placed it in his pants pocket.
Karl and the teamster were already unloading the wagon into their freight car. The men stacked Thoresen crates and boxes tightly against both ends of the car. When all the boxes and crates were stacked in the car, Jan and Karl tied ropes across the cargo to keep crates from shifting.
When they were finished, a wide area remained open in the middle of the car. This was where the Thoresens would ride as the train moved west in the morning.
Jan and Karl bought six bales of hay and hauled them into the car. They stacked three bales end-to-end, making a row of seating against one side of their belongings. They made a second row against the other side. Several feet remained in the middle between the two rows of bales.
One of the yard men, at the direction of the freight manager, hefted another bale into the car and cut the twine holding it together. He spread it out on the hard wooden floor of the car and pantomimed sleeping.
“Tanks you,” Søren told the man for his far and onkel. Jan grinned at Søren. He and Karl shook the man’s hand and nodded their gratitude to the freight manager for his thoughtfulness.
The crates containing the weaners went into the freight car last. Karl placed them where Søren could feed and water the piglets during their journey. Jan stood back and marveled at how much they had managed to bring with them all the way across the ocean—and soon would take across the United States.
Finally Jan and Karl slid the doors closed. Jan fastened a heavy lock on them and pocketed the key. Weary, hungry, and filthy, they tramped across the rail yard to the boardinghouse.
“I just want a hot bath,” Karl sighed.
“Ja, you need one,” Jan shot back.
Both men slugged the other in the arm and laughed. Søren, trudging along beside them, only wanted some good, hot food. He definitely did not want a bath!
Jan glanced at Søren as if reading his mind. “Ja, you need a bath, too.”
Søren sighed.
Late that afternoon, Jan, Elli, and Søren, freshly bathed and wearing clean clothes, went out to buy food for the next leg of their journey. They left Kristen napping with Karl, Amalie, and Sigrün.
Søren studied the prices in the small grocery store and asked a few questions of the clerk. He was inquisitive, determined to learn, and not embarrassed to ask.
When they returned to their rooms, Søren asked his far to show him his money. Søren laid out a dollar on the table and then four quarters beside it. “This is the same,” he said pointing to the dollar and stack of quarters. “Four of these are one dollar.”
Jan mouthed the word “dollar.”
Then Søren rearranged some of Jan’s change into two quarters and five dimes. “Ten of these,” he said, pointing to the dimes, “are one dollar, too. Five are one-half dollar or two of these,” pointing to the two quarters.
Jan nodded. They played with the money for a while, moving it into different stacks of change equaling a dollar, and distinguishing between one-, five-, and ten-dollar bills.
Søren pulled out the paper with the English words on it. “So,” he showed his father, “hvor mye vil det koste? is how much? in English.”
“Howw much,” Jan repeated. He ruffled Søren’s hair, proud of his sønn.
Early in the morning they rose, gathered their drying clothes, and repacked their bags. Elli and Amalie wrapped and stowed fruit, butter, fresh bread, pickles, cheese, crackers, cookies, and boiled eggs while Karl went downstairs and filled a large can with water.
When they trekked across to the rail yards, their freight car had been move
d off the siding. The freight master pointed to it far down the line, already coupled onto the train.
“I wish you well,” the man told them. “God bless you.”
“Mange takk,” Jan and Karl answered, shaking his hand for the last time. “Farvel.” Many thanks. Farewell.
“Tanks you,” Søren said confidently.
They walked down the rail line and up onto the station platform, all of them marveling at the American trains, their mighty engines belching soot and steam. They passed passenger cars with curious faces looking down on them and a few luxurious private cars.
At the end of the platform they stepped down onto the ground and followed the rails, passing a line of freight cars until they reached their own. Jan unlocked the car and Karl clambered up. He turned and helped the women and girls into the car and then jumped back down.
He, Jan, and Søren, handed the bags up to the women. Elli and Amalie, chattering happily about the arrangements, unpacked some coverlets and spread them on the hay bales. They hung their still-damp laundry across the crates to dry.
Jan climbed back up and Karl handed him the heavy water can. He stowed it between a bale and the wall of the car. Elli asked Jan to move a crate that sat alone behind one of the bales of hay. He placed it atop another and then climbed up and pushed it back. He retied a rope to keep it from sliding.
Where the crate had been, the women tacked up a sheet, making a tiny water closet. Jan grimaced. It was uncomfortable using a chamber pot in such close proximity to his brother and his brother’s wife. He was sure they had to feel the same.
Jan, Karl, and Søren stood outside watching the activity in the yard until the conductor’s call of “allll aboooard!” echoed across the rails. Down the line the yard men walked, checking that the freight car doors were closed. The men and Søren climbed into their car and slid the door shut behind them, latching it on the inside.
The car was dim and cool. Just a little light and air came in through slats in the door.
The train shuddered, rocked a bit, and jerked forward. The engine’s piercing whistle cut the air. The train began to move, slowly, slowly, a little faster, faster, and faster. The Thoresens, all of them, crowded against the door, peering through the slats, watching the station drop away.
~~**~~
Chapter 3
The rhythm of train wheels flying over the tracks lulled them to sleep. All but Jan. He could not sleep now—his pulse had quickened until it matched the clacking cadence of the swaying train.
Jan leaned his forehead against the door and peered through the slats, studying the land passing by. He liked what he saw—large green fields that lay like a patchwork quilt as far as the eye could see. He knew the geography would change considerably by the time they reached their destination, but the size of this country already amazed him.
What will the land be like where we are going? he asked himself for the thousandth time. He had heard that it was like a vast sea with no shores to be seen, that tall grasses danced in the wind like the waves and billows of the ocean.
The newspapers had described the low, rolling hillocks and wide, nearly flat miles as “prairie,” something like the lowlands of Norway and Sweden but much wider and broader, all of it open and uncultivated. “Perfect for farming,” the papers had read. However, the words that fired Jan’s heart and imagination were “160 acres per man” and “free.”
Land for free! He and Karl would file for adjoining claims and work them together. All they had to do was build homes on the land and work it for five years. Then it would be theirs.
Jan was restless, ready to begin. And so he studied the terrain as they flew by, taking note of the farms, their barns and houses, and what they had planted. He mentally listed their first priorities and ticked off the items they would need to buy when they left the train.
Their journey would take them across two of America’s great rivers. He frowned and recited the rivers’ names: Mississippi and Missouri. Just across the Missouri they would stop in the city of Omaha.
In that city they would seek a district land office to file their homestead claims. It would be a risky time. They would need someone—someone honest—to help them because of the language barrier.
Jan snorted. Karl would likely again bring up their joint decision to go west rather than north to Wisconsin or Minnesota, states that bordered the great lakes of America. But Jan had been adamant.
“Do you wish to be only a dairy farmer, Karl?” Jan had demanded. “Do you wish for an area where the land has been picked over so that we must settle for what is left? Ja, many of our people have established communities in Illinois and these states. That would be nice, eh? To have others who speak our tongue and know our customs?
“But we would have to pay for that land. I want the free land—a parcel big enough to plant all the wheat and corn we can handle and raise cows, goats, and our father’s hogs. I want space for our sons and their families, too.”
His last argument had been the most effective. Yes, their far owned land in Norway, but it was a small piece completely surrounded by land owned by others. No matter how well they and their father managed, his ten acres would never support Karl and Jan’s families as their children grew. And no more land in Norway was to be had.
Karl, as the elder son, would eventually inherit their father’s farm. Even so, their father and mother were still strong and, God willing, had many years ahead of them.
If Karl stayed on his father’s farm he would have to work for his father until he died, always doing what his father asked of him. Until his parents died Amalie would not have her own house. Then Karl’s sons would be in the same position—living on and working their father’s land with no prospects of their own.
For Jan, and for Karl, the possibility of owning their own land now—more land than they had ever dreamed of—was too enticing, the idea of freedom too intoxicating. Land for themselves and land for their sons and their families? The opportunity could not be passed over.
And, Jan knew, he was weary of being dependent on his father. He was a grown man who did a grown man’s work every day. If he stayed in Norway, he would always be subject to another man’s orders—first his father’s and then his older brother’s.
In this new country, he and Karl would be equals. No more “little brother” and “elder brother.”
Jan longed to put his feet under his own table each night after working his own land each day. Elli wanted her own kitchen and wanted to run her own home.
Was it wrong to want these things? Jan did not believe so, and his heart yearned for them.
Was the free land America offered in Wisconsin or Minnesota? No. It was west—to the Dakotas, the Nebraska Territory, or the territory of Colorado. These territories had much free land open to homesteaders.
How Jan wished he could see a map of the available homestead plots north and northwest of this Platte River. Jan could scarcely contain the restive spirit within himself. His eyes burned to see his land for the first time. His fingers itched to work the ground and tame it.
But how many claims were already filed? What land was left? This could only be determined once they arrived in Omaha and visited the claims office.
Jan had searched for and found an anchor that seemed to ease his anxieties. It was found in a passage of the Bibelen he had read before they left Norway. The verse had leapt from the page, as though underscored and with the words Jan! I am speaking to you! scrawled in the margin.
By faith Abraham,
when he was called to go out into a place
which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed;
and he went out, not knowing whither he went.
God was calling him to a place! Jan knew this deep in his being. But where? What place? He had determined to trust God as Abraham had trusted God. His trust in God’s leading kept the fears, anxieties, and restlessness of his heart at bay.
God and Elli . . .
Back home, in the nigh
ts when they should have been sleeping, Jan and Elli had lain abed, twined together, talking . . . and dreaming. Elli, so tall and slender, fit perfectly in his arms.
Her love for him was like that, too. She “fit” him and completed him, touching and healing him in his deepest parts.
“Elli, you know when we go to America life will be hard, even harder than here?” he breathed into her silky hair. “We don’t know what we will face. Will you regret it, my love? Will you regret leaving your parents and søster so far behind? Our children never seeing their grandparents?”
She snuggled closer to Jan. “You know, my ektemann, my husband,” she replied softly, “that I love you more than my life. I, I am like . . . Ruth! And you,” she giggled, “are my Naomi.”
He chuckled and kissed her forehead. She was quiet and still in his arms for so long that Jan thought she had slipped away into slumber.
But then she whispered again, her words raw with tears. “Jan, this is truth: Where you go, I will go; and where you live, I will live: your people shall be my people, and your God my God. And where you die, my husband, I will die, and there will I be buried.” She lifted her face to him. “This is truth.”
Jan kissed her deeply and then buried his face in the warm crook of her neck. “My dear wife! You are God’s greatest blessing to me in this life.”
With God to lead him and Elli to love him, Jan found strength and hope each morning.
The clacking of the train over the tracks brought Jan back to the present and, as he had learned to do every time he began to fret over their coming journey, he took a deep breath and prayed. Lord, again I place our journey in your hands. I trust you. Where you lead us, we will go. You have promised to never leave nor forsake us.
Then peace came again to his heart.
He must have dozed off. The sound of vomiting and coughing woke him.
Karl sat across from them staring ahead, his forehead creased a little. He sighed.
Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) Page 3