To the Copper Country

by Barbara Carney-Coston

  The conductor motioned their stop was next. “Red Jacket-Calumet!” he called out.

  Mihaela knew it was the place Papa would meet them. She strained to look out the window. Her view was partially blocked, and all she could see was a green station house and a church steeple rising behind it.

  The whistle sounded, and the train began to slow down. With a great clanging of brakes and a rush of steam, the train came to a stop.

  Mihaela picked up her bag and followed her mother and brothers. A few other passengers were in front of them, so they waited to descend the metal steps onto the platform. Her heart pounded. She was about to see her father after two long years! She looked over the heads of her brothers and scanned the crowd—burly men with broad backs, and women and children lined up to meet family or friends. Then, suddenly, she spotted him. He was wearing a shirt that Mama had made. His thick, black hair and his bushy moustache looked just the same.

  But red, puffy lids shadowed the twinkle in his eyes now.

  “Papa!” Mihaela shouted. “Papa, here we are!”

  He waved and ran over to them. Everyone started laughing and crying at the same time. Luka jumped up and down. Mama wiped away tears. Blaž giggled, and Mihaela could hardly breathe.

  “Mihaela! You’re such a big girl! Tereza! You look beautiful! Boys! How you’ve grown!” Papa beamed.

  “Oh, Papa, your poor eyes!” Mihaela blurted.

  Papa’s eyes were almost swollen shut.

  Mihaela’s thumping heart skipped a beat. How could he even see?

  “Petar!” Mama embraced him.

  Papa hugged Mama tightly as she wiped tears from both of their faces. Then he scooped Mihaela and Luka up into his arms, while Blaž clung shyly to Mama’s dress. The two older children squealed as their father gave them bear hugs.

  Papa turned to Blaž and squatted down. Blaž shrieked with joy when Papa’s thick moustache tickled his cheek.

  Everyone began talking at once. There was so much to say!

  Papa laughed. “I can’t wait to hear everything. But first, let’s get your trunks loaded onto the wagon.”

  Feelings flooded Mihaela. She was so glad to see her father, but concerned, too. “It’s nice you can help with these bags, Papa. It was hard for us to move them around.”

  “It’s wonderful to see you, Mihaela. You’re almost grown up.” He gave her another hug.

  Mihaela loved feeling his strong arms around her. She had to find a way to heal him.

  Papa piled the last of their bundles in the wagon and helped them onto the hard plank seats. He snapped the horses’ reins, and they set off down the road.

  They passed some small frame buildings and the red brick church Mihaela had seen from the train. The wagon turned onto a dirt road that seemed to be taking them away from the town.

  Papa snapped the reins again. “We’re heading about three miles south, near Osceola. That’s also the name of the mine where I work.”

  Mihaela kept a tight grip on the woven bag that held her herb book and a few other possessions. The thick hand-knit stockings Mama made her wear at the beginning of their journey no longer felt too warm, and she pulled her shawl a little closer.

  As the wagon bounced along, sounds of machinery and voices began to fill the air. The clanking noise grew louder when they approached a huge wooden structure. Low buildings connected to a tower that looked like stacked boxes sitting on top of each other. Men covered in mud and dirt milled about.

  “Papa, what’s this?” Mihaela asked.

  “The entrance to one of the copper mines. That’s the one I’ve been working in.” Papa pulled up on the reins and the horses slowed down. “It’s called a shaft mine. The copper lies deep underground. We dig from different levels, connected to the main passage.”

  “How do you get down there?” Luka asked.

  “We get transported below on something like a moving ladder.”

  Mihaela tried to imagine such a thing. “Is it dark underground?”

  “Very dark. The mining company gives us big lanterns, and I have a special helmet I wear that holds a candle. That way, I can almost see what I’m doing.” Papa turned to Mama. “I think the long days underground with all the dirt and rock dust have caused my eye problems. Many injuries to other men, too. If you can cure me, I’ll be one of the lucky ones.”

  Mama hesitated for just a moment, then patted his arm. “We’ll do our best.”

  Mihaela noticed Mama’s hand shook a little, but she still had more questions she wanted to ask. “Papa, what do you do with the copper once you mine it?”

  Papa grunted. “There are many steps before copper turns into something useful, like wire or pots or roofs for buildings. We use drills to get at the copper in the rock. Then it goes to the stamp mill, where water helps separate the copper from the rock. After that, the copper is heated, or smelted. Smelting makes it liquid. The liquid copper is poured into molds of different sizes. When it cools, it becomes solid again, and those solid pieces are sold by the mining company.”

  Mihaela tried to picture the process in her head. What heat that must take!

  Not far past the mine entrance, they came to a small clearing at the edge of the woods.

  “Here we are,” Papa said.

  Mihaela gawked at where they would be staying. It was so different from their house in Croatia! Instead of having stucco walls and a tile roof, this house was made of logs. Mihaela could even see knobs on the logs where branches had been sawed away. And instead of having crop fields and a garden nearby, this house was nestled close to pine trees.

  “The house and land are owned by the mining company, and we pay to rent it. Come, everyone, see what the fellows and I have done on the inside,” Papa said.

  “What fellows?” Mihaela asked.

  But Papa had already gone into the house.

  Mihaela stepped inside a large room with a kitchen off the main area. Steps led up to a loft. The floor was wood, not dirt like back home. Sturdy chairs sat around a long table. A rocking chair sat in a corner. A band of men stood awkwardly, smiling and nodding. Mihaela counted. There were twelve of them.

  Mama came in. She seemed startled to see the men, too, and pulled Papa aside. “Who are they?” Her whisper was loud enough for Mihaela to hear.

  “The boarders.” Papa beamed.

  “The boarders?”

  “Didn’t the letter tell you about the boarders? I told him to put that in,” Papa said.

  “No letter said anything about boarders.” Mama frowned.

  Papa cleared his throat. The men shifted where they stood, smiled wider. “A boardinghouse, Tereza. We work with men from many different countries—Italy, England, Ireland … and until now we have had to live with Germans and Finns. These men are all from Slovenia. We feel more at home with each other because our languages are similar enough that we can understand each other. We are still the only Croats here.”

  “And I’m to run this boardinghouse?” Mama’s face turned red. She started to speak again but stopped abruptly.

  Mihaela could not believe what she had heard. They would be living with these men? These strangers?

  Mama walked into the other room, then came back to where everyone waited. She drew a deep breath and crossed herself. “I cook over an open fire at home. Can someone show me how to use the stove? I need a cup of tea.”

  Everyone crowded into the kitchen. The boarders fell all over each other as they scrambled to assist her.

  “The wood goes in here, see?” said one boarder. “And then you light it, close the door, and before you know it, you have a nice, hot oven.”

  “She wants tea, remember?” said another. “Mrs. Levak, these are the burners. You lift them up with this poker, and put wood in here, and light it. Then you put the kettle on top, and soon it boils. But first, we need water. The well and pump are just out the back door. I will go.” He was back quickly with a large bucket of water.

  “I’m thirsty,” Luka said.

/>   Another boarder poured water from the bucket into a nearby pitcher and then found a cup for Luka.

  “So cold, it hurts my teeth!” Luka held out his cup. “But good. More, please.”

  “That water comes from a spring fed by the biggest Great Lake,” Papa said. “Superior never warms up, not even in summer. Who else wants some?”

  Mihaela and Blaž drank a cup of the cold water, too.

  A tall, thin man stepped forward. “My name is Andrej. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Levak.” He did a little bow. “Petar told us you like tea, so we got plenty of it.” A glass container for tea sat next to others filled with flour, sugar, and salt.

  At least most of the boarders seemed nice. Mihaela saw there was even a jar filled with walnuts—for her favorite bread, povitica?

  Mama took a deep breath. “I hope you understand this is a big shock for me. I had no idea.”

  One of the boarders handed her a cup of tea. Then the men excused themselves and left the cabin.

  “Where are they going?” Luka asked.

  “They’re giving us a little time to get reacquainted,” Papa said.

  Mama sat at the kitchen table looking around her. Her shoulders sagged, and she started to weep.

  Papa looked distraught. “Tereza, I’m sorry. I thought you knew … if I could have written my own letter, there wouldn’t have been any confusion.”

  Mama wiped her eyes. “I’m relieved that we’re finally here. But I’m stunned at … the circumstances.” She took a sip of her tea. “I’m supposed to cook and clean for all these strangers?”

  “Yes, but they will pay you. For food, laundry, and expenses,” Papa said.

  “They will pay me?” Mama’s eyes widened.

  Mihaela hung on every word as her parents talked.

  “And what do expenses include, besides food?” Mama asked.

  “Not much. Whatever else you might need to run the household. The rest is ours to keep.”

  “Twelve hardworking men will eat a lot of food.”

  “The going rate is three dollars per man, per month. If it’s not enough, we’ll ask them to pay a little more.”

  Mama shook her head. “I have never been paid for my work before.”

  Papa nodded slowly. “With both of us earning money for the family, we have a real chance. And now that you all are here, we will be able to help each other.”

  Mihaela took another big gulp of water. How would they all live together? Where would everyone sleep? Would they share meals? They were only supposed to stay until Papa was well, so did this mean they would be staying longer? Mama didn’t seem to like the idea of running a boardinghouse, either. What a shock for all of them! But more money would help the family. Mihaela thought of her chores in Croatia. She knew how to milk a cow and weed the garden. What would be expected of her here?

  She wiped her upper lip with the back of her hand.

  Helping to cure Papa’s eyes had to be her first job.

  3

  Pasties and Chamomile

  Mihaela couldn’t get enough of the ice-cold water, and she helped herself to another cup. Loud growls sounded from her stomach.

  “Mihaela, what’s that I hear?” Papa asked. “Do you feel all right?”

  “Yes, Papa. I have the family’s loudest stomach. The water tastes wonderful, it’s just sloshing around in my empty belly.”

  Papa slapped his hand to his forehead. “You’re hungry.” He took a plate covered by a cloth from the back of the stove and set it on the kitchen table.

  “Petar, we need to wash up first,” Mama said. “We’re pretty grimy.”

  Papa gestured toward the pitcher and basin near the back door. “And the privy is out back.”

  Everyone lined up and found strong soap and a scratchy towel. Then the Levak family sat down for their first meal together in over two years.

  Papa cleared his throat and bowed his head. “Dear God, we give thanks for the safe arrival of my family, and for this food.”

  “Amen.” Mihaela licked her lips.

  Papa took off the towel that had been covering the platter, and a delicious odor filled the room.

  “What’s that?” Mihaela stared at something shaped like a half moon and flaky, with an edge to the crust that was braided like rope.

  “They’re called pasties,” Papa said. “The miners from Cornwall, in Great Britain, eat these. A few of them that work in the mines here shared them one day, and everyone tasted how good they were. Now all the miners eat pasties for our noon meal. The cook who makes them carves our initials in the dough so we know who gets what before they go into our lunch buckets. Sometimes, we heat them up on the backs of our shovels in the mine furnace. Our former boarding missus, the lady we used to live with, sent these over.”

  Mihaela’s mouth watered as Mama put one on each of their plates.

  “Be careful,” Papa said. “They stay hot inside for a long time.”

  Mihaela bit into her pasty, and steam rose from the rich crust. She tasted diced potatoes, rutabagas, onions, and small pieces of tender beef. It was delicious.

  After blowing hard to cool it off, Luka jammed half the pasty into his mouth. He smiled as he chewed and swallowed, gulping it down. He ate the second half almost as fast, then took a breath and held out his plate. “Another, please?”

  “Already?” Mama laughed.

  “Da!”

  “The boy could use a little meat on his bones,” Papa said.

  “Luka was seasick more than the rest of us,” Mama said. “Thank God he’s still healthy. There were many children on board who wasted away.”

  Papa glanced around the table. “I know how hard it must have been for you all.”

  Mihaela looked at her father’s swollen eyes. She swallowed hard, but not because of the pasty.

  Mama turned to Papa. “You say these pasties were made by the woman you used to board with?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Milcher. We’re still paying her to make them until you get settled. She’s a good soul. She wanted to let you know that you are welcome here.”

  “Do all the boardinghouses provide a noon meal for the men to take to the mines? As well as breakfast and dinner?” Mama asked.

  Mihaela’s ears pricked up. Did Mama’s voice have an edge?

  “That’s the custom,” Papa said.

  Mama didn’t say anything, but a frown shot across her brow.

  Mihaela tried to concentrate on her food as she told Papa details about their voyage—having to sleep next to strangers, the terrible smells onboard, the big storm that caused Mama to bump her head as the ship listed, and a girl she had met named Valerija. “We played with our dolls together. It helped us pass the time. Nine days at sea felt like forever.”

  “How big was your ship?” Papa asked.

  “Huge!” Luka said.

  “Over a thousand passengers,” Mama added. “When we got to the port in Bremen, it was overwhelming. But … we managed.” She grew quiet again.

  “I am so grateful you’re all here,” Papa said. He turned to Mama. “What do you think about my eyes? Did you bring your best remedies?”

  It was the moment Mihaela had been dreading ever since she arrived. She held her breath.

  Mama looked at Mihaela, then at Papa. “We have some herbs that I hope will help. Why don’t you show the boys where they’re going to sleep, while Mihaela and I get things ready.”

  Mihaela exhaled slowly as she pulled hard on her braids. She was relieved that Mama hadn’t told Papa how the basket of herbs had been lost. But she was stunned at how bad her father’s eyes looked.

  As Papa led Blaž and Luka off to see their room, Mama leaned across the table and spread out the cloth that had covered the pasties. On it, she placed the dried plants they had managed to save. One bundle was still wrapped in fabric. “Papa’s eyes are … worse than I thought. We’ll just have to see what we can do.” She stood and put a kettle on the stove to boil. Inside a cupboard, she found a bowl and a knife and put them on
the table. Then she picked up the smallest bundle of herbs and handed them to Mihaela. “Crumble these dried chamomile flowers as finely as you can and put them in the bowl. I’ll be right back.”

  Mihaela stared at the herbs and said a prayer while she ground them between her fingers. Her nose twitched as the pungent scent filled the air.

  Mama returned carrying her best nightgown.

  Mihaela had never seen her wear it, but she and Katarina had often looked at it in the trunk that held Mama’s few special possessions. It was made of soft, fine wool and decorated with lace. Mihaela knew Mama had crocheted the lace herself.

  The kettle finally started to boil. Mama poured hot water into the bowl filled with the crushed chamomile. She picked up the knife and poked the blade tip through the hem of the nightgown to loosen a thread. Then, she started to rip the garment into long strips.

  “Mama, stop! What are you doing?”

  “It’s all right,” Mama said quietly. “We need to soak strips of cloth in the mixture, and then apply them to Papa’s eyes. The cloth must be very clean.”

  “But, Mama, it’s … ”

  “ … just a nightgown. I can make another.”

  “Can you save the lace?”

  “Yes. I can do that. The lace will not soothe his eyes.” Mama used the knife blade again to pick a few threads from the collar that ran around the neck of the garment. She gently pulled the lace away. Then she tore what was left of the fabric in half and handed one piece to Mihaela. “Keep tearing this into thin strips. We’ll need many before we’re done.”

  Mihaela hesitated for a moment. Mama had taught her about herbs and plants and even how to read and write. She realized Mama was not giving her a simple lesson, but a deep and silent one. She hated to do it, but she started to rip. “How long do these herbs need to steep?”