To the Copper Country

by Barbara Carney-Coston

  “In a pretty big hurry to get somewhere?” he asked.

  “Sorry, Vlado. Papa is coming with the horses and wagon.”

  Vlado’s face was blank.

  “We’re going to the store today.”

  “Ah, your first trip into town. Calumet is a fine place.” He gestured for her to pass in front of him.

  Mama was at the boarders’ table, pouring coffee.

  “Morning, Mama,” Mihaela called as she ran out the door. She took a deep breath of the moist dawn air, savoring the scent of pine and damp earth. Papa was approaching with the wagon. Steam rose from the horses’ backs as plumes of vapor streamed from their mouths.

  “Well, Mihaela, I see you’re eager to get going,” Papa called out. “Pauza,” he ordered the horses, drawing up on their reins.

  “Dobro juto, Papa.” Mihaela watched the horses bob their heads as Papa tethered them to a post. She patted one of the horses’ flanks. “Horses in Croatia are bigger.”

  Papa laughed. “There are big horses in America, too. These aren’t bred for farm work, like our Percherons at home. They’ll do just fine, though.” He looked toward the rising sun. “I need to go. The mine foreman doesn’t like it if I’m late.” His sore eyes almost twinkled. “Now don’t spend all our hard-earned money at the store today.”

  “We won’t.” Mihaela went back inside.

  Mama was stirring a pot at the stove as she turned toward the boys. “Luka, you need to comb your hair.” She looked closely at Mihaela’s dress. “Is that button about to come loose?”

  Mihaela touched one of her dress buttons, and the thread holding it unraveled in her hand. “I can sew it back on.”

  “We have so much to do today.” Mama ladled oatmeal into their bowls. “Eat now, while it’s hot. The button can wait until after breakfast.”

  “Remember the awful porridge on the ship? And the watery pea soup?” Luka added milk and sugar to his bowl, then swallowed a big spoonful. “This oatmeal is so good!”

  “Even better than Aunt Ida’s porridge back home,” Mihaela said.

  Mama sat at the table with them and practiced saying the English words on the grocery list that Josip had written for her. “On-yons,” she tried.

  “On-yons!” the children repeated, laughing.

  Mama laughed, too. “You’ll learn English faster than I will.” She handed Mihaela the list. “Keep practicing. I need to hang the clothes on the line.”

  “You’ve already finished the laundry?”

  “I knew we’d want an early start.” Mama let the screen door slam behind her.

  Mihaela swallowed another bite of the oatmeal while she looked at the list. “Ba-con,” she tried.

  “Ba-con,” Luka repeated.

  She was glad the English alphabet was almost the same as Croatian. The sounds of some of the letters were different, though.

  “Pep-per. Flou-er. O-il. These words feel funny in my mouth.” Mihaela giggled.

  “On-yons!” Blaž blurted out.

  They laughed again.

  “Pep-per. The words tangle my tongue,” Luka said.

  Mama returned. “If you’re done enjoying the grocery list, you know what we need to do before we can leave.”

  The children licked the last traces of oatmeal from their spoons and returned to their chores. When the clock on the mantle chimed ten times, dishes had been washed, beds made, floors swept, and the button sewn.

  Mama checked her grocery list and adjusted her shawl. “All right, children. Let’s go to town.”

  Mihaela climbed into the wagon. “Can we check for letters?”

  Mama helped Blaž onto the seat beside her. “We’ll stop at the post office after the store. I need to mail my letter, too. We could all do with some news from home.” She shaded her eyes as she looked up at the sky.

  Mihaela saw small, wispy clouds floating against bright blue. “No rain today.”

  Mama raised an eyebrow. “I hope you’re right. I never saw weather change as fast as it does here.” She snapped the reins, and the horses began a brisk trot over the rough road.

  Distant sounds grew louder as they rounded a bend. Past a grove of trees, the mine entrance came into view. Large carts filled with rocks rolled along tracks that led out of a low building into the shaft of a taller building.

  Mihaela could hear loud blasts and the whine of drills coming from inside the mine. She felt their strong vibrations. Last night, she had overheard some of the boarders complaining of sore backs and smashed fingers, and of even more terrible accidents. One man had lost his leg when a drill slipped. Since he was working alone, no one had found him until it was too late. The boarders worried about what would happen to his wife and children. Mihaela shuddered. She wished people didn’t have to choose between hunger and danger.

  Farther on, they passed a lumberyard. Saws buzzed and the smell of freshly cut wood filled the air. Papa had said there was a lot of building going on to provide miners and their families with housing and other services. The mines were drawing people from all over the world to come work for the good wages being paid. Some miners were even able to save enough money to leave the mines and try less dangerous work. She wondered if that could happen for Papa some day.

  Another turn brought them into view of Calumet. It certainly wasn’t as big as New York or Chicago, but as they drew closer, Mihaela saw church spires and many other buildings. Some were of red brick, some of wood, and they lined wide streets. Windows with arches reminded her of those she had seen when they had passed through Opatija in Croatia. Many of the buildings had awnings that shielded the windows. They passed livery stables, stores selling furniture, a business with tools and stoves, and several butcher shops. One store had nothing but hats in the window! Mama guided the horses nervously and glanced at a map Papa had drawn for her. “We need to find 213 Fifth Street. Look for a two-story frame building with glass windows on the first floor. That’s the business run by P. Ruppe and Son. I hope there’s someone there who can understand us.”

  Mihaela pointed. “I think those are the right numbers.” She was glad that numerals here looked the same as in Croatia.

  People strolled over fitted planks that ran the length of the street in front of each store. No one needed to get their shoes dirty from horse droppings. Mama pulled the wagon in front of the store and found a post where she could secure the reins.

  Mihaela felt nervous but excited. She had never been in a store before. When she opened the door, she heard bells chime. A man in a dark suit with a stiff collared shirt came forward and greeted them. He pointed to his chest. “Joe Alton.”

  Mama smiled. “Levak.” She waved her list.

  “Welcome, Mrs. Levak. And children.” Then he gestured to the interior of the store.

  Mihaela thought his tone was friendly, even if she couldn’t understand his words.

  Wooden floorboards creaked as they moved to the center of the large space. Lamps gave off a yellow glow of light that made everything in the store easy to see. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she tried to take in the displays of merchandise. Men’s and women’s clothes were in one part of the store. Hats, caps, and shoes were arranged by different styles and colors. She remembered seeing some well-dressed people at the train depot in New York. There must be some rich people in this town who could also buy such things! Mihaela looked down at her shabby dress and scuffed shoes. She suddenly felt embarrassed.

  Mr. Alton led them to a part of the store where the groceries were sold. Rows of cans and jars, barrels and bins with lids, sacks of grain and flour, and bolts of cloth were arranged, stacked, or piled.

  Blaž walked with determination toward something on the counter. He pointed to a big jar of peppermint sticks. “Slatkis!”

  Mr. Alton smiled. “Ah, you’ve found the candy.”

  “Can-dee.” Blaž was eager to practice more English.

  Mr. Alton fished out three candy sticks. He turned for Mama’s approval.

  She frowned a
nd shook her head. “We can’t spend money on such things,” she said to Mihaela.

  Mr. Alton understood. “My treat.” He made a gesture, pointing to himself.

  Mihaela tried to interpret for her mother. “I think he said it’s free.”

  “Da?” Mama said. “Thank you,” she tried, in thick English.

  “You’re welcome.” Mr. Alton smiled. He handed the first stick to Blaž. “Can-dy.”

  “Can-dee!” Blaž repeated. “Hvala.”

  Mr. Alton gave one each to Mihaela and Luka.

  “Thank you,” they both said, in English.

  “You’ll be speaking just like the rest of us in no time,” Mr. Alton said. “I think we’re doing fine here, but maybe I should go and get one of our other employees who speaks your language.” He motioned to a sack of grain and patted it with his hand.

  Mihaela nudged Blaž as she turned to Luka. “He must want us to sit down there.” They took their places on the lumpy sacks and started to lick the candy sticks.

  Mr. Alton returned with a young man.

  “Dobro juto.” He smiled and stuck out his hand. “Franc Dresich.”

  “Tereza Levak.” Mama shook his hand and then handed him her list. The man looked it over, moving among shelves and bins, scooping and wrapping. He chatted with Mama and used a big scale to weigh the flour, potatoes, and other bulky items. Soon the counter was filled, and Mr. Alton started packing things in boxes and sacks.

  Mihaela slowly sucked on her candy while she looked around the room. She enjoyed studying everything—bags of grain and cans with colorful labels of pictures and words. As she turned toward her right, something else caught her eye. There, on a shelf across the room, were two beautiful dolls.

  Mr. Alton followed Mihaela’s gaze. He walked toward the dolls and returned with one of them. He dusted it off with the back of his sleeve and handed it to Mihaela.

  Mihaela gasped. She had never seen such a beautiful thing! The doll’s head was heavy, made of something like the plates they now used. The hair was painted black and the face had big, blue eyes. Its body, as well as the arms and legs, were soft. Slippers made of black wool covered the feet. The doll’s dress was a dense fabric, but not coarse, like Mihaela’s. The color was a bright, grass green, with a sheen to it. When she held the doll upright, the dress stood out from the body just enough to show the lacy cuff on the pantaloons below.

  Her mother looked over at her and shook her head.

  Mihaela knew she mustn’t even think about a doll like this. After all, she had Dijana, the doll Papa had carved for her long ago. But how amazing to know that such things could be found right here in this store.

  Mr. Alton, Mr. Dresich, and Mama finished their business and began to gather up the provisions. The boys had gone outside, each carrying a small bag.

  Mihaela was still looking at the doll when Mama came up to her and took her by the arm. Mihaela handed the doll back to Mr. Alton. “Doviđenja,” she said.

  “Until next time.” He smiled and put the doll back on the shelf, close to the other doll, which was identical but for a blue dress.

  Mihaela sighed. She had promised to send Katarina a present, but she knew they’d never be able to afford any of the pretty things she saw here. Then she remembered the most important reason for their trip to the store. “Mama, did we get the oil for Papa’s eyes?”

  Mama lifted a heavy sack and hesitated, then nodded.

  “Is something wrong?” Mihaela asked.

  Mama shook her head, but Mihaela noticed her lips were pressed hard into a thin line.

  “And what about the mail?”

  “The post office is our next stop.”

  Mihaela picked up the remaining sacks of potatoes and onions.

  “See you next time,” Mr. Alton said. “Those dolls will be waiting.”

  Mihaela looked up at the dolls again. She didn’t understand everything Mr. Alton had said, but one word stuck in her head. “Dolls,” she repeated. That was an easy word to say.

  10

  Post Office and Rain

  As Mama drove the wagon down another street to the post office, Mihaela looked around her. There were several people walking, but they didn’t seem to be in a big hurry like the people in New York. Most of the men wore suits. Some of the women wore long skirts with high-collared ruffled blouses, but there were others who dressed more plainly, like Mama. And everyone was wearing a hat. Mihaela saw her mother reach up and touch her bare head. Would she and Mama be expected to wear such hats, too? They often wore kerchiefs to keep their hair out of the way when doing farm chores, but these were fancy hats with brims and ribbon. She wondered what other customs were different here. And why didn’t she see any children her age? There were just a few babies and toddlers with their mothers.

  Mama stopped the wagon in front of a small wooden building. “I think this is the post office. Mihaela, can you manage alone in there? I don’t want to leave the boys or these groceries.” She handed her the letter she had written along with a few US coins.

  Mihaela entered the building and tried to remember the writing she had seen at the mail window when they had gone through immigration in New York. She squeezed her eyes shut, picturing the word in her mind. “Let-ter!” she finally said. She showed the man behind the counter the envelope and started speaking rapidly to him in Croatian.

  “Letter, I understand.” He took the envelope. “Mail this?” He waved it back and forth.

  Mihaela nodded.

  “All right.” He put the letter on a scale. “Postage to Croatia … thirteen cents.” He held up two hands, squeezed them shut, and then raised three fingers on one hand.

  Mihaela handed him all of her coins and he gave her change. She looked at the postman. “Levak?”

  He seemed puzzled.

  Mihaela pointed to herself and tried to say the new word again. “Let-ter?”

  “I get it.” He reached into a bin under the counter and took out several letters. “You are a Levak?”

  Mihaela nodded.

  “Let’s see here … Banyar, Dresich, Udovic …” he read. Looking up, he shook his head. “Sorry. No Levak.”

  Mihaela’s face fell.

  The postman shrugged. “Maybe next time.”

  As she returned to the wagon, Mihaela saw that the blue sky of early morning had changed to a threatening gray. She quickly climbed onto the seat.

  “We need to hurry so I can take the wash off the lines before it starts to rain,” Mama said. “Hold on tight!”

  They were halfway to the cabin when the winds started howling, strange and mournful, through the woods.

  Mihaela glanced around uneasily. Mama snapped the reins to make the horses go faster.

  A bolt of lightning lit up the sky in front of them, followed by a large roll of thunder.

  “Bad noise,” Blaž whimpered.

  “We can’t let these provisions get wet.” Mama pulled Blaž close to her side. She flicked the reins again, and the horses started to gallop.

  The cabin was in view as rain splashed down in big, fat drops. Mama pulled the wagon to a halt and jumped down to tie the horses. Mihaela and Luka took the biggest sacks and found something small for Blaž. They all raced into the cabin. The rain fell even harder as they returned for another load. Then, leaving the supplies on the kitchen table, they all ran out to the backyard. Thick, wooden clothespins held the heavy mining overalls on the line, but the strong winds had tied the clothes into knots. They struggled to untangle them, then threw the clean clothes into the basket until the skies opened up with a deluge.

  “That’s enough!” Mama herded everyone into the house.

  Mihaela looked through the screen door. “We missed a whole row.”

  “Those are our clothes.” Mama shook her head. “Thank goodness, the miners’ things are just a little damp. They won’t pay us for wet or dirty overalls. And the flour stayed dry. Now, we need to put everything away.”

  Mihaela shivered as the wind con
tinued to howl. Unpacking the food reminded her that it was close to noon. By the time they finished, her stomach was rumbling loud enough for everyone to hear. “I need to eat!”

  Mama served them reheated beef stew from last night’s dinner. She put a loaf of bread on the table, and next to it, a small glass jar filled with a thick, dark-red fruit.

  “Mr. Dresich gave us this as a welcome gift. It’s a jam made from a local berry that grows in the region.”

  Mihaela spread some of the jam on the bread. It was both sweet and tart and had lots of little seeds. “Delicious! What’s the berry called?”

  “I think he called it ‘thimbleberry.’ He said the fruit is quite small.”

  “I wonder if it looks like a thimble? Maybe I can look for some around here.”

  “He said most of the berries are gone by now—either picked by humans or eaten by bears.”

  “Bears?” Mihaela’s eyes widened.

  “Bears!” Luka repeated.

  “Papa told me there are bears in some of the woods. He said if they ever come near the house, make lots of noise as you run inside.”

  “I guess I’ll be yelling pretty loud!” Luka said.

  Mihaela didn’t know what to think about bears. “The oil for Papa’s eyes,” she said between bites. “Is it the right kind?”

  Mama hesitated. “It doesn’t look as pure as I had hoped. But perhaps it will do.”

  Mihaela felt her stomach knot up again as she thought about Papa’s eyes. She had to find more herbs!

  Luka pointed to the window. “Look, the sun’s back.”

  The rain and wind had stopped as suddenly as they had begun.

  “Such weather!” Mama frowned.

  Luka grabbed Blaž’s hand and ran out the door.

  The kitchen filled quickly with warm, moist air. Mihaela leaned over to unfasten the buttons on her shoes. Now that they were broken in, she was glad she didn’t need to use the buttonhook every time she undid them. She pulled off her shoes and stockings and gratefully wiggled her toes. Barefoot was still better when the days were warm.