“I put it under my pillow. I noticed it was gone.”
“Why do you hide the watch? Why don’t you dare tell us the truth? Why don’t you dare tell us that Arvid is dead?”
That was three questions at one time. But Robert only replied:
“You have a right to ask, Karl Oskar. That you have.”
He was interrupted by an attack of persistent, hollow coughing.
“The first evening you said Arvid had remained in the goldfields.”
“Yes, I said he remained out there. He did.” Robert’s coughing spell was over.
“But you didn’t say he was dead. That he had sacrificed his life.”
“Who doesn’t sacrifice his life on the Trail? Everyone does—one way or another . . .”
“You talk in riddles! Tell us the truth right out!”
Karl Oskar was getting impatient and loud, but his younger brother remained calm. He picked up the watch and coiled the broad brass chain slowly around his forefinger. Kristina rose and began to clear the table; without interfering in the conversation between the two brothers she was listening intently. She told the children to leave the table.
Robert twisted the chain of Arvid’s watch tightly around his finger until it resembled a thick golden ornament. He squeezed the watch inside the palm of his hand. Kristina noticed his elbows were beginning to tremble.
Roberts eyes looked so big and glassy today; she felt his forehead with her hand.
“You’re burning hot! You have a fever!”
Karl Oskar had sounded angry and she whispered to him not to cross-examine his brother in this way; they could see he was sick.
Her cautioning had its effect. Karl Oskar rose, and put his next question in a milder voice.
“We two are brothers—why don’t you confide in me?”
“The very first evening I came home you said to me, ‘Stop lying!’ I had just begun to confide in you. But you didn’t believe me. You said, ‘I know you’re back without a single nickel!’”
Robert had risen too; he straightened his narrow, caved-in shoulders. They stood shoulder to shoulder and as Robert straightened up it was apparent that he was a couple of inches taller than his older brother.
Not even physically was Karl Oskar any longer the big brother. And his cheeks reddened slightly as he remembered that on Monday evening his “little” brother had got the upper hand: This is just a little pocket money!
“But couldn’t we be honest with each other again? Why did you hide the watch? No one is going to think that you killed Arvid to take his possession!”
Robert turned his face quickly toward Karl Oskar and his reply came as a sudden thrust.
“Maybe you have guessed it! Perhaps I did kill Arvid! Perhaps it was my doing . . .”
“Are you out of your senses?!”
“He wanted to return . . . once . . . but I . . .”
Robert stopped suddenly, his shoulders caved in again, as if he were defending himself against a blow. He pressed his hands against his head and panted:
“I can’t . . . Leave me alone . . . I’m not strong enough . . . Please, Karl Oskar . . . leave me in peace . . . dear brother . . . forgive me . . . I can’t stand it . . .”
He rushed to the door and opened it with a heavy jerk of the handle. While they stood there, perplexed at his sudden outburst, he ran out of the kitchen as if he were pursued. They looked after him through the window—he had thrown himself face down on the ground near the newly planted gooseberry bushes. There he lay, unmoving.
“Leave your brother alone,” advised Kristina. “You can’t do anything else . . .”
“No,” Karl Oskar sighed irresolutely. “What else can one do? Nothing, I guess . . .”
He knew that Robert would never take back a single word of what he had said, never admit one of his lies, never would admit that he did lie. Would they ever know the truth about Arvid? Would they learn what had happened to the two old farm-hand friends after that day four years ago when they set out on their journey to California?
But one piece of clear information they would get—by tomorrow they would have the truth about the gold-seeker’s riches.
—2—
Karl Oskar left to work on the church building. A few moments later Robert came back in, like himself again. Today, once more, he wanted to take a walk to the Indian, he said. And Kristina watched him stroll off through the pine grove to the west.
She went into the gable room to make up his bed and there she discovered large dark red spots on his pillow slip which hadn’t been there yesterday. The spots could be nothing but blood oozing from his bad ear during the night.
She began to wonder if Robert didn’t suffer from some consuming inner illness; he had a nasty cough, and sometimes he couldn’t eat their food—such troubles were not caused by a bad ear. Did he perhaps have chest fever? When she was alone with him she would ask him about this; he seemed to confide in her rather than in his brother. For the moment the red spots on his pillow slip told her more about him than he himself had done so far.
Kristina sat down to her sewing and picked out the basting from a pair of pants she was making for Johan. It was still early in the day but the heat was already pressing perspiration through her skin. The older children had gone down to the lake and must be splashing about in the inlet. Outside the chickens cackled; she now had a score of laying hens, all from the eggs of the hen Ulrika had given her two years ago. The cow, Miss, had lately calved but was not yet recovered and stood tethered down in the meadow. She had already had time to fill her belly and sought shade under a tree where she stood and chewed her cud.
Just then the oppressive, heavy stillness of the summer day was broken by loud cries from the children. Kristina dropped Johan’s pants on the floor and was outside in a second.
Johan and Marta came from the lake carrying Harald between them. Harald’s face was red and his eyes wild-looking, as he screamed loudly. The mother took the boy in her arms, carried him inside, and put him on the bed in the gable room. There was no use questioning the little one—he couldn’t talk; he panted for breath, groaned and puffed, bubbling foam escaping from the corners of his mouth.
The mother felt a sudden pressure across her chest.
“What happened to the boy? Did he fall and hurt himself?”
“It’s the wildcat! A great big wildcat!”
Johan and Marta were talking at the same time. While they had been out in the water Harald had crept in among the bushes on the shore. Suddenly he had come rushing back, yelling at the top of his voice, and they had heard a horrible growling and hissing: Harald had come across a big wildcat that was hiding in the thicket. They too had seen the evil critter that had frightened Harald; it was gray and had a thick cropped tail and thick legs. They had seen his head sticking out from the bushes, an enormous head with long whiskers—exactly like an ordinary cat but much bigger.
Johan and Marta had been so scared when they saw him they too had yelled, and the screaming of the three of them frightened the cat, who sneaked back into the bushes again. They had rushed home but had to carry Harald, who was so frightened he couldn’t walk by himself.
Kristina pulled off the boy’s clothes to see if the wildcat had wounded him, but she could find no claw marks on the little one’s body. It must have been the scare that affected the boy. But she felt sure the littlest of the brats had been in danger of his life; these big cats were said to kill children of his age. She had heard that those treacherous wildcats got right into houses. Karl Oskar had once shot such a beast down at the lake.
Kristina went to fetch some sweet milk from the spring where she kept it sunk in a bucket to preserve it in this heat. She tried to make Harald drink.
“Dear sweet love, don’t be afraid—that ugly cat . . .”
A little child could lose its voice from sudden fright. But by and by the boy’s voice returned; he stuttered a few syllables; soon he managed an occasional full word.
“The cat
. . . he groaned . . .”
“Horrible creature!”
After a while Harald seemed all right again and could talk fairly well, but she had better keep him in bed for the rest of the day. Kristina warned the other children not to go near the lake. The big wildcat might still be there, lurking in those heavy bushes that hung over the water in the shallow inlet.
Kristina had barely sat down to her sewing again before she was interrupted by a caller—a dear caller: Ulrika Jackson had come to visit New Duvemåla.
Ulrika was on her way home from St. Paul, where she had caught a ride on a cart and decided to stop in since she was so close. She hadn’t seen her namesake for several months. Kristina’s naming her lastborn Ulrika had pleased her more than a proposal from the President of the United States would have—if she had now been unmarried.
The first thing she asked was how much the girl had grown since her last visit. Ulrika herself had had a new baby last winter, her second child in wedlock—again a girl. It seemed to be her lot to mother females only. She still hoped to bear a male who could be consecrated as a holy preacher. Why didn’t the Lord wish to make her worthy to carry in her womb a future servant of his church? She supposed she had in some way annoyed God. But in what way?
Today for her journey to St. Paul she was wearing a new dress, with big puffed sleeves and a wide collar.
“Miss Skalrud says I deck myself in too much lace and flowers and embroidery,” said Ulrika. “The Norwegian says, ‘If you don’t get to be a priest’s mother it’s only a punishment for your vanity!’”
Kristina inspected the new dress: all upper-class ladies in America had puffed sleeves and wide collars, and they were not considered sinful or blasphemous decorations. Or did they tempt the menfolk to fornication? Ulrika’s new dress fit her well and was most becoming to her. Kristina couldn’t believe that because of puffed sleeves and lace and embroidery the Almighty would make Ulrika unable to bear male children.
“I would be glad to dress in potato sacks if I thought it would help,” exclaimed Ulrika. “But I keep hoping for next time. I’m only forty-two—I’ll be fertile still for a few years!”
Kristina explained why she was keeping Harald in bed and told Ulrika about the wildcat lurking in the bushes. When Ulrika also heard about Robert’s unexpected return her curiosity was aroused and she showered Kristina with questions: What had happened to Karl Oskar’s brother in California? How much had he told them? Had he earned any gold to bring back? Kristina replied evasively. Robert had gone out but Ulrika herself could ask him as soon as he came back. So far he hadn’t said much. She looked askance at the Swedish chest and was sorely tempted to confide in Ulrika about what lay hidden in it, but she dared not because of Karl Oskar. Nothing must be said to anyone as yet.
Robert did not return for the noon meal. Ulrika took his place at the kitchen table once she had thwarted Kristina’s attempts to set the table in the big room in honor of her guest.
“I’ve been to St. Paul to visit Elin.”
“Elin? Has your girl left Stillwater?” asked Kristina in surprise.
“Yes, she has a new job.” Ulrika became so serious that it surprised Kristina. She went on: “It was a hell of a thing. There are worse wildcats than those on four legs.” And Ulrika began to talk about the two-legged ones.
A great scandal had happened in the Baptist congregation in Stillwater. For more than four years Ulrika’s daughter Elin had been maid to Mr. Paul Hanley, the most prominent and richest member of their church. Hanley and his wife had been kind and generous to Elin. But a few times during the last year Elin had complained that Mr. Hanley acted peculiar toward her. She was asked to help him pull off his boots, she was told to sew buttons on his clothes while he had them on, and when his wife was away he called Elin to his room after he had gone to bed and asked her to make the bed while he was lying in it. These were chores he had thought up for the innocent girl, who wondered what it was all about.
And a few weeks ago she had come running home crying. He had tried to lead the girl astray and fornicate with her. His wife was at a party; he had called Elin to make the bed again—and then he had pulled her to him and thrown her down on the bed under him. Only with the greatest effort had she struggled free—luckily Elin was a sturdy, strong, full-grown girl—and, scared to death, she had rushed home to her mother. Ulrika realized at once what great danger the girl had been in: six or seven hooks had been torn loose from her petticoat.
Ulrika had gone straight back to Mr. Hanley and called him all the names he had earned, both in English and Swedish: adulterer, seducer, virgin-robber, horkarl, knullgubbe. He denied everything and called Elin an inveterate liar. But Ulrika had walked right into the elegant bedroom of Mr. and Mrs. Hanley and, as luck would have it, happened to see four of the torn-off hooks and eyes from Elins underskirt right on the floor next to the bed. She recognized them at once, she had sewn them on herself when she had made the petticoat for the girl. She picked them up and stuck them right under Mr. Hanley’s nose: she had sewn those hooks and eyes to her daughter’s clothes—how did they happen to be in his bedroom, next to his bed?
At that the hardened seducer admitted that he had fondled his beautiful girl servant, but it had not been with any sinful or lewd intention. On the contrary: God himself had sent him the thought that it was his fatherly duty as her master to test the girl’s chastity. She was so attractive and thus constantly exposed to temptations and to the desire of men wishing to seduce her. As a true Christian it was his duty to guard the innocence of his girl servant. He had seen men approach her with decidedly dishonorable intentions, and he would hate to see her led astray by immoral men, into deaths destruction, so often the lot of beautiful servant girls. But the girl had not understood that with his fondling he only wanted, in a fatherly way, to test her chastity. And for this he was very sorry, since he had only touched her with pious intent.
But Ulrika had replied bluntly to his false excuse: Elin had a mother who guarded her maidenhead. And he—married as he was—what kind of guardian of girls’ chastity was he? Searching so forcibly in their underwear that hooks and eyes were torn off! Instead of leafing through petticoats he ought to leaf through the Bible and find the verse where it says: adulterers and those who break the vows of holy matrimony God will judge.
She demanded the balance of Elin’s wages on the spot. The girl would not come back to a service where she would fear to be raped by the master the moment his wife left the house. A wildcat might be a hairier beast than Mr. Hanley but hardly more dangerous. Ulrika had long been aware that that elegant gentleman suffered from secret desires for women; his pants protruded as soon as he heard the rustle of a skirt; such things an experienced woman knew by instinct.
She had told everything to Henry to make him get after the adulterer. And finally Mr. Hanley had confessed privately to the pastor, saying he was crushed with remorse. And Henry, who loved a human being more the greater a sinner he was, had given him absolution. They would keep the incident quiet and Mr. Hanley would remain as one of the trustees of the church—he had, over the years, contributed great sums to the congregation. And Ulrika, who once in her old body had been a great sinner, felt that he should be forgiven this time. But this she had said to Henry: if Mr. Hanley made any more attempts at rape, then she herself would openly tell the whole congregation about his try at Elin, and to prove it she would show the hooks from the girl’s clothes which she was keeping for that purpose. That would quickly push him out of the church.
And Mr. Hanley, although he was on secret probation, had already engaged a new girl who was almost as good-looking as Elin. So it didn’t seem as if the man was trying to avoid new temptations to sin. And now Ulrika wondered: would the hooks hold in the new girl’s petticoat when the master undertook his chastity test?
Elin had immediately got a fine position with the chief of police in St. Paul and was paid three dollars more a month than Mr. Hanley had given her. Ulrika had visited her daug
hter in St. Paul and was glad she liked it so well with the new people. After all, perhaps Mr. Hanley’s chastity test had been a good thing as it might contribute to her luck in life; as a servant to the chief of police himself, her maidenhead should be safe from two-legged beasts in pants.
Kristina had listened to Ulrika without interrupting her. Now she said, “There, you see—American men too are not to be trusted!”
“Yes, a beautiful woman is in trouble anywhere in the world,” sighed the experienced Mrs. Jackson.
Kristina tried to persuade her guest to stay overnight; they had plenty of sleeping places in their new house. But Ulrika was in a hurry today.
“No, I’m sorry, but we have speak-meeting in the church tonight. And Sunday we have love feast and bread-breaking, and that kind of meeting has to be prepared for days in advance.”
Ulrika would return home on the lumber company ox wagon, passing along the road near Sjölin’s claim, opposite Nordberg’s Island, where the men were just building the Lutheran church. She had been to that spot before, and even though she was a Baptist she must say the Lutherans had found a nice and pleasant place for a Lord’s temple there on the crest of the hill, with all the foliage around it. But however nicely a church was situated, false teachings could be preached in it.
Kristina said that Ulrika must also take a look at their cemetery, which had been consecrated last fall, a short distance farther on along the shore. As yet no grave had been dug in the cemetery.
Little Ulrika was having her noon nap, the other children were taking care of themselves, so Kristina walked with her guest almost to the edge of Olausson’s claim, where the ox team would meet her.
Ulrika’s visit had stimulated and cheered Kristina, taking her mind off the things that had been disturbing her. As she walked back it struck her that she never was on intimate terms with the neighbor women even though she often saw Manda Svensson and Johanna Kron and others. They talked only of daily chores, children’s troubles, their pregnancies and births—those they had experienced or were anticipating. These women came to her with all the troubles she had enough of, was in the midst of, which almost overwhelmed her, and therefore a visit with them did not especially enliven her. Nor was she able entirely to open herself to them and confide in them. Perhaps she had changed during her long isolation; she herself had been separated from people for so long that she could not admit anyone to her innermost thoughts.
The Settlers Page 33