Kaidenberg's Best Sons

by Jason Heit

  In the yard, Nels tethered the sleigh lines to the hitching post and made his way to the two-room sod house; knocking twice, he opened the door. “Katherine.” He smiled. His sister was packing parcels of food into an apple crate. She wore an ankle-length dress, faded lilac-blue, with an apron tied loosely around her pregnant belly.

  She shuddered a moment. “You startled me, Nels.” And, just as quickly, she turned away from him to sweep her thick mane of dark hair forward over her right shoulder. “I thought you’d be out there helping Frank get his team ready.”

  “I’m sure he can handle them.” Nels pulled off his mitts and wiped off the ice crystals that had fused to the long bristles of his dark-brown moustache. “I wanted to see you before we leave.”

  Katherine passed him a closed-lip smile as she cleared the dirty plates from the table and placed them in the wash basin. He hadn’t remembered Katherine being so tense: shoulders up towards her ears, the crisp tone in her voice, even her smile was rigid. He took a seat at the kitchen table and wondered what was troubling her. “How’s the baby?”

  “Kicking like a horse,” she said, wearily.

  “Bet it does.” He breathed into his cupped hands.

  Katherine set a cup of coffee next to Nels and took a seat at the table. “How’s Aggie and the little ones?”

  “They’re good.” He chuckled. “You should see them race to steal my part of the bed when I get up to do chores.” Nels held the cup between his hands to collect its warmth; he looked into her green eyes. “You’ll see; it won’t be too long now. God bless.” She lowered her gaze. He took a sip of coffee and studied his sister’s face. It was strange that she appeared so sad when she was so close to having the child she’d always longed to have. “What’s the matter?”

  “Why must you take Frank with you?”

  “He says he wants to do his share.”

  “I could use him here.”

  “I told him the same thing. Joseph, Peter, and I can cut enough firewood for all of us.” Katherine’s brow knit tight. Gauging her response, Nels was doubtful Frank had shared his offer with Katherine. “Isn’t Frank’s father coming to help with the chores?”

  She raised her eyes to her brother’s. “Kasimir? Oh, he’d come stinking of booze, talking and talking… No, I’ll do the chores –”

  “Be sure to let him.”

  “Aagh!” she cried. “None of you listen.” And covered her eyes with the palms of her hands.

  Nels stared at her. “Listen to what?”

  Katherine exhaled a deep sigh as her hands fell to her lap. “I hate being alone with the quiet. The sound of the wind – it gets into my head.”

  It was Nels, now, who averted his eyes; softened his expression. “This land is too big,” he said, restraining his words. Not the right time to tell her about its ghosts – the many voices, buffalo, Indian – hiding in the open, like rocks buried in the clay. How each spring he heard their cold whispers carry on the wind as he worked the plough turning the sod, breaking the soil. “I forget Aggie has the children to keep her busy.” He reached to hold her hand but instead rapped his on the table. “Don’t worry, we’ll be back in a few days. I promise.”

  “Remember the steppe? I miss it. I miss having people near me. I’d step out the door and the whole village was waiting for me.” Katherine eked out a smile.

  “You were still a child.” He smiled. A strand of Katherine’s hair fell to her cheek; he reached to brush the hair aside, but Katherine pulled away. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “We could take you back to our place; the kids would be so excited to see you.”

  Her eyes fluttered shut. “No, I’ll be fine. I’m just not myself.”

  He stood up and leaned towards Katherine, trying to get an eye on her neck. There, along the collar of her dress, he saw the blue and yellow hues hiding behind her thick hair. “Did Frank do this? Did he grab you?” he said, his voice hushed.

  She opened her eyes and stared at him, but she kept quiet, simmering. It seemed at any moment she might bare her teeth at him and growl. He studied the cuff of her dress and wondered what other marks were there. His jaw tightened. “I’ll talk with him. Set him right.”

  “He’s not one of your horses, Nels.”

  “Yeah, a horse wouldn’t do such a thing.” He turned for the door.

  Katherine stood up. “Nels, stop. Frank’s not like us. Kasimir wasn’t a good father.”

  Nels lifted his hand from the door handle and looked back to Katherine. “Would Kasimir hurt you?”

  “No. Never. Frank wouldn’t allow it.”

  Nels had always known Frank to be loud and aggressive – not the type of man to back down from a fight. That was something he’d liked about Frank, even before the man had married Katherine. “You’re right. He’d probably –”

  Then the door opened and Nels was face to face with his brother-in-law. Frank wiped away the snow and ice beads frozen to his brow and the lashes of his deep-set eyes and clapped Nels on the shoulder. “Staying warm? Before we go freeze our nuts off?”

  “I was just speaking with Katherine –”

  “Aggie and the kids might visit in the cutter,” Katherine said.

  “Good,” Frank said. “Now all your little worries are taken care of.” He took her by the arm with one hand and caressed her long hair with the other.

  “Yes dear,” she murmured, tensing, not looking at the hand clutching her arm.

  Outside, Nels marched to his sleigh. Katherine was wrong, he thought. He could fix Frank. A man is no different from a horse: only worse, only crueler and more manipulative. It was as their father had said: Horses know their place in the herd and how they relate to one another; while men seldom know their station among others. That’s why Frank, like so many men, is troubled; he just needs some reminding, Nels thought. Taking the driving lines into his hands, he flicked them so that neither line rustled a hair upon the horses, and the sleigh glided forward.

  -

  Nels and Frank drove on to Nels’s uncle’s farm, where his cousins, Peter and Joseph Eberle, joined them. The brothers drove their father’s sleigh pulled by a Percheron mare and a gelded Morgan; ahead of them was Frank with his team of quarter horses and Nels, in the lead, with his big Belgians. They took the main trail north – a thin band fragmented by drifts of fresh snow in a cold white desert, running long and straight over the top of the land. Further along, the trail crooked east, where they’d cross the coulee and the frozen lake below. From there, it’d be about 15 miles before they reached Aggie’s uncle’s farm, where they’d stay the night.

  The mid-morning sun shone weak through the low clouds and it seemed the wind had let up from earlier. Nels turned to check on the others and found them keeping pace. It was good that his cousins had joined them; they were hardworking young men and they’d be a buffer between him and Frank. Peter, the older, was 21, the same age as Katherine. They had been best friends, sweethearts even, until the horse accident about four years ago. After that, Peter no longer smiled or spoke as much as he used to – not surprising, considering he’d had his jaw broken and half his teeth knocked out. Joseph, on the other hand, was a talker, always smiling and filled with laughter.

  They stopped at the top of the coulee: a scar running through the table-top prairie, some 60 or 70 yards deep and nearly a quarter mile wide. The coulee’s slopes, cushioned in powdery snow that clung to thickets of wild rose and patches of wolf willow, were barren of any tree or shrub thicker than a man’s fist. Joseph started a cookfire in a shallow pit along the coulee’s edge, close to the brothers’ sleigh. The others were busy tending their horses. Slowly, the men gathered around the fire, taking turns to stretch their cold limbs over the flames in a sort of dance. “How’s Katherine doing with the pregnancy?” Joseph asked Frank.

  “Good. She’s nearly eate
n the cellar bare.”

  Joseph smiled. “You must be happy to be a father soon.”

  “It’s been a long wait.” Frank backed away from the flames and took a swig from Nels’s jug of moonshine. “Always seems to take quick for the cows and pigs.” He leaned towards Joseph and lowered his voice, “I think it’s in the mounting.”

  Blushing, Joseph tittered and shook his head in mock disapproval. He wrung his hands over the fire, taking in the warmth. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t –” Frank made a circle with his thumb and index finger, the jug of moonshine hung from it, and directed his mitted hand toward the circle.

  “No!” Joseph smirked.

  Nels removed his fur hat so he could better hear Joseph and Frank. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

  “Not even a sheep?” Frank persisted.

  Joseph shook his head, no.

  “Forget I asked,” said Nels.

  “What about handsome Pete there?” Frank asked Joseph, his voice louder now.

  “I think you’ve been drinking too much, Frank,” Nels interjected.

  “Probably,” he replied, and he took another pull, then let loose a long breath. “Strong stuff, Nels.” He handed Joseph the jug. “It’s good to be here. It’s good to get out of the house and have a drink with other men.”

  Joseph smiled and took a swig from the jug.

  “You could have stayed home and done that,” Peter croaked. The right side of his jaw bulged where the bone had broken, accentuating the hollowness of his jowl.

  “I’m not one to sit by the fire drinking coffee and reading the Bible,” replied Frank.

  Peter folded his arms and pulled his sheepskin coat tight around him. “I wouldn’t be leaving Katherine by herself.”

  “Peter!” Joseph chided his brother.

  Frank glared at Peter. “I think it’s best I pull my own weight. I know Katherine feels the same.”

  Nels spat into the fire. “I ain’t so hungry,” he muttered. He left the jug of moonshine with the others and went to check on his horses.

  After lunch, Nels asked Frank to ride along with him. They tied the lines of Frank’s team to the back of Nels’s sleigh and pushed on. Nels sat quietly, thinking out what he wanted to say to Frank and how he planned to say it. It was awkward being so close to Frank – the two of them sitting on the small sleigh bench with their coat sleeves brushing up against one another – he hadn’t anticipated that. It pushed away the words which had seemed so much more certain this morning. Now, he didn’t know where to begin. He worried his words might miss the mark; and, worse, that they might lead Frank to respond with some new vengeance against Katherine. Sure, there was a chance of it, but there was nothing to be gained from idleness. He just needed to begin.

  A mile and a half up the trail, Frank leaned forward folding his arms over the front rail of the sleigh. He stared at Nels. “What’s this about?”

  Nels eyed Frank. He could smell the moonshine heavy on his breath. “You and Katherine.”

  “Yeah. What do you got to say?”

  Nels shot a round of spittle to the snowy ground moving below them. “I saw the marks on her neck. You hurt her.”

  “I don’t know what she told you, but I didn’t –”

  “Don’t lie.”

  “I’m not lying,” Frank stared off toward the east. Like everywhere around them, there was an expanse of snow and sky that seemed to meet at some indefinite grey border 20-odd miles away. He turned to Nels. “You know she goes for a piss nearly every twenty minutes.”

  “What?”

  “Because she’s pregnant, right? Well, that’s what happened. She was trying to find the lamp in the dark and she tripped, caught the back of the chair around the throat. Good thing it wasn’t lower is all I can say.”

  Nels looked Frank in the eyes. They were dark and cloudy with only a trace of light shining through them, like nail holes in an old roof wanting for shingles. Nels grimaced.

  Frank snickered. “You must learn to trust, Nels.”

  And how do you trust a liar? Nels wanted to shout back; instead, he calmed himself, wiping the corners of his moustache with his mitted hand. “You should be minding Katherine and taking better care of the farm.”

  Frank scowled. “I’m a good husband, Nels, and I’ll be a damn good father too. Damn you and Pete. You watch me.”

  Nels huffed. More words.

  -

  The four men and their sleighs made it to the Landgrafs’ before sundown. Aggie’s uncle stepped out from the warmth of the soddie to greet Nels and invite them all in for supper. The men settled their horses – fed, watered, and checked them for cuts and sores – before joining Mr. Landgraf and his family for the meal. Nels brought a bottle of whiskey to the house, and Frank insisted on bringing a jug of moonshine. Inside, the men and their hosts gathered around the woodstove as Nels poured them each a whiskey. They raised their cups to Mr. and Mrs. Landgraf for their kindness. Karolin, the Landgrafs’ youngest daughter and the only child still living under their roof, raised her cup too. The girl was pretty with thick bright lips that barely hid what seemed an everlasting smile. She blushed as her fingertips wiped a drop of the liquid from her chin. Nels noticed Peter look away from the girl, turning his gaze to the cup of whiskey in his hand, while Joseph and Frank stole looks at her – Frank more boldly.

  “How old are you, Karolin?” Frank asked.

  “She’ll be seventeen next month,” Mr. Landgraf answered.

  “You must have all types of suitors.” Frank smiled.

  “You recall you’re married to my sister, don’t you?” Nels quipped.

  “Of course,” Frank snorted. “But don’t forget, we have two of Kaidenberg’s best sons with us – Pete and Joseph Eberle.” He clapped Peter on the shoulder.

  Joseph blushed and flashed Karolin a warm smile – wide and toothy. Next to him, Peter’s shoulder tensed from Frank’s unwanted touch.

  “Peter doesn’t smile much,” Frank said, “but you should hear him whistle a tune.”

  Joseph choked down a laugh as Peter brushed Frank’s hand off his shoulder and shook himself clear of Frank’s reach. He lowered his head and turned it slightly to the right, so as to hide his protruding jaw.

  “Don’t be modest,” Frank said.

  Nels glared at Frank. “This ain’t the time to be picking fights.”

  “I only tease, Nels.”

  Nels snorted his protest and considered telling Frank to shut his mouth.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your jaw?” said Mrs. Landgraf, who was standing across the stove from Peter.

  Peter stared at the floor. “Horse kicked me.”

  “Oh my,” breathed Mrs. Landgraf. “When did this happen?”

  “Four years ago July,” Joseph interjected. “Right?” Peter nodded to his brother, before shrinking back from his place at the wood stove. “It happened while we were at the immigrant camp in Battleford, when we first got here,” Joseph continued. “Father had gone with Nels and Uncle Johannes to scout for the best land. There’d been a bonfire that night and, well, you can imagine, everyone was in such fine spirits with all the excitement of being in a new country. I don’t think I’d have ever been able to get to sleep with all the noise and celebration.” The smile on Joseph’s face softened as he turned to his brother. “I can’t remember whether it happened that night or at chores the next morning?”

  “It happened at night.” Peter lifted his gaze to meet his brother’s. “You don’t remember because you got drunk on moonshine and Mother had to milk the cow the next morning.”

  A nervous laugh peeped from Joseph. “Oh yeah, I forgot.”

  “I’d say God was watching out for you, son,” said Mr. Landgraf. “It’s a miracle you’re still among the living. ”

/>   “It happened so fast I didn’t even see it coming,” said Peter.

  “Oh my,” Mrs. Landgraf said again. “But, perhaps, that’s for the best – not seeing it coming.”

  “Does it still hurt?” Karolin asked, wincing. Her own hand stroked her cheek.

  “Like a bad toothache, throbbing all the time.”

  “Pour him some more whiskey, Nels,” said Mr. Landgraf. “Dull his pain some.”

  Nels splashed another ounce into Peter’s cup. “I remember hearing about it when we returned; I’d never seen Katherine so upset, barely eating for days. Father said it was a bad omen for a new beginning, and he wanted to take the train further west but I convinced him we should stay.”

  “Why was Katherine so upset?” asked Mr. Landgraf.

  Nels looked to Peter, who seemed uninterested in reciting the details of that painful evening. “I believe she was the one who found you. Is that right?”

  Peter nodded. “She went for help.”

  The room fell quiet, a heavy mood weighed on the Landgrafs and their guests, except for Frank who broke the silence with a poorly stifled giggle.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Peter.

  “Oh, I was just wondering why you decided to pay a visit to the livestock at such a late hour,” Frank smirked. “Most of us were happy enough enjoying a fine evening by the fire.”

  Peter’s face twisted into a grimace and brightened crimson red. Nels clutched Peter’s shoulder. “Stay calm.”

  “Mr. Weran,” gasped Mrs. Landgraf. “That sort of humour is not fit for my home, nor is it kind to young Mr. Eberle.”

  Mrs. Landgraf’s reaction reminded Nels of something Aggie had once said about her, how she’d never taken any nonsense from her husband or their four sons. Now, it seemed she wasn’t going to take it from Frank either.

  As Frank turned to Mrs. Landgraf his smug grin was replaced, for an instant, by an indignant scowl. “Hmm. I suppose you’re right, Mrs. Landgraf.” Nels noted the irritation in Frank’s voice as he put on a softer, more penitent tone. “What I said wasn’t suited for the company of women or your warm home. I’m sorry for my rudeness.”