Matti was blushing when the side door opened and Billy came back. He shook the brave’s hand. “I should have warned you,” Billy said to Matti. “Some of the older Ojibwe call me Day After Tomorrow. That was the nickname they gave my father. When he started this trading post, he traveled all the way to Duluth for supplies. If the Ojibwe asked him when he was coming back, he’d always say, ‘The day after tomorrow,’ and the name stuck.”
By the end of the day, Matti’s head was swimming with names and faces and ledger columns. When Matti finished sweeping the floor and got ready to go home, Billy said, “Are you going to take your wages in cash or trade?”
Matti blinked at yet another mysterious use of an English word. “What would I trade?”
Billy laughed. “Trade means you can use your hours as credit to buy goods from the store.”
“I will ask Father what he thinks,” Matti said.
When Matti got home, Father was hobbling the mules for the night. As Matti walked up to help him, Katie brayed as if she was glad to see him. “How was your day?” Father asked, pulling the first knot tight.
Since Matti had been speaking English for most of the day, it took him a moment to switch back to Finnish. “Fine,” Matti said. “It’s a real busy place. Homesteaders come from miles around to trade at Billy’s store.”
“Any Finns?”
“A couple. But Billy says there’ll be lots more when they find out he has a Finn clerk.”
“He should give you a raise then,” Father said.
“I’ve only worked one day.” Matti had hoped that Father would be more positive. “He asked if I wanted to take my wages in cash or trade.”
“Is that some shopkeeper’s trick?”
“No.” Matti smiled. Now it was his turn to explain an English expression.
CHAPTER 12
As soon as the last roof board was nailed in place on the sauna, Father and Matti cut out a small window opening in the wall facing the lake. Then Father tied some cedar boughs at the end of a stick to make a crude broom. He handed it to Matti and said, “Give our little castle a sweeping, and we’ll be ready to keep house.”
Just before dark Father and Matti rolled out their blankets on the floor. “Sweet dreams,” Father said.
“Good night,” Matti said, enjoying the luxury of having no rocks or roots grinding into his hips. Matti was almost asleep when a pesky mosquito drilled him in the neck. Then he heard another and another buzzing nearby. Father cursed and slapped twice.
With no windowpane in place and no door, the sauna was a haven for mosquitoes. It was also much hotter than their lean-to. “What do you say we move back to our old house?” Matti asked.
Father tossed his blanket off. “I was just about to suggest the same thing.”
The next morning Father and Matti turned their attention to the fields. Eino Saari and Black Jack had warned Father that frosts came to Sampo Lake through the end of May so he was in no hurry to get the seed planted too soon.
Since Father couldn’t afford a factory plow, he and Matti built one. They began by sawing an ash log into a timber and shaping the end into a gentle curve. Then they bolted on a steel plate, two ash handles, and an iron ring for the hitch.
When Father started the mules down the first furrow, Matti thought it would be easy going. The ground was a mix of loam and sand, and the plow dug in easily. Father smiled as the sod rolled over. The familiar smell of the newly turned soil brought memories of springs past to Matti. From the time he was little, he had helped his father and mother during planting time.
Father was saying “This will be great dirt for potatoes” when the point of the plow hit something. The handles jerked up and nearly pitched him to the ground.
“It felt like I hit an anvil,” Father said.
Matti fetched a pick and shovel, and he and Father uncovered a boulder as big as a water bucket. “Let’s hope there aren’t too many nuggets this big,” Father said as they rolled it to the edge of the clearing. Then clicking the mules to life, he added, “But you know that the Kalevala calls us Finns masters of a land of stumps and stones. This feels like home already.”
Only a few paces later the plow got stuck next to a pine stump. Father dropped to one knee and swore. “I thought these roots would be rotted enough to break loose.” Matti got an axe, and while he chopped, Father kept the mules pulling. When the plow jerked forward, the root snapped up, knocking off Matti’s cap and plastering his face with dirt. Father laughed as Matti spit out the grit. The crow flapped down to investigate. He looked as if he were going to pick up Matti’s cap, but he plucked out a worm instead.
It took Father and Matti an hour to chop and dig their way to the end of the first two-hundred-foot-long furrow. Then just as Father turned the mules around and headed back toward the lake, the plow stopped again. Suddenly Father wasn’t smiling. “How I’d like a few sticks of dynamite to persuade these rocks,” he said.
Matti drove his pry bar into the ground, and sparks flew as he hit solid granite. A wisp of rock dust rose into the air. The deeper they dug, the angrier Father got. By using two bars and a shovel, they finally pried the boulder out of the hole. But when Father tried to roll it off to one side, it dropped back in.
“Blast these rocks,” Father cursed. Katie turned her head and flicked her ears. Matti had never seen Father so mad. Father kicked at the boulder and missed. His other foot turned, and he slipped into the hole, twisting his left leg under his right. Father was wedged so tight against the rock that he couldn’t move.
Katie let out an eeoow as if she were laughing.
Father’s eyes turned black and glowering, and he looked ready to explode. Finally he took a deep breath. “Help me out of this hole, before those mules fall asleep.”
Once Father was back on his feet, Matti said, “Why don’t we cut a long pole to pry with?”
“It would snap right off,” Father said.
“My science teacher in Kuopio taught us that a lever can move anything.”
“Fetch a pole if you like.” Father shrugged his shoulders. “For now I’ll plow around this pesky boulder.”
Matti trotted to the edge of the woods and felled a fifteen-foot aspen with his axe. He trimmed the branches and chopped off the top, leaving a stout ten-foot pole.
When Matti returned, Father stopped the mules and watched. Matti fit the limber end of the pole under the boulder and pried down. The boulder started to roll up out of the hole. As Matti leaned his full weight down, Father raised his eyebrows in approval. Stepping forward, he said, “Let me help,” but just then the green aspen snapped off. Matti fell cheek first into the newly plowed ground, and his right elbow smacked a buried stone.
Pretending he wasn’t hurt, Matti jumped up and brushed off the dirt. Father joined Katie in her laughter this time.
CHAPTER 13
When Saturday came again, Matti felt guilty about leaving Father to do the field work alone, yet he was looking forward to his job at the store. As Matti said goodbye, the crow flapped onto his shoulder. Matti shooed him away, but he flew right back.
“Looks like he wants to be a shopkeeper, too,” Father said.
Matti hiked down the trail, enjoying the cool morning breeze. At times the crow glided ahead. Other times he rode on his shoulder. The peace of the woods made Matti lonesome for Kuopio. This was the time of the year when he and his friends Paavo and Juha caught dozens of haukia in the lake. Though Paavo always managed to fall in the water at least once on every trip, they brought home sackfuls of fish to share with their neighbors. If only Paavo and Juha could come and visit him at Sampo Lake.
When Matti reached the store, the crow perched on the porch railing and studied the merchandise in the window. The front door was already unlocked. “Morning, Matti,” Billy called, stepping outside. “Have you recruited a new customer?”
“He’s my pet.” The crow cawed and flew to Matti’s shoulder.
“Once those hatchlings fix on you, you’re stuck
being their momma.”
“He’s feeding himself already,” Matti said.
“He looks plenty healthy,” Billy said as he watched the crow preen his wing feathers. “You ready to get to work?”
Matti said, “Yes sir,” and stepped into the store.
Since word had spread that Billy had a new “Finn clerk,” lots of Finnish folks came to meet him. The hardest people to understand were those who spoke a mixture of Finnish and English, which Billy called Finnglish. When a man came in and said, “Kivit for me tat kahvi” Matti was stumped. Blushing, he said, “Anteeksi,” or “Excuse me” in Finnish. Only when the man switched to Finnish did Matti figure out that he meant “Give me that coffee.”
Most of the customers were friendly except for the ornery lumberjack, Karl Gustafson, who had made fun of Matti his first day. When Karl came in after lunch and bought some chewing tobacco, he paid Matti with a handful of dirty pennies, saying, “I want to test your young Finlander, Billy, and see if he can count.” Karl thought that was real funny until Matti noticed he was one penny short. Then he grumbled about “boys too smart for their britches” and dug for another coin.
After Karl left, Billy said, “Don’t you pay that fellow no mind. He’s been as crabby as a cat with his tail in a wringer ever since a bum leg made him quit lumberjacking last year.”
Through the morning, as Matti waited on customers and listened to Billy speak with the French Canadians, Norwegians, and Swedes who came into his store, he realized that these were folks just like his own family. Matti decided that was why Mrs. Winston made the customers so nervous. They’d left their home countries to escape rich landowners who’d lorded over them their whole lives, and Mrs. Winston’s fancy ways reminded them of the world they’d fled.
Matti was still confused by Billy’s strange way of talking. Instead of saying goodbye to the customers, he’d often call “Keep your powder dry” or “Watch your back, bivernant.”
Just before lunch Billy asked Matti to come to the livery stable to help him. As Billy stepped into the barn, he waved his hand to his right. “I got me a fine pair of Missouri mules in yesterday.”
Hurrying to keep up with Billy, Matti cut close behind one of the new mules. The mule lashed out with his hind foot and kicked him in the same shin that was still bruised from being hit with the logging chain. “Owww,” Matti groaned as he fell.
“What on earth?” Billy turned to find Matti lying on the hay-littered floor. “Don’t you know enough to stay clear of a strange animal?”
“But the tail isn’t clipped funny like Katie’s,” Matti said.
“Did you think we put a warning sign on every barnyard beast in America?”
Matti limped through the rest of the day, trying not to show his pain. Things went well until the middle of the afternoon, when Matti heard a shriek from the porch. He looked out and saw his crow diving at Mrs. Winston. He hurried out.
“Mind your manners,” Matti hollered, and the bird glided over and landed on his shoulder. Two customers were grinning.
Mrs. Winston said, “Is that bird your pet?”
“I rescued him after a storm,” Matti said. “He wouldn’t hurt you. He just wanted to see that pretty ring you’re wearing.”
“This?” She held up her left hand, and the crow cawed.
Matti took a step toward her so that the crow could see the sparkly diamond. He cocked his head and leaned over and pecked at the stone. She pulled back her hand, and everyone laughed.
“That bird has fine taste in jewelry, Clara,” Billy said.
“Well, he can’t have it,” she said. Everyone laughed again.
Billy walked up to Matti after his wife had gone inside and put his arm around his shoulders. “I’d like to thank you, Matti.”
“Thank me?” Matti said.
Billy nodded. “That’s the first time she’s gone near a wild creature since she moved here. I don’t care if it’s a mouse or a magpie. Being that she grew up in the city, she’s afraid of anything furred or feathered.” As the customers walked back into the store, Billy asked, “Did I ever tell you how I met Clara?”
Billy went on to tell the story of how Miss Clara Hughes had come north to vacation with the Congdons, one of the wealthiest families in the Midwest. She and the Congdon girls had gone on a steamboat ride to the Cook end of Lake Vermilion. Billy was returning from a trading trip at Wakem-up Village when he met Clara on the boat. “The weather was still and blue that day,” he said. “A pair of ospreys were circling over Norwegian Bay, and Clara asked me what kind of birds they were. We struck up a conversation and hit it right off. By the time we reached Big Bay, the moon was huge and sparkling on the water.” Billy paused. “I was smitten. A week later we eloped. At first Clara’s father threatened to disown her, but things gradually settled down.”
Just before quitting time the door swung open and Matti heard, “Hey there, Mutti Boy.”
It was Black Jack, with his dog Louhi at his side. “Since when have you been working at Miss Clara’s store?” Black Jack stumped past him and walked up to Clara. “How’s the prettiest lady between here and Helsinki?” His English was rough but understandable.
“Why, Mr. Mattson,” Clara replied. “How nice to see you.” To Matti’s amazement she held out her hand and Black Jack shook it. “So what can we do for you?” she asked.
“My stewpot is low on potatoes.”
“I believe we can fix that,” she said.
After Black Jack had paid for a sack of potatoes, Mrs. Winston turned to Matti. “Since we’ll be closing soon, why don’t you help Mr. Mattson carry his potatoes home? You’re neighbors, aren’t you?”
Matti thought about using his sore shin as an excuse to avoid spending time with Black Jack, but how could he refuse to help a one-legged man?
When they stepped outside, Matti said, “I didn’t know you spoke English.”
“I don’t speak English,” Black Jack said as Matti bent to pet Louhi.
“But…” Matti frowned.
“When I first came to this country, I learned the only two phrases I’ve ever needed: ‘Please pass the potatoes’ and ‘My, aren’t you a pretty lady.’ I haven’t found a place where one or the other didn’t work.”
As Matti shouldered the potato sack, his crow flapped down from a tree and perched on top of it.
On their way home Black Jack spent half the time cackling at his own jokes, and half the time whistling the same strange tune that had accompanied his chopping. Matti asked him about the music again, but Black Jack said, “What music? You must be hearing things.” Then he cackled so loud that he scared the crow.
When they reached Jack’s cabin, Matti set the potatoes on the doorstep. Anxious to get home and rest his aching shin, Matti said goodbye and turned to go.
“Don’t you have time for one cup of coffee?”
Matti searched his mind for an excuse. “Father worries if I don’t get home before dark.”
Black Jack nodded.
But before he turned to leave, Matti asked, “How did you know that tree was going to hit our lean-to during that storm?”
“It’s like this, Mutti Boy. I hold up my finger and …” He grinned as if he were about to say something silly. Then he stopped. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know how I do it. The scary thing is there’s no way for me to predict when it’s going to come. Sometimes I just see things. When the feeling is strong, it’s like I’ve been blind up until that moment.”
He paused as if he was waiting for Matti to laugh at him. When he didn’t, Jack kept going. “I grew up as a beggar boy back in Finland. My father died in a logging accident when I was only eight years old. The night before it happened, I had a terrible dream where I saw a load of logs tip over on him. I begged Father not to go to work, but he patted my head and said he’d see me at supper.
“I’ll never forget the look on my mother’s face when the man came to tell her about the accident. Her eyes flashed toward me for just a second;
then she broke down sobbing.
“Times were hard from that day on. By doing sewing and needlework Mother did her best to take care of me and my three sisters, but she barely earned enough for us to survive. Then when I was ten years old, my mother and one of my big sisters died in a flu epidemic. The family was split up between relatives. I was sent to live with my aunt and uncle.
“I got along fine with my aunt, but my uncle was a mean brute. One day I had a feeling that something bad was going to happen. I warned him to be careful, but he only made fun of me. The next morning a rope broke in the hayloft, and a metal hook dropped and broke his arm. When I tried to help, he accused me of cutting the rope and trying to kill him. Before I could say anything more, he picked up a hoe and swung at me. I ducked. The handle broke over my back. When he raised that hickory to crack me in the head, I took off running.”
Black Jack stopped suddenly. He was staring toward the lake as if he was trying to shake a dark picture out of his head.
“And?” Matti asked.
“And I soon grew up and learned that it was wise not to ask so many questions of my elders,” he said.
On his way home Matti kept thinking of how fortunate he’d been to have Wilho. He couldn’t imagine an uncle being so mean that he would drive his own nephew away.
CHAPTER 14
On Sunday morning Father and Matti were hitching the mules to the plow while they waited for Timo to arrive. Matti’s leg was almost totally healed, and he was glad that Father hadn’t noticed his injury. Matti was irritated to find himself whistling just like Black Jack. When he stopped himself, he heard a small sound. At first he thought it was raindrops, yet the sky was clear. Then he noticed small bits of leaves on the ground. He picked up a piece and saw that the edges had been chewed.
Father held out his palm. Black flecks, not much bigger than grains of pepper, were falling from the trees. Matti looked into a popple and saw a thin caterpillar dangling from a silk streamer. Then he saw another and another. He pointed and said, “There must be thousands.”
Song of Sampo Lake Page 7