Ransacker

by Emmy Laybourne

  Hanne rubbed her lips, gazing toward the window. She stood and whisked open the heavy drapes. Light flooded the room, illuminating flurrying dust motes.

  “You saw what?”

  “We are all made of light, Sissel.” Hanne turned to face her sister, raising her arms in the bright beams of sunlight. “We are all a part of the same great, glorious light, and the Gods, they are playful with human lives. They laugh at our misery and our shame, because we invented it.”

  “You saw the Gods? You saw them laughing?”

  “I was the Gods, Sissel. I can’t explain it, but I became one with all the world.”

  “I don’t understand. How did all of that make you feel better about taking the lives of men?”

  Hanne took a big breath and let it out slowly.

  “It’s hard to explain.” she said. “All I know is that the Gods don’t want you to feel ashamed.”

  “What do they want me to feel?”

  Hanne held her hand into the light. The skin was dry, dirty. Fingernails ragged. Knuckles scabbed over.

  She rotated her hand, watching the play of light and shadow.

  “Alive. The Gods want you to feel alive.”

  * * *

  AFTER EATING A hastily prepared meal of ham, eggs and cornmeal flapjacks, the Hemstads were offered baths. Sissel asked for one, but all Hanne wanted to do was sleep.

  Lucy showed Hanne to a lovely bedroom, with a round braided rug and a rattan rocking chair. The wallpaper was a soft blue color, sprigged with bouquets of forget-me-nots. The bed was unmade, but there was a colorful quilt folded at the foot.

  “Give me ten minutes and I’ll get the bed made up proper,” Lucy said.

  Hanne sat down heavily on the mattress. Sleep was overtaking her hard.

  “No need,” Hanne said. “I’m only going to rest for a moment.”

  “Are you sure?” Lucy said. “Wouldn’t take me long.”

  Hanne looked around the room, blinking. She felt tired, yes, but there was something else, something warm and limb-loosening, as if she were drunk.

  She felt safe, she realized.

  “Really, it’s fine,” Hanne said.

  “Well then, I’ll leave you be. Me and Daniel will keep watch. You go on and rest,” Lucy said. She shut the door behind her.

  Hanne sat on the bed, staring down stupidly at her boots. She had to unlace them before she could lie down. That was her last thought before falling into a bottomless blackout of a sleep.

  * * *

  WHEN HANNE AWOKE it was dawn. How could that be? she wondered. She heard chickens clucking outside, a rooster crowing.

  She found she had slept in her clothes. Sometime in the night, she had drawn the quilt up. The mattress had dirt on it at the bottom from her boots.

  She made her way down to the kitchen, where she was unsurprised to find Lucy already hard at work.

  “Morning, Miss Hemstad,” Lucy said. “I hope you slept good.”

  “Yes, I guess I was more tired than I thought,” Hanne said. She felt awkward, standing there in her dirty, hard-traveled clothes.

  “Are my brothers awake? Owen?”

  “Owen’s out on the porch, sitting watch.”

  Hanne started out.

  “I got bathwater on,” Lucy said. “Don’t you want to freshen up, Miss Hemstad? I sorted through some old clothes what was stored in the attic and I think I found some for you.”

  “Thank you, Miss Lucy. That’s very kind,” Hanne said. She wasn’t sure how to speak to Lucy. She certainly wasn’t used to being waited on.

  Hanne had been so tired when they’d arrived—she couldn’t even remember if she’d been civil. And did any of that matter, with what was coming?

  * * *

  HANNE PUSHED OPEN the large oak door and stepped onto the front porch. The house faced south, and the reflected sunrise glowed softly on the mountains and hills to the west.

  Owen was seated in one of the rocking chairs, with his shotgun across his knees. Hanne thought he was asleep, but at the sound of her footsteps, he looked around.

  “Good morning,” she said. “Have you been out here all night?”

  “I spelled Daniel just a few hours ago. He’s a fine hand. I’m glad he’s been here to help Lucy around the place.”

  Owen stood and stretched. He looked handsome and clean in fresh, pressed clothes. They must have belonged to one of his brothers.

  “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a week,” Hanne said.

  “I’m not sure you did, though I was riding next to you the whole while.”

  Hanne looked up to read his expression.

  “You had other things on your mind,” he said gently. “Can I show you something?”

  Hanne nodded yes and he took her hand. They stepped off the porch and walked out around the right side of the house, toward a rise in the ground crested with a couple of willow trees.

  Hanne still couldn’t believe the splendor of the ranch. Now, rested and back in her right mind, she was intimidated by both the vastness of it, and the promise.

  Owen led her up to the trees, and Hanne saw this was where his family members had been buried.

  Five simple wooden crosses stood over humped mounds of dry earth.

  “Lucy tells me she ordered stone markers,” Owen said. “They’ll be coming from Helena. These three are for my brothers: Matthew, Harvey and Paul. Lucy said Matthew only got back with the money and collapsed. Died the next morning.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Hanne said.

  He gestured to two graves set a bit apart, side by side. “That one is my father and there’s my stepmother.”

  Hanne rested her head against Owen’s forearm.

  “I am so sorry, Owen. I can only imagine how awful it feels.”

  “I don’t have time to be sad, really, not with what’s likely headed our way. But I’ll tell you—”

  He turned his face to hers. Hanne gazed up into his warm, deep brown eyes.

  “You feel like family to me, Hanne. And I’m glad for it.”

  Hanne wrapped her arms around him and held him close. She inhaled the smell of him, leather and spice and wood smoke and whatever it was that made him Owen Bennett.

  “We should have married,” Hanne said. “Long ago. Back when you first asked me.”

  “Shhh,” Owen said. “We’ll marry when all this is finished.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  “That’s a promise,” Owen said. And he kissed her.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Stieg stood at the window in the front parlor, peering through the heavy drapes. Sissel came to stand next to him.

  “They’re here, Gods protect us,” Stieg said.

  An hour earlier, Daniel had come riding from town, to announce that a Norwegian nobleman had gotten off the train in Bullhook Bottoms, accompanied by a large group of his countrymen. Owen thanked him for the information and gave him a month’s wages, telling him not to return for a week. Daniel agreed rather quickly and departed, wishing them luck.

  Lucy cursed his name and said he was a coward, but no one else resented Daniel’s leaving. Sissel didn’t hold it against him at all.

  Two grand carriages borne by matched teams of Morgan horses came bouncing up the long drive. Each carriage was large, glossy, and new, one black with yellow wheels and the other mahogany brown, edged in red. A team of two drivers sat on each carriage.

  “Just driving right up to the house,” Owen said, gazing out the other parlor window. “So at least there’s that.”

  “What do you mean?” Sissel asked.

  “They didn’t try to sneak up on us. Surround us.”

  “I don’t think that’s the Baron’s style,” Stieg said, eyeing the fancy rigs as they rolled up to the ranch house. Knut and Hanne gathered next to Owen at the other window. Sissel looked to her sister—did her Nytte warn her of danger? But Hanne did not seem any more agitated than the rest of them.

  “How many people do you think he has bro
ught?” Knut asked.

  “We’ll see soon enough,” Hanne said. Daisy was pacing the room, growling low in her throat.

  The drivers of the carriages jumped down, all of them hastening to lower the steps and open the doors.

  “That your Baron?” Lucy asked, coming up from behind them. Sissel jumped a foot, her heart pounding. Lucy looked amused. “Didn’t mean to startle you. This the fella we’re expecting, though, ain’t he?”

  “Yes,” Owen said. “It’s him.”

  “Then I’ll put some coffee on, should I?”

  “It’s not a social call,” Sissel said. “We’re not entertaining them.”

  “Maybe it’s a good idea,” Stieg said. “After all, it’s the polite thing to do. And they might be hungry.”

  “Got it,” Lucy said. “Anything else I can do?”

  “Do me a favor and take Daisy with you?” Owen asked. “She’s picking up on our nerves.”

  “Sure thing,” Lucy said, and she called Daisy as she left the room.

  “Look!” Knut said, pointing out the window.

  Two muscular young men in fine suits had stepped out of the mahogany carriage. They were the same build, the same height, and as they turned, Sissel saw they were twins. They joked with each other, smiling and chatting. Climbing out next was a tall, scowling minister, wearing the black robes and starched white neck cloth of the Lutheran church.

  The minister looked up at the house, and Sissel had the impulse to hide behind the thick brocade fabric of the curtain. Stieg put his hand on her arm to steady her.

  The door to the black carriage opened next. First a man as large as Knut emerged; he had an amiable look on his face and breathed a deep breath, gesturing, it seemed to Sissel, at the loveliness of the scenery. An Oar-Breaker, without doubt. Behind him a slender man in a trim, elegant suit stepped out. He wore a bowler hat and carried a brass-tipped cane. The way he carried himself conveyed alertness and intelligence, as well as privilege and power.

  Sissel knew who he was, and she whispered it aloud: “The Baron.”

  More men were climbing out of the carriage. There were two Pinkertons in city clothes, and another three men who looked Norwegian, from their height and their blondness. One was tall and thin, like Stieg. He wore spectacles and carried a slim leather suitcase. They all seemed perfectly at ease.

  “There’s ten of them!” Knut said.

  “Fourteen if you count the drivers,” Owen said.

  Fjelstad strode through the group, coming toward the house.

  Sissel stepped back from the window; they all did. There was a flurry of straightening clothes and tidying hair.

  Everyone except Knut was dressed in clothes from the attic. Hanne was wearing one of Mrs. Bennett’s more demure gowns, a cream-colored velvet with gold buttons up the front. Owen wore a dark, charcoal suit from one of his brother’s closets. He looked dashing. Together, he and Hanne looked like a young, wealthy couple.

  Sissel liked her own dress less—a heavy, peach-colored gown years out of style. It was one of Mrs. Bennett’s dresses from when she’d first married. It better fit Sissel’s slight frame than any of the others. The material was thick: at least that was something, if there was to be a fight. Sissel’s shoulder felt better, so much so that she refused to bandage it again. She didn’t want the Baron to see a single weakness.

  “They don’t look mean,” Knut said. “They look very friendly.”

  “Make no mistake about it,” Sissel said. “That man is our enemy.”

  “Yes,” Stieg said. “Only let’s present ourselves as calm and reasonable so we can better learn his plans and how to make him leave us alone once and for all.”

  Sissel nodded. Hanne put a hand on Sissel’s shoulder. Hanne’s hand was very cold.

  There was a rap on the door.

  Hanne and Sissel took seats in the parlor, as they’d planned. Stieg came to stand behind Sissel, and Knut stood next to the wall.

  Owen made to answer it, but Lucy swept in from the kitchen.

  “You’re the master of the house,” she hissed at Owen. “Go stand by the fireplace.”

  Owen crossed to the hearth and Lucy waited until he was settled before opening the door.

  “Good morning, sir,” Lucy said. “Shall I take your hat and cane?”

  “Why, thank you,” came the voice of the Baron. It was a refined and melodious voice, hardly a trace of a Scandinavian accent.

  Fjelstad turned to his left and saw them there, the Hemstads and Owen Bennett, all arranged and set out like a tableau.

  He raised his arms.

  “My family!” he said. “How I have looked forward to this day. Rolf has told me so much about you all.”

  He stepped into the parlor, coming straight for Stieg.

  “You must be Stieg.” Fjelstad extended his hand. Stieg shook it stiffly, surprised by this aggressive friendliness.

  “This will be Hanne,” Fjelstad said, gesturing. “Well met, Nyttesdotter! Hail, Freya! What joy it gives to behold you! And you must be Hanne’s fiancé, Owen Bennett. Congratulations, young man.” Fjelstad pumped Owen’s hand.

  The Baron spun then, grinning over toward Knut. “I see brother Knut. Yes! The Oar-Breaker! Hello!” He shook Knut’s hand. “You are all as Rolf described!”

  Fjelstad now let his gaze rest on Sissel. She met his eyes coolly.

  “And you must be Sissel. By all the Gods of the Æsir, I am humbled and honored to meet you, young lady.”

  At this Fjelstad knelt in front of her chair. The Baron Fjelstad knelt at Sissel’s feet! Sissel raised her eyes to her siblings, she was so shocked at this behavior. She saw that two of the Baron’s men—the minister and the tall man with the spectacles—were standing in the doorway, taking in this strange scene.

  “I am at your service, young Sissel Amundsdotter. Nyttesdotter. Ransacker.”

  The Baron was peering up into her face, examining her features as if to memorize them. Sissel tried to keep her face still.

  She saw the Baron’s eyes dart to her hands, which were folded in her lap, as if he wished to take one and kiss it.

  She did not offer her hand to him.

  “You’ve shocked them, Fjelstad,” said the minister, his voice as coarse as gravel under a wheel.

  “We are indeed taken aback to be addressed so informally,” Stieg said, finally regaining his tongue. “We hardly think of you, sir, as a friend, much less family, after your recent actions against us.”

  “Ah yes, there is so much to be explained. I must beg your pardon a million times, for I’ve gone about everything wrong. But if you will allow me to explain, I will prove to you all that I’ve never meant any of you harm. Quite the opposite! My mission in life is to preserve and uphold the Nytteson. These men, whom I’ve brought all the way from our beloved mother country, will attest to this if only you’ll listen.”

  “There is one man we might listen to,” Hanne said. “And you have not brought him. Where is Rolf Tjossem?”

  “He is ill. I regret to say that I had to leave him behind. But he wrote a letter for you. Let’s begin with his letter.”

  The Baron held his hand out toward his men at the door. The man with the spectacles came into the room, removing a leather document holder from his jacket. He extracted a sealed letter and handed it to the Baron, who gave it to Hanne.

  Hanne slid her finger under the wax seal and scanned the letter.

  “‘I fear my days are few, my dear friends,’” Hanne read aloud. “‘I have made the decision to unburden my soul to the Baron, for I have come to believe that he truly has your best interests at heart. I have told him everything about our time together and our travails at Wolf Creek. It is my greatest wish that you will take shelter at the Baron’s estates at Gamlehaugen. If the Gods are merciful, perhaps you will arrive in time to see me again. I know I expressed doubts to you in the past, but I have come to see clearly that we all must come together now.’ And it goes on…”

  Hanne handed the le
tter to Stieg, who read over it.

  “It’s in his hand,” Stieg said. “Though it’s shaky.”

  “He had a terrible fever,” Fjelstad said. “If he had told me about his friendship with you sooner, I would have insisted he return here.”

  “Instead you had us spied upon,” Hanne said. “You had a spy pretend to be Sissel’s suitor!”

  “Yes, I must apologize for that. What a bungling mess! It can all be explained. Must be explained!” Fjelstad said. “Call the Pinkertons in,” he told his men.

  Now there was an awkward moment as the Baron stood there while the Pinkertons were summoned.

  “Is there a chair?” Fjelstad asked. “May we sit? It’s been a long journey.”

  There was a bustle as the chairs in the corner were brought forward and several more from the dining room were brought in. Lucy popped her head in. She caught Sissel’s eye and asked silently if she could bring coffee. Sissel shrugged yes. It seemed to be turning into a social event, after all.

  “Let me introduce your brothers,” Fjelstad said as the furniture was being arranged. “This is Pastor Jensen, and this is Björn: He’s a Swede but he’s a Nytteson so we like him, anyway.”

  Björn smiled at what was clearly a well-broken-in joke between them.

  “Out the window, here, you’ll see the big fellow Harald, and the twins, Arne and Johan. I’m honored to present them to you, for they are your brothers,” Fjelstad said.

  “I know well who my brothers are,” Stieg said. “I have two and only two. Knut and Owen.”

  “I hope in time we can convince you that you have a much larger family,” the Baron said.

  The Baron and his men sat on the chairs that Owen and Knut had brought in. The Pinkertons came in from the porch, removing their hats. The Baron gestured for them to sit as well. Sissel saw their expressions were grave.

  “My name is Alvin Phillips,” the taller of the two began. “On behalf of the entire agency, I apologize to you. Things got completely out of hand up there in the hills. We’re having a hard time piecing together what happened, so you all probably know more about it than we do.”