“Since you insist on pushing your nose into my business, I plan to visit the families of my students. I have been invited to several of their homes. The ones I haven’t heard from, I will drop by for a short visit. It’s important I have a sense of their families to be a successful teacher.”
“How do you plan to get to these visits?” Sven inquired.
“The ones who extended invitations said they would call for me. For the others, I intend to rent a buggy.” She tossed her head and glared.
“While I agree that knowing the families is important, homes are spread out across the range. It is not safe for you to attempt these visits on your own. Do not leave town unaccompanied. Let me know when you plan to go, and I’ll take you. Caroline, listen to me on this. The west is no place for a woman to roam around unattended.” He met her indignation with a scowl. “Do you understand?”
Caroline unlocked her door and pushed it open. “Micah needs his nap. Good day, Sven.”
The door swung shut with a bang. As she climbed the stairs to her rooms, she heard him issuing his order still.
“Do not leave town alone, Caroline. Do not.”
Chapter 4
Sven
Damn. The slammed door vibrated in unison with Sven’s pounding heart. He would not let Caroline or Micah come to harm, and this was a solemn pledge. He hoped she took his instructions to heart, but if not, he knew what to do.
He rubbed his hands together, took a deep breath, and turned. The entire congregation stood in front of the Mercantile, mouths open, and stared.
Sven strode across the street. “Mrs. Connors is safely home,” he announced. The little group turned as if from a trance, nodded, and went inside.
Sibilant sounds issued from the corners of the room, as women speculated on the scene. The sound of gossip, spitting and spiteful, was unmistakable. He sighed. His sermon hadn’t even survived the walk across the street.
He finished his coffee, ate a cookie or two, and made his farewells. The single women exhaled a collective sigh and began their own journeys home. Maybe they’d have more luck catching the preacher’s attention next Sunday, or, better yet, at the dance.
The following days, Sven watched for Caroline to walk by from the open door of his woodshop. He needed to talk to her – to explain. She was angry, but if she would let him explain, he thought she would understand.
When he heard the clip of a lady’s boot and Caroline’s voice crooning to Micah, he hurried to join her on the walkway. “Morning, Caroline,” he pulled his hat from his head. “Where are you headed?”
“It’s none of your business, but we plan to stop at the Mercantile. Micah is fond of the crackers they have there. I think they help with his teething. Poor little guy.” She pulled a cloth from her pocket and wiped drool from the baby’s chin.
Sven dropped his voice. “Caroline, I know you’re angry.” He held up a hand to ward off the retort he saw building behind her eyes. “And you have every right to be, but will you hear my side of the story? Please, give me a chance to explain.”
“Explain.” Her voice was a whip lashing the air. “Explain why you left me to the scorn of the town. Explain why you left me alone, scared and pregnant. And your poor mother, Sven, she was ill.” Her chin took a jaunt forward. “How can any of this be explained?” She pursed her lips and tried to adjust Micah on her hip.
“Give me the boy.” Sven held his hands out and Micah launched himself into them. “He’s too big for you to manage.”
“I don’t have any choice, do I? I manage.” Her foot stamped the ground, and she planted her fists on slim hips. If he ever tried to paint a picture entitled Hell Hath No Fury, this would be his model.
Micah pointed at the big Husky standing by Sven’s side.
“Loki,” Sven told the child. He set him next to the dog, and Micah grabbed two fists of Husky fur and held on. “Go ahead to the Mercantile. I’ll watch Micah.”
Hesitation and reluctance flashed across her face. “I don’t know, Sven. I don’t want you to get attached to him.”
“Too late.” He scooped the child into his arms. “Come on, Loki.” He called over his shoulder, “We’ll be in the workshop.”
Sven spread a clean blanket over the dusty floor and set the baby in the middle. Loki lay down next to him and placed his big chin on Micah’s leg.
“Oki,” Micah patted the big dog with his open palm.
“That’s right, son. Loki,” Sven agreed.
Micah pulled on the dog’s fur until he assumed a shaky stand. He sank to his knees and laid his body on top of the dog. His head rested on thick fur. “Oki. Oki. Oki,” he chanted. Loki lay still while the baby’s eyes drifted closed, jerked open, and drifted closed again.
Sven moved close and patted the child’s back, “Legge seg. Legge seg.” The comfort of the old language, memories of his mother’s voice, soothed like warm milk and honey. “Go to sleep,” he whispered, “Legge seg.”
His small back rose and fell with each sleepy breath, and his chubby hands uncurled and released their grip on Loki’s fur. Sven rubbed the big dog’s head. He opened his black rimmed eyes, lifted his head, and let it drop back to the blanket. If the dog was content to rest with the child draped on his back, he wouldn’t disturb them.
A year. He had missed a year of his son’s life. Sven closed his eyes while regret swept over him with a dizzying nausea. He moved closer and laid a large hand on the child’s diaper covered bottom.
Caroline’s quick steps echoed on the walkway. He chuckled. She’d always been small and fast. She was a hummingbird to his lumbering bear.
He placed a finger on his lips in warning as she entered his workshop. Her face softened at the sight of the slumbering child, and the knife of regret dug deeper.
He patted the blanket beside him, and she sank to her knees. They stared in silence at the sleeping boy.
“I better take him home.” She reached for the child.
“Please, Caroline. Let me explain,” Sven’s low voice was soaked with insistence.
“We shouldn’t be here alone. People will talk. Remember, gossip?” she hissed.
“The door is open. We are visible from the walk and folks are welcome to walk in. Fifteen minutes. Please.” He laid his hand on her arm.
“All right. Fifteen minutes,” she conceded with a scowl.
“Thank you.” He raised his eyes toward the ceiling, said a little prayer, and began, “Well, you probably remember the night I found you skating alone and pulled you from the ice.”
Caroline snorted and gave a pointed stare at Micah. “Yes, I probably do.” The potent mix of anger and resentment was a poisonous compound.
He flinched. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken you then, or like that, but I swear it is my most treasured memory. I love you, Caroline.”
She looked out the door in sullen silence.
“Well…” he continued. “When I got home that night, my mother was crying, pacing, wringing her hands. Lars was gone. Disappeared into the night with some of his no-good buddies. She’d tried to stop him, but you remember his tantrums, his anger. He grabbed some clothes, a gun, and he was gone.”
“You don’t even need to tell me, Sven. You were supposed to go after him, save your little brother yet again. Talk him into returning, behaving, acting like a responsible human being. Am I on the right track?”
He studied her pursed lips. Their only source of disagreement raised its ugly head. Caroline always insisted that the only person who could help Lars was Lars himself. But a lifetime of being told to watch out for his brother, to care for his brother, left a streak deep and wide. When their father passed on, he’d been twelve and Lars was seven. From that moment, he’d been the man of the family. Shoes that were always too big and rubbed his life raw.
“Well, you have the right of it, sweetheart.” Her body jerked as if from a blow at his endearment. He shut his eyes into tight lines of tension. “Ma asked me to go after him and bring him home. Sh
e was ill. How could I refuse? I thought I’d catch him in a few days, a week at most, but they were traveling fast and causing trouble along the way. I’ve regretted that search, Caroline. If I’d known how long it would take me, the price I would pay, I would never have left Cold Spring.” Sven reached out and pushed a strand of blond hair out of his son’s face.
“Go on,” Caroline demanded. The words were on the brisk side, but her tone had softened. He let his shoulders drop a tiny, tiny bit. Forgiveness was still a far-off thing.
“Lars and his friends committed a series of small burglaries starting just south of Cold Spring and leaving a trail heading south. More than one lawman wanted to lock the bunch of them up and throw away the key. I was always behind them, trailing by a day or two, and four months passed that way. I worried about you and about Ma, but I wanted to do as she asked. Bring my brother home.” He paused and rubbed his hands on the sides of his trousers.
“I stayed in Cold Spring waiting for you, Sven. When I went to see if your mother had any news, your aunt greeted me at the door. Your mother was too ill for visitors, and she did not know where you were.” A single tear trailed down her cheek. He reached over to wipe it away, but she pushed his hand from her. “I cried a million tears, Sven, and I wanted you to wipe each one away, but you were gone, and I was alone.” He put his hands over his face and tried to breathe as the pain in her voice lanced him like a bayonet. “Tell me the rest,” she commanded.
“I rode into Abilene. I expected the same old story, the one where I am too late to prevent Lars from causing trouble, when he and two other men burst out of the bank with guns drawn. Lars saw me and yelled for me to follow. Well, I knew whatever they’d done was bad, and I don’t know what I was thinking, but I did. I followed him. They pulled up a few miles out of town. They argued. Lars wanted to split up, but he wouldn’t go without his share of the money. Tempers flared. Shots were fired, and one of the other men lay bleeding in the dirt.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and gathered a deep breath. “They were still arguing and waving guns, and the injured man was groaning and rolling on the ground when we were surrounded by a posse. I was arrested along with Lars and his buddies.”
“Oh, Sven. How terrible.” Caroline exhaled the words on a whisper.
“Yup, pretty terrible all right,” Sven nodded. “Our hands were bound, and we rode back to town. They threw us into a cell. The doc came by later to tend the injured man. You know, Caroline, the truly terrible thing was Lars didn’t seem to care. It didn’t bother him that I was in that cell for something I had no part in. I’d tried my entire life to take care of him, and you were right all along. It never did any good.” He ran a hand through his hair and down his face. “I’m mighty sorry.”
“What happened then? Did you explain your innocence?” she asked.
“I tried. We were up before the judge the next afternoon. Problem was when the posse came, I was just sitting there. I wasn’t trying to recapture the money or prevent them from getting away. I was sitting there hoping that somehow Lars would get clear.” His laugh was a rueful cough. “I was damned lucky, though. John Wayne was in that posse and he spoke up for me. He was a Ranger for ten years, so his word carried weight. He testified that he saw me ride up after the burglary was committed. I had followed my brother out of town, but I had not helped hold up the bank.”
“John and Marcie Wayne seem to help us at every turn,” Caroline stated.
“They are mighty fine people,” Sven agreed. “Well, the judge said I should have been trying to get the money back, and he said that made me an accomplice. He sentenced me to six months. Lars got two years, and his buddies each got five. The two of them had been committing crimes and living on the wrong side of the law for quite a spell. Lars looked like an angel compared to those two.” He looked at his hands clutched tightly together. “I was ashamed. I couldn’t bear to write and tell you I was in prison, but as soon as I was released, I hurried back to Cold Spring. Ma had died without either of her sons at her side,” he lamented. His voice broke, and he paused before he dared continue, “I went to your house. Your pa opened the door and took a long look at me. “Sven,” he said, “you have caused enough trouble in my house. You are not welcome here. If I see you on my property again, I will shoot you, and no one in this town will say me nay.”
“I didn’t know where you were. I didn’t know why your father would threaten me.” His voice ripe with the pain of that long-ago rejection. Sven patted the small diapered bottom again. “Now, I do. Caroline, can you forgive me? Let me court you, so the whole town can see. Please.” He laid a large, warm, hopeful hand on her arm.
“Where did you go?” Her question drew him back to the story.
“Your family took in Loki when my mother passed.” He gave the big dog a pat. “It was very kind of them.” His mouth rose in a rueful smile. “I collected Loki, and we left Cold Spring. I wanted to find you, but I had no idea where to look. I ran an ad in some papers around the country, but I guess you didn’t see it.”
“No, I never saw it.” She shook her head and a lock of black hair escaped from the bun at the nape of her neck. He leaned forward and pushed the strand of soft hair behind her ear. For a moment, she laid her cheek in the hollow of his palm before lifting her dark blue eyes to his face. His heart leaped painfully in his chest. Truth to tell, another part of him was leaping and eager. He shifted in his seat.
“Where were you, sweetheart?” he asked.
“After the gossips of Cold Spring chewed me up and spit me out, I went to stay with my aunt in Winona,” she began.
Sven dealt himself a blow to the temple. “Damn. Why didn’t I think of that? I’d forgotten all about her.” He shook his head side to side like a big dog throwing water after a swim. “Damn,” he repeated.
“I’m not at all sure the preacher should swear. In fact, I remember how you dealt with bad words,” she blushed.
Their eyes locked, and Sven remembered spanking her sweet bottom for her poor choice of words. From the creeping red of her face, she remembered it, too.
“I stayed with my aunt through the pregnancy. She told folks I was a widow, and that seemed to smooth the waters. After Micah was born and doing well, she suggested I get teacher training. Well, it was a good idea. I would need to support us somehow. I attended Winona National School. My aunt watched Micah. I owe her a big debt,” Caroline declared and added a decisive nod of her head.
“That was smart, Caroline. I’m proud of you, and mad at me. You should never have had to worry about support. That’s my job.” He swallowed, hard.
“Well, you weren’t there, were you?” Her words carried hurt, but she softened her voice and lowered her eyes. “Anyway, when I graduated, I applied for positions all across the country, but no one would hire a woman with a child, until Marcie Wayne. So, here I am. What brought you to San Miguel?”
“After I left Cold Spring, I wandered for a bit. Then I set my mind on thanking John Wayne for his help at the trial. John told me he couldn’t stand by and let an innocent man be painted with a black brush. He was sorry the judge had sentenced me to prison at all.” Sven reached for Micah who was now awake and wiggling. “He asked my plans, and I told him I had planned to be a preacher in Cold Spring, but I didn’t know what to do or where to go any more. Turned out, the current preacher in San Miguel wanted to retire and move closer to his daughter. John talked to the mayor and introduced me to the preacher and the deacons. They offered me the position. It came with a little money, the little house, and this barn that I have made into my workshop. I don’t believe he told them I’d been in prison, but I didn’t ask.” He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Thanks to John and Marcie Wayne, I’ve found you.”
Caroline handed Micah a cracker from her bag. They watched the baby gnaw on it. Drool ran down his chin in a little river. Sven pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it clean. “There you go, little man.”
Relieved of the baby’s weight, Loki r
ose, stretched and moved to his favorite, sunny spot by the door. He dropped his big body to the ground and fixed his eyes on Sven.
“Caroline,” Sven’s voice a desperate growl, “forgive me.”
“I’ll try.” She exhaled the words on a heavy sigh. “But it will take time.”
Micah reached for Caroline, and Sven released the baby into his mother’s arms. “All right, sweetheart. But I’ll be counting the minutes until the dance Saturday. I need you in my arms.” He paused. “Now, I don’t mean to be pushy, but, as I mentioned before, it’s not safe for a woman alone in this town, especially after dark. How are you getting to the dance?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but John and Marcie are picking me up.” Her words were clipped. Her grudge was as deep and wide as the river Jordan, but a river can be crossed one way or the other – boat, barge, ferry, or a swim. Surely, he could find a way to cross to the other side of her lingering anger. He would let her fan those flames for a bit. He guessed he owed her that much, but she was wrong, dead wrong, if she figured he wouldn’t be keeping an eye on them.
“It is my business. You’re the woman I love, and Micah is my son. Do not be foolish, Caroline. I am here to see to your safety. Hear me?”
“For heaven’s sake, I hear you.” She leaned down to pick up her bag.
Micah pointed at the dog resting in the doorway. “Oki,” he declared.
“Wouldn’t you know it,” Caroline fumed. “His first word isn’t mama. It’s Loki.” Frustration bubbled in her eyes.
With a swirl of skirt, she marched through the door.
A small chant followed her up the street, “Oki, Oki, Oki.”
Sven laughed a laugh of long held relief. He had a chance. She would be his again. He would have them both – wife and son. He would. He hoped he would.
The Teacher and the Preacher Page 3