A New Day Rising (21 page)

"Mrs. Holtensland wants to know if you are attending church with us this morning?"

"Ah." Hjelmer thought fast. He had nothing to wear but the clothes on his back, since his others were soaking prior to a hard scrubbing. "Tell her no thank you. Perhaps another time."

The woman sniffed and spun on her heel. Hjelmer thought he heard, "Well, I'm not surprised. Filthy heathen," but he wasn't sure. He stared after the steel-spined retreating body. Whatever was the matter with her?

By dinnertime, which was served later on Sunday, the workroom looked more like it must have in its former glory days. But Hjelmer looked as though he'd been rolling in the dirt he'd swept up. A cobweb stretched across his hat.

"I can't be fetching you," Fulla said when she came to announce dinner. "You aren't in the kitchen when it is time to eat, you can go without." She shook her head at his dishevelment. "And if you think we are going to wash your clothes, you can think again."

The bee stinger returned. Hjelmer itched to tell her what he thought of her bitter tirades and he could feel his cheeks flaming at the effort to keep his mouth closed. It wasn't his place to tell her what to do, after all.

Besides that, his clothes were already hanging on the line to dry.

"Mange takk." He'd be polite if it killed him The old bag. Some trolls were more friendly than she.

The week passed swiftly with the twelve-hour workdays at the foundry and his trying to manage some time on restoring the carriage. Hjelmer fell into bed each night with no energy left to think of either home or his destination. Friday night he told Cook he wouldn't be there for supper on Saturday. He not only needed to win back what he'd lost the week before, he planned to add to his small store of cash.

Torlakson stopped by Hjelmer's forge late in the afternoon and asked him how he liked working there.

"Ja, this is a good place to work." Hjelmer delivered a ringing blow to the piece forming beneath his hammer and stuck it back in the forge to heat again. He nodded to the boy on the bellows. The extra whoosh of air made the forge glow hotter instantly.

"Keep on like you are, and you will prove your father right."

Hjelmer stared at the man, barely able to keep his jaw from smacking his chest. "Mange takk, sir. He would be pleased to hear that."

"Ja, l am." The thought of the coming card games rolled through his mind. Hjelmer watched the man as he continued down the row of forges, stopping to speak for a moment with each man. He'd overheard men saying what a fair man was Mr. Torlakson, and now he'd heard it for his own ears. Of course, he'd also heard two men cussing and grumbling what a slave driver the man was. But then one of them reeked of booze and the other came late. Said he'd been caught in a traffic jam.

Torlakson said, "Next time don't come back."

Hjelmer left the card game only one dollar down at ten o'clock. He'd planned to leave by eight, but at that time he only had two bits left in his pocket. He'd looked around the table to see delight glinting from the players' eyes at the immigrant sucker.

It was time to turn the tables.

He won the next three hands. Tor clapped him on the shoulder. "Your luck turned, man. Congratulations."

Hjelmer only nodded. Luck had nothing to do with it. He'd finally learned to read the other players, and like back on the ship, he'd set them up to believe the dumb kid didn't know much about playing cards.

Sunday he again declined the invitation to church. Who had time for that? He had one wheel that needed new spokes and the metal rim shrunk to fit the felloe again. When the others left, he laid the wheel flat on the ground and stacked dry wood mixed with coal around and over the rim. He set the finished spokes into the hub and pegged the wooden rim into place again. When the gardener returned from church, he joined Hjelmer in setting fire to the circle of stacked wood. When lit, the fire burned hot, setting the entire metal rim aglow. When it was hot enough, the two men lifted the rim out with tongs, set it over the wooden wheel, and sprinkled water on it to cool. Then, again with the tongs, they lifted the newly rimmed wheel and put it upright in a tub of water, turning it to cool the entire rim. The now shrunken metal fit like a new skin.

"You sure do know what you are doing," the gardener said, admiration coloring both his words and face.

Hjelmer nodded, running the circular traveler around the rim to make sure it was now the proper size. "My far set many a wheel. He always said his sons would never want for bread if they could set a wheel, shoe a horse, or carve a kitchen tool."

"Your far is a wise man."

Hjelmer nodded. More and more he was beginning to appreciate that.

The thought of his far brought a stinger of guilt. What would he say about his son's gambling? Plenty, no doubt, and none of it would be good.

Hjelmer set the wheel back on the axle and stood back to admire his handiwork. The frame was ready for paint. Someday, he promised himself, someday I will have a carriage like this and a pair of fine bay trotters to drive. No more dumb and filthy immigrant me. I'll have my free Dakota land and maybe a wife to boot. He'd always thought Kaaren a comely woman, and now she needed a husband. She wasn't that much older than he. This way they could keep the homestead within the family.

Saturday night he doubled his money.

"You lucky dog," Tor said, clapping him on the shoulder again.

"A fair man would let us try for our money back," one player grumbled.

"Next week." A man, huge by even Norwegian standards, tented sausage fingers and stared at Hjelmer out of ice blue eyes. "He can't win 'em all."

Hjelmer stared back. "It's just a game, Swen. See you next Saturday?"

"Ja, next Saturday. Unless you vant to come before then."

"Not me. I'll wait till payday." The two young men finished their beer and headed out to the rain-slicked street.

"I wouldn't want that giant looking at me like that." Tor shuddered. "He's a mean one, he is."

When Hjelmer declined the church invitation again, Mrs. Holtensland looked at him over her spectacles. "I am certain your mor made sure you were sitting in the pew every Sunday. You have been confirmed, have you not?"

]a, I have, and ja, Mor would be very unhappy with me. But you asked me to refurbish the carriage, and this is the only day I have any length of time." His smile could have melted a heart of cast iron. "As soon as I'm finished, I'll go to church with you."

The maid sniffed and glowered at him from behind Mrs. Holtensland's back. He tipped his hat to her as they walked out the hall.

Cook chuckled behind him. "That Fulla, she sure got it in for you."

"Why? I never did her no harm."

"I ain't be one to carry tales, but let's just say that apple-cheeked young men with angel eyes and a devil's smile remind her of something she'd rather be forgetting." Cook lumbered back to her kitchen and the dough she had rising for dinner rolls.

Hjelmer shook his head. A few more weeks of doubling his money, and he would be heading west anyway. In fact, one big pot could set him on easy street. He spent the morning painting the carriage. The main body gleamed in new black paint, and the red wheels gave a look of class with just a bit of daring. He'd already patched the upholstery and worked enough saddle soap into the leather to make it smooth and supple again. If only there were a team to hitch, he'd drive the ladies to church next Sunday.

"I hear you are close to finished with the carriage," Mrs. Holtensland said one evening at the supper table.

"Ja, you will be pleased, I am sure." Hjelmer laid his fork down. "Shame you don't have horses for it."

"If I bought horses, would you stay?"

Hjelmer blinked and felt his face go slack. "Bought horses? I thought you planned to sell the carriage."

"I did ... I do ... Don't fret, it was just a thought. Sometimes I remember my husband's pride in the carriage and pair, and ..." She fluttered her hand at him. "No, just forget what I said. I must be rambling tonight, getting to be an old woman."

"You're not old."

"Let's just say, my better years are behind me." She straightened her back. "Now, let's talk about something else. It is so rare you don't run right out to work on the carriage. I have missed our evening visits. Tell me, how is it going with your English classes?"

"I haven't begun them yet. Maybe after I finish the carriage." Hjelmer wanted to add, And besides, I am getting along just fine without taking language classes, but he didn't.

Mrs. Holtensland looked at him over the rim of her spectacles. "All the rest of the country isn't as benevolent to Norwegian im migrants as here in Brooklyn. You must keep that in mind."

"Ja, I will, and I thank you for your concern." He waited for her to lay her napkin down and begin to push her chair back. That was the signal that he could rise. When she did so, he pulled her chair back, and they walked from the room. "I have a few things left to do on the carriage. I'll see you tomorrow night."

That night, just before he fell asleep, he thought again to what his benefactress had said. If he wanted, he could probably stay in Brooklyn. He had a good job that paid more money than he had ever dreamed possible, a fine place to live, and a way to make extra money to spend as he wished. With a little encouragement, Mrs. Holtensland would buy a team, and he could drive around the city. Perhaps even out into the country for a Sunday outing. Could life get much better than this?

He deliberately lost the first hand on Saturday night. And the second.

"Things not going so good tonight, eh, kid?" one of the men asked.

Swen only quirked one black eyebrow. He wore the dark look of the Norwegians of the far north known as the Sami.

Hjelmer only shrugged. "Deal."

He won the hand, raking in the pot with a nonchalant motion. "Mange takk. That helps make up for the earlier."

He won the next. The stash of coins grew in front of him.

Swen dealt the next hand calling for Five Card Stud. He dealt one card face down to each of the players. Hjelmer checked his card, a three. The next round dealt face up only gave him an eight. He glanced across the table at Swen's hand. Ace up.

"I'm out," he said, pushing his cards toward the center of the table.

Swen nodded, dealt three more times around and raked in the pot. He stared at Hjelmer, his dark eyes never blinking, then passed the deck across.

"Five Card Stud again." Hjelmer split the deck and spliced the cards at the corners, the whir of the shuffle sounding loud in the silence. He dealt one card face down to each player. By the second round he had two jacks, one up and one down. Swen showed a King and bet four bits. One player folded, leaving four.

Hjelmer dealt a face up round again, giving himself only a queen and the others no better.

Swen raised the bet to six bits.

"Too rich for my blood," said one of the others.

"Mine too," Tor agreed.

On the next flop, Swen paired his King and Hjelmer his Jack. Knowing he needn't, Hjelmer checked his hole card. He knew that third Jack, the Jack of Clubs hadn't gone anywhere. But he could feel the tension tighten.

"Dollar."

"I call it." Slowly, deliberately, Hjelmer peeled the remaining cards off the deck. A five of Spades slipped in front of Swen and the last Jack showed in front of Hjelmer. Four Jacks!

One side of Swen's narrow lipped mouth lifted in what might have passed for a smile. "I see three jacks with a Queen kicker, an impressive hand. Your bet!"

Hjelmer kept his gaze frozen on Swen's. He slid out two dollars.

Swen's smile twitched. "I got those three jacks beat, which means I got to have that third King in the hole, don't it? Well, I'm a gonna see your two lousy bucks and raise ya another two."

Hjelmer sat without moving a muscle fora good thirty seconds. He didn't even breathe. This was it. His four jacks gave him the lock on the hand.

Swen's mouth twitched again and nearly broadened into a real smile.

Throwing four silver dollars in the pot, Hjelmer softly but firmly whispered. "I'll see your two dollar raise and bump you back two."