Blessing in Disguise (8 page)

“My trunk. Where will my trunk go?” She looked from the wagon back to the station platform. Even though her trunk was small, she’d not seen it unloaded from the train. Had it gotten lost? Would it come later? What would she do for clothing in the meantime?

Kane shrugged. If only he could understand her. Something sure had gotten under her smile. Her eyes darkened like the sky before a storm. He followed her pointing finger back to the train platform and then tried to decipher her hand motions. Something long and deep and square.

“A box?” He mimicked her motions.

She nodded, and lo and behold the sun returned. “Ja, my trunk.”

“Ah.” He nodded, motioned her to wait, and headed back to the depot.

“Sorry, nothing came in with that name on it,” the stationmaster said. “In fact, your windmill and some things for the store and the hotel were all the freight this time. Real low what with harvest starting. All I can say is check back with us tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow I’ll be halfway home, and the lady will be without her things.” Kane shook his head. It wasn’t like he could run into town anytime he pleased. Should they stay over? He kept on shaking his head.

“I could have someone going out your way bring it to you when it comes. Sometimes these things happen, you know.”

“Guess that will have to do. I got to get on home. That binder breaks down again, and no one else there can fix it.” If only he had taught Lone Pine the intricacies of the limping binder.

When he got back to the wagon, he made the box motions again, shrugged, and shook his head. “It’ll come later.”

The look in her eyes said clearly she didn’t understand. So he said it louder.

Why is he yelling at me? Where is my trunk?
Augusta chewed on her lip. So she would just have to make do. Obviously her trunk would come on a later train, and they would just have to . . . just have to what? She had no idea at the moment. Her stomach grumbled, and she blinked at a wave of dizziness. It had been more than two days since she’d eaten. Right now that seemed more important than her trunk.

Kane studied her through narrowed eyes. He heard the sound of her insides. Hadn’t she eaten on the train? Surely he’d sent enough money so she didn’t starve. But at the pale look taking over her face, he had a good idea she hadn’t eaten for some time.

Well, as soon as they stood up for the ceremony, he would take her to the hotel for a meal. Or he could ask them to fix a basket.

He nodded and smiled again. That’s what he’d do. They could eat on the way. If they didn’t put some miles under those wheels by dark, it would be another day before he got home. And by then both Morning Dove and Lone Pine would be sending out scouts. He bid her stay again and trotted across the street to the hotel.

“Now where is he going?” Augusta whispered into the fingers she’d used to rub her temples.
Oh, Lord above, I have said I will trust you, but let me tell you, right now that isn’t very easy. Who is this man, and when are we going to Blessing so that Hjelmer can make everything clear?

After picking up his supplies at the general store, they drove down the street, and he stopped the wagon again. This time he motioned her to step down and held up a hand to assist her. She laid her hand in his, feeling she had no strength left, only to discover a power running from his hand and directly up her arm. She paused in the act of stepping down to the step and looked into his eyes—amber in color with flecks of gold like promises of riches to come. She could see no guile, only concern and a hint of joy, as if the curving of his well-formed lips weren’t enough and he was trying his best to reassure her.

Taking a deep breath, she placed her foot on the step and swung to the ground, his hand now cupping her elbow. Again came that sensation of a transference of strength. Who was this man anyway? Might he become a friend, or even more? After all, she was single, thanks to that no-good Elmer. But perhaps this man wasn’t.

She felt like sighing again but refrained. Sighing was not in her nature, and she promised herself she wasn’t about to develop the habit.

He guided her up the steps and held open a door to an office of some sort. At his direction, she went on in and looked around. Surely a business office. What had they come here for?

Another man, a book in his hand, entered the room and stood before them. He nodded at her, and she nodded back. Her companion smiled and said a few words to which the older man responded.

She tried to think of the cool lakes and mountain streams of home, but instead, all that came to mind was a plate of roast beef, potatoes, rutabagas, and pickled beets on the side. There would be a plate of lefse, a cup of steaming coffee, and her mor’s smiling face. Her stomach rumbled again. She could feel the heat of embarrassment color her face even brighter than she knew the oppressive heat already did.

What would they think of her?

“Do you, Miss Borsland, take this man as your wedded husband?”

The man with the book looked at her as if waiting for an answer.
What is he saying?

She looked to the man beside her, and at his nod, she nodded to the man who, now that she thought about it, looked official. Maybe this was something to do with coming into the new land. Hjelmer had talked about how important it was to become an American citizen.

If only she could understand what they were saying. Now the gentleman asked a question to the man beside her. He also nodded and smiled.

“I now pronounce you man and wife.”

Kane felt his heart leap. He’d actually done it. Gone and gotten himself a wife. A beautiful wife. All he had to do was teach her English so they could talk to each other. And he would learn some Norwegian too. Make it easier for her. How, he wasn’t sure, but then he’d learned to speak Mandan, and that was no easy language either.

The man with the book said a few more things, then smiled and reached out his hand. First the man beside her shook the official’s hand, then motioned for her to do the same.

After shaking their hands, he turned to a book open on the desk and wrote a few things in it before handing the pen to Kane. He wrote something and handed the pen to her.

She studied the lines. They must want her to sign her name. Ah, that she could do.

“So am I a citizen now?” she asked with as bright a smile as she could muster. When she leaned over like that, she had to fight against the dizziness again.

When they both nodded, she let out the breath she’d not realized she was holding. Becoming an American certainly was simple. Why had Hjelmer made such a big thing of it?

Kane took her arm, said good-bye to Justice Rhinehart, and took his new bride out the door. From the look on her face, he’d better feed her before she fainted on him.

He was counting his blessings for sure. Not only was she lovely as the sunrise, she was agreeable too.

“We’re going to Blessing now?”

He nodded. “You bet. Blessings in abundance. I’ll pick up our lunch basket, and we’ll be on our way.”

Chapter 7

Blessing
September 1

“Where is she?”

“Mor, I don’t know.” Hjelmer watched the train pull away from the plank platform in front of the sack house.

“But Augusta was supposed to be on this train.” In her consternation, Bridget Bjorklund abandoned her newly learned English and reverted to Norwegian.

“I know she was, but she must have missed a connection somewhere. She’ll be on the train tomorrow for sure.”

In the small town of Blessing, North Dakota, the St. Paul and Pacific Railroad ran west in the early morning, again around noon, and a third ran east in the late afternoon. And since this train had been late, the group on the platform had been waiting for some time.

“Will Tante Augusta sleep in a station?” Thorliff, Bridget’s oldest grandson, asked.

Standing behind Bridget, his mother, Ingeborg, caught his eye and gave a minuscule shake of her head. No sense in making Bridget’s worries any worse.

“Now, Mor, don’t you go worrying. Augusta is a grown woman, and she’s been out in the world for almost fifteen years, taking the train to Oslo to work with that family and all. She’ll know how to take care of herself.” Hjelmer wiped the sweat off his brow with a kerchief.

Here it was September and still hot as August.

“Ja, well, I better get back to the boardinghouse, then.” Bridget shook her head.
Uff da!
She’d had a feeling when she woke up that the day wasn’t going to go too well. But she’d never thought of something this bad.
Father God, please take care of that daughter of mine. I know she is your child, but sometimes a mother worries more than a father
. She thought of reminding Him how she felt about His care of her youngest daughter, but one didn’t talk to God that way, leastways she didn’t. Katy and her babe were in heaven, where at least they were safe, not like Augusta, who was only God knew where.

Bridget scratched a mosquito bite, set to itching by the trickle of perspiration that meandered down her neck.

“I’ll go check with Gunnar and make sure there hasn’t been any trouble on the line,” Hjelmer said.

Just that summer they’d gotten a real telegraph office in Blessing. The operator, Gunnar Erickson, took over a corner part of the sack house. Surely Augusta would have sent them a telegraph if there was a problem. If she thought of it. If she had enough money. The ifs were as irritating as the black flies. He brushed one away and blinked in the dimness of the building after the brilliance of the morning sun.

“Hey, Erickson,” he called as he drew closer to the telegraph office.

“Ja, vat you vant?” Pushing his green visor up on his shiny bald head, the man turned from his machine.

Hjelmer leaned on the window ledge. “You heard anything about problems on the lines from New York? My sister was supposed to be on this train, and she wasn’t.”

“None. Leastways nothing come through here. Anyting of any importance vould be passed on.”

“Just thought I’d check.” Hjelmer rubbed his chin, all the while shaking his head. “She’ll probably be here tomorrow with a wild tale of mix-ups. Sure wish she’d listened to me and all the others and learned some English.”

“Anyone traveling wit her?” Gunnar asked.

Again Hjelmer shook his head.
Leave it to Augusta
. As the eldest daughter, she’d always been extra sure of herself, as if she knew more than the younger ones. And since he’d been one of the two youngest, he, as well as Katy, had learned to stay out of her way when she got on a tear.

But he’d never wished anything bad on her. And right now all the traveling tales he’d heard, some of which he’d experienced himself, were coming home to roost. “Takk.” Hjelmer started to leave, then turned back. “Let me know if you hear anything, okay?”

“Ja, sure.” Gunnar went back to his machines, and Hjelmer headed for the boardinghouse. Dinner would be in full swing right about now, but he knew his mother needed every bit of good news he could dredge up.

“Thank the Lord for that,” Bridget said as soon as he finished telling her.

“We’ll see her on the train in the morning, you just watch.” Hjelmer hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. If she didn’t show and didn’t wire, he could be sure he would be the one sent to find her. Talk about a wild-goose chase.

“You want to eat?” Bridget gestured to the table set up in the kitchen for family and help to eat at after the guests were served.

“No thanks. Penny will be waiting for me. Don’t worry, Mor, all right?”

Bridget leveled a gaze at him that reminded him of when he was young. “Hjelmer, I don’t worry. I let God do that. After all, He never sleeps anyway.”

The twinkle in her faded blue eyes cheered him up again. So many times he had heard her say those very words. Surely she must believe them or she’d not say them. Surely.

Now, if only he could adopt her strong faith. The thought of what losing another daughter, this so soon after Katy, might do to his mother was more than he cared to contemplate. Or what it would do to all the rest of them either.

He waved to Goodie and Ilse as he left through the dining room and crossed back to the general store, which was owned by his wife, Penny, not by him, as so many people thought at first. The blacksmith shop next door was his, and he also managed the First Bank of Blessing, which occupied a room off the store. Sam Lincoln, a Negro he had met working the railroad, now did most of the blacksmithing, and Anner Valders most of the bank work, since Hjelmer had been elected to the Constitutional Congress for North Dakota. Lately he’d been gone much more than he’d been home.

“Dinner’s ready, soon as you wash up,” Penny said as he entered the back door. She turned from stirring something on the stove and gave him a smile that chased away his worries. He crossed the room to drop a kiss on the back of her neck on the way to the washbasin.

“While it smells mighty good in here, you smell even better.” He inhaled and kissed her again.

“Hjelmer, someone might come in.”

“Let them.” He ran a tender finger down the slight groove in the back of her slender neck.

“That tickles.”

He could hear that slightly breathless tenor of her voice, the one that made him feel as though he could conquer the world. She leaned back against him and turned her face up to meet his lips, her long lashes sweeping down over eyes of gray or blue, depending on her mood. Today they sparkled azure as high mountain lakes in the spring.

“You taste even better than you smell.” He whispered the words against lips that had gone soft beneath his. While she came barely up to his chin, her slender body housed a character strong enough to run her own store and a heart big enough to help make sure no one in the Blessing area went without the necessities. She could charm the quilting women of the church into fighting for women’s rights and cause her husband to dream dreams that brought him home again as soon as he could possibly manage.

Like now. Her fragrance teased his senses as his lips teased hers.