Shining Water 01 - The Icecutter's Daughter (9 page)

Rurik held her gaze and nodded. “Tell your father that if he needs my help on Saturday, I should be able to come. Just send word.”

“I will,” Merrill agreed.

“By the way, I wonder if I might ask you about something else?”

Merrill looked at him and nodded.

“Well, after seeing your artistic ability, I’m wondering if you would consider painting a pie safe for us. I know Uncle Carl has some buyers coming later in February. I thought if we could show them what you can do with the four seasons on the doors
of the safe, it might generate some interest and orders. Would you like to try it? I mean, it could require a commitment on your part if it turns out like I’m hoping, but you would be paid.”

“You mean paint the pie safes on a regular basis?”

He smiled. “I have a feeling they will be very popular. You might find yourself with more than a little bit of work.”

She frowned. “I don’t know that I would have the time. I mostly painted ours in the evening after chores were done.” She thought of Granny’s suggestion that they hire a woman to help out at home. Maybe if Merrill were making a regular wage painting the cupboards, she could pay for help herself.

“Well, you wouldn’t have to do as much detail,” Rurik suggested. “Maybe a simpler scene for each season. Keeping it modest might also allow for doing a number of them in quick succession.”

“I suppose I could try my hand at one, and see what I manage to put together. Your uncle might not like it at all.”

“I have no doubt he’ll love it as much as I did, Miss Krause. I’m telling you: Women across the country will be fighting over your decorations.”

Merrill shook her head and smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t want to stir up fights, but if you bring a safe out to the house, I’ll give it a try.”

“I’ll get one out to you right away.”

“All right, then,” she said and turned to go.

“It was nice to see you again,” Rurik called after her.

Merrill gave a little wave, then hurried off.

Merrill tried her best not to think of Rurik Jorgenson and his gentle smile as she began supper preparations for her own
men. She focused her attention on her tasks and reminded herself that she was most likely not meant to court and marry. As she had told Granny Lassiter, it was her duty to see to her widowed father’s needs.

By suppertime her father and brothers had returned from loading ice onto the train cars. They were tired and hungry, and she poured cups of hot coffee and waited for them to wash up before coming to the table. She remembered Rurik’s invitation as her father came to sit beside her at the head of the table.

“I saw Mr. Jorgenson today,” she began. “His nephew, Rurik, said to send word if you need him to help on Saturday.”

Her father nodded and asked, “How was Carl?”

“He didn’t look too bad. I think having his nephew there has been a relief.” She glanced at Flynn. “He was disappointed that I failed to bring him strudel.”

“Aw, you didn’t tell him it was my fault, did you?” her brother asked.

“I did, but he seemed forgiving once he tasted the kladdkaka.”

Her father laughed. “That will teach you, Flynn. Your sister will no doubt start hiding the desserts from now on.”

“She can’t hide them anywhere we can’t find them,” Zadoc teased.

Father shook his fork in the direction of his two youngest sons. “You’d best be on your guard and do what you know is right. Merrill isn’t above teaching you both a lesson.” He winked at his daughter. “A dose or two of castor oil or ipecac might do the trick.”

“Don’t be giving her ideas,” Flynn said, his face screwed up in disgust.

Merrill rolled her eyes. “I can think up plenty on my own. Anyway, don’t forget about Rurik’s offer.”

Her father nodded. “This Rurik is a hard worker. I know Carl hopes he’ll take over the furniture business.”

“In Waseca?” she asked.

“Yes. He told me he has offered to make Rurik his partner and heir.”

There was no time to ask further questions as her noisy brothers joined them at the table. Merrill couldn’t help but wonder if Rurik would do as his uncle wanted. Would he return to Kansas and marry his intended and then come to Waseca to live? Would Merrill like this woman Rurik planned to make his wife?

“You seem mighty deep in thought,” Leo said, elbowing her. “Father is ready to pray, and you’re just gawkin’ around.”

Merrill murmured an apology and bowed her head while her father blessed the food.

“I suppose you’re thinking on Molly,” Leo said around a bite. “I checked on her just before we came in. I think she’ll probably foal soon. I put her in the birthing pen. She’ll be just fine there.”

“Thank you,” Merrill said and forced a smile. “That definitely eases my worries a bit.” No one seemed the wiser that her thoughts were on a certain six-foot-three-inch Swede rather than a nineteen-hands-high broodmare.

It was now early February, and Merrill had to admit she was pleased with the results of the pie safe. She had taken Rurik’s advice and painted four seasonal scenes, keeping them fairly simple. Autumn showed a few cornstalks and pumpkins. Winter presented a snowy pine sheltering a white rabbit, while spring was represented by a colorful grouping of flowers surrounding a water pump. Summer bore a collection of fruits and vegetables on a table. It wasn’t anywhere near as detailed as her own pie safe, but it had taken very little time to create.

Without further delay, Merrill wrapped a carriage blanket around the little safe, hoisted it in her arms, and loaded it in the wagon. She went to retrieve Jack and Jill, an older team of Belgians, and led them out of the barn.

The winter air took her breath away, and Merrill quickly wrapped a knitted scarf around her face. The cold temperatures were a blessing for ice harvesting, but not for much else. It was difficult to harness horses with mittens, so Merrill worked quickly without them. By the time she had the team ready to go, her fingers were stiff and red from the cold.

She put on her mittens, climbed to the wagon seat, and
tucked a couple of thick blankets around her wool skirt. She was grateful for the trousers and long underwear she had on underneath, but the blankets were a requirement. Merrill doubted the temperatures had even reached zero that day.

Jack and Jill didn’t seem to mind the cold, their thick sorrel coats keeping them warm enough. But Merrill knew that ice would no doubt collect around their eyes and nose as they journeyed into town.

On days like this, Merrill was especially careful to make one trip count for many purposes. She had a list of supplies to pick up, a long-overdue visit with Granny and Corabeth, banking to tend to, and, of course, the pie safe to deliver.

Merrill couldn’t help but wonder if Rurik would like her artistic work. She had struggled with her feelings for him the entire time she’d painted the safe, and her prayers bore witness to the wrestling of her conscience. Rurik was a handsome and considerate man, and she couldn’t help but be impressed by the way he was always ready to lend her father a hand. Father had mentioned that Rurik had never asked about pay but offered his work freely as a family member might. Bogart Krause still intended to pay the Swede for his work, however, and had been setting aside a portion of the earnings for him with each and every job. She smiled, however, knowing it might well prove an interesting match to see which stubborn man won that argument.

Merrill’s thoughts kept her busy and the drive to town passed quickly. She reached Waseca about the same time one of the regular trains was ready to pull out. The hissing and steam of the locomotive engine upset Jack and Jill, so Merrill
drew them to a halt and waited for the train to clear the area before heading toward the furniture workshop.

“See there,” she chided the horses, “it’s only a much bigger horse made of iron and steam.” But even as she teased the team, Merrill remembered it hadn’t been that long ago that an accident with another wagon and train had claimed the life of a man. Perhaps Jack and Jill were the smart ones when it came to avoiding such encounters.

Once the train was well down the track, Merrill drew the team up close to one of the large loading doors at Jorgenson Furniture and set the brake. She put aside her blankets and climbed down from the wagon. Merrill debated whether she should manage transporting the pie safe by herself. What would Rurik think of her if she came strolling into the shop carrying the safe the way a man might?

“I’m being silly,” she told herself. “I can’t worry about what he thinks. I’m a strong, capable woman.”

Without further consideration, Merrill wrestled the piece from the back of the wagon and maneuvered toward the shop. To her surprise, the large door swung open and with no further warning the pie safe was taken from her arms.

She knew without seeing him that the man now carrying the piece was Rurik. She followed him into the shop, pulling the large wooden door closed behind her.

“You should have come to get me,” he said, putting the pie safe on the floor. “I know these aren’t that heavy, but I sure wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.”

Merrill pulled the scarf from her face and nearly pulled her wool bonnet off at the same time. She quickly attempted
to readjust the hat before her unruly hair escaped, but it was no use. Brown-black curls tumbled down over her shoulders in a most improper fashion.

Rurik’s gaze lingered on her hair before he said in a husky voice, “You should wear it like that more often.”

Merrill shook her head and attempted to gather the wayward locks. “Granny Lassiter would have my hide. She already gets after me for wearing trousers under my skirts.”

“In weather this cold, I believe you to be the wisest woman in Waseca.” He reached down for the blanket covering the pie safe. “Now, let’s see what you managed to come up with.” He studied Merrill’s work for a moment. “How long did it take you?”

“Not that long,” Merrill replied. “I did a bit on each season and let the paint dry. Then I added a little more and let that dry. Keeping the scenes simple, as you suggested, I found the work went fast. Of course, though, you might think the scenes are not detailed enough.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. I find them charming.” He looked back at her. “I think Uncle Carl will definitely approve. Let me see where he is.”

Rurik quickly headed off to get his uncle. Merrill couldn’t help but smile to herself.
He likes my painting
. She recognized the admiration in his eyes and that, coupled with his comment about the scenes being charming, made Merrill quite happy.

“Ah, Merrill Jean,” Carl said as he came into the finish room. “Rurik tells me you have made something special for us.”

“Well, that will depend on what you consider special,” she replied. “I only followed Mr. Jorgenson’s instructions.”

Carl looked at the pie safe and nodded. “You’re right, Rurik. I believe I could sell a hundred of these overnight.” He looked back to Merrill. “I have some fellas coming in from Minneapolis soon. I’ll have them take the piece back with them and secure orders. That is, if you’re interested in painting more of these.”

“I think I would like to give it a try,” Merrill said. “It will, of course, depend on how much time it takes. I’ll need to speak to Father about the matter to see if he can spare me.”

“Ja, you do that. I think I’ll have a big demand for this.” Carl returned his gaze to the painted scenes. “But I wouldn’t want to show it to my buyers if you can’t supply us with more.”

Merrill nodded. “I understand.”

Rurik smiled at her. “I told you he would like it.” He turned to his uncle. “How about we put in a little workshop for her here? We can purchase whatever paints Miss Krause needs, and since we will already have the pie safes here, it will save the time and effort of transporting them to and from the Krause farm.”

“Ja, that would be good,” Carl said, nodding. “There’s plenty of room to do that.”

Merrill frowned. She hadn’t really thought of driving into town every day to work on painting pie safes. How would she keep her household duties under control? She would definitely have to hire a woman to come in. And what would she do with the team? She could hardly afford to stable them each day.

“I don’t know . . . I mean . . . well, that would take me
away from home.” Merrill tried to think of how she might handle the situation.

“Well, you wouldn’t have to come every day,” Rurik suggested. “Maybe when we have a dozen or more pie safes ready, you could come and paint all of them at once. You mentioned needing to give the scenes time to dry. You could go down the line from one safe to another, and by the time you finished with the last, enough time might have passed for the paint to dry on the first one.”

Merrill nodded. “I suppose that could work, but I’ll still need to speak with Father on the matter. We’ll need to consider hiring a woman to come help with the chores at the farm . . . then there’s the team. I’ll have to figure out what to do with them.”

“You can put them in the pen with my horses,” Carl declared. “They should be just fine.”

It seemed a reasonable conclusion. Merrill couldn’t help but feel excited by the possibility of using her creativity in such a productive way. “I’ll talk to Father this evening.”

“Good,” Carl replied. “I can talk to Bogart, too, if need be. You just let me know.”

Then the small side door opened, and a man and woman entered the room. To Merrill’s surprise, the young woman rushed across the room and threw herself into Rurik’s arms.

“There he is! Oh, Rurik! We’ve found you at last.”

Merrill looked away rather than let anyone see how stunned she was. The woman’s companion spoke up, however, drawing her attention back to the drama unfolding before her.

“Svea, you are making a spectacle of yourself.”

Svea.
This woman was Rurik’s fiancée. Merrill felt as if the wind had been knocked from her. She forced herself to stand steady, but in her heart she wanted to run from the room. The last thing in the world she wanted was to encounter the woman who held Rurik’s heart.

As if reading Merrill’s thoughts, Svea let go of Rurik and turned to Merrill.

“Goodness,” she said, tipping her head to one side. “We haven’t been introduced, but you probably know I’m Rurik’s intended, Svea Olsson. This is my brother Nils.” She motioned him forward.

“What . . . what on earth are you doing here?” Rurik asked, looking less than pleased.

Carl seemed to sense this and stepped forward. “I’m Carl Jorgenson, Rurik’s uncle.”

“Oh yes,” Svea said, nodding. “I remember you from long ago. You’re the one who taught Rurik to make furniture.”

“Ja, me and his farfar.” Carl smiled. “And I remember you, too. Although you were much younger then.”

Svea laughed in a most feminine manner. “But I’m a woman full grown now.”

Merrill felt like an intruder and wondered how she might slip from the room without being noticed. She wanted nothing more to do with this reunion. But she felt transfixed—helpless to move.

“May I ask what brings you here?” Rurik said again, this time sounding calmer as he addressed Nils.

“What a silly question,” Svea said, moving to take hold of his arm. “I came to be with you, Rurik. You wrote to Nils
about working here, and when he thought to come, I knew I had to join him.”

“But I only discussed the possibility of a job,” Rurik said, narrowing his gaze at Nils.

Nils shrugged apologetically. “I suppose I did get the cart ahead of the horse, but your letter intrigued me, and I didn’t want to wait. Forgive me if this is an intrusion.”

Rurik seemed unsure of how to proceed. He looked toward Merrill, and for a moment she thought she saw something like regret in his eyes.

“I need to be on my way,” Merrill finally was able to manage.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Rurik’s question sounded almost desperate.

She could see Svea was annoyed. “Yes, I have a great deal to accomplish while I’m in town,” she answered quickly. “It was good to meet you, Miss Olsson . . . Mr. Olsson.” She turned and headed quickly to the door.

Once outside, Merrill hurried to the wagon, tucking her hair under her bonnet as she went. Her only thought was to get away from the furniture shop as soon as possible. She climbed into the wagon seat, bonnet ties flying in the breeze. Her face tingled from the sharp, cold air, but Merrill ignored it and released the brake.

“Walk on, Jack. Walk on, Jill. Warmth and good feed await you,” she promised. She took a deep breath to try and get her emotions under control.

Waseca’s main street bustled with activity, and Merrill found it necessary to weave the team back and forth to avoid pedestrians and other wagons. The horses seemed to understand
they were headed for the livery stable, however, and made their way without Merrill having to do much to guide them.

Once she had arranged for the team’s care, paying for their stabling with a large container of cookies, she took up her shopping basket along with another filled with baked goods for Granny, and made her way to the mercantile. Inside the store, Merrill found her thoughts reliving the encounter at Jorgensons’. Svea Olsson was everything Merrill had imagined her to be: petite, pretty, and fashionable. Svea had blond hair peeking out from her winter bonnet—no doubt the latest style just in from back east, not a redo of someone’s hand-me-down. Merrill frowned at her ungracious attitude and tried not to allow her feelings to consume her, but she had to admit she was jealous. There was no other word for it. Not only was she jealous of Svea’s delicate features, lovely clothing, and appealing figure; Merrill envied her relationship with Rurik, too.

“Miss Krause,” a deep voice called. “How can I help you today?” The clerk beamed.

“I have a list,” Merrill said, handing it to him along with the empty basket. “I wonder if you might fill it, and after I visit with Granny Lassiter I can come back to pick it up.”

“Certainly.” The man looked the paper over. “I presume your pa will want the saw blades he ordered, as well. They came in yesterday.”