Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) (2 page)

It wasn’t the question that caught Jan’s attention; it was
the way the official glanced casually to each side before he asked it.

Again the official checked on the location of the supervisors
and, not seeing one near, lowered his voice a bit. “I see you have a sickly
wife. How do you expect to get her through the inspection?” The official noticed
Jan and turned a suspicious eye on him.

Pretending he had heard nothing of their conversation, Jan leaned
away from
Fru
Harvath and waved to Søren, several yards down the line. Søren
offered a weak, confused wave in return.

After a moment, Jan backed a step closer as the exchange
between the official and Mr. Harvath resumed.

“I have money!” Harvath protested. “We have family in America, too. We will not be on the street. We will not be a problem!”

He leaned toward the official. “You don’t think the doctor
will turn her away, do you? She is only tired. She had a baby just a month before
we left.”

The official pretended to think. “I don’t know . . .
but perhaps I should see if you truly do have money and will not be a burden to
our country. Show me what you have.”

Jan slid his hands into his pockets and nonchalantly angled toward
Mrs. Harvath again, but cut his eyes toward the official’s table.
Herr
Harvath,
obviously anxious, opened his wallet and withdrew a thin stack of currency. The
official took the money and rifled through the bills. Jan saw as he slid two of
the notes under his book.

“You may pass,” the official said at his normal volume. He
stamped the entrance papers and waved the man on.

“But, but, you, you took my money!” Per protested, his face
reddening.

The official fixed him with a cold eye. “You may pass, I
said.” He dropped his voice and added, “Do you wish me to alert the doctor of my
concern about your wife?”

Per’s flushed cheeks turned white as he looked about him in anger
and frustration. Reluctantly, he gathered his papers and shouldered his
family’s belongings. Turning to his wife and children, he shepherded them on to
the medical inspection. The next family in line moved up.

Jan had already returned to Karl’s side. “Let me go first,”
he muttered.

“What? Why should I?” Karl shot back. “I don’t want you
joking with the official and causing us any problems, Jan.”

Jan’s temper sparked. “
Karl!
Give me your papers and
let us go first.”

Karl sighed. When his brother got his back up, it was
useless to argue. Jan spoke quietly to Søren and to Elli, who cradled a dozing Kristen.
They gathered their luggage and moved ahead of Karl, Amalie, and Sigrün. By
then all the Thoresens had noted the change in Jan’s mood and had become
quietly observant.

When it was Jan’s turn in line, he handed papers for both
families to the official. The official looked down the line, counting heads.
Just then Sigrün coughed, and Jan saw the sly look slip across the official’s
face.

“Have you money to begin your new life in America?”
he asked, his voice low and solicitous.

I am glad this man understands Riksmaal,
Jan thought.
He leaned close to the official’s face. “What I have is no concern of yours. We
are not poor immigrants without property, nor are we ignorant or stupid.
I saw
you take money from Per Harvath. You will not do the same to me. I will
call your supervisor, if need be. You will lose your position.”

The official’s jaw dropped in shock and fear. Jan pointed to
his papers. The official gave them a perfunctory inspection and hurried to
stamp them. Avoiding Jan’s stony glare, he gathered the papers up and handed
them back.

Just before Jan stepped away from the table, he reached out
and nudged the official’s book to the side. Without a word, he scooped up the
currency he found there and shoved the bills into his pocket. He stepped out of
line and gestured to Elli and Søren to join him.

Karl looked from Jan to the official and back. The official jerked
his head, indicating that Karl should follow Jan, but he would not meet Karl’s
eyes.

Karl, his brow furrowed, gathered up their things and steered
Amalie and Sigrün toward Jan. “What was that all about?” he whispered.

“
Ja,
I will tell you, but first we must find
Herr
Harvath.”

After they passed—without incident—through the medical
inspections and entered their names into the immigration logs, they were herded
into the rotunda.

“Oh, my,” Elli gasped.

They were standing under the dome of the largest building
they had ever been in. Across the wooden-planked floor of the great, round hall,
families stacked their belongings and arranged makeshift beds.

Jan looked for Per Harvath and his little family. “
Herr
Harvath!”
Jan shouted. His words were caught up in the din and carried away.

“What is it?” Karl asked. He had to shout to be heard.

Jan put his mouth near Karl’s ear. “The official! He stole
money from Per Harvath. I took it back. I must find him and give it to him.”

“Stole!” Karl’s expression was shocked. Jan knew that Karl
was just as shocked by Jan taking back the money as he was by the official
stealing it in the first place.

Jan braced himself for a lecture but made an attempt to distract
Karl first. “Do you not remember the warnings?”

Karl and Jan had read all the literature they could lay
hands on regarding immigration. The brochures and newspapers included cautionary
tales—how newcomers were bilked during currency exchanges, overcharged for
goods and services, extorted by officials, and even led into dark alleyways to
be set upon and robbed.

The most concerning warnings told of unscrupulous men who
managed to separate young women from their families and, under cover of the
teeming crowds, spirit them away. As Jan and Karl read those accounts they had exchanged
long, grave looks.

Sadly, the literature disclosed that many of the
perpetrators of these crimes were people of their own country—men who had been
in America long enough to know best how to defraud their own countrymen upon
arrival.

“Per Harvath!” Jan shouted again. He may as well have been
spitting into the wind, but at least he’d distracted his brother.

Karl leaned close to Jan. “Let us get our families settled.
Later you and I can walk around and find him, eh?”

The two men spotted a small open area and led the way toward
it. Within a few minutes the women had arranged their baggage to form the three
sides of a “u” shape. Elli and Amalie unpacked a few blankets and laid them
out.

Toward evening as the crowded rotunda began to settle for
the night, Karl and Jan split up and searched for the Harvaths. Jan had been
looking for half an hour when he spied Karl and Per Harvath making their way
toward him.

“
Herr
Thoresen! Your
bror
tells me you have my
money! How can I thank you enough?” The relief in the man’s weary eyes was
thanks enough for Jan.

“It is nothing. I am glad you will have it back,” Jan
replied. He pulled the folded notes from his pocket and handed them to the man.

“But, but this is more than he took from me!” Per
remonstrated.

“It is?” Jan rubbed his chin. “Then he surely stole from
others, too.”

“But what shall I do with it?”

The three of them thought for several minutes. It was no
small thing, having in one’s possession money or property that did not belong
to you. Per held the extra bills in his open hand as though their owners might claim
them on sight.

“We have no way to return these,” Karl said at last. He was
nervous, and Jan knew he was concerned that the official would somehow point
them out and make trouble for them. Karl sighed and gazed out at the throng
spread throughout the hall.

Per followed his gaze. “Someone like me is in sore need of this
money.”

“I suppose,” Karl suggested slowly, “we could just divide the
bills between us?”

Jan shook his head. “I would not feel right, would you?”

“No,” Karl admitted. Per nodded in agreement.

Jan rubbed his chin again. “So! I have an idea. How much is
there?” He explained himself in a few words. Karl and Per thought for a moment
and nodded. .

Their eyes again turned to the mass of people within the
rotunda. Jan motioned to Per who separated the three extra bills, giving one to
each of them.

Per looked uncomfortable. “I’m not a good pretender,” he
confessed.

“Watch me,” Jan said. “It should not be hard.” He wound his
way along the perimeter of the hall until he reached a family he knew from the
ship and greeted them.

“
Hei.
Hallo.” Jan nodded to the young man, Sänder.
His wife, Pergunn, huge with child and worn, could not raise her eyes. Jan knew
this family had exhausted their resources just to make the trip. Their three
small children had eaten from Elli’s hand several times during the passage.
Even now, their hungry eyes stared at Jan with undisguised hope.

Jan squatted near the man. “Sänder, look here. We found
this; I think you must have dropped it,” Jan handed him the bill.

The young man stared at it. “
Nei,
I thank you, but I
did not.”

Jan stared back. “I assure you,
this is yours
,” he
insisted. His hand stayed outstretched until the young man, hesitating, took it
and blinked his eyes against the sudden moisture that filled them.

Jan returned to Karl and Per. “See? It was easy.”

The other men shook their heads and both of them handed him
their bills. “You are good at this, Jan.” Karl grinned and punched his brother
on the arm. “It is that impulsiveness of yours,
ja
? Come. I will point
out the family I have chosen.”

“I have one picked, too,” Per added, eager now.

The three of them paused, suddenly serious. Karl struggled
to put what they were feeling into words. “It is a right thing we are doing, a
good thing,
ja
?”

“
Ja
,” Per slowly agreed. “It was wicked that someone
stole this money. But God has shown us a
good
use for it.” He scrunched
his face, thinking. “Is there not some
Skriften
that says this?”

Jan nodded. “
Ja
,
Herr
Harvath. I think it
reads,
They meant it for evil, but God meant it for good
.”

~~**~~

Just after dawn the crowded hall began to stir. Jan
stretched, trying not to disturb Elli who was asleep in the crook of his arm.
He glanced at Kristen snugged against Elli’s back. On the other side of Jan,
Søren slept on his back, his mouth agape, one arm thrown above his head.

Jan watched his
sønn
with pride. Søren was no longer a
“little” boy. Intent on becoming an American, Søren had already learned a few
English words and used them whenever possible.

Jan and Elli were not as eager to learn a new language. They
were taxed enough keeping track of their children and belongings and managing
the day-to-day concerns of traveling without also worrying about new words.

Jan thought ahead to this day’s challenges. Today the shipping
agents would release their property, the cargo they had shipped with them from Norway. Then the immigration officials would help arrange transportation across the river to
the rail station and explain how to ship their belongings by train. Some officials,
their Norwegian ship captain had assured them, would speak Riksmaal and would
not defraud them.

Yes, Jan and Elli would worry about learning the English
later.

Jan was most concerned about the five weaner pigs from his
father’s
Landrace herd. He and Søren had
fed and watered them before leaving the ship, and they appeared healthy. But a
long train ride was still ahead of them and many more miles by wagon.

An hour later, after eating a simple breakfast and grooming themselves
as best they could, the two families knelt in prayer. “Thank you,
Herr
,
for bringing us safely to America,” Karl prayed. “Lead us this day in paths of
righteousness for your name’s sake. Amen.”

The adults looked at each other. They were far from their
destination but they were together, healthy and whole. Sigrün’s cough seemed to
be subsiding. They had much to be grateful for.

They packed and shouldered their belongings. Joining the
long lines, they passed through the exits and onto the docks where they were released
onto the teeming streets.

The Thoresens again stacked their belongings into a pile,
this time on the other side of the immigration lines. Karl left Jan with the
women and children and went to stand in line for the shipping agents.

Hundreds, perhaps thousands of new arrivals were doing the
same as they. Jan watched fathers and mothers with anxious faces juggle their
possessions and herd their children in one direction or another. He shook his
head and checked that their three little ones were safe nearby.

He realized Elli was watching him, her eyes calm and
understanding. Kristen’s sash was wound about Elli’s hand; Søren sat, still and
obedient, on her other side.

Jan sighed and smiled.
Ah, my Elli! You know my heart so
well, don’t you?
He smiled at Elli until she blushed under his knowing
gaze.

Jan glanced over to Karl’s family. Amalie gripped Sigrün’s
hand and they sat atop their belongings. Satisfied, Jan turned back. He spotted
another family they had crossed with, Oskar and Marta Forgaard.

He watched, curious, as Oskar turned in a complete circle,
scanning the crowd. His wife clawed at his arm, fear etched on her face. Oskar shook
her off, calling something that Jan could not hear.

What?
Where was their
datter,
Freda? He swept
his gaze over the crowd, recalling the sweetness of Freda’s young face. He was suddenly
worried for the Forgaards.

I must get up high as I did yesterday,
Jan realized,
where I can see over this crowd!

He strode toward an immense stack of barrels and clambered
to the top. He heard shouts, but ignored them as he scoured the crowded docks
and street for a glimpse of Freda’s strawberry blonde hair. His expression was fierce
as he cast about for the girl.

There!

He spied two burly men, one on either side of a limp Freda,
hustling her toward the street. A third man standing in the driver’s seat of a covered
cart gestured for them to hurry.

Jan leapt from the barrels and ran toward the cart. He
plowed through the crowd, tossing aside anything or anyone impeding him, keeping
the cart’s covered top straight before him.

The man on the cart noticed the stir as Jan bulled his way through
the throng. He caught a glimpse of Jan and called for his companions to hurry.

Just before the two men holding Freda’s arms reached the
cart, Jan caught up to them. He grabbed their shirt collars and jerked them
backwards. In a single motion, he slammed their heads together. They crumpled
to the ground, unconscious. So did Freda.

The man from the cart rushed at Jan. He “ran into” Jan’s left
fist and dropped to the cobbled pavement.

Shouts and police whistles sounded all around Jan. The crowd
parted, revealing Jan standing above the felled men and unconscious girl.

Four police officers, taking in the scene, confronted him
with billy clubs. They shouted orders. Jan yelled back in Norwegian, but they
did not understand. Many in the crowd, however, did.

As the battered thugs began to stir and get up, other Norwegian
men crowded forward, shouting and gesturing to the police. The police, waving
their clubs, warned them to stand back.

The indignant men in the crowd grew more incensed and the
mood turned ugly; several bystanders managed to reach the three men. As the
thugs resisted, the men who had grabbed them landed punches on their heads and
chests.

The police whistled for reinforcements and used their clubs
to push back what was becoming an angry mob. One of the policemen landed a blow
across Jan’s shoulder and gestured for him to kneel. Jan did so, but he realized
he only had a moment to stop a riot.

“Who here speaks the English?” he shouted.

A young man, his head and shoulders topping most in the
crowd, pushed forward. “I do.”

Jan called out to him. “Tell the police I have something to
say!”

The boy yelled to the police who were guarding the three
thugs and Freda from the crowd and keeping Jan pinned down. Wary and with one
eye on the threatening crowd, the policemen turned toward Jan.

Jan explained to the boy what had happened, pointing to
Freda. As Jan spoke, the boy translated to the policemen.

At that same moment, the girl’s father and Karl broke
through the crowd. Karl’s face turned red when he saw Jan in police custody.
Jan sighed. Surely another lecture would be coming his way soon.

“Freda!” Oskar Forgaard looked about, frantic.

“Here!” Jan replied. To the boy he added, “This is her
far
.”

As Oskar and Marta knelt and cradled their
datter
in
their arms, the police reassessed the situation and grabbed the three men they
had been protecting.

To the crowd’s amazed satisfaction, the policemen turned
their billy clubs on the would-be kidnappers, landing several blows on each of
them before hauling them away. The crowd cheered in wild approval.

But Karl stared down at Jan, his mouth set in a thin line.
As Jan got to his feet, Karl started to say something. Before he could utter a
word, however, Jan poked him in the chest. Hard.

“Do not speak to me of this,
Bror
,” Jan warned.

Karl opened his mouth again but did not say anything. Jan’s expression
counseled him not to. Oskar Forgaard embraced Jan; Marta, with many tears,
thanked him. Jan only nodded to them and strode away.

Instead of feeling happy that things had ended well for the Forgaards
and their daughter, Jan was livid. Some of the cheering crowd recognized the
dark expression on his face for what it was and backed away, letting him
through.

Jan knew his actions were not at fault, yet he had no peace.
Instead, his heart was in turmoil. Every beat of it seethed with anger toward
the men who had tried to steal an innocent girl. With that anger, long-buried resentment
toward his brother and father boiled toward the surface.

“Jan.” Karl finally caught up to him. “Jan, wait.”

Jan rounded on Karl so quickly that they nearly collided.
“What? What do you have to say, Karl? Eh?”

Karl backed away a step, confused. “I, I only wanted to say
how glad I was, how
proud
I was, that you saved Freda Forgaard.” He
scowled. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw that policeman hit you—how could
they have not seen what those men were trying to do and that you were saving
the girl?”

As Karl talked, his face settled into the same angry lines Jan
had witnessed while on his knees surrounded by the police.

Jan blinked. Karl had not been angry with
him
?

“I thought . . . I thought you were going to
lecture me on my temper,” Jan stammered.

“
Nei
, brother! Why would you think that?” Karl
expostulated.

Jan stared at Karl for a few moments.
Ah, Lord, what has
this shown me about my heart?
Maybe . . . maybe what I
have allowed to fester inside is the real reason I am angry?
Letting out a
long sigh, Jan clasped Karl on the shoulder. “I am sorry.”

Karl just grinned and punched Jan in the arm. Jan punched
him back.

It took the shipping clerk and immigration official more
than two hours to clear their cargo through customs. The official exchanged
their Norwegian currency for American and helped Jan and Karl to hire a freight
wagon. Its driver would haul the Thoresens and their cargo to the ferry and
then the rail yard.

Jan stacked the crates holding the weaners in the shade of
the clerk’s awning and instructed Søren to water the piglets and stand watch
over them while the rest of their goods were being loaded. When the wagon was loaded
and ready, Karl strapped the piglets’ crates to the wagon while Jan and Søren left
to get the women and girls. When they returned, the Thoresens seated themselves
atop their freight, and the teamster set out for the ferry.

The teamster drove the wagon onto the steam-powered ferry.
Jan had seen ferries in Norway; it would not be a long trip to the shore they
could see across this river. Once across, the wagon driver would take them on to
the trains.

Hours later they were met at the rail yard by other
immigration officials. One of them pointed Jan and Karl to a boardinghouse where
they could rent rooms. Jan and Karl left the women and girls there to bathe,
wash clothing, and arrange some hot meals.

The freight manager pointed out a box car on a siding. With an
immigration official’s help, Jan paid for the use of the car and its transport
to Council Bluffs, Iowa. There they would disembark the train, unload their freight
car, and ferry across the Missouri. On the other side of the river they would
be in the city of Omaha where they would board another train.

Jan and Karl had read all they could find about the
audacious
Pacific Railroad
—some were beginning to call it the
Transcontinental
Railroad
—and its progress. Three railroads were racing to build a single line
that would connect the eastern and western shores of the United States!

One railroad would build the line from Oakland to Sacramento, California. The Central Pacific Railroad would build the next segment from Sacramento eastward to Utah Territory. The third line, built by the Union Pacific, was to start
at Council Bluffs, Iowa, on the eastern shore of the Missouri, and run west
until it met and connected with the Central Pacific Railroad.

Building a bridge across the Missouri from Council Bluffs to
Omaha, however, had proven too difficult, so the Union Pacific began their
segment in Omaha and had laid a few hundred miles of track along the Platte
River from Omaha deep into Nebraska Territory. Jan and Karl intended to ride
that track until they reached the northernmost point of the Platte
River. The land they had determined to claim lay farther north.

The immigration man tore a piece of paper from his notebook.
He wrote “district land office” on it in Riksmaal and opposite it the same
words in English. He did the same for “ferry,” “homestead claim,” “please,”
“thank you,” “hotel,” “buy wagons,” “lumber,” “how much?” and a few other
useful words and phrases.

“
Takk
,” Jan replied gratefully. He shook the man’s
hand and handed the paper to Søren. The boy studied the paper for a minute and
then folded it carefully and placed it in his pants pocket.

Karl and the teamster were already unloading the wagon into their
freight car. The men stacked Thoresen crates and boxes tightly against both
ends of the car. When all the boxes and crates were stacked in the car, Jan and
Karl tied ropes across the cargo to keep crates from shifting.

When they were finished, a wide area remained open in the
middle of the car. This was where the Thoresens would ride as the train moved
west in the morning.

Jan and Karl bought six bales of hay and hauled them into
the car. They stacked three bales end-to-end, making a row of seating against one
side of their belongings. They made a second row against the other side. Several
feet remained in the middle between the two rows of bales.

One of the yard men, at the direction of the freight
manager, hefted another bale into the car and cut the twine holding it
together. He spread it out on the hard wooden floor of the car and pantomimed
sleeping.

“
Tanks you
,” Søren told the man for his
far
and
onkel
. Jan grinned at Søren. He and Karl shook the man’s hand and
nodded their gratitude to the freight manager for his thoughtfulness.

The crates containing the weaners went into the freight car
last. Karl placed them where Søren could feed and water the piglets during their
journey. Jan stood back and marveled at how much they had managed to bring with
them all the way across the ocean—and soon would take across the United States.