Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) (26 page)

“I heard Mrs. Brownlee had a bad encounter in town,” Søren
mentioned at the midday meal one afternoon. Jan’s head snapped up. He waited
for Søren to explain, but his
sønn
,
with a look bordering on
ecstasy, was biting into a piece of fried chicken.

“So? What bad encounter?” Jan snapped. He set his fork down
and waited.

“Oh. With Mark Grader! He was in the Schmidt’s store. Guess
he was trying to get more credit, and
Herr
Schmidt wouldn’t give him
more. I heard Grader started smashing dishes—dropping them on the floor!—trying
to pressure
Herr
Schmidt into changing his mind.”

Mark Grader and his brother had been nothing but trouble in the
little town for more than a year. They were known for starting fights, not
paying their bills, and bullying RiverBend proprietors. Most of the community
believed the worst of the problem had ended when Mark’s brother, Orville, was
sent to prison after badly injuring a man in a fight.

Apparently the problem had returned.

Amalie and Jan both looked concerned; the children looked
between them and Søren.

“Ach! But someone must stop such wrong things!” Amalie
remonstrated.

“I heard Mrs. Brownlee tried to stop it.” Søren shook his
head and grinned. “For being a little city lady, she has a lot of gumption!”

Jan’s opinion of her at the moment was quite different.
What
could she have been thinking!
he fumed.
RiverBend has no law enforcement!
Does she not understand what some men might do to a woman who is alone, with no
one to protect her?

Jan’s ire kept rising.
Has she not the brains God gave a
goat?
he demanded within himself. Having lost his appetite, he stood up and
cleared his plate from the table.

“Jan? Where are you going? Jan? You haven’t finished your
meal!”

But he left Amalie protesting and the children staring
wide-eyed at his back. “What has gotten into him?” Amalie asked Søren.

Søren shrugged and grabbed another piece of chicken from the
platter.

A few weeks later, Jan saw
Fru Brünlee
driving her
little buggy up their road.
She has likely come to visit Amalie.
Jan’s brows
pulled together into an annoyed frown. He was still angry with her over her foolhardy
confrontation with Mark Grader.

He thought no more of her visit until later when Amalie
informed him, “
Fru Brünlee
wishes Little Karl to drive a wagon of her
goods from the train to her house. I think you had better go too, Jan,” Amalie
added as she poured coffee in his cup. “I would feel more comfortable if you
helped so nothing gets broken,
ja
?”

It would serve her right
, Jan fumed.

“So? Will you go,
Bror
?”

“
Ja
, I will go,” Jan drawled, feigning reluctance.

Ja, I will go!
he snarled silently.
I would like a
chance to give her a piece of my mind!

He took a calming breath. Secretly, perhaps he was a
little
pleased to have another opportunity to study their neighbor.

Early Wednesday morning Little
Karl drove a Thoresen wagon into their neighbor’s yard. Jan rode beside him on
the bench seat. They found
Fru Brünlee
ready and excited to leave for
town. Jan helped her up where she sat on the bench behind him and Karl.

She tried several times to
engage Karl in conversation and Jan had to grin at her frustration. Karl could
speak the English well enough—but the boy was so tongue-tied around their
neighbor that her efforts got her nowhere. After a bit, she just relaxed and
enjoyed the drive.

She is not afraid to
try new things and she adapts quickly in new situations
, Jan admitted.
Even ill-advised situations
,
he added. He tried to muster his irritation again, but it had abandoned him.

Jan realized his
neighbor was becoming a little anxious as they drew near the train siding. When
he helped her down she immediately sought out their friend, Mr. Bailey, who
showed her where her freight was stacked.

“I b’lieve all the boxes
what came fer ya will fit in that one wagon—cept’n that ’un.” Bailey pointed to
a crate stenciled liberally with the words “Fragile” and “Do Not Drop.”

“Reckon you’ll hafta
take my wagon, too. My boy kin drive it back when it’s empty. He’s a mite small
yet, but he kin handle th’ horses okay. Over here, Mr. Thoresen. All these
boxes here.”

Jan was taken aback at
how many boxes and crates were stacked in the shade of the freight office. Little
Karl looked from the many crates to Jan, who shrugged.

And then something interesting
happened. Apparently
Fru Brünlee
had not yet met Mary Bailey. She introduced
herself and straightaway invited Mary to church.

Jan felt chastened.
The
Baileys have been our good friends for many years, and I have never asked them
to church?

He thought of their first
encounter with the Baileys when a younger Robert Bailey, rifle at the ready, had
put a stop to the railroad workers carelessly tossing their things from the
freight car. If it hadn’t been for Bailey, their family would have suffered the
loss or damage of many of their things. And after the train had pulled away, it
was Mary Bailey who had offered them a hot meal and agreed to trade one of their
oxen for a milk cow!

How could I have not
spoken of the Lord to them in all this time?
Jan frowned. Even worse, he realized,
I did not know that a local
pastor had forbidden the Baileys from attending his church because they had
been raised Catholic.

Jan grimaced. He could think
of only one local pastor who would have done so.
Ach! Forgive us, dear Lord!

Karl and eleven-year-old
Jeremy Bailey rode in Bailey’s wagon on the return trip. Jan helped his
neighbor into his wagon. He paused; without a word he returned to his friend
Bailey and put out his hand.

As they shook, Jan did
his best to put into English words what his heart wanted to convey. “Mr.
Bailey, you come church. God luffs you. God vants you.”

He and Robert Bailey
exchanged a look of mutual respect and friendship. His friend nodded and Jan
returned to the wagon.

The drive back had been
both good and bad for Jan. It surprised him how comfortable he felt in
Fru
Brünlee’s
company.
But.
But the conversation had quickly grown
beyond his ability to follow. It grieved him to ask her to speak more slowly.

Nevertheless he
had
enjoyed
the drive. Enjoyed it more than he was willing to own.

When they arrived at her
house, Karl and Jeremy were almost dancing with excitement to help open the
crates and boxes.

I am curious, too,
Jan admitted
. It will be like Christmas to see
what has been sent from a city far away!

Fru Brünlee
first selected the large crate whose boards were
stenciled
Fragile
and
Do Not Drop
. Jan prized the lid from the
crate that stood as tall as Fru Brünlee’s shoulders, and then she, standing haphazardly
on a box to reach inside, pulled out the packing.

“Now,” she smiled at Jan,
“you may pull the other boards off—but carefully, please.”

Jan hefted a crowbar and
glanced inside before fitting it to a corner of the crate. “Hah!” he muttered. What
he glimpsed inside intrigued him.

He pulled the crate
apart one board at a time, revealing a tiny, glossy piano.
Cherry wood,
Jan
noted, admiring the grain.

“Oh, isn’t it sweet?”
Fru
Brünlee
crooned, caressing the glassy veneer. “Let’s put it inside right
away—out of the sun.”

Jan, Karl, and Jeremy
picked the piano up and placed it against the wall Jan and Søren had built
halfway across the cabin.
Fru Brünlee
followed with a winding stool and
set it in front of the spinet.

Jan examined the
instrument closely, stroking the grain, studying the workmanship. “Play, please?”
he requested.

“Oh! Well, maybe just to
try it . . .” His neighbor ran her hands over the keys and
played something . . . something wonderful.

Jeremy Bailey was
thrilled. “Gosh, Miz Brownlee, that ’uz beautiful! Never heered nothin’ like it
afore.”

Fru Brünlee was saying
something about a concert, but Jan was fixated on what he’d just heard.
To
make such music
, he stared at the keyboard,
to create melody and harmony
with the hands . . .
He was entranced.

Karl poked him, jolting
him from his thoughts. He and the boys went outside to open the rest of the
freight.

Every new box was a
fresh adventure! Linens, dishes, kitchen utensils, lamps, knick-knacks, sewing
notions, clothes, wall hangings—even a myriad of seeds, seedlings, and
cuttings!—emerged to the delight of
Fru Brünlee
and the boys.

“May I pay you all now?”
she asked when all the crates were opened.

Jeremy and Karl blushed
and nodded, both boys excited to earn cash money.

With a small frown, Jan
refused. “
Nei
,” he stated, shaking his head. “
Venner
.”

“Pardon, Mr. Thoresen?”

“
Venner
,” he
repeated. “Friends.”

She seemed touched, he
thought.

“Thank you! You’ve been
so kind to me. I do thank you so much.”

Jan felt words . . .
and
feelings
bubbling up from inside, but they stuck in his throat like
sand . . . so he just nodded.

“Come, Karl,” he managed
to choke out.

On an afternoon two weeks later Amalie and Uli prepared to
walk to their neighbor’s home for what Amalie, in raptures, described as “a luncheon.”
Amalie and Sigrün first fixed the Thoresens’ midday
meal before Amalie and Uli departed, leaving Jan, Sigrün, and the boys at home.

Although Sigrün had also been invited and despite Amalie’s persuasive
attempts, his niece declined to join the little party. After they had eaten,
Jan touched Sigrün’s arm gently and she came to his arms, resting her head on
his shoulder as she had so many times as a little girl.

As she had for months after the sickness had taken her pappa,
her cousin, and tante.
Jan knew she was afraid to go where she might be
pressed to speak.

At the late evening meal, Amalie and Uli could not stop
talking about the “luncheon.” “Such lovely things
Fru Brünlee
has!”
Amalie gushed. “A beautiful lace tablecloth, china, a silver tea service!”

“And chocolates!” Uli raved. “Every sort of chocolate candy!
On such a beautiful plate! Fru Brünlee asked
me
to hold the pretty plate
and pass the chocolates around!”

Up until now Karl, Arnie, and Kjell had scoffed at or ignored
most of Amalie and Uli’s recitation. However, when Uli crowed “chocolates!” the
three boys became patently disgruntled.

“We never get chocolates,” Kjell groused.

Jan, too, had paid only marginal attention to Amalie’s description
of the lunch and its conversation. He was, of course, happy for Amalie. His
hard-working
søster
rarely received such a treat.

Then Amalie began chuckling. She crossed her arms and held
herself while she laughed.

“Well? What is it?” Jan asked.

“
Fru Brünlee!
” Amalie chortled. Uli giggled with her.

Jan sighed. “So? What has our neighbor done now?”

“
Nei!
If you had seen her face!” Amalie and Uli
laughed more.

Søren looked from his frowning father to his
tante
. “What
is so funny?” Søren finally insisted.

“Ach!” Amalie wiped her eyes on the corner of her apron, and
tried to compose herself. “
Fru Brünlee
said to Uli, in front of all the
ladies,
Uli, please tell
Amalie that Herr
Thoresen did the most excellent work on my cupboards and porch. What a blessing
it must be to have a husband so skilled.
”

Søren snickered, and the boys joined him. Amalie kept
chuckling. “Oh, Jan! These many weeks she has thought you and I were married!
Oh, if you could have seen her face,
Bror
!”

Jan blinked slowly and did not laugh.

She thought I was married?

It was breakfast at the
Thoresen table. Early morning chores were over and five hungry men were shoveling
fuel into their mouths as quickly as Sigrün or Amalie could set food before
them.

“
Onkel
,” Kjell
said with his mouth full of fried potatoes. “
Onkel
, I took eggs and
butter to
Fru Brünlee
this morning. Ach! She was
very
angry.”

“Eh? Something was wrong
with the butter?” Amalie asked, concerned.

“
Nei
,
Mamma
.
Nei
. She was angry with her dog. She said, ‘Please tell Herr Thoresen that
the dog he gave me is tearing up my yard and garden. Ask him what I should do,
for heaven’s sake!’”

Kjell, with one hand on
his hip, delivered a more than passable imitation of
Fru Brünlee
, sending
the boys and Uli into spasms of laughter. Amalie, her mouth twitching, fussed
at their poor manners, but her brother-in-law was not helping: he was grinning
with them!