Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) (3 page)

Finally Jan and Karl slid the doors closed. Jan fastened a
heavy lock on them and pocketed the key. Weary, hungry, and filthy, they
tramped across the rail yard to the boardinghouse.

“I just want a hot bath,” Karl sighed.

“
Ja
, you need one,” Jan shot back.

Both men slugged the other in the arm and laughed. Søren,
trudging along beside them, only wanted some good, hot food. He definitely did
not
want a bath!

Jan glanced at Søren as if reading his mind. “
Ja
, you
need a bath, too.”

Søren sighed.

Late that afternoon, Jan, Elli, and Søren, freshly bathed
and wearing clean clothes, went out to buy food for the next leg of their
journey. They left Kristen napping with Karl, Amalie, and Sigrün.

Søren studied the prices in the small grocery store and
asked a few questions of the clerk. He was inquisitive, determined to learn,
and not embarrassed to ask.

When they returned to their rooms, Søren asked his
far
to show him his money. Søren laid out a dollar on the table and then four
quarters beside it. “This is the same,” he said pointing to the dollar and
stack of quarters. “Four of these are one
dollar
.”

Jan mouthed the word “dollar.”

Then Søren rearranged some of Jan’s change into two quarters
and five dimes. “Ten of these,” he said, pointing to the dimes, “are one dollar,
too. Five are
one-half
dollar or two of these,” pointing to the two
quarters.

Jan nodded. They played with the money for a while, moving
it into different stacks of change equaling a dollar, and distinguishing
between one-, five-, and ten-dollar bills.

Søren pulled out the paper with the English words on it.
“So,” he showed his father, “
hvor mye vil det koste?
is
how much?
in English.”

“Howw much,” Jan repeated. He ruffled Søren’s hair, proud of
his
sønn
.

Early in the morning they rose, gathered their drying
clothes, and repacked their bags. Elli and Amalie wrapped and stowed fruit,
butter, fresh bread, pickles, cheese, crackers, cookies, and boiled eggs while
Karl went downstairs and filled a large can with water.

When they trekked across to the rail yards, their freight
car had been moved off the siding. The freight master pointed to it far down
the line, already coupled onto the train.

“I wish you well,” the man told them. “God bless you.”

“
Mange takk
,” Jan and Karl answered, shaking his hand
for the last time. “
Farvel
.” Many thanks. Farewell.

“Tanks you,” Søren said confidently.

They walked down the rail line and up onto the station
platform, all of them marveling at the American trains, their mighty engines
belching soot and steam. They passed passenger cars with curious faces looking
down on them and a few luxurious private cars.

At the end of the platform they stepped down onto the ground
and followed the rails, passing a line of freight cars until they reached their
own. Jan unlocked the car and Karl clambered up. He turned and helped the women
and girls into the car and then jumped back down.

He, Jan, and Søren, handed the bags up to the women. Elli
and Amalie, chattering happily about the arrangements, unpacked some coverlets
and spread them on the hay bales. They hung their still-damp laundry across the
crates to dry.

Jan climbed back up and Karl handed him the heavy water can.
He stowed it between a bale and the wall of the car. Elli asked Jan to move a
crate that sat alone behind one of the bales of hay. He placed it atop another
and then climbed up and pushed it back. He retied a rope to keep it from
sliding.

Where the crate had been, the women tacked up a sheet,
making a tiny water closet. Jan grimaced. It was uncomfortable using a chamber
pot in such close proximity to his brother and his brother’s wife. He was sure
they had to feel the same.

Jan, Karl, and Søren stood outside watching the activity in
the yard until the conductor’s call of “allll aboooard!” echoed across the
rails. Down the line the yard men walked, checking that the freight car doors were
closed. The men and Søren climbed into their car and slid the door shut behind
them, latching it on the inside.

The car was dim and cool. Just a little light and air came
in through slats in the door.

The train shuddered, rocked a bit, and jerked forward. The
engine’s piercing whistle cut the air. The train began to move, slowly, slowly,
a little faster, faster, and faster. The Thoresens, all of them, crowded against
the door, peering through the slats, watching the station drop away.

~~**~~

The rhythm of train wheels flying over the tracks lulled them
to sleep. All but Jan. He could not sleep now—his pulse had quickened until it matched
the clacking cadence of the swaying train.

Jan leaned his forehead against the door and peered through
the slats, studying the land passing by. He liked what he saw—large green
fields that lay like a patchwork quilt as far as the eye could see. He knew the
geography would change considerably by the time they reached their destination,
but the size of this country already amazed him.

What will the land be like where we are going?
he
asked himself for the thousandth time. He had heard that it was like a vast sea
with no shores to be seen, that tall grasses danced in the wind like the waves
and billows of the ocean.

The newspapers had described the low, rolling hillocks and
wide, nearly flat miles as “prairie,” something like the lowlands of Norway
and Sweden but much wider and broader, all of it open and uncultivated. “Perfect
for farming,” the papers had read. However, the words that fired Jan’s heart
and imagination were “160 acres per man” and “free.”

Land for free!
He and Karl would file for adjoining claims
and work them together. All they had to do was build homes on the land and work
it for five years. Then it would be theirs.

Jan was restless, ready to begin. And so he studied the terrain
as they flew by, taking note of the farms, their barns and houses, and what
they had planted. He mentally listed their first priorities and ticked off the
items they would need to buy when they left the train.

Their journey would take them across two of America’s
great rivers. He frowned and recited the rivers’ names: Mississippi and Missouri.
Just across the Missouri they would stop in the city of Omaha.

In that city they would seek a district land office to file their
homestead claims. It would be a risky time. They would need someone—
someone
honest
—to help them because of the language barrier.

Jan snorted. Karl would likely
again
bring up their joint
decision to go west rather than north to Wisconsin or Minnesota, states that
bordered the great lakes of America. But Jan had been adamant.

“Do you wish to be only a dairy farmer, Karl?” Jan had
demanded. “Do you wish for an area where the land has been picked over so that we
must settle for what is left?
Ja
, many of our people have established
communities in Illinois and these states. That would be nice, eh? To have
others who speak our tongue and know our customs?

“But we would have to pay for that land. I want the
free
land—a
parcel big enough to plant all the wheat and corn we can handle and raise cows,
goats, and our father’s hogs. I want space for our sons and their families,
too.”

His last argument had been the most effective. Yes, their
far
owned land in Norway, but it was a small piece completely surrounded by land
owned by others. No matter how well they and their father managed, his ten
acres would never support Karl and Jan’s families as their children grew. And
no more land in Norway was to be had.

Karl, as the elder son, would eventually inherit their
father’s farm. Even so, their father and mother were still strong and, God
willing, had many years ahead of them.

If Karl stayed on his father’s farm he would have to work
for his father until he died, always doing what his father asked of him. Until his
parents died Amalie would not have her own house. Then Karl’s sons would be in
the same position—living on and working their father’s land with no prospects
of their own.

For Jan, and for Karl, the possibility of owning their own
land
now
—more land than they had ever dreamed of—was too enticing, the
idea of freedom too intoxicating. Land for themselves
and
land for their
sons and their families? The opportunity could not be passed over.

And, Jan knew, he was weary of being dependent on his father.
He was a grown man who did a grown man’s work every day. If he stayed in Norway,
he would always be subject to another man’s orders—first his father’s and then
his older brother’s.

In this new country, he and Karl would be equals. No more
“little brother” and “elder brother.”

Jan longed to put his feet under his own table each night
after working his own land each day. Elli wanted her own kitchen and wanted to
run her own home.

Was it wrong to want these things? Jan did not believe so,
and his heart yearned for them.

Was the free land America offered in Wisconsin or Minnesota?
No. It was west—to the Dakotas, the Nebraska Territory, or the territory of Colorado. These territories had much free land open to homesteaders.

How Jan wished he could see a map of the available homestead
plots north and northwest of this Platte River. Jan could scarcely contain the
restive spirit within himself. His eyes burned to see
his land
for the
first time. His fingers itched to work the ground and tame it.

But how many claims were already filed? What land was left?
This could only be determined once they arrived in Omaha and visited the claims
office.

Jan had searched for and found an anchor that seemed to ease
his anxieties. It was found in a passage of the
Bibelen
he had read
before they left Norway. The verse had leapt from the page, as though underscored
and with the words
Jan! I am speaking to you!
scrawled in the margin.

By
faith Abraham,
when he was called to go out into a place
which he should after receive for an inheritance, obeyed;
and he went out, not knowing whither he went.

God was calling him to a place!
Jan knew this deep in
his being. But where? What place? He had determined to trust God as Abraham had
trusted God. His trust in God’s leading kept the fears, anxieties, and
restlessness of his heart at bay.

God and
Elli
 . . .

Back home, in the nights when they should have been sleeping,
Jan and Elli had lain abed, twined together, talking . . . and dreaming.
Elli, so tall and slender, fit perfectly in his arms.

Her love for him was like that, too. She “fit” him and
completed him, touching and healing him in his deepest parts.

“Elli, you know when we go to America life will be hard,
even harder than here?” he breathed into her silky hair. “We don’t know what we
will face. Will you regret it, my love? Will you regret leaving your parents
and
søster
so far behind? Our children never seeing their grandparents?”

She snuggled closer to Jan. “You know, my
ektemann
,
my husband,” she replied softly, “that I love you
more
than my life. I,
I am like . . . Ruth! And you,” she giggled, “are my Naomi.”

He chuckled and kissed her forehead. She was quiet and still
in his arms for so long that Jan thought she had slipped away into slumber.

But then she whispered again, her words raw with tears. “Jan,
this is truth: Where you go, I will go; and where you live, I will live: your people
shall be my people, and your God my God. And where you die, my husband, I will
die, and there will I be buried.” She lifted her face to him. “This is truth.”

Jan kissed her deeply and then buried his face in the warm
crook of her neck. “My dear wife! You are God’s greatest blessing to me in this
life.”

With God to lead him and Elli to love him, Jan found
strength and hope each morning.

The clacking of the train over the tracks brought Jan back
to the present and, as he had learned to do every time he began to fret over their
coming journey, he took a deep breath and prayed.
Lord, again I place our
journey in your hands. I trust you. Where you lead us, we will go. You have
promised to never leave nor forsake us
.

Then peace came again to his heart.

He must have dozed off. The sound of vomiting and coughing woke
him.

Karl sat across from them staring ahead, his forehead
creased a little. He sighed.

“
Mor
has a bad tummy,” Sigrün confided in her loudest
whisper. Karl shushed her gently.

Jan crooked an eyebrow. “Should we congratulate you?” he
asked his brother under his breath.

Elli ‘tsked’ and pinched his arm. Karl just shook his head
and rubbed his tired eyes. A few moments later Amalie reappeared from behind
the curtain. Elli silently handed a dampened cloth to her.

“Ach! I am sorry,” Amalie muttered.

“Maybe this one will be a boy, eh,
Søster
?” Jan said
with a straight face.

Amalie blushed furiously and Karl shot him a dark look.

“This one what?” Kristen asked innocently.

Elli shook her head at the girl, but Jan could not help himself.
He quivered with laughter, even though he tried to hold it in. Grinning at Karl
and Amalie he made an attempt to apologize, but sniggered instead.

Perhaps it was the strain of the past weeks, but it felt
good to laugh, to rejoice in what was ahead. He was happy, and was not a new
baby something to rejoice over?

So he laughed. Karl tried to be serious and quell him with a
look, but it had the opposite effect. Jan laughed so hard he could not catch
his breath. Then Elli giggled and hiccupped, which only caused Jan to laugh
harder. Tears leaked down his face.

Karl could hold out no longer. He chuckled, burst into
laughter, and slapped Jan on the leg. The children, knowing only that their
parents were laughing uncontrollably about something, joined them.

Amalie smiled, too. “Perhaps so,
Bror
,” she relented.
“It would be nice for a little Karl to be the first Thoresen born in America,
nei
?”

“
Pappa
, can we sing?” Kristen looked at him with
hopeful eyes.

“What? Are you tired and bored from riding on this train?”
Jan teased.

“Oh, yes,
Pappa
! Please! Can we sing?” she wheedled,
batting her wide blue eyes at him.

Jan laughed and Elli shook her head. Karl rolled his eyes.

“You have no idea what is ahead with your little
datter
,
Bror
,” Jan teased him.

He placed Kristen on his lap and smoothed her long braids. “
Ja
,
little one. We can sing!” He started a merry folk song best sung in a round.
Karl began the song again at the right place. Elli and Amalie added a third
part. Søren joined his
pappa
, and the girls added their voices to their
mothers’.

When that song ended, Karl and Jan jumped into another brisk
tune, and then another and another. As the wheels of the train sang against the
rails, the enclosed car rang with laughter and song. Finally Jan began a hymn.
They sang hymn after hymn until their hearts were full and their voices well
used.

“
Pappa
, I love when our family sings,” Kristen
whispered, yawning and burrowing into her father’s chest.

I love that when I look at you I see your beautiful mamma
,
Jan thought, his cup running over.

The train stopped every so often that day to take on coal
and water. When it did, Jan and Karl slid open the car door. Everyone clambered
down to stretch their legs and breathe fresh air. Along the way they emptied
the necessary and refilled their water can. Where available they purchased hot
food.

As the sun was sinking, stealing their light away, Karl
pulled out the Thoresen family Bible and began to read aloud. Jan always
thought of his father and mother when he saw the thick book. They had tearfully
presented it to their eldest son as both of their children prepared to leave
them, probably forever.

“I never imagined our
familie
Bibelen
would leave our
country, but it must go with you and your
sønns
, Karl, and you must
faithfully record our family’s history in it,” their
far
had instructed,
a catch in his voice.

Karl and Jan, with their wives and their children, had knelt
on the wood-planked floor of the old farmhouse and received their father’s blessing.
“
Jeg ber til Gud om at han gir dere sin velsignelse og sitt vern
. I
fervently pray our merciful God will extend his blessing and protection on you.”

Why is life like this?
Jan pondered.
I have spent much
of my life trying to leave my parents and their home, but now I am looking back,
already missing them. Will Søren someday leave for far-off adventures? And will
Kristen marry and move away? How will I feel if my children leave and I am
never to see them again? Ah, Lord! This is hard to think on.

Three long days later their train steamed into Council Bluffs. All were weary of traveling, but perhaps Karl and Jan the most.

After situating Elli, Amalie, and the girls in another boardinghouse,
Karl and Jan, with Søren in tow, went to investigate how to ferry their
families and belongings across the river.

Using the words “ferry” and “please” written by the helpful
immigration man, they soon arrived at the bustling crossing. They found a good
place to study the process and watched for half an hour, observing how others
made their arrangements, how the workers loaded the ferry, and how long the
crossing took.

Jan poked Karl. “Look there.”

Karl squinted and looked in the direction Jan was pointing.
A large Swede sat atop a loaded wagon. The three Thoresens circled around until
they found a path to reach the man.

“
Hei! God ettermiddag!
” Jan called to him.

The blonde, raw-boned man flashed them a smile. “
God dag!
Norsk?
”

“
Ja
,” Jan replied. “It’s good to hear a familiar
tongue.” Swedish and Norwegian languages were close enough that they could
understand each other.