Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) (5 page)

Elli saw him frown and rub his eyes. She stood behind his
chair and gently massaged his temples. “Amalie and I have our list ready,” she whispered,
nuzzling the back of his neck.

“
Ja
, that’s good,” he replied. He leaned his head
back and rested it on her bosom, breathing in her sweet scent. “Don’t fret, my
love. I will be better in the morning. It has just been a long day.”

~~**~~

The next morning began a little more leisurely. After a
large breakfast, Karl read to them from the family Bible. But when they thought
Karl had finished reading, he turned to Proverbs and read aloud:

Trust
in the Lord with all thine heart;
and lean not unto thine own understanding.
In all thy ways acknowledge him,
and he shall direct thy paths.

They all knew that the most challenging times were still
ahead. “Lord, thank you for directing our paths,” Jan prayed. “We trust you and
lean on you.”

Jan and Karl felt refreshed when they walked back to the
rail yard. They opened the pen and led two of the oxen out. Together they
placed the yoke across the beasts’ muscular necks.

When the team was hitched to one of their wagons, Jan and
Karl drove it back to the boardinghouse. Karl helped Elli, Amalie, and the
three children into the back, and they set out for the grocer
Herr
Rehnquist had recommended.

An hour and a half later the last of the foodstuffs had been
loaded in the wagon:
Burlap bags filled with wheat, dried beans, dried peas,
dried corn, onions, potatoes, and cabbages. Crocks of butter, jars of honey,
jugs of vinegar. Cans of lard. Bags of salt, sugar, and coffee beans. Cans of
baking soda, cream of tartar, and yeast cakes. Jars of pickles, peaches, and
tomatoes. Wheels of cheese wrapped in clean cloths. Ropes of sausages and a
great log of bologna. A crate of eggs padded in sawdust.

Jan and Karl wrestled a heavy barrel into the wagon. Packed
inside it were two hams. Packed above the hams were carefully wrapped slabs of
bacon.

Back in the store, Jan asked, “What are these?” He had spied
half dozen green sprigs, not even eight inches high, their roots tied up in damp
burlap.

“
Apfel baum
,” Mr. Koehler replied.

Apple saplings! Jan stared at them. “Søren?”

“They are fifty cents,
Pappa
. Half a dollar each.”

“So much!” Jan was torn. Their money was dwindling quickly.

“I tell you what,” Mr. Koehler said, “You are a good
customer. You are buying a lot from me today,
ja
? I sell you two of them
for the price of one.”

Søren wasn’t sure he understood. “Two?” When Mr. Koehler
nodded, Søren answered Jan. “
Pappa
, two for fifty cents. A blessing!”

Jan, with a great smile on his face, thanked the grocer. Karl
frowned, but when the wagon pulled away, Elli cradled the saplings in her
apron.

Back in the rail yard, Jan and Karl packed the foods into
the first car while Søren tended the pigs and oxen.

While they worked, Jan’s mind was busy.
We finally have
everything we need!
Except their claims, of course. But tomorrow they would
leave Omaha and arrive in Fremont to seek out the land office.

“
Pappa
.” Søren tugged on his sleeve. “
Pappa
,
come look at this pig. He is sick, I think.”

With sinking hearts, Karl and Jan both followed him. Karl
removed the piglet from its crate. It was easy to see that the piglet was in
distress—its breathing was labored and watery sounding; it lay without struggle
in Karl’s hands.

Karl, without being asked, said, “A female.”

Jan was careful not to touch the pig or its crate. “Søren,
have you tended the other pigs?”

“
Nei
,
Pappa
. I only touched this one. When I
saw it, I came to tell you.”

“Good boy. You will go back to your
mor
and wash your
hands and arms with hot water and soap,
ja
?”

Karl gave a knowing nod to Jan. They would ask the freight
master where to take the dying piglet and its crate, so that the disease did
not infect the yard.

Jan finished caring for the last two piglets. They seemed
healthy and active—but so had the dying pig two days ago.

Lord, you know these are our last pigs, eh? A male and a
female. I know they are not beneath your notice. You care about sparrows, Lord.
Will you care about our pigs and keep them healthy? We are leaning on you,
Lord.

They had one last task to complete this day. Jan and Karl
began breaking down the wagons. As they removed the pegs, pins, and nails, they
placed them in a canvas bag. Søren helped stack the boards and roll the wheels
to their car.

Karl and Jan stacked all the wagon pieces atop the lumber.
Jan hung the sack with the pegs and pins on a nail on the wall and put their
tools away.

Very early the following morning, while still dark, Karl,
Jan, and Søren arrived in the yard. The freight master and two of the yard men were
waiting to help them load the oxen into their lumber car. The animals had been
well fed and watered overnight.

The men rolled a sturdy ramp up to the car. The ramp had
sides on it, so the oxen could only see forward. Jan and Karl opened the pen and
led an ox to the ramp. As soon as the ox started up the ramp, they removed the
rope, slapped the ox’s backside, and it ran up the ramp and into the car.

All the oxen went up the ramp easily except the
temperamental one. It took the men more time to get him into the car. They had
to tie a rope to each horn and stand on either side of the ramp, pulling him up
it. Finally he went in, and Jan closed and locked the door.

They were ready. The freight master would have their cars moved
off the siding and onto the track now. He would have the yard men couple their
cars to the train.

Karl, Jan, and Søren returned to the boardinghouse and ate a
simple breakfast. The women had repacked their belongings. With everyone
carrying something, they trekked back to the yard to find their cars.

They were leaving Omaha at last.

The train ride to their next destination took less than two hours.
Fremont was a rough settlement with a much smaller rail yard. The railroad
had only reached Fremont in December. The track beyond Fremont was all new, having
been laid in the months since then.

A ferry crossed the Elkhorn River at Fremont. Before the coming
of the railroad, settlers traveling by wagon or on foot crossed the Elkhorn
at Fremont, following the Mormon Trail west along the north bank of the Platte
River.

The Thoresens disembarked when the train stopped. Karl refreshed
their car’s water supply. Søren and Jan fed and watered the oxen and pigs; Elli
and Amalie took the girls to a small market and bought milk, bread, and fruit.
Karl spoke to the freight manager, asking him to move their cars to a siding
and reconnect them in the morning.

Then Karl, Jan, and Søren set out to find the land office.

Søren handed the clerk a note that read, “Looking for land
north of the Platte.” Sauli had scrawled the words for them. Søren managed to
tell the clerk they had come from Omaha on the train.

“I hear the railroad will reach Columbus by next month,” the
clerk replied. “Not much between Fremont and Columbus, and Columbus is mighty
small.”

Jan and Karl did not understand what he said, and Søren only
recognized a few words, but he nodded so the clerk studied the map. “There’s a
water stop about halfway between Fremont and Columbus. A few folks live farther
north in the bend where a little river turns.”

He pointed to the map. “We got claims open north and west of
there.” His finger circled an area.

The two Thoresen men studied the map the claim clerk had
laid before them. Jan traced a small river north from the penciled-in rail line
and then followed a feeder creek west. Søren looked over Jan and Karl’s shoulders.

“These claims front this creek, Karl,” Jan murmured.

Karl nodded. “
Ja
. What kind of a creek?”

They looked at Søren. Already they were dependent on the
little bit of English Søren was quickly picking up.

Søren licked his lips and asked. “Please. This?” He didn’t
know a word for creek, so he pointed. Jan traced it for him.”

“Yes. That creek flows right into this-here river.” He
pointed to the river Jan had already noted on the map. “Good little stream.
Flows all year round.”

“
Far
, he says it is good all the time,” Søren
reported.

Karl and Jan looked at each other and silently agreed. “Which
one do you want,
Bror
?” Jan asked. “You pick; I will take the other,
ja
?”

“
Takk!
I will take this one, on the north,” Karl
answered eagerly.

“
Sønn
, tell him we will take these two claims,” Jan
told Søren.

“This one,” the clerk pointed to Karl’s, “Was homesteaded
four years ago. The man went bust; didn’t stay.”

Søren’s forehead puckered, trying to figure out what the
clerk had said. “Bust, please?”

“This claim,” the clerk tried again, pointing at it on the
map.

Søren nodded.

“A man. Claim.”

Søren nodded again.

“No stay.” The clerk shook his head. “He go away. Bust.”

“Ah!” Søren thought he had it. “
Pappa
, he says someone
had
Onkel’s
claim but, but, I think he says the man did not stay.”

Søren pointed to the plot again. “Two claims? Yes?”

“Yes,” the clerk replied. “That’ll be $18 filing fee for
each claim, please.”

Jan was dazed with excitement as they left the claims
office. He studied the paper in his hand, understanding little of the words printed
in ink on it, but he saw his own name printed there beside his signature. He
held the paper as if it were made of gold.

He and Karl looked at each other. They grinned. They
laughed. They grabbed Søren and danced around in a circle.

Sobering, Jan and Karl carefully folded their claims and each
placed his in the breast pocket of his homemade vest. As they started back to
the rail yards, Jan patted his claim several times, just assuring himself that
it truly was there.

They slept aboard their car in the rail yard that night. It
was uncomfortable and crowded, but a light breeze flowing through the half-open
door kept them cool.

At dawn a rap sounded on their car. Jan closed and latched
the door, and their cars began to move from the siding back onto the main track.
A while later the train jerked forward and began moving. Within minutes the
tracks were bending west, following the Platte River.

Jan cracked open the door and stared along the curving length
of the train ahead. He could see down to the river. In a few hours they would
disembark and begin the last leg of their journey.

Ah, Lord! I feel like Abraham today. You are calling us
to a place and an inheritance.

~~**~~

Midmorning the train stopped in the middle of nowhere. The
conductor ran down the line and smacked the door of their car.

“Open up,” he hollered.

Karl unlatched the door and slid it open. He and Jan jumped
down. They saw nothing up and down the line except the train and a water tower,
for the train blocked their view of the other side. When the train left they
would get their first look at what lay to the north. Two men were busily
filling the train’s water tank.

The conductor motioned to them. “Unload here.” He gestured
for them to hurry.

“Here” was simply a flat area to the side of the track. At
least the tracks were not on a steep embankment. Jan and Karl unlocked their
second car. They would have to unload the oxen first.

The conductor and another railroad man climbed into their
first car and began tossing out the bales of hay. Amalie, Elli, and the girls,
not knowing what to do, tried to keep out of their way.

A few seconds later Karl and Jan heard Elli crying, “
Nei,
nei!
” and turned to see the railroad men tossing their food out of the car,
too. A burlap bag of wheat hit the ground, split open, and began pouring grain
into the dirt.

Jan ran back to the car and shouted to the men to stop. They
ignored him. Jan clambered into the car and grabbed the conductor’s arm. The
conductor shook Jan off, yelling at him. The other railroad man pushed Elli out
of his way and reached for Jan.

Jan did not think; he only acted. His left fist swung in a
tight circle. The railroad man bounced off the wall of the car and sank to the
floor.

The conductor snarled at Jan. He jumped out of the car and
drew a whistle from his pocket. The high-pitched, urgent repeating of his whistle
filled the air. In response, a stream of railroad workers, on their way to the
end of the line where new track was being laid, poured from a car forward of
them. In less than a minute, a swarm of rough-looking men, spoiling for a brawl,
surrounded them.

“Jan!” Karl’s mouth was tight with concern. He shouldered
his way through the twenty or so laborers. They were standing on or walking on the
foodstuffs thrown from the train.

Jan, with his arm around Elli, stood in the door of the car,
waiting. He could feel her trembling within his arms.
Oh, Lord! My quick temper
has gotten us into a terrible situation
. He was not unmindful of how badly
things could go.

The angry conductor shouted something to the men, pointing from
the prostrate form on the floor of the car to Jan. Some of the men reached up
to drag Jan down. He let go of Elli, fearful that she would be hurt.

“Well, now. What’s goin’ on here?” a cool voice drawled. Everyone
heard the distinctive “click” of a rifle being cocked.

The laborers jumped aside as a tall, wiry-built man looked around,
sizing up the situation. He rested the buttstock of his rifle on his thigh, pointing
the barrel toward the sky, but his eyes conveyed a challenge.

Then he glanced down. “What is this? What in tarnation do
you boys think yer doin’ tramplin’ these folks’ food?” His eyes narrowed and he
stared at the conductor. “Mister, did you toss these things out in the dirt?”

The conductor, drawing himself up, sputtered a reply. “We
have a timetable to keep here, Bailey. This is none o’ your concern.”

“Weeell,” the man drew the word out, “I’m sure they paid
their fare. ’Sides, you ain’t got no right t’ be treatin’ newcomers like this, so
I guess I’m makin’ it my concern.”

“You men there,” he gestured at a knot of laborers to the
right. “You think it right t’ throw a man’s food and things in the dirt? And
then
walk on them
?”

The workers, getting a better picture of the situation,
began to mutter and shoot dark glances at the conductor. One of the mob piped
up, “No sir! Didn’t think that was what was happening.” He cleared his throat
and said to Jan and Elli, “Mighty sorry, sir, ma’am.”

“Well, since Mr. Chance is so concerned with keeping his
‘timetable,’ how ’bout you men give these newcomers a hand unloading their
things?
Respectful like
. And pick up their food here.”

The men did as Bailey directed. The conductor and another
man dragged their unconscious friend from the boxcar and laid him out on the
prairie grass. Others began to unload and carefully stack the Thoresens’
belongings alongside the tracks.

While some of the men were unloading the first car, several others
helped Jan and Karl drag a crude ramp to their second boxcar, unload the oxen,
and hobble them. A few more handed down wagon parts. Jan and Karl set to work
assembling the wagons. When the men saw what they were doing, they pitched in
to help.

In the meantime, Amalie looked for and found her sewing kit.
She stitched a neat seam up the split in the sack of wheat. Elli and the girls
picked through the dirt, salvaging every kernel they could find. They placed
the dusty wheat in Elli’s apron.

After she and the girls had retrieved all the wheat, Elli
asked for the sack in which Jan and Karl had kept the pegs and pins for the
wagons. She had Kristen hold the sack open while she poured the wheat into it.

Within an hour the three wagons were assembled and the men
had loaded the lumber onto one wagon. Atop the lumber, Karl strapped the new stove
and piping and stacked the bales of hay.

The conductor, not willing to wait any longer, signaled the
engineer to blow the whistle.

“Guess we gotta go,” one of the workers said.

Jan made a point of shaking hands with each man. “Tanks
you,” he said tentatively. He felt silly, but his efforts earned him a proud
smile from Søren. Some of the men clapped him on the shoulder.

All the while, Bailey watched, his face noncommittal, rifle
held casually at his side.

When the train pulled away, the Thoresens stared across the
tracks. They saw a small clearing and a tiny cabin built into the side of a low
hillock.

Beyond that spread the open prairie as far as they could
see.

The ground undulated over swells and mounds; the prairie
grasses shimmered in the midday sun. Jan’s breath left him as he stared.

“You folks all right?” It was the man with the rifle.

Jan and Karl walked over to him. “Tanks you,” Jan said,
hoping his firm handshake and solemn face expressed how grateful they were.

“
Tusen Takk
,” echoed Karl. He pointed to himself.
“Karl Thoresen.” He pointed at Jan. “Jan Thoresen.”

“Robert Bailey. Pleased t’ meetcha.” Bailey was a little
younger than both Jan and Karl. He pointed. “I keep th’ water tower filled.”

Jan called to Søren. When the boy stepped to his side, Jan
put his hand on Søren’s shoulder. “
Jeg sønn, Søren
.”

Bailey shook the boy’s hand. “You-all have a lot to do
still.” He pointed at their things spread along the track. “Would you like some
help?”

Jan asked Søren what he said. “I think he would like to
help, Pappa,” Søren replied.

“
Ja
, tanks you!”

A woman emerged from the tiny shack. She walked swiftly
toward them, wiping her hands on her apron as she hustled over. “Land sakes,
Mr. Bailey! You shoulda tol’ me we had comp’ny!”

He grinned at her. “They jest got off th’ train, missus.
Name o’ Thoresen. I think they’re brothers. Come meet ’em.”

Mrs. Bailey, weatherworn and feisty, was as plainspoken as
her husband. She shook hands all around. They were all a little awkward with
the language barrier. “Would ya like sumpthin’ t’ eat? Got some soup on th’
back o’ th’ stove and some biscuits.”

“My woman do make good biscuits,” Bailey said proudly.

Søren looked at his father. “They said ‘eat,’
Pappa
.”
His stomach growled.

“
Ja
, tanks you!” Jan accepted. He was getting more
comfortable with the two words he’d learned. He and Karl unhobbled the oxen and
led them to a trough under the water tower. Jan hobbled them again. Karl spread
a tarpaulin over their food supplies before turning to the Bailey’s cabin.

On the shaded side of the Bailey’s cabin, in a small pen, the
Thoresens spotted two cows and a calf. “Karl,” Amalie whispered, “Look! They
have cows!” Karl looked speculatively at the cows and calf. He nudged Jan, who
nodded.

Inside, the Thoresens exchanged many comments on the cabin’s
construction. They were especially impressed after they went inside and found
that the back six feet of it was dug into the low hillside.

They enjoyed the soup and quick breads offered to them, but
conversation was stilted. Mrs. Bailey chatted on to the women who listened
attentively and nodded politely, not understanding a word.

Jan asked Søren to thank the Baileys again, and to say they
needed to load their wagons and move on. They likely had four hours of daylight
ahead of them but it would take an hour or two just to load the wagons.

Søren did the best he could. “Tanks you, food. We go
wagons.” He pointed to the northwest.

“Gotcha a claim over there, eh?”

“Claim—
ja!
” Søren nodded vigorously. “Yes.”

Søren aided conversation among the men when he suggested
that his father show Mr. Bailey his claim paper. Jan and Karl both did so.

“Why, I’m pretty sure thet’s Han Gloeckner’s old claim,”
Bailey announced, pointing to Karl’s paper. “Ain’t seed it m’self, but he
described it t’ me.”

He looked at Karl and Søren and tried to communicate. “Mr.
Gloeckner. Mr. Gloeckner’s claim,” he said, pointing at the paper.

When Bailey spotted a bit of alarm in Karl’s eyes he added
quickly, “Gloeckner, no.” He shot a look for help to Søren. “Gloeckner, gone. Good-bye.”

“
Herr
Gloeckner?” Søren asked.

“Yes,” Bailey answered but quickly added, “He is gone. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye? Go?” Søren was struggling.

“Yes! He go, er,
went
.”

“I think he means what the land office man told us,
Onkel
,”
Søren told his uncle. “A
Herr
Gloeckner had this claim but did not stay
long enough to prove it up.”

Bailey insisted on helping Karl and Jan to load the
remaining two wagons. The men covered the three wagons with tarpaulins and
roped them securely.

“Say,” Bailey said when they were ready to go. “You goin’ t’
need all them oxen when ya get to’ yer claim?”

The only words Søren caught were “oxen” and “claim.” He
shook his head and looked at his father. Bailey placed his hand on one of the
oxen. He held up a finger. “One.” He pointed at the other ox and held up a
second finger. “Two.”

He pointed down the line and held up a total of six fingers.
“Six,” he said, pointing again at the oxen. Jan and Søren both nodded, and Jan
suddenly smiled.

He pointed to Bailey’s two milk cows and the calf and held
up one finger and then pointed at one ox.

“An ox fer a milk cow, eh?” Bailey scratched his chin and
muttered to himself. “Could use an ox, maybe lease him out. Could sell him,
too. Fer cash money.”

Bailey held up his hand and strode quickly toward his cabin.
Jan and Karl looked at each other.

“Missus! Missus!” Bailey called. “I’m thinkin’ on tradin’
Molly fer one o’ these folks’ oxen. Whatcha think o’ that?”

“I’m thinkin’ we ain’t got no use fer two milk cows, thet’s
what,” she called back, “an’ they got little ones what need milk. It’s all
right with me.”

It took some time and imaginative communication, but another
thirty minutes later, Mr. Bailey hopped aboard one of the wagons and took the
reins. Søren rode with Mr. Bailey; his horse and the Thoresens’ new cow, Molly,
walked along behind them, tied to the back of the wagon.

Bailey had offered to go with them to their claims and then return
on his horse, leading one of the oxen. Since he knew best how to reach their
homestead claims, Jan and Karl asked him to lead the way.

The sojourners had made five miles when Mr. Bailey stopped
atop a knoll and gestured to the river below them. Then his finger tracked far up
the river and pointed to where a creek could just be seen joining the river.

Jan and Karl knew immediately that this was “their” creek.
It would guide them the rest of the way to their land.

~~**~~