An Untamed Land (7 page)

“Ja, but these are tears of joy, healing tears, as Tante Gunhilde would say.” Ingeborg referred to a dear old aunt of Carl and Roald’s who had adopted and counseled her entire village.
Ach, I will miss her wisdom so. Hers and Mor’s—together they tried to make me the kind of woman I should be
.

Ingeborg refused to let herself think of home, even for a moment. If she did, her tears would quickly turn to those of sorrow and mourning. It was joy they needed now.

She turned to see Carl and Roald standing behind them with matching looks of consternation on their faces. They’d retrieved all the bundles and chests, and now the mound around them looked more like a mountain.

“Come, we are blocking traffic.” Roald shook his head, the expression on his face revealing his impatience.

Ingeborg knew that look. It always made her feel as though he thought she had no more sense than a goose. Truly, he just didn’t understand.

“Mrs. Amundson gave me a map showing where to find an inexpensive rooming house. While she said it is not far, I’m afraid we must rent a cart to transport all our belongings. We have been fortunate so far that nothing has been stolen.”

“I will go on ahead with Kaaren and the baby so we do not waste our money on carts and wagons. That is what God gave us strong backs for—to carry things.” Carl looked up at his older brother.
You will not blame me and mine for spending our precious gold. We all agreed to carry our share of the burden
. “Now that we are here, I know Kaaren will get better quickly. One day and two nights of rest is all I ask.”

Carl watched as Roald locked his arms across his chest and dipped his chin so that his blue gaze beamed piercingly from under his hat brim. The silence stretched.

We are partners, and I will act so
. Carl straightened his shoulders. All his life he’d deferred to the wisdom of his older brothers. But now he had a family of his own, and they were his responsibility. “Agreed?” Carl thrust forward his right hand.

With only a momentary hesitation, Roald took it. “Ja, we are agreed.”

Carl did not miss the slight hesitancy on his brother’s part but chose to ignore it. Proving his manhood was no new thing. He’d been the younger brother all his life, with two elder ones to keep him in his place. But here in Amerika, things would be different. He and Roald would work as equals, starting now.

“Come, kjaere,” he said for Kaaren’s ears alone. “Can you hold the babe, while I carry you? We will find you a good bed and another jug of cow’s milk to rebuild your strength. Mayhap there will even be fresh eggs to go with the bit of flour and sugar we have left.”

Kaaren shifted Gunhilde in her arms. “Ja, we will be fine. I could walk some, though, I think.”

“No, you must save your strength. Soon there will be roses in your cheeks, and I will hear you laugh again.” He scooped one arm beneath her knees and locked the other behind her shoulders. “See, you are so light I could carry you with one arm.”

“There is no sense in my waiting here. I will come with you to carry one of the trunks.” Roald shifted one of the bags off the smaller of the trunks. “Ingeborg, you will remain—you and Thorliff.” The big man swung the trunk up to his shoulder and, once it was balanced, grabbed two valises in his other hand.

“I want to go, too,” Thorliff pleaded, his bottom lip quivering.

“Nei, you stay right here, and no more chasing after ruffian boys. Did you not learn your lesson?” Roald’s thick eyebrows nearly met between his eyes.

“Ja.” The little boy twisted his coat button. A single tear slipped down his cheek.

“We will be back soon.” Carl sent the child a private smile. “Then you can help us carry our belongings to the boardinghouse.”

Thorliff brightened at the promise. “You hurry, then.”

“Ja, sure. We will hurry.” Settling Kaaren more comfortably in his arms, Carl strode off after his brother, who was already a few strides ahead of them. They exited the sandstone block building by a small door in the side. Once out on the Battery walk again, the two men headed up Broadway, dodging milling immigrants, hawking peddlers, and seamen free on leave.

If Carl had his way, he’d have stopped in a doorway just to watch the seething crowd and try to decipher the cacophony of all the languages. Instead, he had to watch where he stepped and try to keep Kaaren and the baby from being bumped into. He glanced down at her, pleased to find her cheeks brightening with the chill wind, and her eyes showing interest in her new surroundings for the first time in days.

The baby started to fuss, her mewling whimper threatening to turn into a full-throated cry. How could one so tiny make such a large noise?

“I’m afraid she is hungry again,” Kaaren said apologetically.

“She is always hungry.” Carl could feel his arms growing weak already, and they had only gone three blocks. How far had that map said?

“I’m sorry,” Kaaren whispered.

“You needn’t be sorry.” Carl tried shifting her weight so he could breathe more easily. “Babies are supposed to be hungry. Now if we can get you eating like she does, you’ll be back on your feet in no time.” His straining breaths punctuated each word.

Roald strode on ahead of them, seemingly unaware of his brother’s discomfort.

Carl sagged against a brick wall, letting the rough surface hold him while he caught his breath.
Roald, can’t you have the decency to wait—or at least look back to see if we are still following?

“Let me sit on those steps for a bit.” Kaaren nodded to the entry of the building.

“No, just give me a moment.” Carl grinned at her around his
efforts to inhale. “Now, if I could just sling you over my shoulder like a sack of wheat, I could carry you for half a day with only a tiny backache.”

“I am . . .”

“Nei, don’t say that anymore. I’ve heard enough sorrys to last a lifetime.” He hefted her higher in his arms and started off after Roald. “If we don’t catch up to that brother of mine, we’ll both be sorry, for I don’t know the way.”

Right then the baby let out a wail, drawing the attention of several people walking by. Carl shrugged when he caught their inquisitive gazes and walked on. Where in heaven’s name had Roald gone? Why couldn’t he have the heart and sense to wait for them? Carl stopped at the corner and looked both ways. There, off to the left, he could see the top of his brother’s black hat, bobbing above the bustling crowd.
Thank God we’re so tall
, he thought. Otherwise
I’d just have to wait for him to realize we were left behind
.

When both families and all their goods had been transported to the boardinghouse, they ate a simple meal of bread, milk, and a bit of cheese before collapsing onto their beds.

Kaaren and the baby had fallen asleep long before Carl was able to shut off his thoughts and let his body succumb to the comfort of a real bed with a straw-filled pallet. He rolled to his side and wrapped one arm around the waist of his sleeping wife. They were in Amerika and soon would be on their way west.
God be praised!
How strange it felt to be on solid ground again after twelve days on a pitching sea. Were it not for the months spent on his uncle’s fishing boat, he might well have suffered as miserably as Kaaren did. On the first fishing trip, it had taken several weeks for him to gain his sea legs. What good would sea legs do him in this new land, he wondered. Better that he be grateful for a strong back to plow all the acres he would soon claim as his homestead.

He fell asleep with another
Thank God, God be praised
pacing the hallways of his mind.

In the other bed, Ingeborg let her thoughts roam back over the events of the day. If someone had told her she would go through such a harrowing time as she had, she would have thought them ready to be locked in shackles. She turned her head upon the pallet. And the losing of Thorliff—God be thanked, they had found him.

“Oh.” She stifled the sound, fearful of waking her sleeping husband.

“What is it?” Roald lifted his head, speaking in a bare whisper.

Ingeborg bit her lip. He hadn’t been asleep, after all. How could she tell him what was wrong?

He shifted on his side and rolled over to face her. “Are you in pain?”

“Nei, I mean, not really. I have a problem is all.” She could feel the strength of his gaze upon her face. Even in the dark, she could feel the heat of it.

“Ja, don’t we all?”

Ingeborg breathed in deeply and let it out, being careful not to sigh. Sighing wasn’t done; it might show weakness. And heaven forbid that anyone in this man’s family should show weakness. She cut off her troubling thoughts, the weight of his attention feeling heavier than a millstone.

“When Thorliff took that apple . . .”

“I thought you said the boys gave it to him.”

“Ja, well, they did. But since they stole it from the grocer, I felt it was my duty. . .” She paused to summon the courage up from wherever it was hiding. “I . . . I promised to pay for the apple.”

“And how were you going to do that?” The breath of his whisper tickled her nose.

“To be precise, I promised you would pay the man.” There, it was out.

“Is that all? He probably didn’t even understand a word of what you said. Forget about it. Those things happen to fruit sellers all the time. They are used to it.” He turned over with a snort of disgust.

“But . . . but I . . .”

“Forget it! Good night!”

How could just a whisper convey such command? Ingeborg wished she would have a good night too. But how? All her life she’d been taught that once she gave her word, she must live up to it.
God in heaven, what am I to do? I said I would pay—no, I said my husband would pay, and he refuses. I gave my word. Mor said, “Listen to your husband.” But he is wrong. And it is my word
. She could hear the slight snore that told her Roald was finally asleep. Here she was, wide awake with a body aching to sleep, and all she could think of was the apple.
Oh, Thorliff, what trouble you have caused
.

The baby whimpered. Within moments she heard a rustling, and then the sound of the infant nursing. Quiet, homey sounds. If only
she could forget the apple. Just before falling asleep, she knew what she would have to do.

In the morning, Carl crept out of the bed, left his sleeping wife and daughter, and followed Roald down the stairs. The sun had not even cracked the horizon when they stepped outside onto the front stairs and discovered a world blanketed in white. Gone were the filthy streets and cluttered sidewalks. Even the streetlamps wore white caps.

“Well, I’ll be a . . .” Roald looked up the street and saw a milk wagon stopped at the curb. Even from where they stood, the two men could see the clouds of steam billowing around the horse’s nostrils.

“You thought it didn’t snow in New York?” Carl rubbed his hands together.

“Nei, just that yesterday was more like spring, and today we are back in winter.”

“Most of this will disappear with the sun.” Carl stepped down to the sidewalk. “I’m for getting another jug of milk, and mayhap he carries eggs also. I don’t want Kaaren going out today; she needs to rest.”

“You are right.” Roald looked at his brother, as if trying to discern the change in him. “I saw a bakery down that way. They should be open soon. Fresh bread will bring back a failing appetite.”

“She is trying.”

“I know that. Now let’s just see if we can find the kind of food we all need after that slop they served aboard ship. Those last days were enough to make anyone leave off eating.” Roald shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be back soon. After we eat, we’ll look for the office Mrs. Amundson told us about, where we can apply for citizenship. No use waiting until we reach Dakota Territory.” He nodded to his brother and started up the street, long strides eating up the distance.

Carl stuck his hands in his pockets, setting the coins to jingling. He was thankful to God that Mrs. Amundson had shown them an honest place to exchange their Norwegian currency for Amerikan. They’d heard terrible stories of immigrants being bilked out of their hard-earned cash by dishonest money changers, only hours after stepping off their ship.