Blessing in Disguise (19 page)

“How is she?” Kane returned to the kitchen after peeking in the sickroom.

“She sat in a chair to eat breakfast,” Morning Dove said. “Tired her out, and she been sleeping ever since. Rest make her well again.”

“I know.” He took his place at the table with the other men, all of whom were very careful to study their plates and not let him see the laughter dancing in their eyes. Kane said the grace, and the platter of fried pork chops, along with bowls of potatoes and gravy, made the rounds. The young Indian man by Lone Pine swallowed a chortle and had to be pounded on the back, he was coughing so.

“All right, let’s get this out in the open.” Kane laid his knife down by his plate. He caught a look that passed between the other two men. “What’s on your mind?”

“N-nothin’.” Red Wing coughed again and drank from his coffee mug with an air of innocence that wouldn’t have fooled a blind man.

Kane stared at each of his men, willing them to answer. “Well.” He put as much authority as possible in his voice.

All the men looked at Jake. With a beard red as a fox in full summer pelt, Jake took his time chewing the food in his mouth. He took a sip of coffee and cleaned between two teeth with the tip of his tongue. He didn’t look at the others.

Kane did. The deviltry dancing in their eyes, which shuttered when they caught his stare, made him suspicious as a spooked range stallion. “I’m waiting.”

Jake nodded. “Well, then, I guess we ought to . . .”

Since he left about a five-second pause between each word, Kane almost snapped his fingers to get him to pick up the pace. But he knew that’s what Jake and his cohorts wanted.

“To?”

“Wish you the best with this new wife of yours. We shore are lookin’ forward to meetin’ her.”

A snort came from the other end of the table.

Jake gave a slight shake of his head and continued. “We jist been commentin’ on how worried you be about the missus bein’ sick and all. We ain’t seen you that worried like since—”

“Mrs. Moyer has been very ill.”

“Now, we know that, but you got to admit you been some flummoxed the last couple days.”

“No.” Kane shook his head. “Not at all.”

With that, young Red Wing broke out into laughter. “No? Then why’d you leave the bridle in the oat bin?”

“I did—” Kane stopped. Had he really?

“ ’Twas the filly’s bridle. No one else used it.” Jake cleared his throat of the chuckle that threatened to choke him. “Oh, and”—he turned to the grizzled cowboy at the end of the table—“what was that you saw, Hank?”

Only a red bandana around the neck gave the old man any color at all. The three or more days’ growth on his face matched his lanky hair and eyebrows, and while the others still sported summer tans, his skin stayed gray due to the broad-brimmed hat he wore. “I found the lantern you been looking for.”

“No.” One syllable became nearly three. “Where?” But when they all broke into laughter again, Kane rolled his eyes and laid both hands on the table. “Well, if you jokesters can leave off pickin’ on a newly married man, cut him some slack, maybe, you could finish your dinner before Morning Dove takes the plates away.”

“No hurry.” Morning Dove tried to hide her own smile.

“Please pass the pork chops.”

“Soon as Mrs. Moyer is on her feet, we got something for the two of you, kinda like a wedding present,” Jake mentioned as Morning Dove set the apple pie on the table. “Ooh-ee. Now, don’t that look mighty fine.” He reached for the pie plate only to get his knuckles smacked with the handle of her knife.

“Thank you.” Kane took the plate with pie and set it in front of him. “I got a favor to ask. Any of you speak Norwegian?” At the shake of all their heads, he added, “German?” At the repeat, he sighed. “Sure would have made it easier.”

“She don’t speak English?”

Now it was Kane’s turn to shake his head. “Only the words I taught her on the ride out.”

“Ah.”

The knowing tone made Kane shake his head again. “Eat your pie.”

Augusta could hear the men in the other room, but she didn’t want to bother them. They sounded as if they were having a good time. She turned her head and looked out the window. The sky wore a billowing blue dress, trimmed with clouds of lace. She eyed the chair where she’d sat for breakfast. Could she make it over there by herself? Looking out the window was preferable to staring at the ceiling any day.

She scooted upright, using both arms to brace herself, and sighed when she was actually sitting. Hard to believe that sitting up took so much strength. She checked the foot of the bed, thinking there might have been weights under the covers holding her in place.

“Silly.” Swinging her feet over the side and sitting with nothing behind her to prop her up ate up another large chunk of her energy. The chair looked about as far away as the barn she could now see through the window.

A burst of laughter came again from the kitchen. They sure were having a good time. Was that the way it was around here all the time?

“The chair. We are going for the chair.” Her throat felt as though she’d just gotten a face full of road dust. She hung on to the bedpost as she eased herself upright. The room stayed level at least, no swinging from side to side or around in a circle.

She took two steps, then turned and grabbed for the bed. The chair would have to come tomorrow or when Morning Dove could help her. Sitting on the edge of the bed would have to do for now.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

The male voice behind her made her grab for the covers. The quick spin sent the room into a matching dance, and she flopped back against the pillow.
My hair, my nightdress, my—oh, how embarrassing
. She tucked her feet under the quilt and pulled the top up to her chin.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you. Morning Dove is bringing you some dinner, now that we know you are back in the land of the living.”

His smile was enough to ignite a fire. If only she could understand him.

Morning Dove entered with her tray again, and Augusta’s nose twitched, the food smelled so good. If only he would go away so she could be helped to the chair and eat. Instead, he sat on the end of the bed, crooking one knee up on the quilt.

“Would you please leave so I can have my dinner?”

He smiled at her and nodded.

“I said, would you please leave so I can get out of this bed. Now go!” She pointed a finger at the door, then made a brushing motion.

“Ah.” He stood. “Sorry. I forget my manners at times.” He turned to leave and stopped. “I forget that women are raised to be modest. Things will surely be different around here, eh, Morning Dove?”

“Yes.” She set the tray on the dresser and came to stand beside Augusta. “Come now.”

The trip wasn’t nearly as far as Augusta had feared. When she sat down in the chair, she no longer felt as if she were running off the end like syrup, and most of the food got inside of her before her hand started clinking the fork against the dish. She even managed to hold the cup of coffee long enough and often enough to drink it dry.

But when Morning Dove returned from taking the tray to the kitchen, Augusta was more than ready to trek back to the bed. She slept clear through until dark.

The next day Morning Dove brushed and braided her hair so that when Kane came in after dinner she didn’t feel like hiding her head under the covers.

“Hello.” His smile hadn’t lost any of its power overnight.

“Hello.” Since he said this every time he saw her, it must be a greeting.

“Very good.”

“Very good.” Only hers sounded more like “goot.”

“No, you needn’t say that. I mean . . .”

She stared at him, puzzlement branded on all her features.

Father, give me wisdom. How do I do this?
He pointed to her. “Augusta.” Then to himself and waited.

“Kane Moyer.” Her precise pronunciation made him smile.

“Very good.” He held up a hand to keep her from repeating that back to him. He pointed to the bed and named it. Each thing he pointed out, she repeated after him, and when he pointed again later in review, she had most of them.
She’s not only beautiful but learns fast
.

When she pointed to the same things and said them in Norwegian, he stumbled over the words far more than she had the English. And when she pointed in review, he got only half.

Augusta shook her head and named them again in Norwegian, then followed with the English.

Kane only stumbled on one this time.

“Very goot.”

He smiled back at her. “Yes, very good.”
Sure wish I could go to Gedicks’ tomorrow. We’ve got to have some help here
. Looking into her eyes was like falling into a clear stream, and he had no desire to get out.

Augusta held his gaze for a long moment, then looked away in confusion.
When he looks at me like that, I want to melt like butter in the pan. What in the world is happening to me? Must be because I’m weak from so much sickness
.

But after he left the room, Augusta had to admit that this warm feeling had nothing to do with being sick and everything to do with being too close to a very appealing man. What would her mother say if she saw her daughter sitting in her nightdress on the same bed with a man she hardly knew? Or with any man for that matter?

Chapter 18

St. Paul
September 9

How many conductors did it take to run the trains anyway?

Hjelmer figured he had talked to about all of them twice over. At least that’s what it felt like. And most of them had shaken their heads, sorry to admit they hadn’t seen his sister. Compared to talking with Dakota farmers about Farmers’ Alliance business, at least it wasn’t as hard to get the railroad men to talk.

But none of them said the words he wanted to hear.

“Hey, Hjelmer, how goes it?”

“Henry! What are you doing here? Thought you were on the western route for good.” Hjelmer shook the man’s hand and grasped his upper arm with his other hand. “You have no idea how good it is to see a familiar face.”

“I take it your questioning ain’t gone well.” Next to Hjelmer, Henry looked as if he were standing in a hole.

“Everyone’s tried to be helpful, but the fact is, no one remembers seeing Augusta on the first of September, nor the second either. And they said they would remember a woman traveling alone like that and not speaking the language.” Hjelmer sighed. “I’m about out of time.”

“Another meeting in Bismarck?”

Hjelmer nodded. “Yes, and I got things to do for that too. How are things in Blessing?”

“ ’Bout the same. Your mother is having a real hard time with this.”

How would you know?
Hjelmer knew his mother kept about as stoic a face as any good Norwegian. If she had told Henry how she felt, she must care for the man more than her son realized.

“Come on. Let’s get a cup of coffee, and you can tell me all that you’ve done. Then when you have to leave, I can keep looking.”

Sometime later, their coffee cups dry after the third refill, Henry nodded. “So we have three men that aren’t back in St. Paul yet. There were two other trains waiting by the St. Paul and Pacific, one that would have gone to Grand Forks and points west, the other south.What I can do is wait to talk with them, and if that don’t help, then I can request the conductor job on either of those lines so’s I can ask people along the way. When you get back, you could take the other line as a passenger. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like a lifesaver to me. I’ll catch the late train to Grand Forks. I’ve talked with all the conductors on the St. Paul and Pacific and all of them are sure they didn’t see her.” He slapped Henry on the shoulder. “And you can bet your suspenders that my mor will love you forever if you find her missing daughter.”

Henry’s rosy cheeks turned slightly rosier. “Any way I can to find the shortest path into that woman’s heart.”

Hjelmer paused and studied the older man. “Ah, are you courting my mor?”

“Much as she’ll let me.”

“Um, shouldn’t you be asking my permission, or some such?”

“Hjelmer, you might be the remaining man in the family, but you aren’t her father.”

“No, but there’s my older brother, Johann.”

“You know what I mean.” Henry pushed his chair back from the table. “I’ll be getting on with the asking. You got any other particulars you might tell me about Augusta? Ways that someone might recognize or remember her?”

“Not that are mentionable, nor helpful either. I racked my brain, as I know Mor did, but nothing other than her height and her lack of English.”

“And her Bjorklund blue eyes?”

“Ja, that too. Good luck and God bless. If I haven’t heard from you, I will be back here in a week or ten days. How can I get ahold of you?”

“Leave a message with the stationmaster. I’ll check with him.”