Blessing in Disguise (30 page)

“You won’t believe what came in the mail,” she said, setting another pie on the already laden kitchen table.

“No, what?” Kaaren tucked the light blanket around Samuel as she sat rocking him in the rocker by the stove.

“A letter from my brother Mark. He’s the one next to me.” She waved the letter and almost danced around the room. “He’s coming with his family to visit. For Christmas.” She waved the letter again. “Most likely they will stay through the winter if there is enough work for him here. He wants to go west to homestead. Can you believe it?”

“You’ve waited a long time.” Mary Martha Solberg looked up from the baby sweater she was knitting.

“I know. To think last year I wasn’t sure all of them were alive, and now I’ve heard from everybody.” Penny shook her head. “I can’t wait to tell Hjelmer, if he ever does come home again, that is.” The laughter left her eyes. “Do you think he’ll really find Augusta?”

“From the last telegram, I think he will.” Agnes picked up Trygve, who’d been asking his mother to do just that and, taking his hands, played Roll-’em-and-Roll-’em with him.

Kaaren smiled her thanks and nodded. “I think he’ll find her too. Hjelmer is one persistent man. If anyone can find her, he can. So where will you have room for this family coming to visit?”

“They’ll all have to fit in our spare room, I guess. We’d talked about adding on, but there won’t be time to do that between now and then.”

“If we get the house built for Sam and Eulah, they could stay in the parsonage soddy.” Ingeborg, with one finger on her lower lip, studied the table to see what they could be missing.

“Or over at our soddy.” Kaaren set Samuel down from her lap and checked his diaper. He squirmed and tried to pull away.

“He’s all boy, that one,” Agnes said. “Oh look, the sun’s out.”

“Ma.” Sophie came to the door. “Can we go play in the haymow?”

“If you watch out for Grace,” Kaaren replied.

“M-a-a.” Sophie shook her head. “You know I always watch for Grace.”

“I know you do. No idea why I said that.” She made shooing motions with her free hand. “Have fun.”

The women smiled at each other as the little girl went shrieking out the door.

The sounds of sawing and hammering ceased abruptly when the triangle rang for dinner. Pastor Solberg asked the blessing, and the lines that had formed at the food table began moving forward as the men filled their plates. Even the wind dropped, as if giving them respite.

When the children were all eating, the women filled their plates and took over the chairs left by men who had eaten quickly and taken their pipes to the benches by the house to have a smoke before returning to work.

Ingeborg walked over and peered in the open doorway. “It looks huge.” She turned to smile at Haakan leaning against the sod wall. “How come it looks so much bigger now than before?”

“That’s the way of building.” He pointed to the trench just to the side of the center posts. “That was Olaf ’s idea. He’s going to frame the water tank, and we’ll pour cement into the forms. There’ll be no leaking from that, I tell you.”

She smiled again and returned to the tables, filling her own plate from the leftovers, of which there weren’t a whole lot, as usual. Raising her face to the sun, she rotated her head from side to side and back to front, stretching the muscles and relieving a bit of an ache behind her eyes. She sat down on the stoop beside Penny so they could visit while they ate.

As the children finished cleaning their plates and chose a dessert, she watched them talking to Grace with their hands. Toby Valders managed to keep by her side, and even from here Ingeborg could see that Andrew wasn’t too happy about it. But he stayed with Ellie and Deborah, racing them to the barn as soon as they finished.

The women sat chatting over their coffee cups, enjoying the sun while Manda and Anji watched the littlest ones, who would be going down for naps in the next few minutes.

Ingeborg watched as another layer of sod was set in place.

“Whoa there! Whoa!” The sound cut across the children’s laughter.

“Catch him.”

“Fool horse!” The shouts came from the pasture.

She heard the pounding of hooves and stood to see where the horse was running to and whose it was.

“Grace! Dear God in heaven, help us. Run, Grace! Run!” Ingeborg wasted no more time screaming! She ran for the child, who puttered at a gopher mound, blissfully unaware of the crazed horse, the singletree clanging behind him. The deaf child was playing right in his path.

Chapter 27

Ipswich
October 1

“He’s not here.” Asta Borsland checked the station area again.

Hjelmer nodded. He’d surmised that already. “We’ll go ask the station manager. Perhaps there is a message there for you.”

They crossed the wooden platform, and he held the door for her to enter the one-room building. In a half-walled cubicle at one corner, a man sat at a desk, green eyeshade in place, fingers busily tapping out the Morse code of the telegraph. Benches lined the walls, and a potbellied stove stood regally in the center of the scuffed wood floor, ready to pour out the heat soon to be needed.

Hjelmer waited until the man finished sending his message and looked up. “Good day. We’re looking for a rancher named Elkanah Moyer. He was to meet this young woman at the train. Might you have a message for Miss Asta Borsland?”

“Nope, no messages.” The station manager flipped through a brief file of telegraph messages and checked another cubbyhole. “Sorry.”

“But I sent him a letter.” Asta leaned her hands on the counter. “Surely there is something.”

“You might try the post office right across the street at the general store. Miz Monahan knows about everybody in these parts.” The clicking began again, and the man returned to his work.

Hjelmer and Asta did as suggested, but the answer was the same. No message for Miss Borsland.

God in heaven, what do I do with her now? I can’t find the woman I want, and here I end up having this one to take care of
.

“Wait a moment,” the postmistress said. “Did you say Elkanah Moyer?”

“Yes. I believe he has a ranch near here.”

“Not near here, and he doesn’t come into town often, but I believe something came for him the other day.” She sorted through a stack of envelopes. “Aha. I thought so.” Waving the letter, she returned to the window. “See.”

Asta crumpled in on herself. “That’s my letter. I wrote it clear back in July. He never knew I was delayed.” She turned stricken eyes on Hjelmer. “What do I do now?”

Hjelmer turned to the woman behind the counter again. “Do you know where his ranch is?”

“Not really, just the general direction.” She smiled at a man waiting behind them. “Howdy Judge, be with you in a second.”

“Any idea who might know where he lives?”

The woman shrugged again. “How about you, Judge, you know where Elkanah Moyer’s ranch is?”

The white-haired gentleman shook his head. “That name surely does sound familiar, though.” He extended his hand to Hjelmer. “I’m Judge Rhinehart, circuit rider for South Dakota. Ipswich is not only one of my stops, but it is my home. Why is it you are looking for him?”

Hjelmer introduced himself and his companion, then translated for the woman at his side. “Miss Borsland here came from Norway to marry Mr. Moyer on one of the arranged marriages. He purchased her ticket and all.”

“Moyer, Elkanah Moyer.” The judge snapped his fingers. “That’s it. I married him and a Norwegian woman, oh, about a month ago, the last time I was home for a while. She seemed a mite confused, but I put that up to the strange land and all.”

When Hjelmer translated again, Asta gasped, her hand to her throat. “But . . . but . . . he was supposed to marry me. I . . . I have the contract right here.” She fumbled in her bag and drew forth an official-looking document. “S-see.”

“Can you tell me what the woman he married looked like?” Hjelmer was almost afraid to ask.

“Well, she was tall, her blond hair in a bun. Oh, I know, she had the bluest eyes.” He glanced up at Hjelmer, who stood about six inches taller than he. “Like yours. Couldn’t get over the color of her eyes. You related to her by any chance?”

“I might be. If she’s my sister, that is. I’ve been searching for her for the last month. She was supposed to come to Blessing, North Dakota, but somehow got on the wrong train, and it looks like she got off here. Why in the world would she . . .” Hjelmer shook his head. “I don’t want—no, I have to find her. You have any idea where this ranch might be?”

“Someplace west of here. Shame the land plats aren’t here in town, or we could look ’em up. Tell you what. You could go to Pierre to the land office. They could tell you what sections he owns.”

“Could I telegraph for that information?”

“Good idea. That you could. Would surely be faster. Ah, these modern miracles. Takes some getting used to.” The judge stuck his hands in his vest pockets and rocked back on his feet. “Shame I got all my paper work done and sent in, or I’d have a copy of their marriage license here.”

“What is he saying?” Asta tapped Hjelmer on the arm so he would translate, which he did with obvious hesitation.

“Married! I can’t believe it.” She took a handkerchief from her bag and wiped her nose. “Now what will I do? I have very little money left, I . . .” She looked wildly around the room like an animal caught in a trap and fearing for its life.

“Easy, now.” Hjelmer turned back to the judge. “Is there a hotel or boardinghouse”—he nearly choked on the word—“where she can have a room until we sort this out?” How much he’d rather be at his mother’s boardinghouse, even though she’d be haranguing him to find his sister. Even the arguing Congress would be better—and that was where he should be.

“Of course. Right across the street and down two buildings. Fine hotel, serves meals, full bar, cardroom. Can’t ask for more.” Judge Rhinehart offered his hand again. “I have an appointment, but if there is anything else I can do, please ask. I’ll be here in Ipswich for another week or two. Holding court right there in the private dining room at the hotel.”

“Thank you. I’ll get Miss Borsland settled, then send that telegram. You’ve been most helpful and I—we appreciate it.” He took Asta by the elbow and explained things to her as they went out the door.

But even after a nap and another recitation of the facts, Asta alternated winding her fingers together and dabbing at her eyes with a bit of cambric. Sitting at the supper table in the hotel, she asked again, “What am I going to do?”

Hjelmer heartily wished he were home hammering steel into a new shape. Right then he felt like hammering about anything. “I wouldn’t make any hasty decisions until you speak with Mr. Moyer.”

“But what if he really is married to your sister?”

And I have to be the one to tell my mor. Lady, you think you got troubles
. But he kept his thoughts to himself and a concerned look on his face. “There are plenty of men in the Dakotas who need a wife. Have no fear, you’ll be married soon.”

The look on her face told him immediately that he had said the wrong thing. Why, oh, why had he been polite and invited her to supper?

Because your mor always taught you to look out for women. That is the polite and Christian thing to do
.

As soon as was decently possible, he hustled her back up the stairs to her room and escaped to walk the town and ruminate on his own thoughts. He would drive out to the ranch, grab his sister, and drag her back with him to Blessing.
But what if she doesn’t want to go?
The little voice in his mind could go jump in the Missouri for all he cared.

Here he had a perfectly wonderful wife at home, whom he loved being with. Her cooking far surpassed that of the cook in the hotel, and she would rub his shoulders when they were tight as knots. He consciously rotated his neck and let his shoulders slump.
God, please take care of Penny for me and, if possible, let her have a child, since that is the desire of her heart. You know I don’t particularly care one way or another right now, but she does. And please comfort Mor when she receives this latest bit of bad news
.

He strode on, not really seeing much of the town at all. Lights glowed from windows since dusk crept in around him, but the street was empty, making him even more aware of how lonely he felt. Whatever was he doing in Ipswich, South Dakota, when everything he held dear was miles to the north?

“Uff da!” He turned back to the hotel and made his way up to his room, bypassing the cardroom, where a group of men seemed to be having a fine time. If only he hadn’t made that vow. He shook his head. He could probably even recoup the money he’d spent on this chase to find his sister if he sat at the card table for a time. Cards had always liked him.

He sighed again, pushed open the door to his room, and went to bed. Somehow in the morning he’d have to talk Miss Borsland into staying here in town while he went searching for the Moyer ranch.

But convincing Asta Borsland to stay in Ipswich was like trying to stop the Red River from flooding in the spring.