Northern Lights Trilogy (38 page)

“Peder?” she asked out loud. The noise of the wind made hearing difficult, but at least it wasn’t the deafening scream of the deck. “Peder?” she tried again, reaching about to find the kerosene lamp.

“I am awake,” he said wearily from the bed. His voice grew concerned. “What’s happening? Where are we?”

“We are rounding the Horn,” she said, lighting the wick. As the flame grew, the light spread its presence about the room. There was something comforting in the light amid the storm. Like God, she thought with a smile. Suddenly she felt irrationally reassured that all was well.

“The Horn! Who’s on deck?” His tone erased any reassurance in Elsa’s heart.

“Riley. He’s at the wheel. It seems as if he’s faring all right,” she said, dropping her dripping oilskin coat to the floor and bracing herself for the next wave’s impact.

“Where’s Stefan?” he asked wearily, rubbing his eyes. He tried to
sit up, and Elsa made her way to him, taking one handhold then another to avoid careening across the room. She sat down beside him on the bed, holding onto the headboard as the ship crashed to the bottom of a watery gully.

Peder winced as the
Sunrise
shuddered and rocked. “Where’s Stefan?” he repeated.

Elsa hesitated. “In the hold. In chains.”

“In chains? Why on earth would my first mate be in chains?”

“Because he made inappropriate advances toward me. I had to take charge.”

Peder’s white face took on a gray hue. “What have I done? Why didn’t I leave you at home where you’d be safe?” He sank back down into the bed, his eyes closing in weariness. This was the longest conversation they had had in weeks, and he was clearly exhausted from the effort.

“I am safe, Peder,” she said, pulling the covers to his neck.

“Right,” he mumbled. “My first mate is in chains, my ill-experienced second has become first and is at the wheel, and my wife has become captain. I don’t think that shapes up to an ideal world. We are in danger, Elsa.” He opened his eyes. “Many, many ships sink off the Horn. You need every available hand on deck, especially those with experience. Riley is good, but he has not dealt with seas like these enough to be at the helm.” He sighed and closed his eyes again. He spoke without opening them. “I want you to release him.”

“What?”

“Release Stefan. He’ll know how to get the
Sunrise
through this. You lock yourself in here. When we’re to port and I’m well, I’ll see to his future myself.” Peder gripped her hand weakly and managed to open his eyes once more. “Right now our future depends on that man and the others. Bring him out of the hold, Elsa. Promise me you will.” He passed out before he could hear her promise.

Elsa stared at her husband—so thin after weeks of nothing but broth and water—torn between his desperate plea and her own
counsel. They seemed to be faring all right, despite the fearsome storm and Stefan in chains. Peder had been ill so long, who knew how clearly he was thinking? On the other hand, Riley said that the storm was bound to get worse before it got better. And Peder had been at sea on the long side of ten years.
And
he was her husband.

“ To love and honor,” she muttered, pulling on the soaked oilskin again and leaving the relative sanctuary of the cabin.

Out on deck, the spray of a wave sent a jolt of adrenaline through her body. “Riley!” she screamed, trying to make her way to the mate at the wheel. “Riley!”

She was practically at his elbow before he heard her over the deafening wind. Elsa hesitated to interrupt him, so intent was he at holding the wheel and shouting out orders heard by none. “Riley!”

He turned and glanced at her. “Get back inside! This is no place for you!” They braced as another wave released the ship, and they went crashing downward.

“I spoke to Peder! Peder!” she repeated, seeing his puzzled expression. “He wants Stefan released! Until we pass the Horn!”

“And at the helm?”

“Stefan!” she said sorrowfully. “He wants him here until we pass!”

Riley did not pause at her words. “Yancey!
Yancey!
Release Stefan! Outfit him and get him up here!” He glanced at Elsa. “And get him some food first!” he yelled after Yancey. He turned back to her as another wave passed. “You, missus! Get back inside the captain’s quarters and bar the door. I’ll come and fetch you when the way is clear!”

“Thank you!” Elsa yelled, and did as he bid.

The knock in the morning puzzled Elsa, for she was in the middle of a spring meadow, staring up at fluffy white clouds … where was that confounded sound coming from? Dimly, she realized that she was aboard the
Sunrise
, and the ship was once more sailing on an even keel.

She opened her eyes and shook Peder. “Peder! Peder! We made it!”

He groaned and opened his eyes, smiling a bit like a proud parent. “Well, of course she did.”

The knock sounded again. Elsa rose, donned a night robe, and peeked out. Riley.

“Wanted to let you know, ma’am, that the ship made it through all right,” he said. “Stefan is back in chains.” He paused and shuffled his feet. “It was a good thing he was on deck, ma’am. Thought you’d like to know that. He made some decisions that I wouldn’t o’ thought of. Probably saved us.”

“Perhaps,” Elsa said, choosing her words carefully. “Thanks to you, we made it as far as we did. You’re a good man, Riley. I will be sure to tell Peder what you did.”

“Good enough, ma’am,” Riley said, fingers to hat in salutation. He was obviously eager to finish the conversation and get on with his routine. “Carry on?”

Suddenly she felt the warmth of Peder’s body beside her. He opened the door a bit more and said, “Carry on, mate.”

Riley grinned. “Good to see you up and about, Cap’n. As ordered, sir.” He turned smartly and left them.

Elsa stood there in numb happiness, staring up at her husband. With Peder up and about, perhaps the storm was truly over.

E
arly on the morning of Tora’s first day with Storm Enterprises, Trent Storm helped her board his private railroad car. “Thank you, Mr. Storm,” she said, flashing him her most winning smile. She felt a bit odd on the arm of her boss and clad in a maid’s uniform, but she would carry it off with grace and flair. “It’s a beautiful morning for a train excursion, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he agreed. They made their way into the elaborate Pullman car, and Tora admired the rich wood-paneled walls, velvet-covered seats, and Tiffany oil lamps. Trent’s car was obviously brand-new, with the latest in equipment. It clearly rivaled Pullman’s Hotel Express, which had made headlines way back in 1870 for crossing the country in seven days.

Storm led her to a bar in one corner, on which was a china platter filled with a variety of pastries and a sterling coffee urn beside china cups. “You will stand here, alert for the slightest indication that one of my guests needs attention. Think you can handle that?” he asked with a wink.

Tora swallowed her pride and her indignation at his tone. “I think I can,” she said, chin up.

“Good girl,” he said, winking again, then turned to greet his arriving guests.

A well-dressed, middle-aged man and woman entered first, and Tora stepped forward to take the woman’s bag and light wrap. Trent smiled his approval. Tora turned to begin arranging coffee cups as he greeted the others. She listened to their conversation and learned that the first couple was Mr. and Mrs. John J. Hall, of John J. Hall Incorporated, whatever that was. She wished she were one of the finely dressed ladies being waited upon rather than the servant. With her back to the room as she set the cups on a silver serving tray, Tora listened as John Hall made his own introductions.

“Bradford Bresley, I’d like you to meet two friends of mine from the Saint Paul, Minneapolis, and Manitoba line, Anton Gagnon and Rupert Conley. Gentlemen, my associate Bradford Bresley. Ah, and here is my newest associate, Karl Martensen. And I think you know my lovely daughter, Alicia.”

Karl!
Karl Martensen? Tora swallowed hard. It could not be! Surely it was another man with the same name. But with a quick look over her shoulder, her heart sank. It
was
Karl. He was here. And he could undo everything, for Trent Storm would not employ the young mother of an abandoned infant.

Alicia Hall sat down on a velvet couch and pulled off her kid gloves. She shot Tora a look of irritation. “Girl, I need you to do something with these.” Not wanting to attract Karl’s attention, Tora ducked her head and hurried over to the young woman.

“Certainly,” she said, her voice barely audible. “Would you care for some coffee, miss?”

“Tea, preferably. You do have tea for me, don’t you, Trent?” she called out flirtatiously.

Tora ducked back toward the counter, hoping against hope that
she could make it through this perilous predicament without Karl recognizing her and causing a scene.

“Of course! The maid will see to it,” he called. It grated on her to be called a maid, but Tora was glad he had not used her name. Perhaps if the men became engrossed in conversation …

With a loud hoot of the whistle, the train began moving, and Alicia squealed in glee. “No matter how old I get, Mother, I never tire of a nice train excursion.”

From the other side of the car, her father said, “A fine attribute in a daughter, I’d say. Now, gentlemen, you’re probably wondering what I have on my mind. Can you believe it involves money?”

Thankfully, as the men settled into their conversation, Karl took a seat with his back to Tora, and somehow she managed to deliver Alicia Hall’s tiny silver teapot and cup and Mrs. Hall’s coffee without dropping them.

“Good heavens, girl. Are you all right?” Mrs. Hall asked her, observing Tora’s shaking hands.

“Oh, fine, ma’am, fine. Thank you for asking.” But the woman was already turned away from her, looking out the window. How many times had Tora dismissed a servant in similar fashion? Licking her lips nervously, she went back to the counter and poured coffee for the men. She counted it a minor miracle when all were served and none glanced up at her face, including Karl.

John Hall was deep into his plans, outlining how he intended to take the St. Paul, Minneapolis, and Manitoba line west, fulfilling a long-sought dream of making it a transcontinental line to Puget Sound. “I’ve already reached my goal of taking her to the Canadian border, and I don’t need to tell you how well we’re faring from that venture,” he said, gesturing about them. “My friend Trent here saw the wisdom of my decision and cashed in. Now we head west. Minnesota and Dakota Territory will finance us as we haul the immigrants’ grain to market in the cities. In addition, we’ll sell off land
from our grants as we pass, and Karl and Bradford here will set up steamboat operations on each waterway as we go, keeping our fingers in the pot as the towns behind us grow.”

Tora noticed that they neared the bottoms of their cups but was hesitant to refill them. The thought of nearing Karl terrified her. Steeling herself and taking a deep breath, however, she filled the silver serving pot from the urn and walked with trembling steps to the men. Their attention remained on John Hall.

“You want to hear more?” he asked, grinning.

“Yes,” they said as one.

Certainly this John J. Hall held the keys to more futures than anyone she had ever met, Tora thought. If she messed this up, her ascent to society would be done for good.

She took a step backward as Hall lifted his coffee cup in a toast, as if it were a flute of champagne, waiting for the others to join him.

“Gentlemen, I salute the future. Our future,” he said, looking around closely at each man present. “I say here’s to the future of the Manitoba Road. May she one day be called the Great Northern Railway when we reach the Puget Sound.”

They all said “hear, hear,” in agreement, following his lead in looking out to the prairies they rushed by, and continued their discussion in detail.

Hall set his coffee cup on the table and nodded for Tora to refill it. She watched as the hot, brown liquid cascaded out of the pot, pulling it up just as the coffee reached the proper level from the china rim. She moved toward Karl’s cup and felt herself blush, sure that he was staring at her. As John Hall began speaking again, she dared to look at Karl. Her heart stopped as his eyes met hers.

Tora’s wrist went limp. Slowly the coffee poured out the spout, onto the table, then splashed into John Hall’s lap.

Hall cursed. Tora gasped. And Karl leaped to his feet, handing Hall his handkerchief.

“Oh, I’m sorry! So sorry!” Tora said, frightened by what she had done.

“Miss Anders!” Trent said in dismay. The women had stopped talking to watch the horrible spectacle.

“I don’t know what happened!” Tora cried. “I’m afraid I’m not well.” This was not a convenient lie; indeed, she did feel faint.

Karl took the silver pot from her hand and set it securely on the table, then turned Tora toward the back of the train. “I’ll just see her to a seat. John, do you need anything?”

“A new suit,” he said, managing to laugh. “I get all dressed up for our meeting, Trent, and what do you do? Bring in a girl to spill coffee all over me!”