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

By Vikki Kestell

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Chapter 1

May, 1866

Jan Thoresen, heedless of angry shouts, clambered up the wall of crates stacked along the docks. When he reached the top he stared at the crush of humanity surging below and beyond.

O Lord! I have never seen so many people in one place, he marveled, or such buildings and ships!

He turned in a circle, trying to absorb the breathtaking view: the docks of New York City, the thousands of rushing, clamoring people, and the towering buildings. Their objective was one of the larger buildings—the Castle Garden rotunda and immigrant landing depot of the United States.

Another angry bellow, one Jan recognized, roused him from his reverie. He grinned and saluted his brother Karl, whose forbidding expression was so familiar.

Jan laughed with the sheer joy of the moment and stretched out his arms to embrace it all. We have arrived, Lord God! He took a deep breath and a last glimpse of the panorama before him. Never again will I see such a sight, he realized.

Tearing his eyes from it, he climbed down the crates and leapt the last six feet, landing next to Karl. Karl’s frown was matched by the threatening scowls of two dock workers advancing on Jan.

As the men pushed their way through the crowd toward him, Jan drew himself up—all six-foot-four-inches of rock-hard muscle. Karl shook his head. As irate as he was with Jan, they were brothers after all. He turned and stood shoulder to shoulder with Jan.

The longshoremen slowed a few yards away. Sensing the crackling tension, the crowd pressed back, leaving space between the Thoresen brothers and the enraged dock workers.

The longshoremen were no strangers to hard work and hard living. They directed menacing glares toward the blonde giants. Jan and Karl, arms folded, stared back, unfazed.

One of the dock workers—a bit wiser than his companion—thought better of wading into a fist fight with the two behemoths. Perhaps they weren’t as easily intimidated as most immigrants! He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, no harm done after all,” he muttered. Placing a restraining hand on the other man’s arm, he backed away and they melted into the crowd.

“Come, Karl!” As though they hadn’t avoided a brawl their first day in America, Jan shoved toward the line where he and Karl had left their families. The lines, several of them, wended toward the immigration stations at the entrance to the Garden.

Jan already missed the cleaner air he’d breathed atop the heap of crates. The fumes of the creosote-soaked timbers under their feet coupled with the rank odor of many unwashed bodies enveloped them.

After a two-week ocean journey, from Christiana to Liverpool then Liverpool to New York, the Thoresens’ fellow shipmates were weak and weary. Sounds of retching along the lines were not infrequent as disembarked families coped with empty bellies, disorientation, and the anxiety of the coming inspections.

Jan, with Karl grumbling behind him, waved to his wife Elli. She was relieved to see the two brothers returning and pointed them out to her sister-in-law Amalie. The women were struggling to keep their places in line and also keep children and baggage together.

Karl scowled but said nothing more about Jan’s impetuous climb up the mountain of crates. They helped their wives gather and move their possessions farther up the line and then settled down to wait until the line inched forward again.

Ach! This waiting is so hard, Lord! Jan complained. I have energy to spare and no good thing to spend it on.

Jan reached around Karl and pinched his unsuspecting niece, Sigrün. When the girl rounded in indignation, Jan was facing the other way, his hands in the pockets of his homespun trousers. Four-year-old Sigrün’s eyes narrowed as she glanced from her distracted father to her seemingly innocent uncle.

Jan winked at Elli, and she winked back. Oh, it is good to have a little humor to get us through this trial.

Jan’s thoughts returned to the upcoming medical inspections. He knew his children, eight-year-old Søren and six-year-old Kristen, were strong and healthy and that he and Elli presented no health problems.

But Karl, behind his neutral expression, was concerned about little Sigrün. She had been coughing for days. In this line, a cough attracted unwanted attention.

Lord, you have brought us so far. You will not fail us. I trust you, Jan prayed.

America’s War Between the States was over; now thousands of Jan and Karl’s fellow Norwegians were immigrating every month, hoping America would offer them a brighter future. Jan and Karl were no different—they, too, sought a new life with better opportunities.

The lines moved forward in spurts as families passed through registration stations, medical inspections, and into the spacious rotunda of the Garden. Between 700 and 1,000 new arrivals would spend the night inside. American officials who could read and speak their language would help them retrieve their cargo from the ships and assist them on their way in the morning.

The Thoresens had traveled steerage class, a level below the main deck of the ship. As steerage class passengers, they had spent most of the crossing confined below in an open, shared cargo hold.

Like others in steerage, the Thoresens had cooked their meals at designated times and slept together on wide, wooden berths. The berths were temporary platforms knocked together for steerage passengers, easily removed to accommodate a different sort of cargo on the ship’s return voyage.

Jan and Karl and their families had borne the uncomfortable crossing well, but not all had. Some of their traveling companions had come aboard with not much more than their tickets. They carried all they owned on their thin, bowed backs. Their children, with eyes too big for their faces and shoulders too weak for their rucksacks, were too weary to run and play with other shipboard children.

Watching these families, whose flight to America was a last, desperate effort to avoid starvation, had saddened Jan. He and Elli had discreetly shared their food when little ones with hungry eyes had wandered near them at mealtime.

Jan thought of the money he and Karl had scrupulously saved and brought with them, and he thought of their other belongings still in the hold of the ship. The Thoresens would begin their new lives in this country with more than most immigrants would.

Jan was proud of his family and proud of his heritage. He and Karl were broad, thick, and hardened from a life of demanding work and good food. Every Thoresen standing in line was hearty and well fed.

We come from good stock, he reflected with pride.

It was obvious at a glance that Karl and Jan were brothers, but there were also differences. Karl’s shaggy hair was light sand in color while Jan’s was as white as ripe wheat. Karl’s body was a bit more compact than Jan’s, too, and he spoke in a rich baritone; Jan was taller and his voice deeper than Karl’s.

We will do well in America, Jan assured himself. This cough of Sigrün’s will pass; it is nothing to worry about.

Jan saw Karl gesture with his chin. Amalie, Karl’s stout wife, pulled a small jar of honey from her deep pockets and administered a spoonful to Sigrün.

Søren and Kristen frowned. They longed for a taste of honey, but the families would not eat until they passed the inspections and could sit down together for a bite of bread, stale though it might be.

Kristen cleared her throat and managed to produce a raspy cough, politely muffling it on her sleeve. Jan and Elli both bent stern looks on her, although Jan had to swallow hard to keep from chuckling.

Ah, my little Kristen! You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, Jan rejoiced. I will never stop being amazed that you and your brother came from your mamma’s and my love.

Kristen smiled sheepishly, swished her skirts, and leaned against her mother, resignation written in the slope of her shoulders. Elli sat upon one of their suitcases, the rest of their bags piled near her.

“It will not be much longer,” Jan assured Kristen, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. She looked up at him from under dark blonde lashes.

You have your mamma’s eyes. He shook his head in wonder.

Jan let out a deep breath. He winked at Søren, then reached around Karl and tugged Sigrün’s braid. This time the girl was ready for him and pounced. “I knew it was you, Onkel!” she squealed, jumping up and down. Søren and Kristen laughed heartily and Jan grinned.

Sigrün’s excited outburst ended in a spate of coughing. Karl held her against his leg until she was able to catch her breath. He fixed his disapproval on his brother.

“Jan,” he hissed. “Do not provoke this barn of mine. Sometimes you are worse than a child yourself.” He frowned. “Behave like an adult, eh?” he added.

Jan, still grinning for Søren and Kristen’s sake, sauntered out of line to see how far they had to go. Jan’s smile faded and he shook his head.

Ah, Karl! Jan had been on the receiving end of his bror’s and his far’s reprimands for as long as he could remember.

“You are too impulsive, Jan,” his father would declare in a stern tone.

“That temper is going to get you in trouble, Jan,” his brother would lecture.

“No one trusts a jokester,” his far would add.

“Be serious, Jan! Grow up!” Karl would reprimand, and Jan would receive a disapproving frown.

The lectures and sibling rivalry had begun when Jan was a boy. Karl, who was two years Jan’s senior, had sprouted up and into a man’s body by the time he was fourteen years old! Jan, on the other hand, had been sickly in his early teens and slow to get his growth.

Where Karl was taciturn, Jan was naturally good-humored like his mother. When Karl had bragged on his size and ribbed Jan about his, Jan had plagued his brother with practical jokes.

Their father had not helped. He needed a third man on their farm and regularly told Jan he wished him to be more like Karl—steady, dependable, able to do a man’s work. Jan had rebelled at the comparison and provoked his brother further whenever possible.

Then came Jan’s seventeenth year. In six months he shot up six inches! The following year he grew another five. His mother, amazed and somewhat in awe, slipped extra food to him between meals, for Jan complained continually of being hungry. Every few weeks the good woman was obliged to let down his trousers or make him a new shirt.

By the time Jan was nineteen, he was an inch taller than his brother and two inches broader in the chest. The competition between the brothers grew fierce as they strove to outdo each other in whatever chore their father assigned.

As Jan grew into a man, years of crop failures across Norway kept him bound to his father’s small farm. He longed to escape the narrow life of a second son, but opportunities to learn a different trade—one that would allow him to branch out on his own and support a family—were scarce.

Besides, I am a farmer, Jan knew. It is in my blood and in my bones. Like every young farmer in Norway, he dreamed of having his own farm, but land in Norway was scarce and grew more expensive each year. With each year that passed, Jan grew more dissatisfied with his lot in life and more resentful of living under his father’s and brother’s authority.

Even in this line today, Karl seemed to have forgotten that Jan was a thirty-seven-year-old married man with children, when in fact Jan had married and fathered a child before Karl had!

Of course, marrying before Karl had been a sore point.

The men of their district typically married between ages twenty-five and thirty. Jan, at twenty-eight, had already waited three years to marry Elli Mostrom—all because Karl had been slow to select a bride.

When Jan had first laid eyes on Elli she had been tall and gangly, with a crown of honey-and-wheat colored hair and eyes as deep and blue as a fjord. By age eighteen, Elli had lost her coltish charm; she had grown into a poised, stately woman, the image of a Viking queen. Jan told his parents he would wait no more—he was certain he would lose her if he waited another two years!

Karl was only beginning to court Amalie when Jan and Elli married, and he had been disgruntled. Ten months later, just before Karl and Amalie finally tied the knot, Elli had given birth to Søren. Karl had not been pleased.

That had been Karl’s fault for dragging out his courtship, Jan told himself. Now that we are in America, things are going to change. Once I have my own land and my own home, our relationship will be better!

He smiled in relief as he looked down the line. Only three families ahead of us! Many of the families in line had been on the ship with them. He walked forward, greeting the men and wishing them well.

Betta Harvath, a newborn in her arms and a toddler leaning against her legs, sagged with fatigue. Their family was at the head of the line, and her husband was presenting his papers to the official.

“We will be through this soon,” Jan encouraged her gently.

Ah, Lord, he prayed, I thank you that Elli is not pregnant during this difficult journey. But when we finally have our land, could you please send another little one? It has been a few years now since we had a new baby.

He paused as the conversation between Per Harvath and the official reached him.

“Did you come to America with any money?” the man asked in passable Riksmaal. “We cannot have immigrants living on the streets, you know.”

It wasn’t the question that caught Jan’s attention; it was the way the official glanced casually to each side before he asked it.

Again the official checked on the location of the supervisors and, not seeing one near, lowered his voice a bit. “I see you have a sickly wife. How do you expect to get her through the inspection?” The official noticed Jan and turned a suspicious eye on him.

Pretending he had heard nothing of their conversation, Jan leaned away from Fru Harvath and waved to Søren, several yards down the line. Søren offered a weak, confused wave in return.

After a moment, Jan backed a step closer as the exchange between the official and Mr. Harvath resumed.

“I have money!” Harvath protested. “We have family in America, too. We will not be on the street. We will not be a problem!”

He leaned toward the official. “You don’t think the doctor will turn her away, do you? She is only tired. She had a baby just a month before we left.”

The official pretended to think. “I don’t know . . . but perhaps I should see if you truly do have money and will not be a burden to our country. Show me what you have.”

Jan slid his hands into his pockets and nonchalantly angled toward Mrs. Harvath again, but cut his eyes toward the official’s table. Herr Harvath, obviously anxious, opened his wallet and withdrew a thin stack of currency. The official took the money and rifled through the bills. Jan saw as he slid two of the notes under his book.

“You may pass,” the official said at his normal volume. He stamped the entrance papers and waved the man on.

“But, but, you, you took my money!” Per protested, his face reddening.

The official fixed him with a cold eye. “You may pass, I said.” He dropped his voice and added, “Do you wish me to alert the doctor of my concern about your wife?”

Per’s flushed cheeks turned white as he looked about him in anger and frustration. Reluctantly, he gathered his papers and shouldered his family’s belongings. Turning to his wife and children, he shepherded them on to the medical inspection. The next family in line moved up.

Jan had already returned to Karl’s side. “Let me go first,” he muttered.

“What? Why should I?” Karl shot back. “I don’t want you joking with the official and causing us any problems, Jan.”

Jan’s temper sparked. “Karl! Give me your papers and let us go first.”

Karl sighed. When his brother got his back up, it was useless to argue. Jan spoke quietly to Søren and to Elli, who cradled a dozing Kristen. They gathered their luggage and moved ahead of Karl, Amalie, and Sigrün. By then all the Thoresens had noted the change in Jan’s mood and had become quietly observant.

When it was Jan’s turn in line, he handed papers for both families to the official. The official looked down the line, counting heads. Just then Sigrün coughed, and Jan saw the sly look slip across the official’s face.

“Have you money to begin your new life in America?” he asked, his voice low and solicitous.

I am glad this man understands Riksmaal, Jan thought. He leaned close to the official’s face. “What I have is no concern of yours. We are not poor immigrants without property, nor are we ignorant or stupid. I saw you take money from Per Harvath. You will not do the same to me. I will call your supervisor, if need be. You will lose your position.”

The official’s jaw dropped in shock and fear. Jan pointed to his papers. The official gave them a perfunctory inspection and hurried to stamp them. Avoiding Jan’s stony glare, he gathered the papers up and handed them back.

Just before Jan stepped away from the table, he reached out and nudged the official’s book to the side. Without a word, he scooped up the currency he found there and shoved the bills into his pocket. He stepped out of line and gestured to Elli and Søren to join him.

Karl looked from Jan to the official and back. The official jerked his head, indicating that Karl should follow Jan, but he would not meet Karl’s eyes.

Karl, his brow furrowed, gathered up their things and steered Amalie and Sigrün toward Jan. “What was that all about?” he whispered.

“Ja, I will tell you, but first we must find Herr Harvath.”

After they passed—without incident—through the medical inspections and entered their names into the immigration logs, they were herded into the rotunda.

“Oh, my,” Elli gasped.

They were standing under the dome of the largest building they had ever been in. Across the wooden-planked floor of the great, round hall, families stacked their belongings and arranged makeshift beds.

Jan looked for Per Harvath and his little family. “Herr Harvath!” Jan shouted. His words were caught up in the din and carried away.

“What is it?” Karl asked. He had to shout to be heard.

Jan put his mouth near Karl’s ear. “The official! He stole money from Per Harvath. I took it back. I must find him and give it to him.”

“Stole!” Karl’s expression was shocked. Jan knew that Karl was just as shocked by Jan taking back the money as he was by the official stealing it in the first place.

Jan braced himself for a lecture but made an attempt to distract Karl first. “Do you not remember the warnings?”

Karl and Jan had read all the literature they could lay hands on regarding immigration. The brochures and newspapers included cautionary tales—how newcomers were bilked during currency exchanges, overcharged for goods and services, extorted by officials, and even led into dark alleyways to be set upon and robbed.

The most concerning warnings told of unscrupulous men who managed to separate young women from their families and, under cover of the teeming crowds, spirit them away. As Jan and Karl read those accounts they had exchanged long, grave looks.

Sadly, the literature disclosed that many of the perpetrators of these crimes were people of their own country—men who had been in America long enough to know best how to defraud their own countrymen upon arrival.

“Per Harvath!” Jan shouted again. He may as well have been spitting into the wind, but at least he’d distracted his brother.

Karl leaned close to Jan. “Let us get our families settled. Later you and I can walk around and find him, eh?”

The two men spotted a small open area and led the way toward it. Within a few minutes the women had arranged their baggage to form the three sides of a “u” shape. Elli and Amalie unpacked a few blankets and laid them out.

Toward evening as the crowded rotunda began to settle for the night, Karl and Jan split up and searched for the Harvaths. Jan had been looking for half an hour when he spied Karl and Per Harvath making their way toward him.

“Herr Thoresen! Your bror tells me you have my money! How can I thank you enough?” The relief in the man’s weary eyes was thanks enough for Jan.

“It is nothing. I am glad you will have it back,” Jan replied. He pulled the folded notes from his pocket and handed them to the man.

“But, but this is more than he took from me!” Per remonstrated.

“It is?” Jan rubbed his chin. “Then he surely stole from others, too.”

“But what shall I do with it?”

The three of them thought for several minutes. It was no small thing, having in one’s possession money or property that did not belong to you. Per held the extra bills in his open hand as though their owners might claim them on sight.

“We have no way to return these,” Karl said at last. He was nervous, and Jan knew he was concerned that the official would somehow point them out and make trouble for them. Karl sighed and gazed out at the throng spread throughout the hall.

Per followed his gaze. “Someone like me is in sore need of this money.”

“I suppose,” Karl suggested slowly, “we could just divide the bills between us?”

Jan shook his head. “I would not feel right, would you?”

“No,” Karl admitted. Per nodded in agreement.

Jan rubbed his chin again. “So! I have an idea. How much is there?” He explained himself in a few words. Karl and Per thought for a moment and nodded. .

Their eyes again turned to the mass of people within the rotunda. Jan motioned to Per who separated the three extra bills, giving one to each of them.

Per looked uncomfortable. “I’m not a good pretender,” he confessed.

“Watch me,” Jan said. “It should not be hard.” He wound his way along the perimeter of the hall until he reached a family he knew from the ship and greeted them.

“Hei. Hallo.” Jan nodded to the young man, Sänder. His wife, Pergunn, huge with child and worn, could not raise her eyes. Jan knew this family had exhausted their resources just to make the trip. Their three small children had eaten from Elli’s hand several times during the passage. Even now, their hungry eyes stared at Jan with undisguised hope.

Jan squatted near the man. “Sänder, look here. We found this; I think you must have dropped it,” Jan handed him the bill.

The young man stared at it. “Nei, I thank you, but I did not.”

Jan stared back. “I assure you, this is yours,” he insisted. His hand stayed outstretched until the young man, hesitating, took it and blinked his eyes against the sudden moisture that filled them.

Jan returned to Karl and Per. “See? It was easy.”

The other men shook their heads and both of them handed him their bills. “You are good at this, Jan.” Karl grinned and punched his brother on the arm. “It is that impulsiveness of yours, ja? Come. I will point out the family I have chosen.”

“I have one picked, too,” Per added, eager now.

The three of them paused, suddenly serious. Karl struggled to put what they were feeling into words. “It is a right thing we are doing, a good thing, ja?”

“Ja,” Per slowly agreed. “It was wicked that someone stole this money. But God has shown us a good use for it.” He scrunched his face, thinking. “Is there not some Skriften that says this?”

Jan nodded. “Ja, Herr Harvath. I think it reads, They meant it for evil, but God meant it for good.”

~~**~~

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