Berserker Series, Book 1 Page 14

  They exited the stable’s back doors and walked quietly down the alley behind. Seeing the shabby backsides of the false fronts of the buildings added to Rolf’s dark mood. They made him think of the way men sometimes combed their hair to cover thin spots. They fooled no one. Livingston was a small town, full of small buildings. And now it was poorer by one man.

  “In the morning we will inquire of a few more businesses, then we will depart,” Rolf said. “The law will not connect us to this man’s death unless we flee as if we’re guilty.”

  “Ah, well, why don’t you go knocking while I have a bit of a lie-in?”

  Rolf glared at his companion. Ketil smiled back.

  “The Baron will be so disappointed to hear we’ve lost the Nytteson,” Ketil said. “But as long as I’m getting up early, I might as well telegraph him and let him know.”

  “I see no need to trouble him,” Rolf said. “We can telegraph him once we’ve found them.”

  Ketil slapped Rolf on the back. He was grinning in a way Rolf did not like.

  “You sleep in tomorrow,” Rolf said. “In fact, why don’t you wait for me here in Livingston and I’ll go find them myself?”

  Ketil shook his head.

  “I have my orders, Tjossem. To keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t screw this up.”

  Rolf stopped in his tracks.

  “You have it wrong, Ketil. The Baron Fjelstad made it very clear. You are here to learn how to reach out to the Nytteson, to offer them hope and protection,” Rolf said.

  Ketil swung around and stood right up against Rolf’s body. He was half a head taller and spoke down at him.

  “So he told you. But I think perhaps you do not know the Baron as well as you think you do,” Ketil said. Then he laughed and slugged Rolf on the shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “I’m terribly hungry. My Nytte demands a steak.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Oh, how they ached when they at last fell out of their saddles at the end of the day.

  Owen had found them a flat campsite near a clear gurgling stream, with snow on the banks. The aspen trees that bordered it had tall white trunks. Their yellow leaves still clung to the branches and fluttered in the air, though there was only a hint of a breeze.

  “How many miles would you say we covered today?” Stieg asked, stretching.

  “Round about fifteen, I should think. Given our late start. Tomorrow we’ll aim for twenty,” Owen answered. He deftly unloaded the mule. First came the tents, then the bedrolls. Owen carried his own bedroll on Pal and did not use a tent.

  Knut rubbed his sore bottom unabashedly.

  “Knut and Stieg, if you can scare up some kindling and wood, I’ll get a fire going.”

  Hanne walked over to Owen. After the day’s long ride, her legs had forgotten the feel of earth underfoot. She took the sack of beans from him. He handed her a slab of salt pork, wrapped in a piece of brown paper. And then the cornmeal.

  Hanne thought about what she could make. Beans would take too long, but she could soak them for the next morning’s meal.

  They had a bucket. A shiny new tin bucket and a coffeepot just as nice. Hanne took them to the stream. The water was clear and fresh looking. It reminded her of the glacial streams back home.

  Returning to the campsite, she saw Owen had cleared a small depression in the earth and was arranging kindling for their fire.

  Owen looked up at her and nodded. “I’ll have it ready soon,” he told her.

  Hanne put the coffeepot near the fire and set the bucket down. She scooped some water into a pie tin and began to stir in cornmeal, a handful at a time, with a fork. She added a pinch of salt. She would try her hand at some pannekaker. She wished they had some milk, but water would have to do. The batter seemed awfully coarse, so she added some of their flour, and sweetened the batter with some brown sugar.

  The cowboy had not mentioned anything about Knut’s heroics during the accident. Hanne hoped that he had simply attributed Knut’s strength to his large size, and did not suspect them of anything unnatural.

  He had enough to be suspicious of them already—he knew they had jumped off a train and were determined to stay away from people.

  The fire was burning now, so she put a precious pat of their butter into the spider. Once it melted, she spooned it out and into the batter, stirring it well.

  The camp was busy, Owen showing Knut how to set out the bedrolls and Stieg puttering over the coffeepot.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Hanne saw Sissel pet Daisy. This was progress. Hanne didn’t turn quickly, didn’t want to spook the child or the animal, but she was happy to see her sister engaging with the dog.

  As she tried to turn the cakes in the spider with only a fork, Hanne longed for her long wooden spatula from home. Nevertheless, she managed to flip them. Hanne wished she had purchased molasses. How could she have forgotten molasses? She sprinkled a bit of sugar on the cakes and gave each a small pat of butter. The group ate from the remaining pie tins she had collected, and there were no complaints. Even Daisy, who only got the burned pieces, seemed content.

  As they drank their coffee, Stieg asked Owen if he knew the story of the pancake. Owen did not, and so Stieg told the old folktale, recounting the rolling pancake and his clever escapes from Manny Panny, Henny Penny, Goosey Poosey, and the rest.

  Hanne watched Owen’s face. In the glimmering firelight, some of the age and experience seemed to fall away. He looked much younger, and was rapt with attention at Stieg’s silly story. He laughed when Piggy Wiggy gobbled up the runaway pancake at the end of the story. Sissel and Knut laughed along with him.

  Hanne observed that her sister’s eyes were lit up with admiration for Owen.

  She felt a stab of possessiveness. The idea that she herself wanted to make a claim on the cowboy startled her so much she stood up abruptly. She turned and clumsily sought out the tin bucket among the kitchen items, her skirts knocking her pie tin off the rock where it had been sitting.

  “Hanne?” Stieg asked.

  “Nothing. I must fetch water to soak the beans, that’s all.”

  “Beans for breakfast and pancakes for dinner,” Knut said in Norwegian. “Our food is backward!”

  Stieg translated for Owen. Hanne heard their laughter as she set off toward the stream in the dark.

  She slowed her pace as she approached the stream. She did not want to make a further fool of herself by falling in the cold water.

  The moon was only a sliver. The sky was so black it seemed clean and fresh, and the stars were bright. Was the sky so big at home? It must have been, for it was the same sky.

  “Pretty dark out here.” She jumped at Owen’s voice behind her. “I brought a lantern. Wouldn’t do to lose you our first night on the trail.”

  “Yes,” she answered. “It is dark.”

  Hanne felt nervous and reluctant. It wasn’t proper for her to be alone with this strange boy. They ought to have a chaperone. Only that was how they did it in Norway, and they were no longer there. Maybe in America it was acceptable for a young woman to be alone with a young man.

  Anyway, she was not in any danger. That was certain.

  “I can get the water if you like,” Owen offered.

  “I can do it,” she said. But she didn’t want to send him away. “Can you hold the lantern toward the stream?”

  “Sure,” he answered.

  He held the lantern forward, and together they picked their way across the slippery rocks at the edge of the stream.

  Hanne settled the bucket into the icy water.

  “I wanted to say something. I wanted to thank you for taking the job of being our guide,” Hanne said.

  Owen made a dismissive noise.

  “It’s my pleasure,” he replied.

  Hanne stood up with the bucket, now streaming water. Owen put his hand on the handle, next to hers. A warm current traveled up Hanne’s arm, and she realized their fingers were touching.

  “Let me carry it for you,”
he said. When she withdrew her hand, the bucket was transferred to Owen’s firm grip.

  “Yes,” she said. “Very well.”

  “And, Miss Hanne, you don’t have to thank me.”

  Hanne glanced at his face. In the dark, his bruises didn’t show so much. The light from the lantern fell on his strong jawline and the shape of his lips.

  He was a handsome young man, it could not be denied. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

  It was dark, but did she see his eyes flickering toward her own lips? Was he leaning in to her, ever so slightly?

  “I’m glad … that is to say…” He paused here, and the pause made her heart rise up in her rib cage. He regained speech. “I’m grateful for the work,” he said.

  He looked to the bucket.

  The work. Of course he was grateful for the work. Nothing but the work.

  “And, uh, Miss Hanne, just so you know. There’s mountain lions up here,” Owen said. Hanne realized now that he had his long rifle tucked under his arm. “So if you’re going to go out in the dark, it’s best to have company.”

  “Very well,” she said stiffly.

  Of course he would think her a defenseless girl who would need his help to stay safe. A part of her wished it were so.

  Hanne took the lantern and led the way back to the campsite.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Owen had wondered if they’d complain or give him trouble, but the Norwegians were the easiest company he’d ever known. They exclaimed over the cleverness of every little thing. The protective coil on the handle of the cast-iron spider was ingenious. The tents, which came with a canvas bottom to keep mud out. And the bedrolls—made of a large rectangle of canvas that lay flat, with blankets layered inside—what a marvel! Even the tin bucket was fussed over. Sissel had admired how shiny it was. For all their stake money, these were people who weren’t accustomed to new things.

  Owen worried about the weather, which was turning colder each day. In the morning, the water in the bucket had two fingers of ice on it. If it got any colder, he’d have to ask the boys if he could bunk with them in their tent, though he preferred to sleep out in the air with Daisy at his feet.

  Owen kept an eye out for blizzards, watching for any change of color, but the sky was big and blue. By the third morning of clear weather, Stieg teased him about fretting like a mother hen.

  The Hemstads were a genial and hardy bunch. The few Swedes and Norwegians he’d met had been quiet and serious. But maybe they’d just not had a knack for the tongue. Stieg’s English put his own to shame. He kept them all amused on the trail, and Owen found himself learning, too. He’d never known that cloud formations had names. Stieg pointed them out. Stieg’s favorite clouds were the great, fluffy cumulus clouds. Sissel liked nimbus just for the name. Hanne said she liked the wavy cirrocumulus clouds. She said they reminded her of sea foam. Owen hadn’t ever thought to pick a favorite, but he chose cirrocumulus. He’d never seen sea foam, but he liked the way Hanne made it sound.

  Owen could not help but admire her. Hanne worked harder than either of her brothers. She was the first up in the morning, was the first down from the saddle, the first to haul water. She did all the cooking and washed the dishes. Sissel was pleasant enough, but she was a lazy girl. She only helped when nagged, and Hanne had clearly stopped nagging some time ago. Sissel reminded Owen of his younger brother, Paul. Perhaps all youngest children were spoiled.

  Unfortunately Hanne would not meet Owen’s eye. She avoided him, even on the trail, and kept her horse toward the back.

  Owen knew it had to do with how he’d behaved on the first night, at the stream. He’d offended her somehow, but he didn’t have any idea how. Likely she could sense his interest in her and was simply letting him know she didn’t return the sentiment.

  And why should she think of him, he reminded himself. He was broke—anyone could see that. His prospects were lean. She had the sense to steer clear of him, so that should have made it easy, but it didn’t.

  Hanne looked awfully pretty in her pink coat. Against the drab tree trunks, the black rocks, and the dingy, dust-blown snowbanks, that coat offered a welcome burst of color. The color reminded Owen of one of the songbirds that used to riot over dried corncobs the cook would set on a nail outside the kitchen window back on the ranch.

  He wished he knew their story, wished he could ask more about what type of work Knut did back in Norway that would make him so strong—or how Hanne came to know how to set a bone so well, but he could not bring himself to ask. Owen told himself he was respecting their privacy—for obviously there was something weighing heavily on the Norwegians. There was trouble riding with the Hemstads, and he meant to keep level with it, but he didn’t want to disturb the easy camaraderie they were enjoying. It had been a long time since he’d felt a part of a group in this way, if ever.

  * * *

  THEY WERE COMING down the north side of the Horseshoe Mountain lowlands when Owen called an early finish for the day. He didn’t like to travel downhill in the twilight. Too easy for a tired horse to place a foot wrong.

  Also, he’d seen some rabbit tracks and he thought everyone would like a little fresh meat. It would be nice to walk into camp with a couple of big jackrabbits.

  He stopped near a big drift of snow, which they could use for water, so they wouldn’t have to go down to the stream. It was a nice protected spot, with a slate shoulder on one side to break the wind.

  “This’ll do for camp,” Owen said.

  “Yes? We are stopping early today?” asked Stieg.

  Owen nodded.

  “When will we be to Wolf Creek?” Sissel asked.

  Owen removed his hat and scratched his head. He was aware that his hair was matted down and greasy, but that could hardly be helped.

  “I’d say we’re three days out, if the weather holds,” Owen told them. “Maybe less.”

  “Come, Sissel,” Hanne said. She had sprung from her horse and was helping her sister down.

  “I wonder if Uncle Håkon will be excited to see us,” Sissel said.

  Hanne began to unpack the provisions for their evening meal. She asked something in Norwegian, and Knut set off into the brush. She’d asked him to get firewood, Owen figured.

  “I’m going to see after some meat for dinner,” Owen said. Then he called Daisy, “To me!”

  Daisy was at his heel in an instant, tail wagging though it had been a long day’s journey.

  “I’ll see if I can’t scare up some rabbit,” Owen said.

  “Take Hanne with you,” Stieg said. “She’s good at hunting, too.”

  Hanne looked at her brother, a flash of surprise playing on her features. She said something in Norwegian. It was clear to Owen that she didn’t want to go.

  “It’s all right, Miss Hanne,” Owen said. He felt a blush threatening at his neck. “You don’t need to come. Me and Daisy will be right back.”

  * * *

  “WHY WOULD YOU press me to go?” Hanne said, rounding on Stieg when Owen was out of hearing. “It’s not proper he and I should be alone!”

  “Pah, you are safe from him and from any man,” Stieg said. “I thought it would do you some good to stretch your legs.”

  “I have enough to do with supper to get,” she said.

  “Why don’t you like him?” Stieg asked. “He’s trustworthy. He’s a good fellow.”

  “You don’t like Owen?” Sissel said. “I think he’s lovely. I think he’s very brave.”

  “I never said I don’t like him!”

  “You act as though he’s beneath your notice,” Stieg said. “You hardly say two words to him in a day’s time.”

  “That’s not so.”

  “It is, too. Stieg’s right,” Sissel said. “Owen must think you hate him.”

  Hanne stared at her sister and brother. Stieg was digging out a fire pit a few feet away from the snowbank at the stone wall.

  “Do you really think so, Stieg?” she asked him. She felt ba
d if it was true. “Or are you teasing me?”

  Stieg looked up, attention drawn by the serious tone of her voice.

  Knut came back with an armload of fallen branches.

  “Do you think Owen feels I dislike him?” she asked Knut.

  Knut dropped the wood. “Why would he? You like him, don’t you?”

  “It’s not a problem, I don’t think,” Stieg interrupted. “He’s never seen you happy. He probably thinks you’re like this all the time. It doesn’t matter. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

  Hanne felt herself get hot in the chest.

  It did matter, to her.

  “I have more important things to worry about,” she said crossly. “That man from the train—”

  “Is nowhere to be seen, Hanne,” said Stieg. “Your own body will sound an alarm if we are in any danger. Why don’t you relax? It is possible we have left the danger behind.”

  He could be optimistic, she brooded. He was not weighed down with sin.

  Hanne began to unpack the supplies from the mule, whom they had eventually named “Muley Wuley” after Stieg’s story.

  Her hands fell on the small sack of dried apples. She would make an apple cake in the Dutch oven—a nice cake to go with the meat, if Owen should be successful in his hunting. She could be amiable and gracious. She would show them.

  It pained her to use the last of the butter, but a cake wouldn’t be any good without it. They could do without butter for the next three days, certainly.

  * * *

  OWEN AND DAISY returned with two skinned creatures so long Hanne could scarcely believe they were rabbits. Owen said he’d seen lots of tracks down at the river and set some traps, so there would likely be more in the morning.

  Hanne spit-roasted the hares over the fire. And her cake smelled wonderful as it cooled in the dutch oven. She made a point to be pleasant to everyone, especially Owen.

  Around them, night fell. The light from the fire was shining off their faces as they drew close to the campfire. Grease from the rabbit meat made their faces shinier still. Hanne hazarded a smile across the fire at Owen. He seemed surprised, but answered it with a grin.