An Untamed Land (6 page)

Please let us get there before Roald does.
Ingeborg’s plea drifted heavenward. But when they turned the final corner, she knew her request had fallen on deaf ears.

“Far! Far!” How could one small boy shout so loud? Ingeborg wished she’d been able to clap her hand over his mouth before the shout. The thunder gathered on her husband’s brow left her in no doubt of his state of mind. If only she could back up time and pretend this all hadn’t happened.

Roald strode across the street, the crowd parting before him like the Red Sea before Moses. “Where have you been? I left you to take care of our belongings. You know what they’ve said about people stealing from immigrants. How could you leave?”

“Now, Mr. Bjorklund, your belongings are—” Their angel of mercy cut short her words as Roald quelled her with a stern look.

When he directed that same withering glare at Ingeborg, she ignored the urge to hang her head and let the tears flow. Here she had risked life and limb to find
his
son, had snatched Thorliff away from the police, and then returned to find his father on a rampage.

“We will discuss this later.” She grabbed Thorliff by the hand and
marched over to the wall where Carl had set Kaaren and the baby down on the mound of bundles and satchels. “Thank you for watching our belongings,” she said to the aproned woman who still hovered by the stack. Ingeborg turned to her guiding savior and extended a work-worn hand. “Mange takk.” She closed her other hand over their clasped fingers. “You have been so good to us. God bless you.”

All the while, she wanted to throw herself into the motherly woman’s arms and bawl like one of the newly weaned calves in the pens back home. Home. So far across that turbulent sea. Another world, another lifetime.

She could feel Roald, his barely contained anger an ominous presence, by her side. As if she would walk away from all their earthly possessions without good reason, when she knew the mound of belongings may mean the difference between life and death when they reached their new home. The thought of his accusations caused a spark to smolder in her midsection. Her mother’s frequent admonition resounded in her ear.
A calm and gentle spirit, Inge. Pfft with the anger and the talking back
.

Ingeborg deliberately released the tension in her jaw. She looked up to see Carl watching her, compassion evident in his eyes and half-hidden smile.

“You are all right?” he asked quietly.

“Ja, God be thanked.” She could feel a tremor begin in her chin. If she wasn’t careful, someone being nice to her would be her undoing.

“I’m going inside to determine how we are to proceed,” Roald said over his shoulder. “Are you coming, Carl?” When there wasn’t an immediate answer, the tall man in black paused. “Well?” He turned to face the small group clustered for comfort amidst the sea of pushing and yelling alien bodies. When Carl shook his head, Roald grunted a sound of disgust and merged with the swirling crowd, only his black felt hat visible above the masses.

“Well, Thorly, you certainly caused a stir, didn’t you?” Carl swept the boy up in his strong arms and looked him in the eye. “Didn’t your far and mor tell you to stay right here?”

Thorliff nodded. His lower lip began to quiver.

“And what did you do?”

Thorly hung his head. “I went after those boys.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” A tear beaded on an eyelash and meandered down his cheek.

“Little boys are to obey their parents. You won’t do such a thing again, will you?”

Thorliff shook his head.

“I should have kept hold of his hand, but . . .”

“It is not your fault,” Kaaren said from her place among the bundles. “It was an accident, but all is well now.”

Ingeborg shot her sister-in-law a grateful look. “How are you feeling, den lille?”

“Stronger. Being off that . . . that heaving ship helps.” She looked up with lines of worry creasing her forehead. “How will I ever pass the inspection?”

“With God’s strength. He wouldn’t have brought us here if we weren’t supposed to come.” Ingeborg put all the confidence she could muster into her words. “Tomorrow, we will be all together on our way west.”

A woman’s wailing snapped their heads up.

“I’ll see what is the problem,” Carl said before pushing his way through the crowd. When he returned only seconds later, they could see he carried bad news.

“What . . . what is it?”

“She is being sent back to Norway. She has tuberculosis.” Carl reached for Kaaren’s hand.

“Oh, dear God, dear God.” Kaaren leaned her cheek against his arm. “Father God, not us. Please, please. I could not bear the return voyage. Please, no more ships.” She rocked back and forth, wasting precious strength in her fear.

“Kaaren!” When the babe began to whimper, Ingeborg spoke again, even more sharply. “Kaaren! Enough!” Ingeborg saw Carl frown at her sharp reprimand, but he kept silent when Kaaren’s cries turned to sniffs.

“Like I told you, you are not sick, only weak from having the baby and being seasick. Surely they will understand this. They are not ogres after all,” Carl said as he stroked his wife’s head.

“Not to be afraid, Tante Kaaren.” Thorliff crept closer to her side. “Far won’t let the bad mans get you.”

Kaaren smiled through her tears. “Mange takk, Thorly. You help Far, all right?”

The little boy nodded and grinned. “I big help.”

“Carl, Carl.” Roald’s shout caught all their attention. “We’ll
gather what we can for the first trip inside with you and Kaaren. Then you can wait in line for all of us. Once we have our things there, we can purchase something to eat.” He hefted bundles and valises as he spoke, loading himself up more heavily than had the black stevedores they’d seen on the docks. “Ingeborg, you and the boy stay here.” He shot Thorliff a stern look. “And you obey your mor, hear me?”

Thorliff nodded and ducked his head. He studied the top button on his coat until his father strode off.

For the next half hour, Ingeborg waited and watched as hundreds of anxious immigrants filed past her into Castle Garden for inspection. Then above the crowd she saw Roald’s black hat as he fought his way back through the crowd to get them. Silently she thanked God for her husband’s tall height.

Once inside, Ingeborg looked up in awe at the ceiling arching high over their heads, supported by tall white columns. The din of hundreds of petitioners entering the new land echoed around the vaulted ceiling, increasing in volume on its journey. Ingeborg felt like clapping her hands over her ears, for the roar was worse than the mightiest breakers pounding the rocks of the Norwegian coast. Even the tallest waterfall hurling its spume to the river below failed to match the thundering sound. For this river carried a powerful riptide of fear and agony. An undertow of apprehension.

Roald returned from his mission for food and handed each of them a pasty of potatoes and carrots baked in a golden crusty dough. He also brought a jar of milk and gave it to Kaaren. “For you. The man said it was fresh this morning.”

“Thank you, Jesus, for this food for our bodies.” Ingeborg murmured the prayer before biting into the tantalizing pie. She closed her eyes, savoring both smell and taste. After stew or soup for all the meals during the voyage—often consisting of more water than sustenance—she bit into the flaky crust with relish and chewed slowly, delighting in each mouthful.

When she opened her eyes, she looked around at the other three adults and the small boy who’d let out a shriek of delight at his treat. If her face looked like the others, this first bit of food in their new land spoke well of it. And she was certain she saw a tinge of color coming back into Kaaren’s cheeks after only half the milk was gone.

At that moment, as if afraid she might be missing out, the baby let out a wail that made others in the snaking line turn their way.

“Our baby’s hungry,” Thorliff announced to all within earshot.

As Ingeborg looked at those waiting patiently around them, she was greeted with nodding heads of understanding and gentle smiles. Gone were the frowns and impatient mutterings—a baby always seemed to bring out the best in folks. She looked down at Kaaren, nestled on their mound of belongings. She had a worried look on her face, but her cheeks now blossomed with color.

“How can I feed her here?” Kaaren whispered to Ingeborg. The baby wailed louder, in spite of Kaaren’s rocking and shushings.

“We cannot leave the line,” Carl replied.

“But we can gather around her and make our own wall.” Ingeborg motioned for the men to join her. They stood facing out, arms crossed over their chests, as if daring anyone to make a comment.

When Ingeborg looked up at her husband’s face, his expression was blank. But the nearly invisible twitch hadn’t yet left his right eye. That twitch alone told her he was still angry with her. Knowing him as she did, she knew he would never mention the incident again.

How would she find a way to pay the shopkeeper? Could she find him at all?

By the time they reached the inspectors, Thorliff was whiny, the baby refused to be comforted, Ingeborg felt a pounding in her head, and Roald’s left eyelid had begun to twitch in earnest again. Only Carl could summon a smile or an encouraging word.

The woman who had rescued Ingeborg earlier appeared at the doctor’s right side, ready to interpret. Her smile bathed them all in warmth. As she asked the questions and translated their answers, a man perched on a stool at a tall desk wrote swiftly in a huge ledger.

“He’s just writing down the information,” the woman assured them.

After all the questions had been answered, the man in charge excused himself and walked across the tiled floor to speak to another official.

A mewl of fear escaped from Kaaren, who was propped upright between the strong arms of Carl and Ingeborg.

Ingeborg gave her a comforting squeeze. Only a few minutes to wait. They would pass—they
must
pass—all of them!
Please, God, let not all our hardship be for naught
.

W
ill they let me stay in Amerika?
Kaaren knit her fingers together in worry, then placed one hand in Carl’s.

“Do not fear. God is faithful,” he whispered.

Her head lying weakly on his shoulder, Kaaren heard the tenderness in his voice as he pressed his lips to her ear. She knew Carl was trying to be strong for her sake.

Kaaren wanted to believe him with all her being, but her heart raced like waves before a wind, and her knees trembled until she was sure they would buckle beneath her.
Father God, if you bring us past this barrier and into the new land, I will honor you all my days; I will dedicate one of my sons to serve in your house; I will . . .

She looked up and saw the doctor coming toward them.

My Lord and my God, I . . .

The aproned woman accompanying the official bounced in her effort to match the man’s long strides. While her face kept the prescribed sober demeanor, the wink of one blue eye said it all.

Kaaren trapped the rising sob in her throat.
Could it be? Could it really be?

“I’ve discussed your case with my colleagues, and we agree that your wife’s weakness is due solely to childbirth and a difficult passage. Since she does not seem to be running a fever, we will overlook her illness.” He directed his remarks to Carl. “I recommend, however, that you allow hei time to rest before you begin your journey west. Mrs. Amundson, here, will give you details regarding places to stay.”

At Carl’s nod, the man stepped back to let them pass and raised a hand to beckon the couple behind them. “Next!” he called.

Kaaren released the breath she’d been holding. She gripped
Ingeborg’s hand with all her strength to keep the sobs locked within her breast. “We are here. God be thanked. We are here. God be thanked.” She repeated the words over and over, first in her mind and then in a whisper. When Carl and Ingeborg had settled Kaaren on one of their bundles, she reached for the infant Ingeborg held snugly against her bosom.

“Mange takk.” When Kaaren folded back the quilt to see her sleeping daughter’s face, she could hold back the sobs no longer. She buried her face in Gunhilde’s coverings to stem her wild weeping.

Ingeborg stood beside her sister-in-law, clasping the woman against her waist with both hands. Kaaren transferred her wet face from the blanket to Ingeborg’s skirts. While tears of joy poured down her cheeks as well, Ingeborg kept her back ramrod straight.
One more hurdle surmounted
, she thought to herself. “It’s all right now, kjaere, you needn’t worry anymore.”

Ingeborg reached for Thorliff, who was tearing up also. He too buried his face in her black wool skirt and mingled his tears with those of his aunt.

“If you two keep on like this, soon I will be too soaked to walk out in public. I will have to go change my skirt,” Ingeborg said, drying her own tears.

Kaaren looked up, a smile fluttering at the corners of her mouth. She sniffed and swallowed before sniffing again. “We are a sorry group, are we not?”