Fervent Charity (18 page)

“For how long?”

“About forty-five minutes. Then start another one.” She handed her another packet. “Boil this one down to half a gallon.”

Lena stood up and brushed herself off, then picked up her daughter. “What do you hear from Gustie? I got a letter…let’s see…a couple weeks ago now. I don’t write. I told her I wouldn’t. Not to Gustie. She’s an educated person and I am so poor at writing things. I’d be ashamed to have Gustie read anything of mine. But you tell her I always like to hear from her. And Alvinia reads me Betty’s letters. She sure sounds like she’s having a good time. I’ll be right back with some coffee for you. Will’ll sure be glad to see you.” Lena spoke awkwardly. And yet she was not anxious to leave. “Thank you for coming.” She stood at the door. “My sisters think I’m crazy. Will doesn’t.” She ran a hand lightly across her lips as if brushing something away. “I just can’t stand to see an animal suffer.”

She slipped out, sliding the door closed behind her.

The cat had remained still and quiet, enjoying the brush of Jordis’s hand when she reached in to his dark space for the sweet smelling packages. He stayed where he was till the barn was quiet. He wasn’t afraid of people, just particular now about when he made his appearances. Even though the voice he’d heard was familiar, he stayed in his hiding place until the door closed. Then he crawled out onto the blanket and looked around. This was a barn but not his barn. No matter. Jordis was here and She was here. Feather padded over to Jordis and put his paws on her knees. “So, little warrior, you decide to join us?” She stroked his back and thought about Lena. She had a much better understanding now of why Gustie was fond of this woman.
I can’t stand to see an animal suffer.
Friendships were built on less.

She got up and went to the horse. Putting her hands on either side of his head, she breathed into his nostrils.

Chapter 14: May 1901

I
 
spend most of my time
here in the barn, cross-legged on my blanket, wrapped in my poncho, contemplating how I have been brought here to tend this wounded horse. I fan the flame of equine spirit that still dances warily in his eyes.

When I knead his muscles, he leans into my hands. I am coaxing a shine into his coat. Though he will never be seamless, he is knitting himself together. Streaks of lightning across his left shoulder and down his chest and another across his flank will remain as signs of his suffering. By our scars we are made relatives.

Dear Gustie:

I am so glad to hear that Betty has been a help to you. She has always been willing and good at all household chores and will be useful when Mary’s time comes. Of course, you have many doctors there and won’t need a midwife. My Betty doesn’t need a lot of looking after—she is a sensible girl and except to set her heart on this Catholic church mouse, has never done anything foolish—but I am grateful to you for taking her under your wing and showing her something of the world outside of Stone County. It may be her only and last chance as she is still bent on marrying Pauly Wirkus and settling down with him for the rest of her life on that rock patch that the Wirkuses call a farm. Enough said.

Please write to me and Lena and tell us how Mary is and all about you, too, and my Betty—if she misses her boy terribly—if she is homesick for her family. She has never been away from us before.

It is none of my business, but I wonder if you will be back. Now, maybe not my place to ask, but Lena said she thought something happened out at the reservation—something even before that great and awful tragedy which we all know you took to heart—to make you go, but she did not know what it was. For what it may be worth, I am sorry if that is the case and I sure think it was none of your fault whatever it was because I know you care about those people and that is a good Christian thing, but they are not the only people in the world, and neither, for that matter are Axel Kranhold and Mathilda Langager and the rest of that stiff-necked bunch who make such a parade of going to church but Jesus said it was better to say your prayers in a closet and they sure do like bowing their heads in public. You have friends here and don’t you think you don’t. Lena misses you but won’t say so. Will says so, though. “Gustie’s a grand girl!” he says and shakes his head the way he does like a big grinning farm dog. I’m still mad at that man, though he seems to be all right now for a while.

I do feel for Mary. It is not for me to judge how she came by her predicament. She would have received little kindness here from the Kaisers except for Lena and Will, and she’s afraid of her own priest. She told me that much herself. Lena knew you would treat her kindly. You have always been good to everyone, even when they were not being so good to you. Enough said.

Alvinia Torgerson

PS. Jordis is bringing that horse around nice as you please. She walks him outdoors behind Lena and Will’s house every day now and she and Lena are great friends and I think it is because she lets Lena do all the talking! Ha Ha. She doesn’t mind my chickens visiting him with their treats. My children sure do like her and that horse. She calls him Skydog.

Lena was still in her nightgown, enjoying the quiet and the pale morning light washing her kitchen and the smell of her fresh coffee when she heard a wagon pull up. It was not even six o’clock in the morning. She ran back into the bedroom to get dressed and told Will to answer the door. As soon as she heard Oscar’s voice she was mad.
The blame fool doesn’t ever visit us. Acts like he doesn’t know us most of the time, then when he does show up it’s before the first rooster has had time to clear his throat
. She quickly buttoned up her dress, pinned up her hair, and hurried back to the kitchen in time to hear Oscar’s woes.

“Gonna have to hire a new man.” Oscar was slumped at Lena’s kitchen table. His right paw around a cup of coffee, the stump of his left arm hidden underneath his jacket.

“Well that’s a rough go,” Will commiserated, pouring a cup for himself.

Did Shorty Larson finally get a belly full of Oscar’s mean temper and low wages? Did he find something better? She hoped he had. No one should have to put up with Oscar.

Will asked the question. “Did Shorty leave?

“Naw, I fired him.”

“What? Why on earth would you fire him? His wife is expecting their first child and you fire him?” Lena poured herself some coffee and leaned against her sink, waiting for an answer.

Oscar was not intimidated by Lena. “For not working,” he growled. He took a sip of his coffee, set the cup down and stirred in another couple spoons full of sugar.

That’s right. Use up all our sugar, you selfish pig.
Lena said, “Shorty is a good worker. You never complained about him before.”

“I got a couple jobs south of Wheat Lake as soon as the ground thaws enough. Shorty won’t go. We’ll have to stay in Wheat Lake till the work’s done and he says he won’t be gone from home overnight with his wife expecting.” He took a good swallow of his coffee and added, “We can stay in the bunk house there.”

“You could afford to stay at Mattie Olson’s hotel. Wouldn’t hurt to give that nice widow-woman some business.” Lena glared at Oscar. She wasn’t intimidated by him, either. When Oscar and Lena were together, which wasn’t often, Will had the same feeling he used to get around Roy Graebner’s prize bull when, as kids, they used to dare each other to taunt him through the fence. They’d had more luck than sense because that bull was the most dangerous animal in the county. One day it smashed right through the fence for no reason anybody could think of and went after Molly Graebner who was hanging out the wash. Roy shot two bullets into his head. The first one just slowed him down and the second one dropped him right at Molly’s feet.

Will would just as soon they changed the subject, but Lena wouldn’t let this go. “You can’t expect a man to leave his wife for two weeks when she’s getting ready to have a baby.”

“Well I can’t have a man deciding when he’s going to work and when he isn’t. I need a man I can count on.”

“You’ve always been able to count on Shorty. This is different. Why can’t he work with Will or Walter while you’re gone?” She looked at Will. She wasn’t sure they could afford to pay an extra man. Maybe for one week they could, and Walter could use him the rest of the time till Oscar came back. Will nodded. “You can find somebody in Wheat Lake to help you out for those two jobs and when you come back you’ll still have Shorty and you won’t have to train in somebody new.”

Oscar took some more of his coffee and stared at her floor. Lena thought he might be considering her suggestion. She pressed her advantage.

“Why don’t you go to Snuce’s place in Wheat Lake and pick up somebody who’s only looking for a couple weeks’ work?” Tavern keepers always knew what everybody in town was up to. Especially the men who were down and out enough to work for Oscar Kaiser.

Dearest Jordis,

For heaven’s sake! Are you living in Lena’s barn? I know she doesn’t intend for you to stay out there all the time—you say this arrangement suits because of your soul-keeping duties and Feather, but I don’t understand why you can’t leave the memory bundle—and the cat—out there the way you do at home. The horse surely doesn’t require round-the-clock watching still? You know how this upsets me. And—Yes, even as I write, I can see you smiling and it is most irritating.

How long must you stay there? When will your horse be well enough to go to our house? We have a perfectly good barn there if you must sleep in one.

The three of us are well. Mary looks forward with great happiness to the birth of her child and moving to Philadelphia. I have painted an attractive picture of my aunts to her. Indeed, where Mary is concerned, I am confident they will not disappoint. I believe they will find in her all the qualities they so longed for in me.

She doesn’t say as much, but I suspect that Betty is more than ready to go home. Both Mary and I have made it clear she is free to go anytime. She can tell Alvinia the truth or continue the charade and say that between the aunts and the score of physicians they have employed, Mary is well looked after. Frankly, I doubt that Betty would succeed in deceiving her mother in person, and all will be revealed to Alvinia within her first evening at home.

A word more about my aunts. While they used to drive me to distraction, they have participated in our play with enthusiasm. Even Louisa, who is inclined to cool detachment, is sending me warm and amusing letters. She says that Edith has been happy and pleasant for the first time since before Lincoln was shot. Margaret is always Margaret, but in this case, being Margaret is a good thing. You see, they have actually gone out to all the concerts and plays and on all the sight-seeing excursions that they have been describing in detail to us, so that Betty can fill her letters with believable accounts of her activities. Led by Margaret, they have also taken themselves out on Betty’s shopping trips, and due to their good efforts, Betty has some lovely dresses. (I instructed them to keep in mind where she lives and to choose things the girl can actually wear in a place like Charity, where she needs good dresses for going to town and to church, but NOT for attending a Philadelphia debutante ball (like the one for which they so carefully outfitted me twenty years ago and to which I refused to go).) They have chosen well, and Betty’s new frocks quite become her and will suit her life in Charity. They also supplied her with a new bonnet, matching gloves, a bag and some lovely undergarments and nightgowns that embarrassed as much as pleased her. She was, after all, supposed to be shopping for her trousseau while in Philadelphia.

I also asked Betty to make a list of all the things she would have liked to bring back to her family if she had had the chance, and again, the Weird Sisters succeeded admirably. I was stern with Betty, telling her that if something was not right to say so—we would send it back or give it to someone else, and my aunts would try again, but their choices were perfect. Bonnet and gloves for Alice, dolls and a miniature porcelain tea set and hair ribbons for her younger sisters, a tie-pin for Severn, warm sweaters and belt buckles for the younger boys, a belt for her father, and a cameo brooch for Alvinia.

My aunts also acceded to my request to send us my mother’s steamer trunk of sheet music, which has occupied the corner of the parlor since her death, with no one to make use of it at all. I didn’t think Father would mind parting with it, and Louisa confirmed that he was quite agreeable to sending it to someone who would appreciate it.

So, yesterday when Joe pulled up in front of our cabin, his toothless grin wide and his back seat laden with parcels, Betty was speechless that all of these things were for her, but then she nearly succumbed to tears over the expense of it all, telling me that while her parents had given her spending money, it wouldn’t begin to cover even one of her dresses. I assured her that my aunts have more money than they know what to do with, and that they had greater pleasure in spending it than Betty could ever imagine. This is the truth, and that is what she can tell her mother.