Read Online Wild Heart on the Prairie (A Prairie Heritage, Book 2) by Vikki Kestell - Free Book Online
Authors: Vikki Kestell
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happening.” He cleared his throat
and said to Jan and Elli, “Mighty sorry, sir, ma’am.”
“Well, since Mr. Chance is so concerned with keeping his
‘timetable,’ how ’bout you men give these newcomers a hand unloading their
things? Respectful like . And pick up their food here.”
The men did as Bailey directed. The conductor and another
man dragged their unconscious friend from the boxcar and laid him out on the
prairie grass. Others began to unload and carefully stack the Thoresens’
belongings alongside the tracks.
While some of the men were unloading the first car, several others
helped Jan and Karl drag a crude ramp to their second boxcar, unload the oxen,
and hobble them. A few more handed down wagon parts. Jan and Karl set to work
assembling the wagons. When the men saw what they were doing, they pitched in
to help.
In the meantime, Amalie looked for and found her sewing kit.
She stitched a neat seam up the split in the sack of wheat. Elli and the girls
picked through the dirt, salvaging every kernel they could find. They placed
the dusty wheat in Elli’s apron.
After she and the girls had retrieved all the wheat, Elli
asked for the sack in which Jan and Karl had kept the pegs and pins for the
wagons. She had Kristen hold the sack open while she poured the wheat into it.
Within an hour the three wagons were assembled and the men
had loaded the lumber onto one wagon. Atop the lumber, Karl strapped the new stove
and piping and stacked the bales of hay.
The conductor, not willing to wait any longer, signaled the
engineer to blow the whistle.
“Guess we gotta go,” one of the workers said.
Jan made a point of shaking hands with each man. “Tanks
you,” he said tentatively. He felt silly, but his efforts earned him a proud
smile from Søren. Some of the men clapped him on the shoulder.
All the while, Bailey watched, his face noncommittal, rifle
held casually at his side.
When the train pulled away, the Thoresens stared across the
tracks. They saw a small clearing and a tiny cabin built into the side of a low
hillock.
Beyond that spread the open prairie as far as they could
see.
The ground undulated over swells and mounds; the prairie
grasses shimmered in the midday sun. Jan’s breath left him as he stared.
“You folks all right?” It was the man with the rifle.
Jan and Karl walked over to him. “Tanks you,” Jan said,
hoping his firm handshake and solemn face expressed how grateful they were.
“ Tusen Takk ,” echoed Karl. He pointed to himself.
“Karl Thoresen.” He pointed at Jan. “Jan Thoresen.”
“Robert Bailey. Pleased t’ meetcha.” Bailey was a little
younger than both Jan and Karl. He pointed. “I keep th’ water tower filled.”
Jan called to Søren. When the boy stepped to his side, Jan
put his hand on Søren’s shoulder. “ Jeg sønn, Søren .”
Bailey shook the boy’s hand. “You-all have a lot to do
still.” He pointed at their things spread along the track. “Would you like some
help?”
Jan asked Søren what he said. “I think he would like to
help, Pappa,” Søren replied.
“ Ja , tanks you!”
A woman emerged from the tiny shack. She walked swiftly
toward them, wiping her hands on her apron as she hustled over. “Land sakes,
Mr. Bailey! You shoulda tol’ me we had comp’ny!”
He grinned at her. “They jest got off th’ train, missus.
Name o’ Thoresen. I think they’re brothers. Come meet ’em.”
Mrs. Bailey, weatherworn and feisty, was as plainspoken as
her husband. She shook hands all around. They were all a little awkward with
the language barrier. “Would ya like sumpthin’ t’ eat? Got some soup on th’
back o’ th’ stove and some biscuits.”
“My woman do make good biscuits,” Bailey said proudly.
Søren looked at his father. “They said ‘eat,’ Pappa .”
His stomach growled.
“ Ja , tanks you!” Jan accepted. He was getting more
comfortable with the two words he’d learned. He and Karl unhobbled the
and said to Jan and Elli, “Mighty sorry, sir, ma’am.”
“Well, since Mr. Chance is so concerned with keeping his
‘timetable,’ how ’bout you men give these newcomers a hand unloading their
things? Respectful like . And pick up their food here.”
The men did as Bailey directed. The conductor and another
man dragged their unconscious friend from the boxcar and laid him out on the
prairie grass. Others began to unload and carefully stack the Thoresens’
belongings alongside the tracks.
While some of the men were unloading the first car, several others
helped Jan and Karl drag a crude ramp to their second boxcar, unload the oxen,
and hobble them. A few more handed down wagon parts. Jan and Karl set to work
assembling the wagons. When the men saw what they were doing, they pitched in
to help.
In the meantime, Amalie looked for and found her sewing kit.
She stitched a neat seam up the split in the sack of wheat. Elli and the girls
picked through the dirt, salvaging every kernel they could find. They placed
the dusty wheat in Elli’s apron.
After she and the girls had retrieved all the wheat, Elli
asked for the sack in which Jan and Karl had kept the pegs and pins for the
wagons. She had Kristen hold the sack open while she poured the wheat into it.
Within an hour the three wagons were assembled and the men
had loaded the lumber onto one wagon. Atop the lumber, Karl strapped the new stove
and piping and stacked the bales of hay.
The conductor, not willing to wait any longer, signaled the
engineer to blow the whistle.
“Guess we gotta go,” one of the workers said.
Jan made a point of shaking hands with each man. “Tanks
you,” he said tentatively. He felt silly, but his efforts earned him a proud
smile from Søren. Some of the men clapped him on the shoulder.
All the while, Bailey watched, his face noncommittal, rifle
held casually at his side.
When the train pulled away, the Thoresens stared across the
tracks. They saw a small clearing and a tiny cabin built into the side of a low
hillock.
Beyond that spread the open prairie as far as they could
see.
The ground undulated over swells and mounds; the prairie
grasses shimmered in the midday sun. Jan’s breath left him as he stared.
“You folks all right?” It was the man with the rifle.
Jan and Karl walked over to him. “Tanks you,” Jan said,
hoping his firm handshake and solemn face expressed how grateful they were.
“ Tusen Takk ,” echoed Karl. He pointed to himself.
“Karl Thoresen.” He pointed at Jan. “Jan Thoresen.”
“Robert Bailey. Pleased t’ meetcha.” Bailey was a little
younger than both Jan and Karl. He pointed. “I keep th’ water tower filled.”
Jan called to Søren. When the boy stepped to his side, Jan
put his hand on Søren’s shoulder. “ Jeg sønn, Søren .”
Bailey shook the boy’s hand. “You-all have a lot to do
still.” He pointed at their things spread along the track. “Would you like some
help?”
Jan asked Søren what he said. “I think he would like to
help, Pappa,” Søren replied.
“ Ja , tanks you!”
A woman emerged from the tiny shack. She walked swiftly
toward them, wiping her hands on her apron as she hustled over. “Land sakes,
Mr. Bailey! You shoulda tol’ me we had comp’ny!”
He grinned at her. “They jest got off th’ train, missus.
Name o’ Thoresen. I think they’re brothers. Come meet ’em.”
Mrs. Bailey, weatherworn and feisty, was as plainspoken as
her husband. She shook hands all around. They were all a little awkward with
the language barrier. “Would ya like sumpthin’ t’ eat? Got some soup on th’
back o’ th’ stove and some biscuits.”
“My woman do make good biscuits,” Bailey said proudly.
Søren looked at his father. “They said ‘eat,’ Pappa .”
His stomach growled.
“ Ja , tanks you!” Jan accepted. He was getting more
comfortable with the two words he’d learned. He and Karl unhobbled the
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