Larkspur Read online

  She leaned closer to the mirror. Faint lines of worry had appeared lately between her brows and at the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her face had a pensive look. The shadows beneath her eyes told of sleepless nights. Her wide mouth, its lower lip fuller and softer than the upper one, was turned down at the corners, reflecting her less than happy mood.

  Ferd had called her a spinster. She guessed she was, but she had not thought much about it. She had been courted by several men when she was younger. None suited her brother, which had not mattered because none had suited her either. Now word was out that a man had to go first through Ferd to reach his sister, and lately not one had thought the effort worthwhile except for a couple of widowers who had been left with young children and little else. The thought of bedding with either of them made Kristin’s stomach heave.

  She had not settled as happily and as gratefully into the life of sister-servant as Andora and Ferd had believed. The girls, ages six and eight, were resentful of her authority. Andora indulged them in whatever they wanted to do, and of late they had begun to follow their mother’s example and treat their aunt as a servant in the house.

  Many times, when resentment bubbled up in Kristin, she longed to have something of her own and to see some of life other than the small confines of her brother’s house here in River Falls, Wisconsin. Cousin Gustaf had helped to feed that ambition. He had told her of life beyond this small town and had even urged her to consider taking a position as governess or housekeeper in Eau Claire or St. Paul. Until now she had not had the courage to make the break.

  Her life had taken a sudden change when the letter had come from Yarby Anderson’s solicitor, a Mr. Mark Lee, telling her that after his being missing for a year, Yarby’s remains had been found and identified. In a will dated twenty years earlier, when Kristin was four years old, he had left her all of his worldly possessions, which now consisted of ranchland called Larkspur.

  To Kristin, who had never had more than five dollars of her own to do with as she pleased, it was a miracle. She had been elated until Gustaf had explained that several thousand acres of land in Montana might not equal forty acres of good farmland in Wisconsin.

  Nevertheless it was something.

  Kristin sat down in her mother’s rocker. She would have liked to grieve for this uncle who had remembered her in his will, but she was not very successful. She had never seen him and all she knew of him was from what Gustaf remembered about him and that he had written her mother two letters after her father had died. She had searched the trunk for them, but they seemed to have disappeared. It gave Kristin a warm feeling to know that somewhere there had been a man who had cared enough about her to bequeath her some property.

  She’d had no idea the furor that would result when she showed the letter to Ferd. He railed against Uncle Yarby for being so stupid as to leave an estate to a woman, railed at the time it would take to get the estate settled and the money in the bank.

  After a week of hearing about the wrong done in her favor to the rest of the family, Kristin began to get not only stubborn but angry. She decided that if it was the last thing she did on earth, she was going to see this land that was hers now and stand at the grave of the man who had left it to her. She had every legal right to go there, and she was backed by her cousin, who insisted that he finance the trip. She accepted after promising to return the money as soon as the estate was settled.

  Kristin and Gustaf had been born on the same day on adjoining farms. They had played together as children and had gone to school together. At sixteen Gustaf had left the farm to work on the boats carrying freight up and down the Mississippi River. Since then he had come home, at times, to help his brothers put in the crops or to harvest them, considering it his duty to help provide for his mother and unmarried sister.

  Ferd considered Gustaf a man without substance, but her cousin had always been dear to Kristin, and she looked forward to his visits home. Without Gustaf’s urging, Kristin doubted that she would have had the courage to defy Ferd and set out on this long and uncertain journey.

  Heavens! The farthest she had been from home was Eau Claire, and that was only one time when Ferd wanted her to tend the children while he and Andora mixed with the social set.

  The lamplight threw Kristin’s shadow on the wall. She watched it as she rocked. It was very strange to be sitting here, ready to leave this place where she had spent the past ten years. It didn’t seem that any of this had really happened. She wished with all her heart that she wasn’t leaving with an irreparable rift between herself and her brother.

  What in the world would she do if this turned out to be a hoax and there was no inheritance? She would do as she had always done, she told herself sternly. She was not helpless. She could cook and sew and . . . milk cows.

  I’m sure they have dairy farms in Montana.

  Chapter Two

  Dawn came.

  Kristin had slept only fitfully all night. For the last hour she had been awake and listening for the birds to chirp in the trees above the house and for the roosters on the next street to announce the new day. At the first sound she got out of bed, went to the window and looked out. The sky was clear. This was the first day of her new life. She would be starting it in fine weather.

  After lighting the lamp, Kristin used the chamber pot. She usually waited until she was dressed and then went to the outhouse, but this morning she felt defiant. She smiled knowing that her bit of revenge was childish.

  How long would it be before Andora thought to empty the pot?

  Last night anger and hurt had vied with one another in her heart, but this morning she felt as brave as an angry lioness. During the night the fear of the long journey and what she would find at the end of it had left her. Come what might, she would at least see another part of the world. She washed her face and hands in cold water from the pitcher, not bothering to fetch warm from the cookstove reservoir. She dressed, braided her hair and fastened the coils around her head with the large ivory hairpins Gustaf had brought her from some faraway place. Her stomach growled as she put the small-brimmed straw hat on her head and secured it with a hatpin. She had been so nervous last night that she had scarcely eaten anything at all.

  She had been careful with what she packed to take with her. Besides her clothes and a few mementos, she took only what she had brought with the dollar a month Ferd had given her for her special use after she had nagged him for weeks because she wanted to buy a real toothbrush.

  The house was quiet as she carried her baggage out to the front yard. She struggled with the small trunk, returned for the box and then for the bag and shawl she would carry on the train. Gustaf was coming to take her to Eau Claire to catch the train. Train. Never had she imagined that she would be going to a distant land on a train. With her baggage piled just inside the yard gate, she returned to the house one last time to pause in the front hall and listen. No footsteps sounded from the upper rooms. All was still.

  Ferd was not coming down to say good-bye.

  By the time she returned to the front gate, Gustaf had arrived. Dear Gustaf. What would she do without him? He hopped down from the buggy and tied the horse to the hitching post. The cousins could have passed for twins though Gustaf was a half head taller than Kristin and his blond hair was a shade darker. It matched the rakish mustache on his upper lip. He wore a smile on his handsome face. His eyes went past Kristin to the darkened house.

  “Ole Ferd still got a kink in his tail?” Gustaf picked up the trunk and carried it to the boot of the buggy.

  “He’s terribly angry.”

  “He’ll get over it.” Gustaf settled her box beside the trunk, then with his hand beneath her elbow, he helped her up into the buggy.

  “No. He told me never to come back.”

  “He said that?”

  “And more.” Kristin flipped the shawl around her shoulders to ward off the morning chill.

  “The man’s a fool,” Gustaf growled as they drove away.

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sp; Kristin, her heart aching, looked back at the house to see if Ferd or Andora had relented and had stepped out onto the porch to wave good-bye.

  The door was closed. The porch was empty.

  The streets of River Falls lay empty except for a few merchants sweeping the walks and porches as they prepared for a new business day. They turned to stare at the buggy and to wonder what Ferd Anderson’s sister and her vagabond cousin were doing out so early. Gustaf chuckled at their curiosity and saluted gaily as the buggy passed. The only sound was the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves on the brick-paved street.

  Kristin gloried in a mounting sense of freedom. Was this how a small bird felt when it left the nest and flew for the first time?

  “Hungry?” They had left the town and were on the open road to Eau Claire.

  “You heard my stomach growl,” Kristin accused.

  “Naw. I figured ya’d have a big ruckus with Ferd and be too upset to eat. Ma fixed a basket. It’s there under the seat.”

  “Bless Aunt Ingrid.” Kristin lifted the basket up onto the seat between them.

  “The fritters are on top. The rest is for ya to take with ya. It should last all day and part of tomorrow. By then you’ll be in Fargo, where you change trains. Ya can refill it there with food enough to last until ya get to Big Timber.”

  “Won’t buying food at the station cost a lot of money?” Kristin took a bite of the fritter.

  “Ya got to eat. Ferd didn’t give ya a dime, did he?”

  “No.” Kristin would have been embarrassed to admit this to anyone but her cousin. “Gustaf, I’ll pay back every cent—”

  “Hush about payback. Ya’ve got crumbs on your mouth.”

  “Ferd will tell your brothers that you gave me the money. They’ll be angry knowing you had it and didn’t put it toward your mother and sister’s keep.”

  “I give them money each time I come home, and I take nothin’ from the farm. Lars and Kevin will tell Ferd to mind his own business. I’d go with ya, Kris, but I promised to stay until Lars gets on his feet.”

  “How is he?”

  “He’s gettin’ around on a crutch. He should be all right in a few weeks.”

  “I wish you were coming now.”

  “Ya’ll be all right. Get a room in the hotel in Big Timber and look up that solicitor. What’s his name?”

  “Mark Lee.”

  “If ya need me, send a wire in care of Tommy Bragg.” He gave her an impish grin. She grinned back.

  “You’re setting me up good and proper. Ferd Anderson’s spinster sister leaves town and wires the notorious town rascal.”

  “Don’t sign it. I’ll know who it’s from.”

  “So will the rest of the town if it comes from Big Timber.”

  “Do ya care?”

  “I thought I would, but I don’t. Oh, Gus, what if it’s all a hoax? What if the inheritance doesn’t amount to a hill of beans?”

  “Then ya’ve had a grand adventure out of it.”

  “But . . . I can’t come back.”

  “I’ll come to wherever ya are and snag ya a rich husband.”

  “Oh, Gus. Be serious. I haven’t heard a word from that Mr. Lenning who has been managing the property.”

  “He’s probably an old goat like Yarby and can’t write. I betcha Ferd’s heard plenty from Lee.”

  “No! You think he’d do that and not tell me?”

  “Hell, yes! When we get to Eau Claire, I’m going to send a wire to Mark Lee and tell him to be expecting ya. I’ll also tell him that if he don’t treat ya right, I’ll come out there and bust his head.”

  “You can’t say that in a wire.”

  “No, but he’ll get the message.”

  Kristin put the basket back down on the floor of the buggy. Aunt Ingrid had packed slices of bread and butter, cheese, hard-boiled eggs, apples and fritters.

  “What time does the train go?”

  “Eleven o’clock. We’ve plenty of time. Nervous?”

  “A little.”

  “Ya’ll be fine. Just remember what I said about not making eye contact with a man that’s giving you the once-over. Be alert and act as if you owned the world. A stuck-up woman will turn a fellow off quicker than anything if he’s got any brains. If he has none, use your hatpin. If that doesn’t work, use the pistol to discourage him.”

  Kristin laughed. “I doubt that I’ll be bothered all that much.”

  “You’ll be noticed, you can bet your boots on that. You’re pretty, Kris. I’ve been telling you that for years.”

  “Oh, pooh! You say that because you like me.”

  “I’d say it if I didn’t like you. I’ve been up and down the river a dozen times and seen all kinds. You’re a handsome woman and you got brains, which is more than that worthless piece of fluff Ferd married has.”

  Kristin laughed. “You talk as though men will be following me as if I were the Pied Piper.”

  “Who’s he?” Gustaf screwed his bill cap down tighter on his blond head.

  “Way back in the thirteenth century the town of Hamelin in Germany was plagued with rats. A mysterious stranger came and offered to rid the town of the pests. He played his pipe, and the rats came swarming out of the buildings and followed him to the river, where they drowned.”

  Kristin knew how Gustaf loved a story so she continued.

  “When the town leaders refused to pay the piper, he returned and once more played his pipe. This time all the children in town followed him. He led them to the mountains and they were never heard from again.”

  “Yo’re pulling my leg. It ain’t true . . . is it?”

  “It’s a legend. Robert Browning told the story in his poem, The Pied Piper of Hamelin.”

  “Don’t that beat all?”

  “Oh, Gustaf!” Kristin looked at her cousin with tears in her eyes. “You’re my dearest friend. I’m going to miss you.”

  “Well, I should hope so. Not every young lady has such a handsome cousin.”

  “Nor such a . . . boastful one.” Kristin sniffed back the tears.

  “I’ll come out to Big Timber as soon as I can cut loose from the farm.”

  “Gustaf! Will you? When did you decide that?”

  “ ’Bout two minutes ago.” He grinned. “I always wanted to see what was over the mountain.”

  “How will you come? Will you have the money?”

  “A man needs no more than two hands and a strong back to get to where he wants to go.”

  As they approached the outskirts of Eau Claire they heard a train whistle. Gustaf pulled his watch from his pocket.

  “That one’s not yours. We’ve got an hour.”

  Five minutes later Gustaf was unloading her trunk and box on the depot platform. Kristin stepped down from the buggy and walked with him into the station. Her heart was beating so fast that she could hardly breathe. The agent spoke to Gustaf.

  “Hello, Gus. This the young lady going out to Big Timber? Ain’t never sold a ticket to that place before. Guess it’s a wide spot in the road from what I hear. Got baggage?”

  “A box and a trunk out on the platform.”

  “I’ll tag ’em. Here’s your ticket, young lady. When you get to St. Paul, the train will sit there for half an hour. Stay put while another engine hooks on. You’ll ride that car to Fargo, where you’ll change cars, maybe even trains. Your baggage will follow you and be unloaded at Big Timber.”

  “Will it be night when I get to Fargo?”

  The agent consulted a schedule. “Midnight. Westbound leaves at 5:00 A.M. Don’t worry though, ma’am. The station agent will be there. Show him your ticket, and he’ll see that you get on the train. You’ll have another layover at Miles City and reach Big Timber Wednesday evening about six o’clock.”

  Back out on the platform Kristin stood beside Gustaf and looked down the tracks. The heavy hand of loneliness gripped her, wrapping its icy fingers around her heart. She reached for Gustaf’s arm.

  “Am I doing the right thing, Gus?�
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  “To my way of thinking ya had two choices.” Gustaf’s eyes settled on her anxious face. “A person’s got to go forward or stand still. Ya could have stood still and been a servant in your brother’s house for the rest of yore life. Yo’re too much of a woman for that. Uncle Yarby gave ya a chance to get out. You’d a been a fool not to take it.”

  “You’re right, of course.”

  “If I had thought ya couldn’t take care of yourself, I’d not have let ya go. You’ve got money to live for a few weeks and still enough to come back.”

  “I can’t come back.”

  “Yes, ya can. Ya can come to the farm.”

  “There’s so many there that—”

  “—Just till ya get settled. But ya won’t have to do that. I’ll come out to Big Timber in a few weeks. Maybe ya’ll give your poor relation a job.”

  “Oh, Gus!” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’ve always seen the bright side of things.”

  “Of course,” he said jauntily. “I’m a fine fellow.”

  From a distance came the sound of the train whistle. A drummer came out of the station and set a large bag on the edge of the platform. On the side of the bag was printed: AMERICAN THREAD COMPANY.

  A richly dressed young couple with eyes only for each other stood with hands clasped—a new hatbox and carpetbag at their feet. In comparison, Gustaf looked shabby in his baggy pants and soft-billed cap. But to Kristin he was a rock, her anchor in a sea of sudden confusion.