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IT WAS NEARING THE end of summer. Life for the Thoresens had settled into something of a routine. Jan and Karl had planted a few fields and harvested the early corn patch; a second field of corn was ripening quickly. Elli and Amalie were feeding their families from the green garden and canning or drying all they could from its bounty.
Søren milked Molly twice every day. She was a good producer; they drank all the milk they wanted and still shared some with the Andersons; the women made butter and cheese with what was left over.
Abigael had her baby, another boy, and Amalie grew rounder as her pregnancy progressed. A neighbor from farther west, Norvald Bruntrüllsen and his son, Ivan, drove over to make their acquaintance.
“I am sorry we did not come to meet you earlier,” he apologized. “This spring I had decided to break sod on another field. I know you have found how long this takes.”
The men talked crops for an hour. Søren, delighted to see another boy his age, showed Ivan everything the small beginnings of their farm had to offer. Ivan was impressed with their pigs.
The boar was coming into his size, and it was considerable. The sow was not far behind him in weight. In the spring when they were both a year old, the Thoresens would mate them.
“You brought them on the ship, eh? I’ll bet they were a lot smaller then.”
“Oh, ja. Just weaners,” Søren replied. “I could hold them in my arms like big puppies when we left.” They wandered back to listen the men talk.
“Some of the farmers around here have decided to take our corn and wheat to Omaha together,” Norvald was saying. “We can sell our corn to the feedlots there and negotiate a better price for our wheat if we sell it to the eastern buyers at the same time.”
Jan and Karl were keen to hear more.
“We heard you have four oxen and three wagons,” Bruntrüllsen continued, “but perhaps not a big enough harvest this first year to fill all your wagons? If this is so, we were thinking to make you a proposition.”
It was true that Jan and Karl would not have much to send to market this first year. In fact, of every crop they grew, they had to save back some for feed, some for seed, and enough to eat until the next harvest. What remained over and above these needs could go to market. The Thoresens would have little corn and wheat to send this first year.
“Ja, we are listening,” Karl answered.
“We propose that you load what you have into a wagon. We will send responsible men to fetch your teams and wagons. Two of our neighbors have offered to pair their mules to pull your third wagon. The men we send will load your wagons with crops others have grown and haul them to the siding where the train stops for water. We will take your crops to market for you and barter something in return for the use of your oxen and wagons.”
Karl and Jan both became quiet. They would not allow their oxen out of their direct control to men they had just met.
Jan cleared his throat. “Perhaps one of us will come along.” Karl was relieved; Jan had said just the right thing.
Bruntrüllsen nodded. “Good; I said as much to the others. What would you like in return? We thought a calf. A heifer.”
Karl and Jan looked at each other. It was a generous offer. “Ja,” Karl answered. “We agree!”
“Most families are also sending supply lists to Omaha with us,” he told the Thoresens. “We will keep accounts of every man’s crops, how much they sold for, and how much we spend at the grocers and hardware stores to fill his list.”
Norvald showed Jan a small book of lined pages. “Here are last year’s accounts. Only four of us farmers did this last year. They voted to send me to Omaha with the crops. You can see how I managed each man’s account.”
“It is a big job,” Jan noted, appreciating the careful figures under each man’s name. “How many farmers are sending crops this year?”
“Eleven, now that you and your brother have joined us,” Norvald answered. “The farmers voted for me and Klaus Schöener to take the crops this year.”
He smiled. “We may fill two rail cars this year! I will keep the accounts the same way so that every man may see what he has earned and what we spent for him.”
“Will we not pay you and Klaus for your work for us?” Karl asked.
“Ja; We agreed that whoever takes the crops will split two percent of every man’s earnings. See here,” Norvald pointed to Klaus’ earnings from the previous fall. “Klaus earned $75 last year. I kept $1.50 for taking it to market. Also, we split the cost of the cars and my ticket back.”
Karl and Jan were impressed with the system the farmers were putting together. “This is a good way to do business, Norvald,” they both told him.
Elli and Amalie set to work cutting burlap and stitching bags together for the corn and grain they would send to market. Elli taught Kristen how to seam the coarse, open-weave fabric using a whip stitch.
They decided that Karl would stay on the claims with their families and Jan would drive one of the wagons. Jan would carry a list of items they had carefully made for Norvald and Klaus Schöener to fill. Jan planned to be gone two days.
On the appointed day Karl and Jan had their teams hitched and their crop loaded. The four sacks of corn and six sacks of wheat did not fill even half of one wagon, but it was all they could spare. Norvald and a farmer they did not know, Gunnar Braun, arrived on horseback with a team of mules for the third wagon.
Jan returned two days later with Gunnar and two of the wagons. A week later, Norvald returned their third wagon and brought the supplies they had requested. Behind the wagon he led a late-born calf.
Jan and Karl were pleased with the bargain they had struck and more pleased with their neighbors and the system they had devised to send their crops to market.
“Will you come to church with us?” Norvald asked. “It is a German church and a little strict, but they accept us Swedes.” He shrugged. “Sometimes we don’t understand everything, ja? But it is a good church with good people.
“I will warn you in advance that there are many differences between this German church and what you are accustomed to back home. Still, it is good to sing the hymns and hear God’s word and pray together. I have asked Henrik and Abigael also.”
Jan glanced at Karl. “We should go. We will meet new people and perhaps find out more about the neighborhood. Søren needs to meet other boys. Perhaps we can ask about school.”
Karl looked a little askance. “Is that why we go to church? Just to meet people?” He shook his head dismissively and turned to Norvald. “Ja, we will come.”
Karl did not seem to notice Jan’s clenched jaw and white face, but Norvald glanced between the two brothers. He made his goodbyes and the family drove away.
As soon as their friends were out of earshot, Jan turned on Karl. “Listen to me, brother. You do not correct me in front of our neighbors as if I were a child.” His anger was simmering, rising quickly to the boiling point.
Karl stepped back, surprised that Jan was angry. “What? Are you angry for those few words?”
Perhaps if Karl had stopped there or had apologized, the situation would not have escalated. But he added, “Brother, I would not have spoken like that if you had not said a childish thing!”
Jan’s fist shot out and clipped Karl’s jaw. Karl staggered back, stunned.
“So? Why did you do this, Bror?” He touched his chin, still confounded.
Jan was already walking away, his strides long and angry. He strode past Amalie and Søren, not acknowledging them. They had both witnessed the short yet explosive argument.
Søren ran crying to his Mor, unable to understand what he’d seen and terrified by it.
—
“JAN, YOU MUST TELL me what you are feeling,” Elli pleaded. “Please.” Jan had fled to the other side of the low rise on which he planned to build their house, where he had stood that first day surveying their land.
It was hard for Jan to speak of his feelings to Elli, to anyone for that matter. But he knew, instinctively, that the anger seething within him was dangerous. It may have been easy to forget about it while he and Karl labored through the summer, but it was clear that the anger was still there.
I know this anger is not pleasing to you, Lord. Jan’s mind and heart were in a tumult of confusing emotions.
“Ach, my love, it seems I am always struggling so with my temper,” he finally muttered.
“Ah.” Elli was quiet for a minute. Then she asked, “Is it your temper that is the real problem?”
Jan rubbed his face. “What do you mean?”
“I know you, ektemann—my husband. You are not often angry, but when you are it is almost always with Karl, not so?”
Jan was silent but his anger shouted yes! within him.
“You and Karl are different. He is more like your far, serious, maybe even a little cold at times. I think you rub him the wrong way sometimes and I know he rubs you the wrong way sometimes.”
Jan expelled his pent-up breath. “You make it sound simple, but it isn’t. Karl acts as though I live in his home and I am to obey him as we obeyed our far. This is not how it is, and I cannot let him continue acting so.”
Elli nodded. “I know. I have seen it, too. But I think the real problem is that you have never told him how you feel and how it damages your relationship. You must have a good talk with him. Explain to him why you are angry. Explain how things need to change, that he must treat you as an equal, ja? But not while you are angry. The Bible says we are to speak the truth with love, so you must do it when you are calm.”
Jan considered Elli’s advice. “Perhaps you are right. I will pray on it.”
~~**~~
