Icecutter's Daughter, The Page 9

  Once the train was well down the track, Merrill drew the team up close to one of the large loading doors at Jorgenson Furniture and set the brake. She put aside her blankets and climbed down from the wagon. Merrill debated whether she should manage transporting the pie safe by herself. What would Rurik think of her if she came strolling into the shop carrying the safe the way a man might?

  “I’m being silly,” she told herself. “I can’t worry about what he thinks. I’m a strong, capable woman.”

  Without further consideration, Merrill wrestled the piece from the back of the wagon and maneuvered toward the shop. To her surprise, the large door swung open and with no further warning the pie safe was taken from her arms.

  She knew without seeing him that the man now carrying the piece was Rurik. She followed him into the shop, pulling the large wooden door closed behind her.

  “You should have come to get me,” he said, putting the pie safe on the floor. “I know these aren’t that heavy, but I sure wouldn’t want you to strain yourself.”

  Merrill pulled the scarf from her face and nearly pulled her wool bonnet off at the same time. She quickly attempted to readjust the hat before her unruly hair escaped, but it was no use. Brown-black curls tumbled down over her shoulders in a most improper fashion.

  Rurik’s gaze lingered on her hair before he said in a husky voice, “You should wear it like that more often.”

  Merrill shook her head and attempted to gather the wayward locks. “Granny Lassiter would have my hide. She already gets after me for wearing trousers under my skirts.”

  “In weather this cold, I believe you to be the wisest woman in Waseca.” He reached down for the blanket covering the pie safe. “Now, let’s see what you managed to come up with.” He studied Merrill’s work for a moment. “How long did it take you?”

  “Not that long,” Merrill replied. “I did a bit on each season and let the paint dry. Then I added a little more and let that dry. Keeping the scenes simple, as you suggested, I found the work went fast. Of course, though, you might think the scenes are not detailed enough.”

  He shook his head. “Not at all. I find them charming.” He looked back at her. “I think Uncle Carl will definitely approve. Let me see where he is.”

  Rurik quickly headed off to get his uncle. Merrill couldn’t help but smile to herself. He likes my painting. She recognized the admiration in his eyes and that, coupled with his comment about the scenes being charming, made Merrill quite happy.

  “Ah, Merrill Jean,” Carl said as he came into the finish room. “Rurik tells me you have made something special for us.”

  “Well, that will depend on what you consider special,” she replied. “I only followed Mr. Jorgenson’s instructions.”

  Carl looked at the pie safe and nodded. “You’re right, Rurik. I believe I could sell a hundred of these overnight.” He looked back to Merrill. “I have some fellas coming in from Minneapolis soon. I’ll have them take the piece back with them and secure orders. That is, if you’re interested in painting more of these.”

  “I think I would like to give it a try,” Merrill said. “It will, of course, depend on how much time it takes. I’ll need to speak to Father about the matter to see if he can spare me.”

  “Ja, you do that. I think I’ll have a big demand for this.” Carl returned his gaze to the painted scenes. “But I wouldn’t want to show it to my buyers if you can’t supply us with more.”

  Merrill nodded. “I understand.”

  Rurik smiled at her. “I told you he would like it.” He turned to his uncle. “How about we put in a little workshop for her here? We can purchase whatever paints Miss Krause needs, and since we will already have the pie safes here, it will save the time and effort of transporting them to and from the Krause farm.”

  “Ja, that would be good,” Carl said, nodding. “There’s plenty of room to do that.”

  Merrill frowned. She hadn’t really thought of driving into town every day to work on painting pie safes. How would she keep her household duties under control? She would definitely have to hire a woman to come in. And what would she do with the team? She could hardly afford to stable them each day.

  “I don’t know . . . I mean . . . well, that would take me away from home.” Merrill tried to think of how she might handle the situation.

  “Well, you wouldn’t have to come every day,” Rurik suggested. “Maybe when we have a dozen or more pie safes ready, you could come and paint all of them at once. You mentioned needing to give the scenes time to dry. You could go down the line from one safe to another, and by the time you finished with the last, enough time might have passed for the paint to dry on the first one.”

  Merrill nodded. “I suppose that could work, but I’ll still need to speak with Father on the matter. We’ll need to consider hiring a woman to come help with the chores at the farm . . . then there’s the team. I’ll have to figure out what to do with them.”

  “You can put them in the pen with my horses,” Carl declared. “They should be just fine.”

  It seemed a reasonable conclusion. Merrill couldn’t help but feel excited by the possibility of using her creativity in such a productive way. “I’ll talk to Father this evening.”

  “Good,” Carl replied. “I can talk to Bogart, too, if need be. You just let me know.”

  Then the small side door opened, and a man and woman entered the room. To Merrill’s surprise, the young woman rushed across the room and threw herself into Rurik’s arms.

  “There he is! Oh, Rurik! We’ve found you at last.”

  Merrill looked away rather than let anyone see how stunned she was. The woman’s companion spoke up, however, drawing her attention back to the drama unfolding before her.

  “Svea, you are making a spectacle of yourself.”

  Svea. This woman was Rurik’s fiancée. Merrill felt as if the wind had been knocked from her. She forced herself to stand steady, but in her heart she wanted to run from the room. The last thing in the world she wanted was to encounter the woman who held Rurik’s heart.

  As if reading Merrill’s thoughts, Svea let go of Rurik and turned to Merrill.

  “Goodness,” she said, tipping her head to one side. “We haven’t been introduced, but you probably know I’m Rurik’s intended, Svea Olsson. This is my brother Nils.” She motioned him forward.

  “What . . . what on earth are you doing here?” Rurik asked, looking less than pleased.

  Carl seemed to sense this and stepped forward. “I’m Carl Jorgenson, Rurik’s uncle.”

  “Oh yes,” Svea said, nodding. “I remember you from long ago. You’re the one who taught Rurik to make furniture.”

  “Ja, me and his farfar.” Carl smiled. “And I remember you, too. Although you were much younger then.”

  Svea laughed in a most feminine manner. “But I’m a woman full grown now.”

  Merrill felt like an intruder and wondered how she might slip from the room without being noticed. She wanted nothing more to do with this reunion. But she felt transfixed—helpless to move.

  “May I ask what brings you here?” Rurik said again, this time sounding calmer as he addressed Nils.

  “What a silly question,” Svea said, moving to take hold of his arm. “I came to be with you, Rurik. You wrote to Nils about working here, and when he thought to come, I knew I had to join him.”

  “But I only discussed the possibility of a job,” Rurik said, narrowing his gaze at Nils.

  Nils shrugged apologetically. “I suppose I did get the cart ahead of the horse, but your letter intrigued me, and I didn’t want to wait. Forgive me if this is an intrusion.”

  Rurik seemed unsure of how to proceed. He looked toward Merrill, and for a moment she thought she saw something like regret in his eyes.

  “I need to be on my way,” Merrill finally was able to manage.

  “Are you sure you can’t stay?” Rurik’s question sounded almost desperate.

  She could see Svea was annoyed. “Yes, I
have a great deal to accomplish while I’m in town,” she answered quickly. “It was good to meet you, Miss Olsson . . . Mr. Olsson.” She turned and headed quickly to the door.

  Once outside, Merrill hurried to the wagon, tucking her hair under her bonnet as she went. Her only thought was to get away from the furniture shop as soon as possible. She climbed into the wagon seat, bonnet ties flying in the breeze. Her face tingled from the sharp, cold air, but Merrill ignored it and released the brake.

  “Walk on, Jack. Walk on, Jill. Warmth and good feed await you,” she promised. She took a deep breath to try and get her emotions under control.

  Waseca’s main street bustled with activity, and Merrill found it necessary to weave the team back and forth to avoid pedestrians and other wagons. The horses seemed to understand they were headed for the livery stable, however, and made their way without Merrill having to do much to guide them.

  Once she had arranged for the team’s care, paying for their stabling with a large container of cookies, she took up her shopping basket along with another filled with baked goods for Granny, and made her way to the mercantile. Inside the store, Merrill found her thoughts reliving the encounter at Jorgensons’. Svea Olsson was everything Merrill had imagined her to be: petite, pretty, and fashionable. Svea had blond hair peeking out from her winter bonnet—no doubt the latest style just in from back east, not a redo of someone’s hand-me-down. Merrill frowned at her ungracious attitude and tried not to allow her feelings to consume her, but she had to admit she was jealous. There was no other word for it. Not only was she jealous of Svea’s delicate features, lovely clothing, and appealing figure; Merrill envied her relationship with Rurik, too.

  “Miss Krause,” a deep voice called. “How can I help you today?” The clerk beamed.

  “I have a list,” Merrill said, handing it to him along with the empty basket. “I wonder if you might fill it, and after I visit with Granny Lassiter I can come back to pick it up.”

  “Certainly.” The man looked the paper over. “I presume your pa will want the saw blades he ordered, as well. They came in yesterday.”

  “Yes,” Merrill replied. “I know he’ll be quite happy to hear that news.”

  “Well, you just go on about your business, and I’ll have this ready for you this afternoon. Bring the wagon around back when you’re ready to go, and I’ll get things loaded.”

  “Thank you,” she told the man. “I shouldn’t be much past one.”

  Exiting the store, she caught sight of Rurik and his visitors. Svea held his arm possessively as they entered the hotel across the street.

  “Put it from your mind, Merrill Jean,” she muttered under her breath.

  She hurried toward the residential area, where the Lassiter house welcomed her with the promise of warmth. Granny and Corabeth looked happy to see her as usual and, amidst their rapid chatter, pulled her inside.

  “We wondered if you would make a visit today,” Corabeth enthused. “Didn’t we, Granny?”

  “Looks nice enough outside, but it’s awfully cold,” Granny said, taking the proffered basket from Merrill. “Goodness, but why isn’t your bonnet tied?”

  There was no chance to answer as the older woman pushed Merrill into a seat at the kitchen table and looked through the contents of the basket. “These look most inviting, Merrill. Thank you.” She nodded appreciatively, then continued. “Did you hear the sad news about Mr. Middaugh’s brother, Solomon?” she asked.

  Merrill shook her head and sipped at the tea Corabeth had put in front of her.

  Granny’s expression grew grim. “He was making his way home, driving a wagon of lumber and tin roofing,” she began. “He was about a mile from his house when something happened, and the tongue broke away. The horses were spooked and ran, and of course the wagon could not hold together in all the uproar. It sent poor Solomon into the air and entangled him in one of the wagon wheels. Broke both legs just below the knee.”

  “Oh, how awful,” Merrill said, picturing the terrible scene.

  “That’s not all,” Granny continued. “There was no one around to help him. He had to crawl quite a distance and bled all the way. The only thing that kept him from bleeding to death was the cold. It froze the wounds.”

  Merrill shuddered. “And only a mile from his house?”

  “Yes,” Corabeth nodded, her expression sad. “But he was alone all night.”

  “Some children on their way to school found him the next morning—more dead than alive. He was taken home, but I’m sorry to say he didn’t survive.” Granny shook her head again. “The poor horses were found later. One was still pulling the front axle and one wheel.”

  Merrill could only imagine the fear the horses experienced. “When did this happen?”

  “A couple of weeks ago. Mr. Middaugh posted a letter in the Waseca County Herald.” Granny picked up her teacup. “A person just never knows when life will end,” she went on. “Makes you mindful of eternal matters, doesn’t it?”

  “Life just seems so unpredictable sometimes,” Corabeth said, sounding thoughtful. Merrill wondered if she was thinking about Zadoc.

  Merrill’s own thoughts turned to Svea and Nils Olsson’s surprise visit, and she nodded slowly. “Yes, life is full of surprises, some of them rather unpleasant.” But at their quizzical glances, she quickly changed the subject.

  Chapter 10

  Rurik led the way into the hotel lobby. “I’ll arrange for the depot master to have your bags delivered. This is a nice hotel, and I think you’ll find the rooms comfortable.” He stepped aside as Nils reserved two rooms.

  When they reached room number five, Nils opened the door. It boasted an iron bed, small sofa, and electric lamps. The adjoining room included another bed, rocking chair, and lamp. It seemed to meet with Svea’s approval, and she turned to give Rurik a smile.

  “It will suit us for the time being,” she said, pulling her gloves off.

  “Kind of nice to have electricity, ja?” Rurik said, switching on the lamp. “Uncle Carl has it in the shop, and it’s a lot easier than trying to work by lantern light.”

  “It’s cold in here,” Nils commented.

  “I’ll make sure you have extra blankets. You should be able to get the train back to Kansas tomorrow,” Rurik declared. “I’ll check on the schedule for you.”

  Svea stopped and looked at him with a frown. “We aren’t going back to Kansas tomorrow.”

  “We’ve no reason to go back,” Nils confirmed. “My father has replaced me. He hired a regular office manager. He’s insisting that I get out on my own, so here I am.”

  Rurik shook his head. “But as I told you in the letter, there isn’t a job yet available for you—”

  “I can’t go back.” Nils’s statement was simple and to the point.

  Svea rushed at Rurik, her face a whirlwind of emotions. “You cannot mean to send us away,” she wailed. “I’m here because I decided to forgive you and reinstate our engagement.” She took hold of his arm. “You were very unkind to me, but I believe I understand now. You were just concerned for your uncle. That’s actually quite admirable of you.”

  “I wasn’t being unkind to you, Svea, and there’s nothing for you to forgive . . . unless it’s the fact that I let the engagement go on so long. It truly wasn’t fair to burden you in such a way.”

  She shook her head quickly. “Rurik, our engagement wasn’t a burden, and I resent you suggesting it was. Goodness knows I want to please you, but I cannot acknowledge our engagement as anything but wonderful. I’m sorry I lost my temper back in Lindsborg, but when you said you were going away . . . it frightened me.”

  Rurik looked to Nils, but he only shrugged and walked to the window. Turning back to Svea, Rurik tried to choose his words carefully. “Svea, I’m sorry that I frightened you, but you must understand something.”

  “And what is that?” she asked, obviously trying to sound coy but ending up whining.

  He drew a deep breath. “I do not wish to reinstat
e our engagement.” He wanted to emphasize each word so there was no mistaking his meaning. “After you ended it, I felt nothing but a sense of relief. I’ve long feared that our betrothal was wrong. We are very different, you and I, and I cannot give you the life you desire, with travel—”

  “You brought me here to Waseca,” she put in stubbornly.

  “I didn’t bring you here,” he said, shaking his head. “In fact, I had no idea you were coming at all. I’m sorry if that offends or hurts you.”

  “You’re simply surprised to see us.” Svea threw her gloves onto the bed. “I can’t blame you. We probably should have sent a wire to let you know we were arriving, but then that would have ruined the surprise.”

  Nils turned at this. “You have to understand, Rurik, Svea and I have long pinned our hopes on you.”

  Rurik was perplexed at this statement. “I can’t imagine why.” He looked between the two of them, trying to figure out what he wasn’t understanding about all this.

  “Can’t you?” Nils crossed the room. “You and I have been best friends all of our lives. We’d always planned to work together. I’ve not changed my mind on that matter, and your letter to me showed that you hadn’t either.”

  “I wrote to let you know of future possibilities, Nils, but they were only possibilities. My uncle wants to take me as a partner in his business. He wishes to expand and add additional workers. I told him of the plans you and I had to open a shop together, and he mentioned that it might work to hire you on to manage the office. But that was something to consider for the future. There is no job available for you at this time.”

  “Then I’ll find something else until you can work it out,” Nils said. He brushed back the dark blond hair over his left eye. “I’m sure you can convince your uncle to bring me in sooner than he planned. You’ve always had a way of setting things right.”

  Rurik took a long breath, looking from Nils to Svea and back again. “I cannot force you to leave, but you must know that I have no intention of marrying you, Svea, or of pressing my uncle to employ you, Nils. I only wrote to let you know there might one day be a position. I was concerned you might think I’d forgotten our plans if you heard from my brother that Carl wanted to make me a partner. I’m sorry if you read any other intention in my letter.”