Chapter
16

We’re almost there.” Nilda turned to Ivar, who stood beside her at the deck rail.

He shook his head. “I have to pinch myself to be sure this is real.”

The ship on which they were crossing the Great Lakes to Duluth, Minnesota, had bucked winds, but nothing like those on their Atlantic crossing. Nilda had gained a new appreciation for the power of wind and water that could toss a huge ship around like a toy.

A man on the other side of Ivar pointed to a lighthouse on the southern shore. The light was not shining, as it was daytime, but the stubby white tower and its red roof still showed prominently, guiding ships away from the rocks. They had seen such beauty when they sailed close to the lake shores, but mostly they steamed out far enough to feel like they might still be on the ocean.

Almost there. Such magical words. The announcement that they were two hours from Duluth had come a bit earlier, bringing her to the rail where Ivar had spent most of the voyage.

“I think I could be happy working on a ship like this.” He smiled at her over his shoulder.

“Doing what?”

“There are a lot of men working to keep this ship moving. Not like it used to be with sails, but still.”

Nilda sniffed. “Well, it’s a good thing you have a job to go to. You always said you wanted to be a lumberjack.”

“But I’d never been on a big ship before. A fishing boat is far different. And I really enjoyed that work as an orderly on the ocean steamer. Something else I’d love to do.” Ivar had spent one summer aboard a relative’s boat, fishing off the northern Norwegian coast. Their onkel had asked him to come back again this year because he was a hard worker, but Ivar said he was going to Amerika instead. “I heard there are fishing boats out of Duluth,” he said to the man next to him.

“Ja, good fishing in the Great Lakes,” the man replied, “but from what I heard, the storms can be killers of both boats and men in these waters. Even big cargo ships like those hauling timber or iron ore sometimes end up on the bottom of the lake.”

“Hard to believe on a day like today,” Ivar said. The sun winked on the swells, and a breeze brought smells of land and sea and coal smoke.

Nilda asked the man, “You came on the same ship we did, right?”

“Ja, that was a nightmare to end all nightmares. I don’t ever want to make that voyage again. I come to Amerika to stay.” Since they were all speaking Norwegian, the conversation was easy.

“What are you going to do when you land?” Ivar asked.

“Work for a relative in his lumberyard.”

“Oh, where?”

“Place called Blackduck.”

“That’s where we’re going.” Nilda smiled at him. “I know we’ve not been formally introduced, but this is my brother Ivar Carlson, and I am Miss Nilda Carlson. We’re joining our brother and his family, who work for an onkel somewhere near Blackduck.”

The man took off his hat, the breeze immediately lifting his hair and dropping a hank down his forehead. “I am Petter Thorvaldson, from near Bergen.” He put out his hand. “I am glad to meet you both.”

Nilda noticed his crinkly blue eyes, square chin, and mouth rimmed by smile-made creases. Taller than Ivar by only an inch or so, he had broader shoulders and hands calloused by hard work. She bit back her first question and tried to rephrase it. “You are the first of your family to emigrate?”

“I am. In Norway, I worked on a fishing boat and helped my far on our mountain farm.”

Ivar grinned. “Me, too. Did you like fishing?”

“Not particularly, but it was work. Mor always said to be grateful for any honest work. But when I saw a man washed overboard, I decided I would rather work on land if I can.”

He did not mention a wife and children. Nilda tucked that knowledge away for future reference.

Sea gulls and huge, low-flying white birds caught her attention. When one of the white birds dove straight down into the water, she pointed for Ivar to look. The bird popped back up to the surface with a fish in his bill, which he swallowed with one gulp. Broad wings spread and flapped him back up to skim the waves again.

“What kind of bird is that?”

“A pelican,” Petter answered. “You saw that big pouch under his beak? He can hold a whole lot of fish before he needs to swallow.”

“I’ve never seen anything like that.” Ivar was openmouthed.

They watched as several more pelicans dove, gulped, and flapped aloft again. Sea gulls screeched overhead and floated on the surface of the water.

“Must be a bait ball,” Petter said as the pelicans wheeled and skimmed back. “A huge cluster of small fish will gather in one spot, swimming in a tight knot. Even when sea birds pick off some of them, most of them are safe.” He pointed to the stern of the ship, where seagulls circled and screamed, fighting each other for the scraps dumped from the galley. “That is always fun to watch. Sea gulls are such scavengers.”

The hills and piers of Duluth hove into view. Cargo ships, fishing boats, and tugs with barges of iron ore, logs, and finished lumber lined the piers, some waiting out in the bay for a place to dock.

The engines slowed their rumble and brought the ship to a stop about half a mile out. “We will be docking within the hour,” a voice announced. “Be ready to disembark from the main deck. Your baggage will be unloaded from the hold and can be claimed on the pier.”

Nilda felt shivers run up and down her spine. They were almost to Duluth. How far away was the train station? And how would they transport their big trunks to the train?

“Do you have baggage?” Petter asked.

“We do, several trunks and a wooden crate,” Ivar said.

“I would be glad to help you, since we’re both heading to the train. I only have one case and a shoulder pack.”

Nilda smiled her gratitude. “Takk. I heard someone say there are wagoners and draymen to hire.”

“I will ask.”

Nilda nodded in thanks and pleasure. Surely a train ride would give them a chance to get to know Petter better.

They were all huffing by the time they had pushed the four-wheeled station cart from the pier to the train station. Nilda carried the carpetbags she and Ivar had used on the ship, just in case they needed something from them. All their letters and ticket information were in her reticule.

The next train to Blackduck would be in two hours. They parked the cart and sank down on the benches in front of the station.

Dark clouds rolled in and hid the sun, bringing with them wind strong enough to tug at her hat. Nilda clapped her hand on top of it in case the hat pins slipped out. After three drops of rain as a prelude, the downpour hit.

“Get inside before you are soaked,” Ivar told her. He grabbed the carpetbags and pushed through the doorway of the station. The pounding of rain on the roof sounded more like thunder than falling rain.

“Our trunks,” Nilda said, peering at their car through a window.

“They should be able to withstand a rainstorm.”

“But what if they leak and everything gets wet?”

“Better them than us.”

“Come on, I’ll help you.” Petter stood and settled his hat more firmly on his head. Ivar groaned but got to his feet.

“I’ll hold the door,” Nilda said.

She pulled one side of the double door inward. The two men shoved the cart through the door and then stood in the doorway, watching the rain.

Thunder boomed right over them, lightning jagging the sky at almost the same moment. A pine tree at the west end of the station exploded, showering burning branches and needles on the platform and across the tracks. Within minutes, the downpour had drowned out even that fire.

“That was close,” said the clerk who had been behind the ticket window. “Took the tree instead of the train station. Thought we’d be hightailing it out of here for sure. Where you folks bound for?”

“Blackduck.”

“You all have your tickets?”

Nilda patted her reticule and Petter his chest pocket.

“Good, good. Blackduck your destination?”

“It is mine,” Petter answered.

“Nei, we go on to Benson’s Corner.” Nilda and Ivar spoke at almost the same time.

“You’re going to spend the night in Blackduck, then. The next train to Red Lake that stops in Benson’s Corner doesn’t leave until morning.”

Nilda groaned, and Ivar heaved a sigh. “Takk, I guess.”

“They don’t have a hotel there, but there’s an inn of sorts. And some households take in paying guests.”

As if we had money to spend on a night in a hotel. Nilda looked at her trunk. There were two quilts in there. Sleeping on hard benches in the Blackduck station would be better than on the floor.

“I could go to my cousin’s house and see if they have room,” Petter offered.

“Have you ever met your cousin?” Nilda asked.

“Not since I was very young, but his mor is my favorite tante. He is ten years or more older than I am.”

The incoming train whistle made them pause.

“That will be the train you want.” The railroad man headed for his office. “The baggage car is next to the caboose. You all have a good trip now.”

When the train screeched to a stop, they pushed the luggage cart out into the downpour. Nilda followed, but the conductor waved her over to the steps leading to the passenger car. Once inside, she found two seats facing each other and sank into one. Her coat was wet clear through, and her hat dripped rainwater down her face.

“Oh, dear, here let me help you.” An older woman in the seat behind her stood and helped Nilda take off her coat. “Do you have a sweater or anything else to put on so you don’t catch your death of a chill?”

“Nei.” Death of a chill. Nilda had no idea what the woman was talking about. She and Ivar may have taken lessons in English, but obviously they would need many more. She smiled at the lady, unpinned her hat, and dropped it on the seat.

Ivar and Petter came up the steps, and the conductor called “all aboard.” The train shrieked and screeched as it eased forward, picking up speed with every turn of the wheels.

“Sir, do you have any towels or blankets for these young people, to dry them off?” the older lady asked the conductor.

“Not that I know of.”

She turned to Ivar and Petter. “You two, get your coats off and hang them over one of the seat backs.” She might be aging, with her silver hair in a bun, but she knew how to give orders—and clearly expected to be obeyed. She looked back at the conductor. “Well, are you going to go check?”

“Yes, madam.”

“Here.” She put her black wool coat around Nilda’s shoulders.

“But I’ll get it wet,” Nilda protested.

“That coat has been wet before and getting wet again won’t hurt it.”

Nilda could pick up most of what the woman said. She had a great deal of trouble separating out the words, even though the lady did not speak rapidly.

As the train picked up speed, a draft blew down the aisle, making Nilda wish she could take off her wool stockings and tuck her feet under her skirt, which had been protected by her coat. It was May, but right now it felt like winter was trying to repossess the land.

The older woman frowned at Ivar and Petter. “And you young men, even your shirts are wet.”

“No worry, we will dry. Takk for your concern.” Ivar said.

When the conductor returned with several dish towels, the lady tsked in disapproval. “That is all you could find?”

“Sorry, madam.”

She handed each of them a towel. “Dry your hair and what you can, and then we are going to the dining car for a pot of hot coffee.” She looked at the conductor. “The dining car is open, I take it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He checked his watch. “Or at least it will be in a few minutes. There will be an announcement.”

The woman looked at Nilda. “You might want to go to the women’s restroom and see if you can brush your hair dryer, then put it up again. Then we shall have our coffee.”

Nilda dug into her carpetbag. “Ja. Please, I don’t know what to call you.”

“I am Mrs. Schoenleber.”

Nilda introduced the three of them. “We truly appreciate your help.”

But why are you doing this? Obviously the woman was wealthy. The quality of the wool and the cut of the coat hanging on Nilda’s shoulders said that, if nothing else did. Mrs. Schoenleber’s suit was tastefully accented with jet beads, and a cameo brooch at the high collar said “money.” Her hat, with its elegant black feather and fine veil, perched on her roll of silver hair, said so even more clearly.

Nilda had seen women dressed like this on the steamship, but only from a distance, as their quarters were on the upper deck, not down on the lower decks. Why was this woman helping emigrants like them?

The dining car opening was announced, though Nilda caught only a few of the words. Mrs. Schoenleber herded the three of them down the aisle and through the doors connecting the two cars.

“Well, good afternoon, Mrs. Schoenleber,” said the steward in the dining car. “Where would you like to be seated?”

Ivar and Nilda exchanged looks. The people on the train knew her name, who she was.

“There will be fine. We will have a pot of coffee immediately and then we will see about what else. These young people need to be warmed up.”

“Yes, madam.” He seated them and stood a menu in front of each. “Your coffee will be right here. Do any of you take cream or sugar?”

They started to shake their heads, but Mrs. Schoenleber intervened. “Just bring them, thank you.”

The dining car was so elegant. Blindingly white tablecloths and napkins, a small vase with a pink flower in the metal rack that held silver salt and pepper shakers, and polished silverware at each place setting—so many genteel touches. The food here must cost a fortune. How would Nilda and Ivar pay for this?

“Now then,” Mrs. Schoenleber said, “as soon as we are served, you can tell me about yourselves and where you are going.”

A waiter set cups and saucers at each place and then filled each cup full of steaming coffee.

Mrs. Schoenleber perused the menu. “Bring us a plate of these hors d’oeuvres and one of fruit. And then we’ll see.” She closed her menu and handed it to the waiter without looking. “Now, I take it you were on the ship that docked early this afternoon. Did they serve you dinner first?”

Ivar nodded. “Ja, we had soup and bread.”

“But you could eat a sandwich or something now?” She looked from Petter to Ivar. “Are you three related?”

They all shook their heads.

“We met on the ship just this morning,” Nilda answered when it seemed the two men were more interested in their coffee. “Ivar is my younger brother, and we are going to work for an onkel near Benson’s Corner.”

Petter added, “I have come to work for my cousin, who manages a lumberyard in Blackduck.”

Mrs. Schoenleber nodded and looked at Nilda. “And so you will continue on the train to Benson’s Corner?”

“Ja, tomorrow morning.” Nilda felt the hot coffee warm her both inside and out as she cradled the cup in her hands.

“And where will you spend the night? Pardon me if I seem meddlesome. I am accused of that often.”

Nilda and Ivar looked at each other. “Uh, at the train station. The next train leaves in the morning.”

“That’s what I thought.” Mrs. Schoenleber looked up with a smile when two platters of delicacies were placed before them. “If you could bring us a platter of sandwiches also?”

“Right away, madam. Any preference?”

“Oh, roast beef will be fine. And make sure there is plenty of meat between those slices of bread.”

“Yes, madam.”

“I-I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but . . .” Nilda started.

Ivar finished the sentence. “We do not have enough money to pay for this.”

“Of course you do not. You traveled in steerage. The food here has already been paid for. So just eat and make an old woman happy.” Mrs. Schoenleber smiled at them. “I do not have many younger people in my life anymore, and I enjoy feeding hungry young men. I want you all to feel welcome in this new land of yours, so please don’t leave any food on the platters.” She raised a hand, and the waiter was right there, even though many of the other tables were filling. “More coffee, please.”

She picked up a morsel of some sort from the plate that held the hors d’oeuvres and took a bite. “Ah, they do have a fine baker on this train. Now, to get back to business. I have rooms at my home that need to be used. I cannot bear the thought of you sleeping at the train station. So we will leave your luggage in storage at the station, and you shall come home with me. My butler will make sure you are back at the station in time for the train in the morning.” She clasped her hands on the table, her rings glinting in the lights of the dining car. “Any questions?”

Her butler! Nilda had never met a person who employed a butler. “But . . .”

“Surely you don’t want to deprive this old woman of the pleasure of your company tonight.”

What have we gotten into? Nilda thought. Is she an angel or what?

The men seemed to have no trouble accepting free food, and after her involuntary fast on that ocean voyage, food tasted mighty good to Nilda also. She was uncertain about American customs and how they differed from Norwegian politeness, but apparently the offer of food here was to be accepted. Courtesy demanded it. And so she ate a delicious beef sandwich with fruit and warm, fragrant coffee. Welcome to Amerika!

The train arrived at Blackduck late in the day. Petter started to give them his good-byes, but Mrs. Schoenleber would hear nothing of it.

“Nonsense, young man. It’s far too late to be wandering around town, trying to find a cousin you barely know. Leave your baggage here and stay at my house with your friends. There will be time enough tomorrow to settle in to your new home.”

Petter tried to protest but soon gave up. He gave Nilda and Ivar a sheepish shrug and did as Mrs. Schoenleber said. Nilda bit her lip to quell a smile. She didn’t think he’d had much choice. Once Mrs. Schoenleber decided on something, she seemed to get it.

Mrs. Schoenleber marched into the station to speak to the agent about storing their luggage.

“She acts like she owns the railroad,” Petter muttered.

“She sure is forceful,” Ivar agreed.

The boys went off to gather the trunks while Nilda held the carpetbags.

A stately carriage arrived, drawn by four horses. The rain had stopped, so the driver folded back the two leather bow-tops that kept the interior dry. Two seats, each large enough to comfortably serve two or three people, faced each other. Were all Americans so rich?

Mrs. Schoenleber came marching out of the station. “Thank you, George,” she said to the carriage driver. It was hers!

Ivar and Petter returned with the trunks, and the station agent came out to take possession of them.

Mrs. Schoenleber nodded. “We’re on our way. Hop in.” She waved a hand toward the carriage.

The driver gave Mrs. Schoenleber a hand in, then did the same for Nilda just as elegantly. The men climbed in the other side. The driver cracked his whip, and the well-matched team of four horses moved forward as one.

“If I may, ma’am, what sort of carriage is this?” Petter asked.

“It is a landau, very common in this country. In fact, the president, Ulysses S. Grant, had a landau built especially for him.”

They arrived at a fine mansion, but by now, Nilda expected nothing less. George helped the ladies down, and all went inside. The interior, like the outside, was the kind of place kings lived in. They dined at a long table, the four of them clustered at one end. Then they sat in a large room furnished with leather chairs and a huge stone fireplace, drinking brandy from odd, round snifters.

Mrs. Schoenleber had all sorts of questions, and Petter had some too. Nilda simply could not get comfortable immersed in such luxury, and her English left much to be desired. But the evening went well anyway.

There were apparently many guest rooms; Nilda, Ivar, and Petter each had a room of their own. As Mrs. Schoenleber had promised, a tall, stolid, humorless fellow named Charles, her butler, woke them in the morning and led them down to a sumptuous breakfast of poached eggs, ham, melon, and toast.

“Mrs. Schoenleber is otherwise occupied,” Charles explained, “so I shall conduct you to the station.” He led them out front, where George, the landau, and the four horses were waiting.

Nilda told Ivar, “That good night’s sleep has really refreshed me. Things look much cheerier today.”

Ivar smiled. “It doesn’t hurt that it was cloudy yesterday and the sun is out today.”

As they rolled into the station, Nilda dug down into her bag for the stubby little pencil she carried. She tore the title page out of one of her books and passed both across to the butler. “Please, Mr. Charles, may I have a mailing address? I want to send Mrs. Schoenleber a note of gratitude. This was a wonderful rest during our trip, and so generous of her.”

His long, stolid face melted into a smile. “Miss Carlson, nothing would please Mrs. Schoenleber more.” He printed her name and address on the paper.

Petter asked, “Why did she do this? I mean, all of this?”

Charles hesitated and licked his lips.

“We will tell no one else,” Petter assured him. “But we would like to know.”

The train was coming. Nilda could hear it in the distance.

“You know what Schoenleber means?” Charles asked.

“Beautiful life?” Petter guessed.

“Yes. And Mr. and Mrs. Schoenleber had a beautiful life. Very comfortable financially, as you see, and five children, all of whom were bright and handsome. One year they were visiting a friend and business associate in southern Minnesota. A rainstorm in the night spawned a tornado, destroying the house they were in. The business associate, Mr. Schoenleber, and the children all died. She never got over it. She likes to surround herself with young people like you, people who are the age her children would have been.”

Nilda felt tears burning her eyes.

Petter asked, “What business, may I ask?”

“She has just returned from a business trip. She owns the majority interest in this railroad.”

Petter smiled. “That explains much. Thank you.”

Charles left the travelers in the station agent’s care, climbed up beside George in the carriage box, and the landau rolled away.

Ivar watched the train pull to a halt. “You know what I liked best about that mansion?”

“What?” Nilda asked.

“The floor didn’t move. At all.”