His Prairie Sweetheart

Chapter Four

Elias chirruped to the mare, the Sunday morning breeze whipping up the sorrel’s mane as the buckboard rolled along. Normally he would ride his saddle horse, but he was supposed to bring Miss Cox to his parents’ home for dinner after church.

Early mornings were the best, when everything was clean and new, the sun fresh in the sky and birds awakening in the long grass. The day promised to be another scorcher, but for now, the temperature was tolerable.

Ahead, the church steeple pierced the sky. He loved that the church was the oldest building in Snowflake, the first permanent structure erected by its inhabitants when they’d reached their new home on the Minnesota prairie.

And he liked being a deacon in the church, responsible for the building and grounds. He liked being the first one there on a Sunday morning to unlock the door, to spend a little time in prayer as he swept the steps and made sure the hymnals were straightened in the racks.

The varnished brown doors opened without a sound, and he left them wide, letting in the fresh air. Six pews on either side of a central aisle led to the pulpit. His boots sounded loud on the red-painted floor, and he glanced up to the pale blue arched ceiling with exposed white rafters like ribs.

In an alcove behind the pulpit, the church’s prized stained glass window glowed in the sunlight. Ruby, turquoise, emerald and gold pieces of glass created flowers and vines around a cross. The window had come all the way from Germany, paid for by the saving and scrimping and generosity of the small congregation.

Elias opened windows, propping them with short pieces of wood to allow the cross breeze to circulate. In winter he hauled coal and had the place toasty by the time the first parishioners showed up, but in summer his job was to get the building as cool as possible.

People began arriving, neighbors and friends, greeting one another, filing into their customary seats. The pastor came in, holding his big Bible, his thinning hair combed over his pink scalp. His little wife, her hair in tight silver curls, edged into her front-row pew.

All the while, Elias kept an eye on the doorway. The Halvorsons were late. Per Halvorson had a well-earned reputation for being early, often arriving at the same time as Elias and helping ready the church, but today there was no sign of him.

Had something happened? Was there an illness in the house? Everyone had seemed fine yesterday when he’d delivered Savannah home.

His parents entered. Pa nodded and put his hand on Ma’s lower back, guiding her to a seat. Elias liked that about his folks. They weren’t inappropriate, but they were affectionate toward one another in small ways, even in public. If he ever married, Elias wanted to still be that close with his wife after almost thirty years.

Ah, there was Per Halvorson, but his normally sunny face looked like a thundercloud. He ushered Lars and Rut ahead of him, and Agneta hurried in behind.

Where was Savannah? Hadn’t she come? Surely she was a churchwoman. Tyler would never hire someone to teach who had no faith...

Savannah came through the doorway, and Elias’s breath hitched. She looked just as if she’d stepped off the cover of the Godey’s Ladies’ Book his mother liked to pore over. The pale green material of her dress shimmered as she walked. Tucks and frills and furbelows everywhere, even more elaborate than the dress she’d worn on the stagecoach.

And her hair, that ripe-wheat-in-the-summer-sun hair, was swept up and back on her head to a mass of ringlets and curls tucked under a pale green hat that sported ostrich-tip feathers.

Heads turned, eyes widened, elbows hit ribs and whispers scurried through the air. She paused in the doorway. Most seats were full, and the pastor was headed to the front. Mr. Petersen plucked the single string of the psalmodikon as the pastor took his hymnal and found the correct page.

Savannah caught Elias’s eye, pink flying in her cheeks. Her eyes asked, Where do I sit?

He moved to the door and took her elbow. “Good morning.” The congregation got to its feet, rustling and moving. “My mother would be pleased if you sat with us.”

Savannah gave him a grateful nod, and he led her up the right-hand side of the church, letting her enter the pew before him to sit beside his mother. Elias edged in after her, and when he sat, her voluminous skirts brushed his leg.

It seemed to take forever for her to arrange her furled parasol, her handbag, her fan and her Bible. Elias waited, holding the hymnal as the congregation began to sing. At last she was ready, stood, and grasped her half of the book.

She took one look and gave him a bewildered glance. Of course, the hymnal was written in Norwegian. All around him the hearty voices of farmers and housewives and children sang of the Rock of Ages in their native tongue, but Savannah was mute.

Elias sang, but his mind was on her. Overdressed, nearly late, and everyone around her spoke a different language. What kind of church experience would this be for her? Why hadn’t Tyler found someone from this part of the country to be the new schoolteacher? The poor girl had to be miserable.

Then she began to hum the tune. Her eyes closed, as if the music was seeping into her soul.

Elias sang softly so as to be able to hear her. She had a nice voice. Admiration rose for her. Worshipping in spite of the unfamiliar surroundings.

The song ended and they sat. She fussed with her skirts again, arranging them just so. Why did women wear such cumbersome garments? When she turned to smile at his mother on her left, the ostrich feathers on her hat brushed Elias’s head. He leaned away, swatting them out of his face, but the tickle made him sneeze.

“God bless you,” she whispered, oblivious to the cause of his predicament. “What is that instrument?” She looked at where Mr. Petersen sat.

“It’s a psalmodikon. Most Norwegian churches have one.”

She nodded and watched as Mr. Petersen played it while the offering was gathered in.

The sermon was probably excellent, but Elias had a difficult time concentrating. Her dress rustled with her every movement, and every time he inhaled, he breathed in her perfume. Roses? Violets? Some sort of flowery, girlie smell. In profile, her pert little nose tilted up a bit at the end, and her lashes skimmed her cheeks when she blinked.

He caught a movement down the way—his father leaning forward with a one-eyebrow-raised look and a nod Elias’s way.

Which was when Elias remembered telling Pa that the new teacher was pretty. That was Pa. Subtle as a sledgehammer through a windowpane.

Evidently Pa wasn’t the only one who thought Miss Cox pretty. After church, everyone flocked around, waiting for an introduction.

“This is Peder Bergdahl. Peder, Miss Cox, the new teacher.” Elias spoke in Norwegian, translating for Savannah.

She nodded to the burly young man. “A pleasure.”

“This is Samuel Eggleston. Miss Cox.”

Knut Dotseth.

Jespar Rosedahl.

Magnus Haugen.

Every bachelor in the county. Elias shifted his weight and looked at his watch as, one after another, they elbowed each other out of the way to meet her.

Then came the families with children. He translated greetings and pointed out her students. The women hung back a little, whispering, eyes troubled. Elias caught snatches of their comments, and he found his jaw tightening.

Savannah excused herself and sought out Mr. Petersen. Thankfully, he spoke a bit of English and was only too happy to show her his beloved psalmodikon. He pointed out the flat stick marked with the finger placements for various notes and the pegs for tightening the single string. Savannah nodded, asked a question, and Mr. Petersen beamed. Stepping aside, he motioned for her to go ahead.

Elias was amazed. Sven Petersen never let anyone touch the musical instrument. He’d made it himself as a young man in Norway and brought it to America. He cherished and guarded it and played it with loving care.

Voices stilled as Savannah played, picking out the tune to “A Mighty Fortress is Our God.” She never missed a note, and when she finished, everyone was smiling. Her own smile was especially bright, and Elias sucked in a breath. How had she conquered the instrument so quickly? She hadn’t known what one was before, and yet she played it well.

Finally, only a few families remained, including the Halvorsons. Per Halvorson took Elias aside. “You need to tell her we leave for church at nine-thirty and not a minute after. Never have I seen a woman take so long to prepare for church. The dress, the hat, the shoes. And then the hair. Did you know that women heat up an iron stick and wrap their hair on it to make curls?” He snorted. “If God did not give you curls, then why do you want them? Straight hair is good enough for church if it is what God gave you. You tell her.” He crossed his arms, and Elias got an image of what Per had endured that morning.

“I’ll let her know.”

“Yes. Already I think I am going to have to add a room to the house for her belongings. Never have I seen a woman with so many things. There is no room in the loft, no room anywhere for the boxes and cases. She brought enough for five years. Do you think she will stay even one?”

Elias shrugged. “I hope so, for the children’s sake. They need schooling. But it will be hard.”

Per nodded. “It is good for the children to be in school. I hope she is a good teacher. She will teach them fine manners and good English if she can stay. They will become real Americans, not rough Norske farmers.”

Savannah stooped to say hello to little Ingrid Langerud. Ingrid would be Savannah’s youngest student this term. The child, big-eyed, twirled the end of her blond braid as she gazed at her teacher. Savannah took Ingrid’s hand and drew it to her skirt, letting the little girl feel the heavy, shiny fabric. Ingrid’s shy smile had Elias smiling, too. Women and their fripperies. It sure started young.

“You were right.”

“Huh?” Elias turned to where his father had taken Per’s place.

“She’s pretty.”

He slanted Pa a sideways glance. “And she’s small and from the South and green as spring grass.”

Pa chuckled. “She might surprise you.”

“What makes you say that?”

He shrugged. “It’s just that most women are full of surprises. You think you know them. You think you can predict how they’ll act or what they’ll say, and then, wham! Out of nowhere, they surprise you. Your mother’s done it to me a thousand times.”

“This one seems pretty cut-and-dried. Just cleaning the school yesterday about did her in. She didn’t even have the stamina to finish the job properly. The floors got washed, but they didn’t get waxed.” Elias shook his head. “The first time she has to shovel a path through the snow to the coal shed, she’s going to collapse and call it quits.”

Pa glanced out the window. “No sign of snow yet, though. And the floors will be fine for another week, I’m sure. You should go fetch her, so we can head home for lunch. Your ma cooked special most of yesterday.”

When he approached, Savannah looked at Elias as if he was a lifesaver and she was drowning. “Are you ready to go?”

“If you are.”

He followed her outside into the sunshine. She popped open her pale green parasol. How many of those things did she have?

As they drove toward his parents’ place, Elias asked, “How did you like church?”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t understand the words, but the feeling in the room was familiar. God speaks all our languages. I worshipped, the rest of the congregation worshipped. It was good. I especially enjoyed the music.”

Elias didn’t know how he would’ve fared under the circumstances, if he’d been dropped into a church service where they spoke only Russian or Italian or some other language he didn’t know. He’d have been too distracted to worship—and, if he was honest, disgruntled at not being able to understand what was going on.

“I did have a question, though.” She slanted the parasol back on her shoulder. “What’s the reasoning behind the color scheme inside the church? I’ve never seen one painted like that before.”

He shrugged. “The colors are symbolic, I guess. The sky-blue ceiling represents heaven.”

“And the red floor?”

He grinned. “Like I said, symbolic.”

They traveled in silence for a while as Elias tried to decide how to broach the subject Per Halvorson had asked him to tackle. This really should be Tyler’s job, running interference between his teacher and her landlord.

“Savannah, about this morning. Per wanted me to talk to you.”

“He seemed out of sorts. Did something happen to upset him?” She adjusted her skirt to keep it from flapping. “He’s been nothing but kind until this morning.”

Elias eased his tight collar. “Well, the thing you have to know about Per is that he hates being late, especially to church.”

“We weren’t late. We arrived precisely on time.”

“Well, to Per, on time means fifteen minutes early. He’s known for coming well ahead of time to any function. He thought all your primping made him late today. I’m just giving you a little warning to either cut some of the getting-ready steps, or start sooner, that’s all.” Elias shrugged. “Is that what you wear to church where you’re from?”

Her look got a little frosty and her chin went up. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing now? Surely it’s acceptable to wear nice clothes to church? You’re wearing a suit and tie.”

“Well, there’s nice clothes and there’s nice clothes. But what I’m trying to say is, you need to be ready to go to church earlier so Per can get there at a time when he’s comfortable.”

“Fine, why don’t you tell me when that is? I asked several times when we needed to be ready, but nobody in the house understood me.”

“Per said he wanted to leave his house by nine thirty. If you could make it earlier, that would be even better. To Per, on time is late.”

“I didn’t know I was making him late. In the future, I’ll be sure to be ready sooner.” Frustration colored her voice. “But there isn’t anything I can do about my wardrobe, and I wish you’d stop twitting me about it. It isn’t a crime to wear the latest fashions or have nice clothes.”

“It is if you’re the only one for a hundred miles dressed like that and it makes the mothers of your students feel like you’re lording it over them that you’re better off than they are.”

Her mouth fell open. “Is that what you think I’m doing? Is that what the ladies think?”

“They were whispering about it, about how they never saw clothes like yours, and how you were a foreigner who must be rich, and what were you doing way out here nearly to the Dakotas.” The hurt in her eyes had him backtracking. “I’m not saying you’re lording it over them, I’m just saying that might be how they feel.”

“That’s wonderful.” She sank back into the seat. “Without speaking a word, I’ve managed to alienate at least half the county.”

Elias propped his elbows on his knees, wishing Tyler was here to take this whole situation off his hands.

* * *

The women thought she was a snob. Savannah didn’t know whether she wanted to scream or cry. How was she supposed to disabuse their minds when she couldn’t even talk to them?

What if they got Elias’s brother, Tyler, to fire her? Where would she go? She couldn’t face Raleigh yet, and she’d hate to admit failure in her first job before she even got started.

“Here’s the farm. Pa homesteaded it right after the war. He held on through the grasshopper years, and now it’s doing pretty well. When the option came to buy the two sections to the west, Tyler and I purchased them, and we run the farm together.” Elias turned the horse in through an open gate. “We run sheep and cattle and raise wheat and corn. I raise and train a few horses every year and help Pa on the farm when I can.”

“And do you live here?”

“Sort of. Since I’m the town sheriff, I have a room on the back of the jail, but half the time I stay out here. It’s only a couple miles from town, and I have a part-time deputy, Bjorn. He lives in town, so he keeps an eye on things.” Elias shrugged. “Upholding the law isn’t too difficult in Snowflake. There’s usually time for a bit of farm work.”

A pretty frame house with flowers in pots on the porch sat at the end of the drive. A few trees had been planted, giving the place a settled, homey look. A large barn with lots of fences took up a big part of the farmyard, and beyond the barn, crops stretched far away.

If only she could board here, she would have a bedroom she could stand upright in.

Savannah struck down that ungrateful thought. The Halvorsons were generous to board her, and she should be thankful, cramped loft or not.

Mr. and Mrs. Parker met them at the door. “Come on in, Miss Cox. We’re sure glad you’re here,” Mr. Parker said in greeting. He was tall and broad like Elias, with silver dusting his dark hair and crow’s feet showing at the corners of his eyes.

Mrs. Parker nodded and smiled. “Ja, ve are glad. Tyler vas very happy to haff a teacher for this fall for the barn.”

Savannah blinked, both at the word and the accent. “I’m sorry. The barn?”

“Oh, my pardon. Elias?” Her brows scrunched together as she looked to her son.

“Barn is the Norwegian word for children.”

“I’ll tuck that away to use on Monday.” Savannah smiled at Mrs. Parker. “Perhaps I can come to you for some lessons in speaking Norwegian. I think I will need them in order to best teach the barn. Now I understand how it is that Elias speaks fluent Norwegian and English.”

“Yep.” Mr. Parker beamed, putting his arm around his wife. “I am a blessed man to have found my sweet bride fresh off a boat from Norway. I grabbed her up before anyone else could.” His pride in his wife shone in his eyes.

The meal was delicious, though Savannah had never seen food prepared the way Mrs. Parker had done it. Creamed rutabaga, dilled cucumber and a roasted meat, either beef or lamb, she wasn’t sure.

“Elias...” Mr. Parker sat back after patting his wife’s hand. “Why don’t you take Miss Cox outside and show her around. I’m sure she’d enjoy a bit of a walk after a meal like that.”

Savannah laid her napkin aside. “Let me help clear the table first.”

“Nonsense. I can help my wife clean up. You go get some fresh air.”

Elias pulled out her chair for her and held the door.

“Son, while you’re out there, walk round the sheep, will you? Captain’s keeping watch. They’re in the close pasture.”

“Yes, sir.”

Savannah and Elias strolled past the sapling trees toward the barn. A breeze brushed her cheeks, and though it was warm, she was grateful for it. Without any wind, the day would be stifling. How a place this warm got the name Snowflake, she’d never know.

“Captain watches the sheep all by himself? I mean, with no shepherd?” She tilted her parasol to shade her face.

“Yep. Pa can’t afford to hire a shepherd just for the couple hundred sheep he runs, so he relies on Captain to look after the flock. He has another dog, too, but she’s expecting puppies any day now, so Pa’s keeping her close to the house. I’m not sure if he was as excited about his own sons’ births as he is about this litter.” Elias bent and plucked a long grass stem from along a fence line, bending it and snapping off little pieces as they walked.

“You said you have horses here?”

“Sure, almost a dozen head right now. They’re in the pasture behind the barn.”

“Could we see them?” Savannah lifted her hem to step across the dusty ruts left by farm wagons.

“You like horses?”

“Oh, yes. I’m a very good equestrienne. Many Southern women are. I had riding lessons from the time I was a child.” A pang hit her heart. Girard had taken her riding many times. It was one of the things they shared, a love of horses.

“Too bad you’re not dressed for it. I’d saddle up a couple of horses. We could ride round the sheep that way.” He threw away the last piece of grass stem.