Page 21 of Hank and Elsie
Since then, Christmas usually meant a candy cane for Ricky, Mary, and her, and as special a meal as possible, complete with a pie. Sometimes, Ma had secretly managed to knit mittens or stockings for them all.
“Even if I can’t provide extravagance,” Elsie said aloud. “I can buy or make something for everyone, and that will be special enough.”
With another happy sigh, Elsie leaned back in the chair, satisfied with her list. A vision of wearing the gown on the statue in the shop came to her. But she firmly closed the mental door of her daydreaming. Practicalnewclothing was still more than she’d ever bargained for.
The months between now and Christmas are going to be so exciting.
CHAPTER 8
The next Sunday, on the way down the mountain, Hank encountered the Swensen family, who lived a ways up from the men of Three Bend Lake. The Swensens were a Swedish couple with six girls and one baby son. The family was poor, but loving, and too proud to accept handouts or help in any form, unless Hank found a way to slide assistance under the guise of something else that wouldn’t seem like charity.
Today, Mr. Swensen carried his youngest daughter Maria on his shoulders, while his wife held their baby, a bulging burlap bag slung over her shoulder. Inga, the oldest girl, strolled hand in hand with the second youngest, Marta. Elsabe, the next biggest girl, carried a basket.
Lunch, Hank suspected. But if Elsabe could carry the basket all the way down the mountain, the contents couldn’t be very much. He tried to think of a way to add to their meal without offending them but couldn’t come up with any ideas.
The girls walked barefoot, carrying their shoes with stockings stuffed inside. For poor folk, shoes were too expensive to don in the warmer months, lest the soles wear out or the uppers scuff and crack. Many children, and sometimes their parents, mostly went barefoot unless in school or church.
Inga turned and caught sight of him, her face lighting up. “Mr. Canfield. We’re going to church today.”
“So, I see.” He knew the oldest girls made the long trek to school and back whenever the weather was decent. But the hike was difficult with the little ones, so venturing out on a Sunday was a treat for the whole family, no matter their difficulties in trudging down and back up a mountain.
Inga gave Hank a bright smile. “Ma packed a picnic, so we can eat under the oak tree after church.”
“Well, that just goes to show you how minds think alike.” He leaned to pat a saddlebag. “I have some food right here. I’ll just have to join you.”
“We have squirrel and watercress sandwiches,” Inga volunteered with pride.
“Sounds mighty tasty.” Hank stretched the truth. “Maybe we can share.” He dismounted, looping Chipper’s reins over his head. “Swensen, you’re just the person I wanted to talk to,” he fibbed again as an excuse to join them and allow Chipper to carry some riders. He quickly tried to improvise a discussion topic, hoping one would come to him. “While we walk and confer, Mrs. Swensen can ride with the baby, and—” he lifted his chin toward the child on the man’s shoulders “—Maria can hitch along behind her mother.”
The man shot Hank a skeptical glance. But then he looked at his wife and son, and his gaze softened. “A ride for a short time would be appreciated,” he said with a thick Swedish accent.
Hank, still scrambling to think of a conversational topic, resolved to make their talk last as long as possible. He took the baby from Mrs. Swensen, aided her in mounting, and gave the boy a grin and a few bounces before handing him back.
Maybe by next year, I’ll have one of my own.This time, though, Hank refused to get excited by the idea. Envisioning hisown babe, loving that imaginary child, would be too hard on his heart if his dreams didn’t come to pass.
Mr. Swensen lifted Maria from her perch on his shoulders and seated her astride behind her mother, where she clung like a happy limpet. The girl’s dress kilted up, exposing thin, but sturdy legs.
Mr. Swensen shot him an expectant glance.
“Um…” Hank thought fast. “A bearskin. Ah, not to go out of your way or anything. But if a bear crosses your path, I’d like a rug.” He held up a hand in a stopping motion. “Not to put yourself in any danger, of course.”
Hopefully, the man didn’t know Hank was an experienced hunter. He and Brian tended to hunt down the mountainside rather than up, to keep from thinning out the game that the Swensens desperately relied on to survive.
The man gave a slow nod. “And the meat?”
“Can’t say I wouldn’t mind a few steaks. But you keep the rest.”Will my future wife like bear meat, or will she turn up her nose at wild game?
Hank shifted to a more conversational tone and started asking a few questions about how Swensen’s hunting had been lately. Although talking to the man was a mite like the proverbial pulling of teeth, Hank managed to keep their stilted dialogue going until they reached the outskirts of town.
Mr. Swensen stopped abruptly. “I’m sure you have to make your way to the livery to leave your horse.” He reached for Maria and swung her to the ground. Then he took the baby from Mrs. Swensen. The boy started to squirm. Apparently realizing he couldn’t hold his son and safely help his wife dismount, he shot Hank a helpless look.
Hiding a smile, Hank reached for the baby, who’d been surprisingly placid until now. The boy smiled up at him and then let out a powerful spout of smelly gas, followed by a toothlessgrin. Trying not to breathe, he held the baby away from him and then gratefully handed him over to his mother.
“Someone needs a diaper change,” she said in an apologetic tone.
Hank tried to keep a straight face.
But from Swensen’s laugh, he hadn’t succeeded.
