“I just know it, Johnny, in my heart. The only thing that matters in life is our loved ones, the land and our faith in God.”
Johnny just shrugged. “After church Sunday can I go watch the trains?”
“You will have to ask Far. It depends on how much we need in the way of supplies and if we need your help loading them. I don’t want Far lifting too much because of his back.”
“Well…” Johnny regarded his sister. “Why don’t you marry Carl? He could help us a lot, and Far wouldn’t have so much work to do.”
Ingrid shook her head at her brother’s reference to their closest neighbor, another Swede named Carl Unger, who had hinted more than once to her father that he was interested in marrying her. “Marriage is not something to take lightly, Johnny. And I do not love Carl in the right way to marry him.”
“But he’s a real good man, and I really like him.”
“I know, Johnny, I know.” At nineteen, Ingrid knew she should most certainly be thinking about marriage, but there was so much to do on the farm, plus all the cooking and cleaning and helping raise Johnny, that she’d seldom had time to ponder marriage or to get involved in the process of being courted. Besides, no one had come along who’d made her heart beat a little faster with true feelings of love. Her father seemed to think she was getting old enough that she should no longer be too picky, and he felt Carl was by far the best man for her.
Ingrid was not sure of that at all. When she was little her mother had once told her to marry for love and love alone. Love, and your faith in God, can help you through just about anything life hands you, she’d told her. Since then Ingrid had held on to the dream that someday the right man would come along, and she would know it in her heart when he did.
Chapter Three
Early May
Wilson Beyer adjusted his tiny square spectacles, studying the list of names in front of him. As was his habit, he twitched his tiny mustache and cleared his throat every few seconds, which irritated Jude to no end, even though he liked the man.
“I prepared a list for you, just as you asked in your telegram,” Wilson told Jude. “And I have men ready to go out with you to order these settlers off their property.”
Jude took a thin cigar from his vest pocket, then put it to his lips and leaned down to light it from a tapered candle burning on Wilson’s desk. Wilson actually thought burning a candle would somehow relieve him of some of his spring allergies. “I don’t need the extra men,” he told Wilson. He puffed on the cigar to get it burning.
Wilson’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh? I should advise you that these settlers won’t leave peacefully. It could even involve firearms.”
Jude shrugged. “I’d rather try a less forceful approach. I intend to go visit each settler on my own first.”
“Your father won’t be very pleased.”
“You don’t need to tell me that. I’ve never been able to please him anyway. Besides, all he told me was to come down here and prepare the settlers for the inevitable, so I will handle this the way I see fit.”
Wilson cleared his throat again. “Must you smoke that cigar? I have enough trouble with the pollen and dust and humidity in this cow town without breathing that wretched cigar smoke.”
Jude took the offending article from his lips and eyed it a moment. “Actually, it calms me, but if it stirs up your endless list of allergies, I’ll put it out for the moment.”
Wilson smiled, showing dark, tiny teeth. “Well, that’s kind of you, Jude. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I swear, if you didn’t pay me so well I’d hop the next train back to Chicago.”
“Yes, the air is so clean in Chicago,” Jude answered wryly as he stamped out the barely smoked tobacco. He looked around the plain, unpretentious office and sat down in a wooden chair across from Wilson’s desk. “Omaha is growing fast,” he added. “Someday it will rival Chicago.”
Wilson grunted a laugh. “I’ll be long dead from allergies by then.”
Both men laughed as Wilson handed over the list of settlers’ names and locations. “You have your work cut out for you, Jude. The people on that list will either have to get off their land or buy it at the going rate, which is more than most of them can afford.”
“I know.” Jude scanned the list, still irritated at the job his father had given him. “What do you think of all this, Wilson?”
Wilson thought a moment. “I like my job in land management, so I suppose I have to back the powers that be so we stay in business.” He pulled his glasses down to the end of his nose and looked up bare-eyed at Jude. “Is this really necessary?”
Jude ran a hand through his hair, wishing he could better control its thick waves. “According to my father it is, and I’m a Kingman, after all. I have a job to do.”
“I’m surprised Jefferson didn’t give this job to your brother. From what I know of you two, Mark seems the better man for the job, and I don’t mean that as an insult to you—”
Jude put up his hand to cut him off. “I know.”
“Sometimes I wonder about that brother of yours. He has a wicked streak, and your parents spoil him rotten. From what I’ve observed, you and Mark are like night and day—”
Jude waved him off again. “The fact remains the job was given to me.”
“Well, personally, I’m glad it was. I shudder to think of how he’d handle this. I have every confidence that you will take a more human approach. There are some good people on that list, Jude, hardworking, honest Christian people who came out here with big hopes and dreams.”
Wilson cleared his throat yet again. “I should warn you that, in spite of their normally peaceful ways, you’ll run into trouble with some of them. I suggest you take along at least one armed man. He can stay in the coach if you don’t want to appear too intimidating. I just don’t want to answer to Jefferson Kingman if you go out there alone and get yourself shot.”
Jude frowned. “You think it could get to that point?”
Wilson shrugged. “It could. I’d watch out for the one called Carl Unger. He and his father have worked their farm alone for years—ten, twelve, something like that. And my sources in Plum Creek tell me the man has his heart set on marrying soon, so he’ll want that farm for his future family. You might also have a problem with Albert Svensson. He has a son he intends to hand the farm to, and his daughter, Ingrid, is the one Carl Unger wants to marry. Their farms adjoin, so together they’ll be something to deal with. The Svenssons have farmed their section for nine years now. Ingrid’s mother is buried there. Of course, there are some who aren’t doing that well and might give things up without much of a fight.”
Jude sighed as he rose. “Well, as Mark and my father would say, business is business.” He took his top hat from where he’d set it on Wilson’s desk and put it on. “I suppose I’d better hop a train to the wonderful whistle-stop of Plum Creek and get moving on this.”
“There aren’t any fancy hotels there, Jude.”
“I
