Read Online An Untamed Land by Lauraine Snelling - Free Book Online

from his wagon.
    “Aye.” The man tipped his head in acknowledgment.
    “I would like to buy milk.”
    The man shook his head. “You’ll have to speak English if you want me to understand you.”
    Carl smiled and shrugged. He pointed to the bottles of milk, the cream golden at the top of the glass necks. He held up two fingers.
    The man nodded and named the price.
    Carl dug the change from his pocket and held it out on the palm of his hand.
    The milkman smiled, showing one missing front tooth. The twinkle in his dark eyes showed he understood. He took some change out of his own pocket and held up two copper coins. “You need two like this.”
    Carl nodded and handed over the matching coins. Now, how do I ask for eggs? He scratched his beard in thought. “You have eggs?”
    The man shook his head and shrugged. Then he motioned Carl to join him at the rear of the covered wagon. When he showed his wares, Carl pointed to the eggs filling a wooden basket. He raised six fingers.
    The milkman smiled again and counted out the number requested. As before, he showed Carl the proper amount of money needed.
    “Mange takk,” Carl said with an answering smile, sensing the man’s honesty. He carefully placed the eggs deep in the pockets of his black wool coat and crooked his left arm around the milk jugs. He stepped back to let the man make his delivery to the next house, watching as the milkman set three full bottles on the stoop and retrieved the empty ones. The clink of glass on glass sang its own song as the wagon continued down the street, stopping here and there.
    Carl shook his head. Did they deliver milk like this in Oslo? He shrugged. For certain, everyone who lived in cities couldn’t have their own milk cows as they’d had on the farm. Ja, they had much to learn about life in Amerika. He strode back to the entrance of the boardinghouse, impatient to eat and then explore this New YorkCity. If only Kaaren were strong enough to be up and about to enjoy the sights and sounds with him.
    Both women were up and dressed, and Ingeborg was braiding Kaaren’s long hair when Carl walked in the door of the third-floor room. He looked around and noticed the room had been tidied as much as possible with their belongings taking up so much of the space.
    “Onkel Carl!” Thorliff threw his arms around his uncle’s knees. “You went away.”
    “But not for long, and look what I brought.” Carl dug in his pocket and held up two brown eggs. “I’m going downstairs to ask madame house owner, Mrs. Flaksrude, she said her name was, if she will let me boil them. Then we’ll each have one now, and Tante Kaaren will eat another later.”
    “Oh, how delicious. Just think, to eat fresh eggs again.” Kaaren smiled up at her husband.
    Thorliff let loose of his uncle’s knees and reached up to pat the other pocket.
    “Careful. It wouldn’t do to break these precious things. Come, you can help me get them cooked.” Carl removed his hat and, with great care, placed each egg in it. With hat in one hand and Thorliff’s hand clenched in the other, he left the room, childish chatter floating back from their departure.
    “Something is bothering you,” Kaaren said to Ingeborg as she lifted a hand to smooth back a wisp of hair that refused to remain in the coronet of braids.
    “Nei, it is nothing.” Ingeborg placed the hairbrush and comb on the washstand by the sturdy white pitcher in which she’d fetched warm water for their morning washing. Her hands refused to remain still. Instead, she placed the pitcher in the matching bowl and then set the bowl exactly centered on the oak stand.
    “Is everything to your satisfaction?”
    Ingeborg could hear the teasing in her sister-in-law’s voice. She clamped her hands together to stop their telltale busyness, moving to look out the window instead of facing Kaaren. “Did you see the snow? There’s a man setting up a stand of some kind across the street.”
    “Ingeborg, what is it?” Kaaren