Dakota Dream by Lauraine Snelling Page B

feeling the answer gave. Had she expected him to walk back with her? She paused a moment. “You know, there’s fresh apple cake if you would like to come, too.”
    Will rubbed his mouth with grimy fingers. “That’d be right fine, Miss, but one of us has to stay here. There’s a team comin’ back.”
    “Maybe another time?”
    “I’d like that.”
    Clara quelled the urge to walk slowly in case Dag might overtake her and instead hurried to prepare the tray and make fresh coffee.
    Dag was more taciturn than ever, if that were possible, when Clara showed him upstairs. He answered each of her carefully thought-out questions with a grunt or nothing at all. She shook her head as she left the room. Getting him to talk was perhaps going to be more of a challenge than she’d thought.
    When Clara reentered the room carrying the coffee tray, it was obvious Dag didn’t agree with Mrs. Norgaard. He sat with arms crossed over his chest, his jaw set like a snapping turtle.
    “Just think about it, please,” Mrs. Norgaard pleaded. “You would find it easier to deal with your customers if you spoke more fluent English.”
    “I have plenty of business.” Hoarfrost shimmered on each word.
    “Well.” The old woman straightened her shoulders and shot him a look that would have melted steel. “Do what you must. All I ask is you give it some thought. Set that down here.” She pointed to the table by her side.
    Clara hazarded a glance at Dag after carefully positioning the tray so Mrs. Norgaard could pour. He didn’t appear to be melting.
    Dag watched her hands as she set down the tray. Each movement flowed with the grace of a half-grown wheat field dancing in the wind. Why should he go to an English class? Resentment chased good sense around in his mind. They talked about speaking, but would the class include reading? He thought wistfully of newspapers and the books that graced the shelf at his mother’s house. He could barely decipher Norwegian, let alone English.
    Why had he been so slow in school? Maybe he was a dumb dolt like Jude said. Stupid and slow—and ugly as a troll. Yeh, the trolls were big and strong, like him, and ugly.
    He heard a voice as from a great distance.
    “Mr. Weinlander, your coffee. And would you have some apple cake?” Her voice sang like the birds at courting time.
    Two of his favorite aromas, coffee and cinnamon. He sniffed appreciatively and accepted the offered food. “ Mange takk.” English, speak English, you dolt! Show her you can. But Clara doesn’t talk English, the other side stated. He felt like his brain had become a battlefield.
    “Will seems like such a nice young man.”
    Answer her! Dag choked on his apple cake. He coughed and took a swig of coffee that only made him cough more. When he could breathe again, he leaned back in his chair. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He looked up at Clara, expecting to see condemnation, but all her blue eyes radiated was compassion.
    A glance at Mrs. Norgaard left him reeling. Dag staggered to his feet. “I must go.” He left the house as if a hound of heaven bayed at his heels.
    “Wait! Dag, wait!” He was at the gate before her cries penetrated the voices raging in his brain. He strangled the spires on the gate with shaking hands. He could hear her shoes tapping out her hurry.
    “Here.” She thrust a napkin into his hand. “I wrapped this for Will since he said he couldn’t come with you.”
    Dag nodded without looking above her hands and fled out the gate.
    “What are we going to do?” Clara asked that night as she brushed Mrs. Norgaard’s hair in preparation for bed.
    “First we pray and then we wait.”
    Clara sighed. “But—”
    “No buts, my child. Our Dag has his own devils to work out and only our Father can do that for him. But you and I . . . well, I think we shall invite both Dag and Will for supper. Wednesday would be a good night, don’t you think?”
    Clara fell into bed, both restless and relieved. Waiting was so