{"id":10615,"date":"2012-01-31T22:29:00","date_gmt":"2012-02-01T03:29:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=10615"},"modified":"2012-01-31T22:29:00","modified_gmt":"2012-02-01T03:29:00","slug":"threads-of-hope-by-andrea-boeshaar","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/?p=10615","title":{"rendered":"Threads of Hope by Andrea Boeshaar"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"http:\/\/firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com\/\"><img decoding=\"async\" id=\"BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480264388542368882\" style=\"cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 200px; margin: 0 10px 10px 0; width: 145px;\" src=\"http:\/\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/_cESuxv-WNX8\/TA3PbPpKjHI\/AAAAAAAAEFE\/e9Dq6nSnpCA\/s200\/FIRSTWildCardTours2.jpg\" alt=\"\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a>It is time for a <span style=\"color: #990000;\"><strong><a href=\"http:\/\/firstwildcardtours.blogspot.com\/\">FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/strong><\/span> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old&#8230;or for somewhere in between! <span style=\"color: #990000;\"><strong>Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #cc0000;\"><em>You never know when I might play a wild card on you!<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div style=\"text-align: left;\" align=\"center\"><strong>Today&#8217;s Wild Card author is: <\/strong><\/div>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<div style=\"text-align: center;\" align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.andreaboeshaar.com\/\">Andrea Boeshaar<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">\u00a0<strong><span style=\"color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;\"><span style=\"color: #cc0000; font-size: 100%;\">and the book:<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<div align=\"center\"><strong><span style=\"color: #cc0000; font-size: 180%;\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/exec\/obidos\/ASIN\/1616384972\">Threads of Hope<br \/>\n(Fabric of Time)<\/a><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n<div align=\"center\">Realms (January 3, 2012)<\/div>\n<div align=\"center\"><\/div>\n<p>***Special thanks to Jon Wooten of Charisma House for sending me a review copy.***<\/p>\n<div align=\"left\"><strong><span style=\"color: #333399; font-size: 130%;\"><span style=\"color: #cc0000;\">ABOUT THE AUTHOR:<\/span><\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n<p><a style=\"clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\" href=\"http:\/\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/-zghNfNw2Kl4\/TyWcgDaYlDI\/AAAAAAAAGxM\/zQGiVZMxDUs\/s1600\/AKB_Dec+09.JPG\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"http:\/\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/-zghNfNw2Kl4\/TyWcgDaYlDI\/AAAAAAAAGxM\/zQGiVZMxDUs\/s200\/AKB_Dec+09.JPG\" alt=\"\" width=\"142\" height=\"200\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p>Andrea Kuhn Boeshaar is a certified Christian life coach; a popular speaker at writers\u2019 conferences, workshops, and women\u2019s groups; and the author of numerous published books, including the Seasons of Redemption series: Unwilling Warrior, Uncertain Heart, Unexpected Love, and Undaunted Faith.<\/p>\n<p>Visit the author&#8217;s <a href=\"http:\/\/www.andreaboeshaar.com\/\">website<\/a>.<\/p>\n<div align=\"left\"><strong><span style=\"color: #333399; font-size: 130%;\"><span style=\"color: #cc0000;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><\/span><\/strong><strong><span style=\"color: #333399; font-size: 130%;\"><span style=\"color: #cc0000;\">SHORT BOOK DESCRIPTION:<\/span> <\/span><\/strong><\/div>\n<p><a style=\"clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;\" href=\"http:\/\/4.bp.blogspot.com\/-nwG_b_kvaMw\/TyWcgrVBQuI\/AAAAAAAAGxU\/2NMveOlU0eM\/s1600\/Boeshaar,+Threads+of+Hope.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" src=\"http:\/\/4.bp.blogspot.com\/-nwG_b_kvaMw\/TyWcgrVBQuI\/AAAAAAAAGxU\/2NMveOlU0eM\/s200\/Boeshaar,+Threads+of+Hope.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"133\" height=\"200\" border=\"0\" \/><\/a>Kristin Eikaas has her hopes set on a new life in America.<\/p>\n<p>The year is 1848, and Kristin Eikaas has traveled from Norway to Wisconsin with dreams of a new life. But when she arrives, she finds one disappointment after another. Worse, her superstitious uncle now believes that his neighbor\u2019s Oneida Indian wife has put a curse on Kristin. Everyone knows the Sundbergs put spells on people\u2026<\/p>\n<p>Everyone except Kristin. Her run-ins with Sam Sundberg only prove that he is a good man from a Christian family. But when her uncle discovers she\u2019s been associating with Sam, his temper flares. To escape his wrath, Kristin gratefully accepts a job as the Sundbergs\u2019 house girl, finding solace at the family\u2019s spinning wheel.<\/p>\n<p>In the time Sam and Kristin spend together, their friendship develops into much more, and Sam prays about a match between them. But opposition threatens to derail their newfound love. Will they have the courage to stand up for what is right\u2014even against their own families?<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: inherit;\">Product Details:<\/span><\/p>\n<ul>\n<li style=\"margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;\">List Price: $13.99<\/li>\n<li style=\"font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;\"><span style=\"background-color: transparent;\">Paperback: 304 pages<\/span><\/li>\n<li style=\"font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;\"><span style=\"background-color: transparent;\">Publisher: Realms (January 3, 2012)<\/span><\/li>\n<li style=\"font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;\"><span style=\"background-color: transparent;\">Language: English<\/span><\/li>\n<li style=\"font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;\"><span style=\"background-color: transparent;\">ISBN-10: 1616384972<\/span><\/li>\n<li style=\"font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-left: 0em; margin-right: 0em; margin-top: 0.5em;\"><span style=\"background-color: transparent; font-family: inherit;\">ISBN-13: 978-1616384975<\/span><\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #cc0000;\"><strong><span style=\"font-size: 180%;\">AND NOW&#8230;THE FIRST CHAPTER:<\/span> <\/strong><br \/>\n<\/span><\/p>\n<div style=\"height: 307px; overflow: auto;\">\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Bold; font-size: small;\"><strong>September 1848<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: ExPonto-Regular;\"><em>I<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>t looks like Norway.<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">The thought flittered across nineteen-year-old Kristin Eikaas\u2019s mind as Uncle Lars\u2019s wagon bumped along the dirt road. The docks of Green Bay, Wisconsin, were behind them, and now they rode through a wooded area that looked just as enchanting as the forests she\u2019d left in Norway. Tall pine trees and giant firs caused the sunshine to dapple on the road. Kristin breathed in the sweet, fresh air. How refreshing it felt in her lungs after being at sea for nearly three months and breathing in only salty sea air or the stale air in her dark, crowded cabin.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">A clearing suddenly came into view, and a minute or so later, Kristin eyed the farm fields stretched before her. The sight caused an ache of homesickness. Her poppa had farmed . . .<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cYour trip to America was good, <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>ja<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">?\u201d Uncle Lars asked in Norwegian, giving Kristin a sideways glance.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">He resembled her father so much that her heart twisted painfully with renewed grief. Except she\u2019d heard about <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Onkel<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u2014about his temper\u2014how he had to leave Norway when he was barely of age, because, Poppa had said, trouble followed him.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">But surely he\u2019d grown past all of that. His letters held words of promise, and there was little doubt that her uncle had made a new life for himself here in America.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Just as she would.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Visions of a storefront scampered across her mind\u2019s eye\u2014a shop in which she could sell her finely crocheted and knitted items. A shop in which she could work the spinning wheel, just as <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Mor <\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">had . . .<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Uncle Lars arched a brow. \u201cYou are tired, <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>liten niese<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201c<\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Ja<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">. It was a long journey.\u201d Kristin sent him a sideways glance.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cI am grateful I did not come alone. The Olstads made good traveling companions.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Her uncle cleared his throat and lowered his voice. \u201cBut you have brought my inheritance, <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>ja<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">?\u201d He arched a brow.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201c<\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Ja<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">.\u201d Kristin thought of the priceless possession she\u2019d brought from Norway.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cAnd you would not hold out on your <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>onkel<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">, would you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Prickles of unease caused Kristin to shift in her seat. She resisted the urge to touch the tiny gold and silver cross pendent suspended from a dainty chain that hung around her neck. Her dress concealed it. She couldn\u2019t give it up, even though it wasn\u2019t legal for a woman to inherit anything in Norway. But the necklace had been her last gift from <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Mor<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">. A gift from one\u2019s mother wasn\u2019t an inheritance . . . was it? \u201cNo, <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Onkel<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">She turned and peered down from her perch into the back of the wooden wagon bed. Peder Olstad smiled at her, and Kristin relaxed some. Just a year older, he was the brother of Kristin\u2019s very best friend who had remained in Norway with their mother. She and Peder had grown up together, and while he could be annoying and bad tempered at times, he was the closest thing to a brother that she had. And Sylvia\u2014Sylvia was closer than a sister ever could be. It wouldn\u2019t be long, and she and Mrs. Olstad would come to America too. That would be a<\/span> <span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">happy day!<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cYou were right,\u201d John Olstad called to Uncle Lars in their native tongue. \u201cLots of fertile land in this part of the country. I hope to purchase some acres soon.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cAnd after you are a landowner for five years, you can be a citizen of America and you can vote.\u201d The Olstad men smiled broadly and replied in unison. \u201cOh, <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>ja<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">, <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>ja <\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">. . . \u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Uncle Lars grinned, causing dozens of wrinkles to appear around his blue eyes. His face was tanned from farming beneath the hot sun, and his tattered leather hat barely concealed the abundance of platinum curls growing out of his large head. \u201cOh, <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>ja<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">, this is very good land. I am glad I persuaded Esther to leave the Muskego settlement and move northeast. But, as you will soon see, we are still getting settled.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201c<\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Ja<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">, how\u2019s that, Lars?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Kristin heard the note of curiosity in Mr. Olstad\u2019s voice.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cI purchased the land and built a barn and a cabin.\u201d He paused and gave a derisive snort. \u201cWell, a fine home takes time and money.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cOh, <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>ja<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">, that way.\u201d Mr. Olstad seemed to understand.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">And Kristin did too. One couldn\u2019t expect enormous comforts out in the Wisconsin wilderness.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Just then they passed a stately home situated on the Fox River. Two quaint dormers peered from the angled roof, which appeared to be supported by a pair of white pillars.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cThat is Mr. Morgan Martin\u2019s home. He is a lawyer in town.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Uncle Lars delivered the rest of his explanation with a sneer. \u201cAnd an Indian agent.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cIndians?\u201d Kristin\u2019s hand flew to her throat.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cDo not fret. The soldiers across the river at Fort Howard protect the area.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Kristin forced her taut muscles to relax.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cOut here the deer are plentiful and fishing is good. Fine lumber up here too. But the Norwegian population is small. Nevertheless, we have our own church, and the reverend speaks our language.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cA good thing,\u201d Mr. Olstad remarked.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cI cannot wait for the day when <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Far <\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">owns land,\u201d Peder said, glancing at Mr. Olstad. \u201cLots of land.\u201d The warm wind blew his auburn hair outward from his narrow face, and his hazel eyes sparked with enthusiasm, giving the young man a somewhat wild appearance. \u201cBut no farming for me. I want to be rich someday.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cAs do we all!\u201d exclaimed Mr. Olstad, whose appearance was an older, worn-out version of his son\u2019s.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Kristin\u2019s mind had parked on land ownership. \u201cAnd once you are settled, Sylvia will come to America. I cannot wait. I miss her so much.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">She grappled with a fresh onset of tears. Not only was Sylvia her best friend, but she and the entire Olstad clan had also become like family to her ever since a smallpox epidemic ravaged their little village two years ago, claiming the lives of Kristin\u2019s parents and two younger brothers. When Uncle Lars had learned of the tragic news, he offered her a place to stay in his home if she came to America. <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Onkel <\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">wrote that she should be with her family, so Kristin had agreed to make the voyage. Her plans to leave Norway had encouraged the Olstads to do<\/span> <span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">the same. But raising the funds to travel took time and much hard work. While the Olstads scrimped and saved up their crop earnings, Kristin did spinning, weaving, knitting, and sewing for those with money to spare. By God\u2019s grace, they were finally here.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Uncle Lars steered the wagon around a sharp bend in the rutty road. He drove to the top of a small hill, and Kristin could see the blue Lake Michigan to her left and farm fields to her right.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Then a lovely white wood-framed house came into view. It didn\u2019t look all that different from the home they\u2019d just past, with dormers, a covered front porch, and stately pillars bearing the load of a wide overhang. She marveled at the homestead\u2019s large, well-maintained barn and several outbuildings. American homes looked like this? Then no wonder Mr. Olstad couldn\u2019t wait to own his own farm!<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Up ahead Kristin spied a lone figure of a man. She could just barely make out his faded blue cambric shirt, tan trousers, and the hoe in his hands as he worked the edge of the field. Closer still, she saw his light brown hair springing out from beneath his hat. As the wagon rolled past him, the man ceased his labor and turned their way. Although she couldn\u2019t see his eyes as he squinted into the sunshine, Kristin did catch sight of his tanned face. She guessed his age to be not too much more than hers and decided he was really quite handsome.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cDo not even acknowledge the likes of him,\u201d Uncle Lars spat derisively. \u201cGood Christians do not associate with Sam Sundberg or any members of his family.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Oh, dear, too late! <\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Kristin had already given him a little smile out of sheer politeness. She had assumed he was a friend or neighbor. But at her uncle\u2019s warning she quickly lowered her gaze.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Kristin\u2019s ever-inquiring nature got the best of her. \u201cWhat is so bad about that family?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cThey are evil\u2014like the Martins. Even worse, Karl Sundberg is married to a heathen Indian woman who casts spells on the good people of this community.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cSpells?\u201d Peder\u2019s eyes widened.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201c<\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Ja<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">, spells. Why else would some folks\u2019 crops fail while Karl\u2019s flourish? He gets richer and richer with his farming in the summer, his logging camps in the winter, and his fur trading with heathens, while good folks like me fall on hard times.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cHard times?\u201d Peder echoed the words.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201c<\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Ja<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">, same seed. Same fertile ground. Same golden opportunity.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Uncle Lars swiveled to face the Olstads. \u201cI will tell you why that happens. The Sundbergs have hexed good Christians like me.\u201d He wagged his head. \u201cOh, they are an evil lot, those Sundbergs and Martins. Same as the Indians.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Indians? <\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Curiosity got the better of her, and Kristin swung around in the wagon to get one last glimpse of Sam Sundberg. She could hardly believe he was as awful as her uncle described. Why, he even removed his hat just now and gave her a cordial nod.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cTurn around, <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>niese<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">, and mind your manners!\u201d Uncle Lars\u2019s large hand gripped her upper arm and he gave her a mild shake.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cI . . . I am sorry, <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Onkel<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">,\u201d Kristin stammered. \u201cBut I have never seen an Indian.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cSam Sundberg is not an Indian. It is his father\u2019s second wife and their children. Oneida half-breeds is what we call them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cHalf-breed, eh?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Kristin glanced over her shoulder and saw Peder stroke his chin.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cInteresting,\u201d he added.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cHow <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>very <\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">interesting.\u201d Kristin couldn\u2019t deny her interest was piqued. \u201cAre there many Indians living in the Wisconsin Territory?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201c<\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Ja<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">, they trespass on my land, but I show my gun and they leave without incident. Sundberg brings his Indian wife to church.\u201d He wagged his head. \u201cSuch a disgrace.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cAnd the Territory officials do nothing?\u201d Mr. Olstad asked.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Uncle Lars puffed out his chest. \u201cAs of three months ago, we are the State of Wisconsin\u2014no longer a territory.\u201d Uncle Lars stated the latter with as much enthusiasm as a stern schoolmaster. \u201cNow the government will get rid of those savages once and for all.\u201d He sent Kristin a scowl. \u201cAnd you, my <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>liten niese<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">, will do well to stay away from Indians. <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>All <\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">of them, including our neighbors, the Sundbergs. You hear, lest you get yourself scalped.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201c<\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Ja, Onkel<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">With a measure of alarm, Kristin touched her braided hair and chanced a look at Peder and Mr. Olstad. Both pairs of wide eyes seemed to warn her to heed Uncle Lars\u2019s instructions. She would, of course. But somehow she couldn\u2019t imagine the man they\u2019d just passed doing her any harm. Would he?<\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Sam Sundberg wiped the beads of perspiration off his brow before dropping his hat back on his head. Who was the little blonde riding next to Lars Eikaas? Sam hadn\u2019t seen her before. And the men in the wagon bed . . . he\u2019d never seen them either.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">After a moment\u2019s deliberation he concluded they were the expected arrivals from the \u201cOld Country.\u201d Months ago Sam recalled hearing talk in town about Lars\u2019s orphaned niece sailing to America with friends of the family, so he assumed the two red-haired men and the young lady were the topics of that particular conversation. But wouldn\u2019t it just serve Mr. Eikaas right if that blonde angel turned his household upside down\u2014or, maybe, right-side up?<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">He smirked at the very idea. Sam didn\u2019t have to meet that young lady to guess Mr. Eikaas would likely have his hands full. Her second backward glance said all Sam needed to know.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">The word <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>plucky <\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">sprang into his mind. He chuckled. Plucky she <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">seemed, indeed.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">But was she wise enough not to believe everything her uncle said?<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Sam thought it a real shame. Years ago Pa and Lars Eikaas had been friends. But then Pa\u2019s silver went missing, insults were traded, and the Eikaases\u2019 prejudice against Ma, Jackson, and Mary kept the feud alive.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">The Eikaas wagon rolled out of sight, leaving brown clouds of dust in its wake. A grin threatened as Sam thought again of that plucky blonde\u2019s curious expression. Maybe she did have a mind of her own. Now wouldn\u2019t that be something? Sam thanked God that not everyone around here was as intolerant of Wisconsin Natives as the Eikaas family. There were those who actually befriended the Indians and stood up to government officials in their stead. Like Pa, for instance. Like Sam himself.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">The blistering sun beat down on him. Removing his hat once more, he wiped the sweat from his forehead. He started pondering the latest government proposal to remove the Indians from their land. First the Oneida tribe had been forced out, and soon the Menominee band would be \u201cremoved\u201d and \u201ccivilized.\u201d As bad as that was, it irked Sam more to think about how the government figured it knew best for the Indians. Government plans hadn\u2019t succeeded in the past, so why would they now? Something else had to be done. Relocating the Menominee would cause those people nothing but misery. They\u2019d stated as much themselves. Furthermore, the Indians, led by Chief Oshkosh, were determined not to give up their last tract of land. Sam predicted this current government proposal would only serve to stir up more violence between Indians and whites.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">But not if he and Pa could help it.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">In the distance he heard the clang of the dinner bell. Ma didn\u2019t like him to tarry when food was on the table. Across the beet field, Sam saw his younger brother run on ahead of him. He wagged his head at the twelve-year-old and his voracious appetite.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">With one calloused hand gripping the hoe and the other holding the bushel basket, Sam trudged toward their white clapboard home. Its two dormers protruded proudly from the second floor.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Entering the mudroom, he fetched cold water from the inside well, peeled off his hat, and quickly washed up. Next he donned a fresh shirt. Ma insisted upon cleanliness at the supper table. Finally presentable, he made his way into the basement where the summer kitchen and a small eating area were located. The cool air met his sun-stoked skin and Sam sighed, appreciating the noonday respite.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Next he noticed a cake in the middle of the table.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cThat looks good enough to eat,\u201d he teased, resisting the urge to steal a finger-full of white frosting.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Ma gave him a smile, and her nut-brown eyes darkened as she set the wooden tureen of turkey and wild rice onto the table. \u201cSince it\u2019s Rachel\u2019s last day with us, I thought I would prepare an extra special dessert.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Sam glanced across the table at the glowing bride-to-be. In less than twenty-four hours Rachel Decker would become Mrs. Luke Smith. But for the remainder of today she\u2019d fulfill her duties as Ma\u2019s hired house girl who helped with the cooking, cleaning, sewing, washing, and ironing whenever Ma came down with one of her episodes, which were sometimes so intensely painful that Ma couldn\u2019t get out of bed without help. Rachel had been both a comfort and an efficient assistant to Ma.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cI helped bake the cake, Sam.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">He grinned at his ten-year-old sister, Mary. \u201cGood job.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">They all sat down, Mary taking her seat beside Rachel. Sam helped his mother into her place at the head of the table then lowered himself into his chair next to Jackson, who\u2019d been named after Major General Andrew Jackson, the seventh president of this great country.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cSam, since your father is away,\u201d Ma began, \u201cwill you please ask God\u2019s blessing on our food?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cBe glad to.\u201d He bowed his head. \u201cDearest Lord, we thank Thee for Thy provisions. Strengthen and nourish us with this meal so we may glorify Thee with our labors. In Jesus\u2019s name, amen.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Action ensued all around the table. The women served themselves and then between Sam and Jack, they scraped the bowl clean.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cGood thing Pa\u2019s not home from his meetings in town,\u201d Jack muttered with a crooked grin.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cIf your father were home,\u201d Ma retorted, \u201cI would have made more food.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cShould have made more anyhow.\u201d Jack gave her a teasing grin. \u201cNo seconds.\u201d He clanged the bowl and spoon together as if to prove his point.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cYou have seconds on your plate already,\u201d Ma said. \u201cWhy, I have never seen anyone consume as much food as you do, Jackson.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">His smile broadened. \u201cI\u2019m growing. Soon I\u2019ll be taller than Sam.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cBrotherly competition.\u201d Sam had to chuckle. But in the next moment, he wondered if his family behaved oddly. Didn\u2019t all families enjoy meals together? Tease and laugh together? Tell stories once the sun went down? According to Rachel, they didn\u2019t. The ebony-haired, dark-eyed young woman had grown up without a mother and had a drunkard for a father . . . until Ma got wind of the situation and took her in. She invited Rachel to stay in the small room adjacent to the kitchen and offered her a job. Rachel had accepted. And now, years later, Rachel would soon marry a fine man, Luke Smith, a friend of Sam\u2019s. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Taking a bite of his meal, he chewed and looked across the table at Mary. Both she and Jack resembled their mother, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, and graceful, willowy frames, while Sam took after his father, blue eyes and stocky build, measuring just under six feet. Yet, in spite of the outward dissimilarities, the five Sundbergs were a closely knit family, and Sam felt grateful that he\u2019d known nothing but happiness throughout<\/span> <span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">his childhood. He had no recollection whatsoever of his biological mother who had taken ill and died during the voyage from Norway to America.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Sam had been but a toddler when she went home to be with the Lord, and soon after disembarking in New York, his father met another Norwegian couple. They helped care for Sam and eventually persuaded Pa to take his young son and move with them to Wisconsin, known back then as part of the \u201cMichigan Territory.\u201d Pa seized the opportunity, believing the promises that westward expansion touted, and he was not disappointed.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">He learned to plant, trap, and trade with the Indians, and he became a successful businessman. In time, he saved enough funds to make his dreams of owning land and farming a reality.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Then, when Sam was a boy of eight years, his father met and married Mariah, an Oneida. Like her, many Oneida were Christians and fairly well educated due to the missionaries who had lived among them. In time Sam took to his new mother, and she to him. Through the years Ma cherished and admonished him as though he were her own son. She learned the Norwegian language and could speak it fluently. As far as Sam was concerned, he was her own son\u2014and Mariah, his own mother.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">They were a family.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cWas that the Eikaas wagon driving by not long ago?\u201d Mary asked.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Sam snapped from his musing. \u201cSure was. It appears they have relatives in town.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cMr. Eikaas didn\u2019t stop and visit, did he?\u201d Mary\u2019s eyes were as round as gingersnaps.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Sam chuckled. \u201cNo, of course not. I can\u2019t recall the last time Lars Eikaas spoke to me . . . or any of the Sundbergs, for that matter.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cErik is nice to me at school.\u201d Mary took a bite of her meal.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cGlad to hear it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cI can\u2019t wait to begin school next week.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Sam grinned at his sister\u2019s enthusiasm. He\u2019d felt the same way as a boy.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cSam, what made you assume Mr. Eikaas transported relatives in his wagon today?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">He glanced at Ma. \u201cA while back I\u2019d heard that Lars\u2019s niece was coming to America, accompanied by friends, and since I didn\u2019t recognize the three passengers in the wagon this morning, I drew my own conclusions.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cIs she pretty?\u201d Jackson\u2019s cheeks bulged with food.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cIs who pretty?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cMr. Eikaas\u2019s niece . . . is she pretty?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Sam recalled the plucky blonde whose large, cornflower-blue eyes looked back at him with interest from beneath her bonnet. And pretty? As much as Sam hated to admit it, she was about the prettiest young lady he\u2019d ever set eyes on.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Jackson elbowed him. \u201cHey, I asked you a question.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Sam gave his younger brother an annoyed look. \u201cYeah, I s\u2019pose she\u2019s pretty. But don\u2019t go getting any big ideas about me courting her. She\u2019s an Eikaas.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cYou\u2019re awful old to not be married yet.\u201d Jack rolled his dark eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cWhat do you know about it? I\u2019m only twenty-one.\u201d Sam grinned. \u201cHush up and eat.\u201d It\u2019s what the boy did best. \u201cSo . . . did everyone have a pleasant morning?\u201d He forked another bite of food into his mouth, wondering why he tried so hard to shift the subject off of Lars Eikaas\u2019s niece.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Kristin looked around the one-room shanty with its unhewn walls and narrow, bowed loft. Cotton squares of material covered the windows, making the heat inside nearly unbearable. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Disappointment riddled her being like buckshot. Although she knew she should feel grateful for journeying safely this far, and now to have a roof over her head, she couldn\u2019t seem to shake her displeasure at seeing her relatives\u2019 living quarters. It looked nothing like her uncle had described in his letters nor the homes she\u2019d glimpsed on the way.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cHere is your trunk of belongings,\u201d Uncle Lars said, carrying the wooden chest in on one of his broad shoulders. With a grunt, he set it down in the far corner of the cabin. \u201cWhere is my inheritance? Let me have a look at it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cRight now, <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Onkel<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201c<\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Ja, ja <\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">. . .\u201d Impatience filled his tone.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Pulling open the drawstring of her leather purse, she reached inside and extracted the key. She unlocked the trunk and opened its curved lid. Getting onto her knees, Kristin moved aside her clothes and extra shoes until she found what she searched for. Poppa\u2019s gold watch. She held the black velvet-covered box reverently in her hands for one last, long moment before she stood and presented it to her uncle.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cThis belonged to my poppa.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cAh . . .\u201d Uncle Lars\u2019s face lit up with delight as he opened the box. Looking to Aunt Esther, he nodded. \u201cThis will bring a fair price, do you think?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Disbelief poured over her. \u201cBut . . . you would not sell Poppa\u2019s watch, would you?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cNone of your business!\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Kristin jumped back at the biting reply. Her opinion of her uncle dropped like a rock into a cavern.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cAnything more?\u201d Her uncle bent over the wooden chest and quickly rummaged through it, spilling clothes onto the unswept floor.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201c<\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Onkel<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">, please, stop. My garments . . .\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cDoes not seem to be anything else.\u201d Uncle Lars narrowed his gaze. \u201cIs there?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cNo.\u201d The necklace <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Mor <\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">had given her burned against her already perspiring skin. Still, Kristin refused to part with the gift. \u201cNothing more. As you know, Poppa was a farmer. He supplemented his income by working at the post office, but no money was ever saved. After my parents died, I sold everything to help pay for a portion of my passage to America. I earned the rest myself.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cAny money left?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Kristin shook her head as she picked up the last of her belongings, careful not to meet her uncle\u2019s stare. A little money remained in the special pocket she\u2019d sewn into her petticoat. For safety, she\u2019d kept her funds on her person throughout the entire voyage. The last of her coinage would purchase muchneeded undergarments. She\u2019d managed to save it throughout the journey for the specific purpose of buying new foundations when she reached America. It wasn\u2019t inherited. She\u2019d worked hard for it.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">With a grunt Uncle Lars turned and sauntered out of the cabin.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cYou will sleep in the loft with your cousins.\u201d Aunt Esther\u2019s tone left no room for questions or argument. Wearing a plain, brown dress with a tan apron pinned to its front, and with her dark brown hair tightly pinned into a bun, the older woman looked as drab as her surroundings. \u201cYour uncle and I sleep on a pallet by the hearth.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cYes, <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Tante<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">. I am sure I will be very comfortable.\u201d Another lie.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cCome, let us eat.\u201d Aunt Esther walked toward the hearth where a heavy black kettle sat on top of a low-burning fire. \u201cThere is venison stew for our meal.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cIt sounds delicious.\u201d Kristin\u2019s stomach growled in anticipation. She\u2019d eaten very little on the ship this morning. Excitement plus the waves on Lake Michigan made eating impossible. But after disembarking in Green Bay, her stomach began to settle, and now she was famished.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Aunt Esther called everyone to the table, which occupied an entire corner of the cabin. Her three children, two girls and one boy, ranging in ages from seven to sixteen, came in from outside, as did the Olstads. After a wooden bowl filled with stew was set before each person, the family clasped hands and recited a standard Norwegian prayer . . .<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>I Jesu navn gar vi til bords<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">,\u2014We sit down in the name of Jesus,<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Spise drikke pa ditt ord<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">,\u2014To eat and drink according to Your<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Word,<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Deg Gud til are, oss til gavn<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">,\u2014To Your honor, Oh Lord, and<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">for our benefit,<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Sa far vi mat i Jesu navn<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">.\u2014We receive food in the name of<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Jesus.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Amen<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Having said grace, hands were released, and everyone picked up a spoon and began to eat. Kristin noticed her cousins, Inga and Anna, eyeing her with interest. They resembled their father, blonde curls and blue eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cWhat do you like to do on sunny afternoons such as this one?\u201d she asked cheerfully, hoping to start conversation. After all, Inga\u2019s age was close to hers. Perhaps her cousin would help her meet friends.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cWe do not talk at the table,\u201d Aunt Esther informed her. \u201cWe eat, not talk.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cYes, <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Tante<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">.\u201d Kristin glanced at Peder and Mr. Olstad who replied with noncommittal shrugs and kept eating.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Silently, Kristin did the same. The Olstads always had lively discussions around their table.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">When the meal ended, the girls cleared the table and the men took young Erik and ambled outside.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cMay I help with cleaning up?\u201d Kristin asked her aunt.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cNo. You rest today and regain your strength. Tomorrow we are invited to a wedding, the day after is the Sabbath. Then beginning on Monday, you will labor from sunup to sunset like everyone else in this place.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cExcept for one,\u201d Inga quipped. No one but Kristin heard.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201cWho?\u201d Her lips moved, although she didn\u2019t utter a sound.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">\u201c<\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Far<\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">, that is who.\u201d Disrespect seeped from Inga\u2019s tone, which was loud and clear.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Hadn\u2019t Aunt Esther overheard it?<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Tante <\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">suddenly whirled around and glared at Kristin. \u201cDo something with yourself. We are working here.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">With a frown, Kristin backed away. Her aunt\u2019s brusque manner caused her to feel weary and more homesick than<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">ever. She missed her parents and her little brothers. Why did God take them, leaving her to live life without them? And Sylvia . . . how she longed for her best friend!<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Kristin knelt by the trunk and carefully lifted out a soft, knitted shawl that had once belonged to her mother, Lydia Eikaas. <\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-It; font-size: small;\"><em>Mor <\/em><\/span><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">had been an excellent seamstress, expert in spinning wool into yarn and thread, as well as in weaving and sewing garments. She\u2019d taught Kristin everything she knew about the craft. Surely Kristin could now put her skills to good use in this new country, this land of opportunity.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">She sighed and glanced over to where her aunt and two cousins continued straightening up after the meal. Inga and Anna barely smiled, and her aunt\u2019s expression seemed permanently frozen into a frown. Is that what this country really afforded . . . misery?<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-family: MinionPro-Regular; font-size: small;\">Allowing her gaze to wander around the dismal cabin once more, Kristin began to wish she had not come to America.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/01\/divider.png\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-10526\" title=\"divider\" src=\"http:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/01\/divider.png\" alt=\"\" width=\"317\" height=\"61\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/01\/divider.png 317w, https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/01\/divider-150x28.png 150w\" sizes=\"(max-width: 317px) 100vw, 317px\" \/><\/a><br \/>\n<strong>MY REVIEW:<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><a title=\"Threads of Hope\" href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/exec\/obidos\/ASIN\/1616384972\">Threads of Hope<\/a> is Christian historical fiction at its best. Set in the frontier of early Wisconsin where some settlers have already established themselves and become successful due to their hard work, there is still plenty of land for those willing to work for it. There is at least one Indian tribe left in the area but plans are being made to relocate them across the river. Although the Indians are friendly ones, tensions are high because once again they feel they have been the victim of government lies.<\/p>\n<p>It is to this area that Kristin Eikaas arrives at the invitation of her uncle after the tragic deaths of her entire family. Unfortunately the promises he made to her were soon revealed to be lies and an ongoing feud between her uncle and the Sundberg family jeopardizes her safety when her growing friendship with Sam Sundberg is known.<\/p>\n<p><a title=\"Threads of Hope\" href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/exec\/obidos\/ASIN\/1616384972\">Threads of Hope<\/a>\u00a0has a well developed plot with numerous intriguing characters. Primarily dramatic, the story also includes a bit of action, some humor, and of course romance. With a predominate theme of forgiveness and reconciliation, the narrative also has lessons to be learned about prejudice, honor, and integrity. I thoroughly enjoyed\u00a0<a title=\"Threads of Hope\" href=\"http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/exec\/obidos\/ASIN\/1616384972\">Threads of Hope<\/a> and would recommend it to anyone who enjoys historical fiction.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[8,34,41],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-10615","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-books","category-historical","category-romance"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10615","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=10615"}],"version-history":[{"count":12,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10615\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":10661,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/10615\/revisions\/10661"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=10615"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=10615"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.daysongreflections.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=10615"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}