Stands a Calder Man (Calder Saga 2)

“That’s where you’re wrong, because I happen to be Webb Calder. And if I let you stay, I’d be opening the floodgates for others like you to come in, and I have no intention of doing that,” he stated. “Pack up and move on.”

“But we ain’t got no place to go,” the older of the boys protested.

“That isn’t my problem. You should have given that a thought before you came here.” Webb refused to be swayed. “If you don’t start taking down that tent, I’ll have my men dismantle it for you.”

The squatter motioned to his sons. With a great deal of reluctance, they walked over to the tent and began pulling out the stakes, “What about our rifles?”

“I’ll leave them with the sheriff in Blue Moon.” Webb walked to his horse, taking the reins from Nate. “And the next time you plant yourself on a piece of ground, make sure nobody owns it.”

“You tell me where there is such a piece and I’ll go there. That railroad man said there was free land here, but

I ain’t seen none of it,” the man declared bitterly and turned to begin loading his wagon with the few possessions he had.

Nate grumbled to Webb under his breath. “The man’s a damned fool to bring his family out here. I hate to see little ones suffer like that. All Ike found in that tent for food was some potatoes and flour, and some rabbit bones.”

“Catch up a steer and tie it to the back of their wagon,” Webb said in a grim tone. “At least they’ll have something to eat until they find a place.”

By the time Virg Haskell returned with the pair of roman-nosed horses belonging to the squatter, the wagon was loaded. The woman cried when Nate tied the steer to their wagon, but the man didn’t say so much as a thank you.

After they had escorted the wagon off Triple C land, Webb sent Ike into town with the family’s rifles to report the incident to the sheriff. As soon as the fence was repaired, they turned their horses toward home.

Wet clothes flapped in the hot breeze, draped over the guy wires that kept the shanty from blowing away in a strong wind. Lilli stirred the clothes boiling in the big pot outside the shanty and glanced at Helga Kreuger scrubbing a shirt on the washboard. She wrung it out and tossed it in another bucket, then paused to press a hand against the small of her back. When she arched her back, it emphasized the protruding roundness of her stomach, indicating an advanced pregnancy.

“I’ll scrub the clothes for you, Mrs. Kreuger.” Lilli volunteered to take over the job, knowing it must be hard on the woman.

“The men are coming in from the fields. We will finish this later.” Helga Kreuger shielded her eyes with her hand and turned to look at her young daughter. “Anna, go put the dishes on the table so we can eat.”

Using the wooden stick, Lilli began removing the clothes from the hot wash water and depositing them in another large pail. Heat and steam spilled over her, beading her face and neck with perspiration. When she had finished, she mopped at her face with her apron and turned to meet the arriving men.

“Come into the house. Food is on the table,” Helga Kreuger greeted them hurriedly.

“Did you fix that stew today?” Stefan asked. “You must give to Lillian the recipe.”

Lilli had received barely a glance from her husband, but she was becoming resigned to that. Franz Kreuger came to a sudden stop and frowned darkly in her direction. Her head came up as she thought she was the object of his displeasure until she realized his gaze was directed beyond her. She turned to see a wagon coming up the lane.

“Who is that?” Franz asked, as if expecting someone to answer.

Food was forgotten as they waited for the wagon to reach the shack. Two red-haired boys were walking alongside it. In the wagon seat, there was a man driving the horse team and a woman with a child on her lap and a second on the seat beside her. A wild-eyed steer fought the rope that dragged him after the noisy wagon.

When the straggly-looking caravan was nearly level with them, the man pulled back on the reins, and the wagon rolled to a shuddering halt. The bitterness of disappointment was in the man’s face as he bobbed his head to Stefan and Franz.

“Could you spare some water for my horses?” he asked.

“Gustav!” Franz called to his young son. “Fetch the man a bucket of water from the cistern.”

“I’m obliged, sir.” He stepped down from the wagon and walked to his horses, rubbing their noses. “Would you know a place where a family could camp for the night?”

As Lilli watched, Franz Kreuger stiffened. There was veiled contempt in his look when he swept the dirty, ragtag boys and the poorness of the wagon and team. The man had not shaved and looked equally unkempt. She had suspected Franz Kreuger was guilty of having double standards, looking down on others and hating those who looked down on him.

“You might ask someone down the road,” he told the man. “They may know of a place.”

“There’s no reason why they can’t camp in that stand of cottonwoods at the corner of our property, is there, Stefan?” Lillian spoke up. She didn’t care whether Franz Kreuger thought a woman should leave such decisions to men or not.

“That sounds right nice, ma’am.” The man tipped his hat to her and missed the silencing look Stefan sent her. “We was just run off the last place.”

“Where were you?” Franz demanded with a cold look.

“We’d found an empty piece of ground north and west of here. Good ground, it was. There was a place for my wife to put in a garden, and the land would have grown wheat as tall as your belly.” His mouth twisted down in another display of bitterness. “Problem was a man named Calder already owned it.”