With his free arm, Ketil shielded his eyes. She was shining so brightly now.
Hanne looked over her shoulder, at her brothers and sister. Each of them stopped fighting and stood gaping at her. Sissel held up a thin hand to shield her eyes from her sister’s blaze.
Hanne’s eyes fell next on Owen. Her beloved. His expression was awed and unafraid. Yes. The Gods wanted them together. Hanne and Owen as one had already happened and was yet to be and was all at the same time. She smiled.
Hanne turned her gaze back on Ketil. He shrank from her, arms covering his head. “Don’t!” he pleaded. “Don’t kill me! I beg you!”
“Don’t be afraid,” she said. She spoke in the old tongue. “You are going to meet the Gods.”
Then the third story of the fiery hotel collapsed, crashing through the second, down to the ground. The heat surged, and everything grew wavy.
Hanne leaned down to Ketil, as tenderly as a new mother. She reached into his chest and snuffed out the light.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Owen hoped people would explain it away. Think what they had seen was a trick of the light—firelight shining on the girl when the hotel caved in, making her seem as if lit from within.
After Hanne had killed the Berserker, she crumpled unconscious to the ground. With both her and Ketil fallen and the fire leaping out to the nearby buildings, the fight was abandoned.
Those townspeople who could dragged themselves back to wet the buildings around the hotel. The building’s foundation was still burning. The embers would likely last until morning.
Owen crawled to Hanne’s body. It looked like a war had broken out on the main street of Wolf Creek, Montana. There was blood from the men who had been slain or injured in the fight. Everything was covered in ash and grime. Only Hanne lay there clean. Her skin was as fresh as if she’d just washed up, and her clothes were free of soot. Even the pink coat, which had been bloodstained, looked immaculate.
“Hanne,” Stieg called. He staggered to his sister. Sissel came, too, and fell to Hanne’s side.
With his good arm, Knut pulled Ketil’s lifeless body away from them, toward the gutter of the street. Then he walked back to kneel at Hanne’s feet.
The siblings and Owen gathered around Hanne while Stieg pressed trembling fingers to his sister’s throat to search for a pulse. The smoke wafted around them. It seemed to Owen like a scene from hell, with Hanne a fallen angel.
“She’s alive,” Stieg said with a sob. Sissel took her sister’s hand and wept onto it.
An old woman stalked forward.
“Devil take you all!” she screeched. “Murderers!”
She spat on the leg of Knut’s trousers.
“We must go,” Stieg said. “We must get away. Owen, can you carry her?”
Hanne opened her eyes.
“Oh,” she said. “Are we alive, then?”
“Yes,” Stieg answered. “We’re alive. Barely.”
“Hanne,” Knut said, and then, overcome, he pressed his face to her belly. Hanne put her hand on her brother’s back.
“It’s all right, Knut. We’re going to be all right,” she said.
“Are you magic now?” Sissel asked. “Are you changed?”
Hanne took a breath. Owen watched her as she stretched her arms and hands.
She bowed her head. “I’m cold, that’s all.”
Owen put out his hand to help her up. He was a little afraid of her. But when she put her hand into his, he recognized it.
It was the hand of the girl he’d come to know on the trail. And the smile she offered gave him the same warm, heart-stopping thrill it had before.
“I know a place we can winter,” he said, loud enough for the others to hear. “Up in Great Falls. I think they’ll take us in.”
Hanne took his hand into both of hers. She was standing close to him. She took his hand and held it to her heart, on top of her coat.
No, that did not suit her. She rearranged his hand, slipping it through the gap between the buttons on her coat, so that his hand could rest atop the very fabric of her shirt and feel the warm skin underneath and her heart beating for him.
* * *
HANNE FELT LIGHT in the saddle, almost giddy with relief. She kept smiling around at her siblings, following in single file on their tired horses behind her. Owen was leading them around town now, cutting a wide circle to return to where Rolf would be waiting for them with Daisy.
The guilt and dread had been removed from her. It was a strange feeling, to ride, in the dark, fleeing the scene of a terrible crime, and be joyful.
And she was not hungry.
She was not hungry in the least.
It meant that she had come somehow to peace with her Nytte. She had opened to it, surrendered and accepted the power. If she could do that and not suffer the punishing hunger, then perhaps her brothers could also find a way out. Perhaps with Rolf’s help, they could find a way to live a long life with the Nytte. Perhaps Knut could learn to stop his growth. Stieg might not lose his eyes.
They went through the trees, the barren branches above hung with stars.
“He said his sister has a big place and needs help running it,” Owen was telling Stieg. “My friend Hoakes is trustworthy, that much I know.”
“We can pay for room and board,” Stieg said. His voice was hoarse from the fire. “While we figure out where to go next.”
“There’s plenty of wild places in America,” Owen said. “If we keep Knut out of sight. Maybe we should go to California come spring.”
“I would like to see San Francisco,” Stieg said. “They say there is gold in the streets. You can brush it up with a broom!”
Knut’s head jerked awake. He had been dozing in the saddle. Hanne had reset the shoulder, with Owen’s help; then Owen had made a sling out of some canvas. As for Stieg, blood from his bandaged shoulder had bled through the gray cloth of his coat. And Rolf did not complain, but it was clear there was something wrong with his back.
They all needed time to rest and recuperate.
Hanne hoped they would find that in Great Falls.
What they needed now was a place to hide for the winter, and time to form a new plan. Rolf would teach them all he knew. And if his predictions were true, more Nytteson would be coming for them. The Baron himself might come.
Knut was still a wanted man, in America and Norway both. They were not out of danger by a long sight.
But Hanne trusted that there was a plan for them. The Gods had brought her to a shining new clarity; they would not abandon her and her siblings now.
They found Rolf where they had left him. Daisy was tied to an aspen tree. Perhaps she had tried to follow. She began to whine, then bark, as they approached, wriggling with joy.
Rolf had his head down, his posture one of defeat. He did not look up, even as they approached. He was rocking to and fro, muttering. He seemed not to hear them.
“Rolf!” Hanne cried. “Mr. Tjossem!”
She slid off the horse and crossed to stand next to him. He was in a trance.
Hanne saw he had drawn runes all over his face and hands with charcoal. The designs shouted to Hanne. She understood them, each one a poem, many words and images compressed into line. They danced before her eyes, as if written in firelight.
Rolf was praying in a steady stream of Old Norse. “Óreiðum augum lítið okkr þinig ok gefið sitjöndum sigr.” He was praying for the Gods to see them, to look kindly on them and grant them victory.
Hanne knelt at his side. She put her hand on his shoulder. At Hanne’s touch, he stopped chanting, opened red-rimmed eyes to take in her face.
“You were right,” she said. “The Gods came when I hailed them. They were within me, as you said.”
The old man’s eyes shone with joy. Joy and relief.
Hanne embraced him. The soot from his face marked her clean clothes.
* * *
HOURS LATER, after they had ridden and made camp, Hanne awoke in the tent. Si
ssel was asleep, next to her in the bedroll. Their coats and mufflers were laid atop the bedroll, for added warmth.
The tent was dark, the only light a dim glow near the flaps from the campfire outside.
Hanne crawled to the entrance, her body immediately shivering, though she was sleeping in her dress. Outside she saw Owen poking at the fire. All else was still.
Hanne took her coat from the pile atop their bedroll. Sissel did not move. Her face, asleep, was much younger. Asleep there was none of the protesting and the dissatisfaction that made up her personality. Hanne smiled with love for her difficult sister.
Hanne shrugged on her coat and stuck her bare feet into her shoes. The worn wooden soles fit her feet perfectly, but Hanne had made up her mind to insist Stieg buy her and Sissel proper American button-up boots. She was finished with the heavy, clunky shoes—they were burdensome relics. It was time to walk lighter.
She slipped out of the tent.
The tent where Stieg, Knut, and Rolf were sleeping was humming gently with snores.
Owen had a tin mug in his hands. He sat staring into the fire as if it were telling him a story.
“Are you well, Owen?” Hanne whispered.
Owen looked up. His face warmed into a smile when he saw her. Daisy lay at his feet, asleep.
“I’m good. Couldn’t sleep.”
“Something woke me up,” she said. “I’m not sure what it was.”
“Maybe I made too much noise.”
“Maybe,” Hanne said.
“Want some coffee?” he offered.
“No, thank you.”
She had some fleeting thought of propriety but let it go. Her skirts swished as she went to sit next to the cowboy.
He shifted on the rock he had pulled up to the fire, giving her the spot he had already warmed with his body heat.
She sat down. Their arms brushed.
She leaned into him, ever so softly inclining her head toward his.
“Are you thinking about today?” she asked.
“Naw,” he said. “I guess I was thinking about the future.”
A log spat and cracked in the fire. Hanne watched the orange flames dance against the empty night sky.
She wanted to know what Owen was thinking, but she did not speak. The experience she had had in Wolf Creek, the beautiful light, lingered in her still. She only wanted to sit in it, be still, and marvel.
After a long while, Owen cleared his throat. “I like dogs,” he said. “As you well know.”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to train them and sell them. I think cowboys would pay top dollar for a trained working dog. I do.”
Hanne agreed, but he rushed on before she could say so.
“I’d like to have a ranch, just a small one. A good, big garden and some livestock, but I don’t want to farm wheat or corn or sorghum. I’d train up the dogs. Breed them and train them. For a living.”
He looked at her. Hanne felt his eyes on her face.
She knew he was looking for her response, and that what he was asking her was important. Her response mattered. She took a breath.
“If we do not have cattle,” she said, “we must live near someone who does. For the dogs will need to practice with a herd, don’t you think?”
A grin broke out on Owen’s face.
“I was thinking about that,” he said. “We’d better do just that. A small flock of sheep might be helpful, for training pups.”
“I like that idea, because I can spin and weave,” Hanne offered. “Not as well as my aunty Aud; you should see the weavings she makes. But I can do it well enough.”
“I don’t doubt there’s much you can’t do,” Owen said.
“Wait,” Hanne said. “I believe that was a compliment, but I must untangle the grammar.”
Owen laughed, then checked the volume of his voice.
Hanne leaned in just as Owen moved closer.
His eyes were big as he drew near. The embers of the fire glimmered in his pupils. Hanne leaned farther still. She closed her eyes and felt his mouth on hers. His lips were rough and soft at the same time.
He put his hand to the side of her face. Hanne’s pulse thrummed, her whole body yearning for Owen, all that wanting expressing itself in their kiss.
Hanne drew back, her face and neck on fire. Though the air was biting cold and her breath frosty, she was heated through.
Hanne slipped her hand into Owen’s. His skin was cracked and tough, and she loved it. She wished he would never let go of her hand.
Then came a sound in the bushes—crackling, and the huffing of a horse drawing nearer. Hanne and Owen both stood.
“Who’s there?” Owen asked. He reached backward for his rifle, grabbing it from inside his bedroll.
Hanne felt no internal alarm and saw that Daisy, who had woken and sniffed, was also unconcerned. She lay her head back on her paws, covered her nose with her tail, and went back to sleep.
The figure drew nearer. “It’s just me,” came a voice.
It was Rolf. He came into the clearing of their camp, riding Joyful.
“But, Rolf, where have you been?” Hanne asked.
Rolf swung his leg over the horse and dropped to the ground. He looked tired and frail. Hanne crossed the campsite and went to his side.
“I had an idea,” he said, leaning on her. “To get us a bit of time.” He reached into the saddlebags and removed some tattered clothing.
Hanne helped Rolf over to the warm rock. He sat, clutching the clothing in hands stiff with cold. Owen poured him a cup of coffee from the kettle, which was set in the outer coals to keep warm.
Hanne sat beside Rolf and put her arm around him. He was shivering.
“The Baron will expect to hear from me soon,” he said. “I will telegraph him and tell him a story. I will say that Ketil perished in a storm. Or a landslide. Something natural. And that I’m still looking for you.”
“I’ll have to go back, though. In the spring. If I don’t come back, he will send people looking for me.”
Rolf leaned toward the fire for its warmth.
“I don’t understand. Where did you go, Rolf?” she asked him.
“I went back to Wolf Creek.”
No wonder he was so cold and tired. Wolf Creek was three hours behind them. He had not slept at all, then.
“The town was quiet. Still in great disorder. I found Ketil’s body. It was lying in the street.”
“What’d you do with it?” Owen asked.
“I changed the Berserker’s clothes for Knut’s horse blankets.”
Rolf held up the clothing he had brought from the saddlebags. It was the jacket and vest that Ketil had worn. He tossed the clothes into the fire. The flames flared and devoured the fine fabrics.
Hanne shot a glance at Owen. “But no one would take his face for Knut’s—”
“Then I rolled him into the remains of the fire. The embers were still hot in the foundation. They melted his features away.”
Hanne shivered at the thought.
“You think it will work?” Owen said.
Rolf shrugged. “I pulled his body to the jail and pinned the wanted poster for Knut onto the blanket. I thought it worth a chance. He was as tall as Knut, if not as stocky.”
“Oh, do you think it could work?” Hanne asked. “Or will they chase us forever?”
Rolf sipped from the tin mug of coffee. He grimaced at the bitterness of the brew. “There is an old line of Eddic poetry that says, ‘The thrumming of one strand alters the web. The blood of one heart poured out changes the line. One cannot predict the journey ahead as one cannot predict the way sparks will dodge, as they rise dancing from the fire.’”
A log in the fire crackled and sparks drifted up, as if to illustrate Rolf’s verse.
“Which I guess is my way of saying that I don’t know,” Rolf finished.
Hanne watched the sparks wink out against the black, starry sky. She sighed. He was right. There was no way to know what would happe
n next.
“You’re shivering pretty bad, Mr. Tjossem. Think more coffee would help?” Owen said.
“I just want to sleep,” Rolf said. “I’m too old for this kind of business.”
Hanne and Owen helped him to his feet.
“Next time, tell me, and I’ll go,” Owen said. “We look after each other.”
“Very well,” Rolf said.
Without thinking, Hanne hugged Rolf and kissed him on the cheek. He looked at her, and she was surprised to see tears glimmering in his eyes.
Rolf said nothing, only bobbed his head. He shuffled off to the tent where Stieg and Knut were sleeping.
“That was good thinking on his part,” Owen said. “I suppose we’re lucky he found us.”
“We are,” Hanne said. And her heart leaped with happiness—Owen felt himself a part of the we of her family.
“What are you smiling about?” Owen asked.
Hanne dropped to sit back down and Owen settled next to her. He put his arm around her. Hanne pressed her face into his neck. The smell of him—smoke, leather, salt—was intoxicating.
“Well? Say something,” Owen said. There was a smile in his voice.
“Will you stay with me always?” Hanne asked.
“I been askin’ to do that for days now,” Owen told her softly.
She raised her face and kissed him, the firelight warming her knees, his arm warming her back.
In the future there might be a ranch under the vast Montana sky, dogs to train, sheep to shear. It was a life so simple and so lovely she could not have dreamed it for herself. Hanne would fight for it, for she meant now to live and live fully.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wish to thank my agent, Susanna Einstein, for her support during the many drafts I wrote of this novel. Without her confidence in me, I’m not sure I would have made it. Susanna, I could not imagine a better advocate or friend.
I am indebted to Liz Szabla, my editor at Feiwel and Friends, for her passionate and thoughtful work with me on this manuscript. I absolutely loved collaborating on the final pass with you, Liz. I can’t wait to sit down and pore over the sequel!
The magnificent cover for this book still thrills me every time I look at it. Greg Ruth, thank you for the perfect illustration. Liz Dresner, thank you for the design of the cover and the interior.