On the Trail to Moonlight Gulch Read Online Free PDF Page B

her room. After dressing, he bent over Tory and kissed him on the lips, his pompadour falling over his forehead. Just before opening the door, he whispered, “I will see you in a few hours, my love,” and with a wink, he slinked out of the room.

Chapter 4

    “ B UILD up the fire before it die down.”
    Tory obeyed his father’s choppy English and tossed an armful of logs into the hearth, recoiling as he always did to avoid getting too close to the lashing flames. The writhing fire appeared more like an octopus with fiery tentacles. He feared that if he got too close, the flames would pull him into what he viewed as a conflagration. Rationally he knew the hearth fire could not reach him, yet the fear seized him each time he stoked the fire.
    He drew his hands back and returned to the counter where he had been kneading dough for a limpa bread. Across from him, his father rolled out rectangles of dough for the kanelbulle. The raw odors of yeast, cinnamon, and the wood fire permeated the kitchen.
    “You and our new boarder have become fast friends,” his father said after a prolonged silence.
    “Yes, Joseph’s a nice man,” Tory said.
    “Joseph? You do not call him Mr. van Werckhoven? Ah, you are on friendly terms with him, I was not imagining things.”
    “Don’t you want me to be polite to the boarders?”
    “Ja, of course. But you and him, you sometimes walk around yoked together like two carriage horses. He only here not even a week.”
    “I’m acting hospitable.”
    “Hospitable? You are more. You have made him your brother.” Mr. Pilkvist wiped his perspiring brow with the back of his stubby white hand. “You having only two sisters, I can see why you might take to him. But remember, Mr. van Werckhoven will leave here in a few weeks and go back to New York City. You shouldn’t get so attached to the boarders. They come and go.”
    His father’s counsel brought out the anxieties that had pestered Tory lately. Would Joseph have to return to New York City despite his talk of wanting to remain in Chicago? What if Joseph’s father wanted him back in New York to help run the family business? Tory’s father expected the same from him. It was reasonable for fathers to want their enterprising sons close by.
    Tory had wanted to discuss his concerns with Joseph whenever they were alone together, either in his bedroom late at night after their lovemaking or while strolling the neighborhood before supper. But he had stifled himself for fear of appearing too desperate. Tory did not wish to risk chasing Joseph away.
    “He said he wants to stay,” Tory said, reassuring himself. “He might even want to rent the apartment above the bakery.” He glanced at the ceiling. The young couple from Peoria prattled about upstairs. Was there a way to get rid of them?
    Mr. Pilkvist snickered. “The Wentworths are good tenants. Besides, a man of Mr. van Werckhoven’s means won’t want to stay in that nest.” He peered at Tory through the pots and pans hanging from steel hooks above the counter. “Han är aristokrat.”
    “You can’t say such things about Joseph.” Tory grimaced. “He’s not an aristocrat. He’s a gentleman.”
    “He still not of our same class.”
    “Oh, Pappa.” Tory took out his frustrations on the limpa dough, punching and dropping it on the floured countertop. “That’s old-world talk. His family works as hard for their money as we do.”
    “His money is older than ours, that is big difference. He only condescend us while he stay here.”
    “Pappa, you’re wrong.”
    “I am not so sure I am wrong. Best thing for you is to learn some people should not mix. Getting close to him is like throwing yeast into boiling water.”
    After setting the limpa dough into a bowl to rise, Tory marched for the door.
    “Where you run off to now?”
    “I’m going to play some ball at the park,” Tory said gruffly. “I need some air.”
    “Don’t get so dirty you need a bath,” his father called after