then back to Anna's face. "There seems to be a lot you do not know how to do."
"I can damn well do anything you set me to, seventeen or not!" But she prayed her face was not flushed.
"You can sure cuss real good, but I don't need no woman to cuss." He wondered how he'd survive the rest of his life with her Irish temper. He wondered how he'd survive another year or two womanless. All he said was, "I must think."
"Sir ..." James began, "Anna and me – “
"Do not disturb me when I think," Karl ordered. James and Anna looked at each other out of the corners of their eyes. They thought he'd set the horses to walking, but he continued to brood in silence. It was his way, the way his father had taught him, the way his grandfather had taught his father. He spent time meditating a situation first pondering before making a decision, so that when he tackled a problem, he almost always solved it. He sat quiet as a stone while the birds twittered, soft evening talk as if putting their young ones to nest for the night.
The summer evening imposed itself on Anna, and she thought how bird-talk wasn't often heard in Boston . There, at this time of day, came the music from the taverns opening for the evening. Already Anna found she preferred the birds. In his letters Karl had said there were more birds here than anyone could name. She wondered now if she'd ever get the chance to try.
"Anna!" he said, making her jump, "you must tell me now what other lies you have told. I think I am entitled to know if there are any more."
Anna felt James jab her in the side with his elbow.
"I didn't tell any other lies. Heaven's sake! What more could there possibly be?" Oh, she sounded so convincing she thought she should be on the stage.
"There better not be more!" he warned. But still he did not give a clue what else he was thinking. He picked up the reins, started the horses on their way again and drove to the mission.
He pulled the horses up before the pair of log buildings with well-worn earth between them. The larger building had a crude cross atop the door, while the other had none. It was the school, Anna knew.
"I have much thinking to do yet," Karl said. "We will sleep here tonight as planned, and I will seek the wisdom of Father Pierrot to guide me. In the morning I will decide about everything--whether to keep you or send you back to Boston on the next Red River cart train that comes through."
Suddenly Anna realized the significance of the term, "Father."
"Father Pierrot?" she inquired. "Is this a Catholic mission?" Already her mind was racing ahead, wondering how she'd get out of this one.
"Yes, of course. In my letters I told you we would be married here."
"But ... but you never said it was Catholic."
"Of course it is Catholic. Are you worried that Father Pierrot will not be willing to witness our marriage because I am Lutheran and you are Catholic? It is all fixed and Father has received a special dispensation from Bishop Cretin to witness the vows we will speak ourselves. But think no more about it because perhaps we will say no vows after all."
Anna was not sure which prospect scared her more, being sent away, or having Karl unearth her other deceptions.
Karl jumped down, tied the reins, then helped Anna alight. But this time, when he put his hands on her thin waist, he could not help recalling what she'd said about his always having plenty to eat. She was reed-thin.
They were greeted at the door of the smaller building by Father Pierrot himself. "Ah, Karl, what a pleasant thing it is to greet you, my friend. And this must be Anna."
"Hello, Father."
Anna bobbed her head while the dark-haired priest broke into an even deeper smile. "Do you know how this young man has been waiting for you? Each time I see him, all he can talk of is his Anna. His little whiskey-haired Anna. I thought if you did not get here soon, he would abandon that place he's always bragging about and run looking for you."
Irreverently, Karl thought, you,