After he had left and was out of Kristina’s sight, she picked up the evil-smelling venison and carried it to the dunghill behind the stable, where she threw it as far as she could. What would the giver have said had he seen this? Probably he had carried his heavy burden a long way today.
Even though the gift consisted of unusable food it had strengthened Kristina in her belief that the brown people were not evil and heartless. She had experienced it before: if one showed them kindness, they would do the same in return. They could be as grateful as white Christian people. Perhaps there was not too great a difference in the souls of whites and Indians. If the Indians were left in peace, they would leave the settlers in peace. But when they were taken advantage of they became violent and as ferocious as wild beasts. Now these hunters were beginning to suffer from starvation because their game was disappearing, for the white people had hunted and killed almost all the game in the forest. She had heard people say that the Indians would never of their own will give up their hunting grounds, since they could not live without them; in the end they would rise in a great war against the settlers.
As the afternoon wore on Kristina waited for Robert to return from his walk in the forest. Karl Oskar came home from the church building at his usual hour and then she remembered her discovery in Robert’s bed and asked him to come with her into the gable room. She lifted the pillow. The moment Karl Oskar saw the watch he exclaimed:
“It’s Arvid’s!”
“Arvid’s. .?”
“I recognized it at once!”
He picked up the watch and looked closer at it. “I’m quite sure. It’s the nickel watch Arvid got from his father when he left Sweden. He showed it to me many times, he always bragged about the cylinder works.”
Kristina had grabbed hold of her husband’s arm.
“Arvid’s watch! Oh dear Lord — what does it mean?”
Karl Oskar was weighing the watch in the palm of his hand. “It can only mean that Arvid is dead.”
A man used his watch as long as he lived. It measured his allotted time. No one gave up his watch before his death.
“I thought so. .”
This watch had cost ten riksdaler, twelve with the chain, Arvid had said that day when they all met and started out on their American journey. It was the sum of money his father, Petter of Kråkesjö, had been able to save during his forty years as cotter under the manse. It was Arvid’s paternal inheritance Karl Oskar now held in his palm.
But where was Arvid himself? Two gold seekers had set out on the California journey. Two days ago one had returned. The other was still missing. And concerning the missing one Robert had given only the vaguest information.
Karl Oskar said that while working at the church building today he had told the other men that his brother had unexpectedly returned from California. Danjel Andreasson had immediately asked about his former hired hand and had been greatly surprised when he learned Arvid had not returned. Robert and Arvid had served as farm hands together in Sweden, and here in America too they had kept together as the closest of friends — how had it come about that they had separated? And Danjel had simply echoed Karl Oskar’s earlier thought when he said that with Robert returning alone one could only assume that Arvid no longer was alive.
And under Robert’s pillow Kristina had found the confirmation.
She now looked at the watch with different eyes. It was connected with a human being she had known and never would see again, because he no longer existed.
“Poor Arvid! I wonder how he came to his end?”
“I’m afraid we’ll never know — at least not from Robert.”
“Why does he hide it?”
“Why does he hide everything from us? As yet he has barely said a word about himself. And no one knows when he lies or tells the truth.”
Robert told stories about happenings he had been in on, said Kristina, but she had never noticed that he invented them with evil intentions, in order to hurt someone or gain something for himself. He had never hurt anyone with his lies except himself.
“This is something he doesn’t want to be known,” said Karl Oskar. “But I’ll show him the watch. He must tell us about Arvid!”
“But if you won’t believe what he says. .”
“He has lied too much to me! And now I begin to wonder again: how about those. .?”
He cut the sentence off as if he had bitten his tongue. But Kristina understood: those bundles of money!
Yes, he continued, what was the story about Robert’s money, those big bills he had pulled from his black satchel? And the question came back again: was the money real? And he remembered something he had noticed; two letters sewn on the satchel. First he had thought one of the letters was an N, and this would have suited if Robert also had sewn on the initial for his first name. But now as he examined it closer he thought it looked rather like an M — and that he couldn’t understand since it fitted none of Robert’s names. The pouch must have belonged to someone else. Who had been the owner? And what kind of money did it contain?
And now had come the discovery of Arvid’s watch.
“No!” exclaimed Karl Oskar. “I can’t wait till Saturday! I must know about those bills as soon as possible. Tomorrow is Thursday — I’ll speak to Algot at the building — we’ll drive to Stillwater on Friday.”
“I don’t believe Robert would deceive us with the money he has given us,” said Kristina firmly. “You mustn’t suspect your brother of such an evil thing!”
“What can one believe after this? What can I think?”
Karl Oskar put the nickel watch into his pants pocket.
Kristina was beginning to worry about Robert, who had wandered off into the forest right after the noon meal and hadn’t returned by supper. But it was like him to wander off like that, explained the older brother. He had acted that way ever since he was a baby. Father Nils and Mother Marta used to hang a cowbell on the boy so they could find him out in the wastelands.
Karl Oskar was hungry and tired after the day’s heavy timber work and sat down to eat. There had been only four men working today; this way the building took time. A church forty-eight feet long, thirty-six feet wide, and eighteen feet high could not be finished this year. But they must try to get the roof on before winter set in. Some of the men were sluggish about showing up. Like Anders Månsson — he had put in only three days so far. He probably lay drunk in his bed most of the time; rumor had it he was getting quite bad. But Petrus Olausson, who was the inspector for the work, kept after the men and saw to it that everyone did his share; he was particular and honest in that way. And he wasn’t difficult to get along with, as long as religion and godly things didn’t come up. In such matters he was as stubborn and pigheaded as an old horned billy goat. However, since he no longer tried to enforce his will in their house, Karl Oskar had no trouble getting along with him.
Today during lunch hour Petrus had got into a disagreement with Jonas Petter, who had started to tell one of his bed play stories. It was about a rich farmer back in Ljuder who hired the village soldier to provide him with an heir. Jonas Petter had started telling the story at Ulrika’s party, last Christmas, and he wanted to finish it this time. But he had barely begun when Petrus grew fiery red in his face and forbade him to tell lewd and obscene stories while they timbered up the Lord’s house. Jonas Petter got annoyed and said Olausson wasn’t his guardian even though he was in charge of the building, and the two men had exchanged some rather unpleasant words.