A Claim of Her Own Read Free Page A

your hook-handed self avay from my oxen—unless you like being stepped on or kicked or vorse!”
    “Mor.” Freddie hissed it into her ear from where he stood just behind her. “Mor, you don’t want to be talking like that to that man.”
    “An’ vy not?” Swede put her hands on her hips and whirled around. “You know Lars and Leif do not like strangers. Vat if dey should decide to cause trouble right here in de middle of Deadvood? I need no trouble from some newcomer who does not have sense to keep avay from a voman’s oxen. Do I not have de right to de street de same as anyone else?”
    “Of course you have the right, Mor. But—” he nodded toward the man retreating up the street—“that’s Mr. English.”
    “And vat do I care if his name is English or Danish?”
    “He’s one of those three I told you about opening stores.”
    “Den I assume he is already contracted vit an outfit to bring in goods.”
    “Yes’m. He is. With you, Mor. He’s contracted with you.”
    Swede frowned. She looked up at Freddie. “Vit me?”
    Freddie’s smile revealed dimples on both cheeks. “I was bringing some rabbits I trapped to sell to Aunt Lou and I saw Grover Bannister up there talking to Mr. English and I just thought Grover shouldn’t get that contract. He doesn’t need it as much as we do. So I quick took the rabbits in to Aunt Lou and then I hurried to Mr. English’s lot and I told him that everybody knows that Grover Bannister is a cheat and marks his goods up way past what is reasonable and I told him Swede is my Mor and everybody knows she’s the best freighter in the Hills and honest to boot.”
    “And vat did Mr. Bannister do ven you called him a cheat?”
    “He called me a low-down, soft-bellied snake in the grass.” Freddie glanced toward Mattie and lowered his voice. “And some other things I can’t rightly say.” He swallowed. “And he got real loud and doubled up his fists and came up to me, so I just helped him see he shouldn’t oughta call me names and I helped him leave, and I didn’t mean for him to fall but he did and he went splat right there,” Freddie said, gesturing toward the middle of the street, “and everyone was laughing and that’s when Mr. English asked me about our terms.”
    “And vat did you tell him for terms?”
    “Oh, I didn’t tell him terms, Mor.” Freddie shook his head from side to side. “I told him I wasn’t smart enough for that kind of business talk but that you’d be up to see him as soon as you got into town and you’d treat him right and honest and he said okay, he’d look for you as soon as you got back.” He beamed down at her. “And he shook my hand. Just like I was a regular person.” Freddie held his palm out and looked down at it and murmured, “I like Mr. English, Mor.”
    Swede watched the man walk down the street. “Dis Mr. English,” she said, “vat is his Christian name?”
    “It’s Tom. Mr. Tom English.” Freddie grinned. “He said for me to call him Tom. Do you think that’s all right?”
    Swede swallowed. Nodded. “Yah,” she murmured. “If he said dat and he shook your hand—den it’s all right.” And without ever having met Mr. Tom English, Swede decided she liked him. Liked him and wanted to do business with him. How she regretted calling him “hook-handed.” She sighed and glanced over to where Mattie had knelt beside Eva’s cradle, obviously doing her best to pretend she hadn’t heard a word of what Freddie had just said.
    “Vell, Miss O’Keefe,” she said abruptly. “It seems to me dis vould be an occasion for some kind of vord to mellow de bitter. I have just called names de man vit whom I am supposed to do business.”
    Swede shook her head. Sometimes life brought trouble in waves. She had missed the chance to open the first store in Deadwood. She had probably alienated a new customer before so much as meeting him. She was tired, and she missed Garth more than ever, and if that wasn’t enough, as