Vilhelm Moberg - The Settlers

“I’m sure he has! He can always dream up some lie. That’s easy for him!”

Karl Oskar walked back and forth, flailing his long arms; the movement of his body gave him some outlet for his anger. But Kristina sat crushed and silent until the corners of her mouth began to twitch.

“Is there anything one can trust here in America. .?”

“We mustn’t take this too hard, Kristina. .” He lowered his voice, changing his tone completely. Looking at his wife he could judge it was now time to talk differently.

“No — no more crying about this! We aren’t richer than before, but neither are we poorer. We haven’t lost anything! Not a single nickel! Nothing has changed for us.”

He could also have said that in one way he almost felt satisfied. He had been right when he refused to believe in easy riches in America. For five years he had struggled and been harassed by his lack of cash — and the first time he had gone to a bank to put in some cash he had been told it was worthless. It was as though justice today had been meted out between the settler who improved his lot through honest work and the good-for-nothing speculator, or whatever his name, who tried to get rich without work.

Kristina heard the words; as rich or as poor as before — no change. . But for her something had changed.

She had never for a moment doubted but that their fortune was real, and she had already speculated on what the big bills would bring them. During those days and nights since Robert’s return she had thought of how their life on the claim would change. Stimulated by the thought of riches she had already begun to live this new life. She had filled their naked rooms with new furniture, with new clothing for all of them, of better cut and fit than she could manage by her own sewing. She had traveled to visit her friend Ulrika in Stillwater on a new spring wagon pulled by horses; she had already engaged a maid to help in her chores — she had indeed found aid for her overwhelming fatigue. She had bought thousands of things for the house and her dear ones during this wonderful June week when for four days she was rich.

The time of wealth had lasted from Monday to Friday. And now? Through the open door came the everlasting complaint of the crickets squeaking like an ungreased wheel, that turned at dizzying speed out there in the grass.

This familiar sound of the summer night seemed at this moment a sound of derision: Monday night — but now it’s Friday! Where are your riches now, Kristina? In the spittoon? Have you so much money in this house that you spit on it? For four days, Kristina, you were rich, but it was not yours, it belonged to the wildcats — perhaps they are enjoying it now, tearing it to pieces in their lairs and holes! Tearing to pieces all the things you had counted on. For a wildcat is much stronger and smarter than you. You’re only a poor woman! Trusting Kristina! So sorry for you! But you have known all along that this wilderness is full of evil, lurking creatures.

Yes, for Kristina something had changed. It was true, all they had gained out here during five years remained. They had not lost anything. Yet she felt as if this night she had suddenly become terribly poor.

— 2—

Saturday morning Robert entered the kitchen as Kristina was busy starting the fire. His hair was ruffled and stood straight up, his cheeks were gray in the early morning light. He went over to the water bucket and took down the scoop from its nail on the wall. Just as he had finished drinking, Karl Oskar came in from his chores in the stable. He took his brother by the arm.

“Come, I want to show you something.”

They went into the big room, Kristina behind them. Now it would come — she had been lying awake during the night, anxiously worrying about the morning meeting of the two brothers.

Karl Oskar pointed to the fireplace corner with the bills spread over the spittoon; they lay where he had flung them last night on his return.

“Here! You can have your spending money back! It might be useful when you go to the privy!”

He spoke loudly, anger vibrating in his voice, but Robert did not seem to understand what he was driving at. He put his hand behind his healthy ear and turned it toward his brother to hear better.

“Keep your rubbish! Pick up the shit! I can get along without your useless money!”

Karl Oskar stood straight and strong and stern as he faced Robert. Now they had resumed the old order: Karl Oskar was again the big brother scolding his little brother.

But Kristina could not see that Robert showed anything but puzzled surprise.

“I don’t understand, Karl Oskar. .?”

He recognized his bills in the corner, all over the spittoon. Why were they there? Who had thrown them there? Wasn’t his brother going to put them in the bank at Stillwater yesterday?

“Are you crazy, Karl Oskar? Why do you throw away all that money?”

“Shithouse money! Not worth a plugged nickel! All of it isn’t worth one Swedish penny!”

“Not worth. .? No! You’re crazy. . Karl Oskar. . Impossible. .”

Robert insisted on his innocence, both in words and gestures he denied knowing what it was all about. His eyes, his open mouth — all insisted that he was honestly innocent:

“It isn’t true! I don’t believe a word of what you say!” “You still deny? You still persist in your lying, you. . you damned cheater!”

Karl Oskar seldom grew angry, but when anger overtook him it came fast and furiously. His hands shook, he closed and opened his fists, he rubbed one fist against the open palm of the other hand. But even his bodily motions were no longer sufficient outlet for him. His fury at Robert burst out violently as he shouted with all his strength, “You’re a hell of a liar! Why did I ever let you come with me to America! There isn’t a decent thought in your heart! Here you’ve poured lies on us all week long! But now at last it’s finished! Finished! Do you hear!”

Kristina stepped between the two brothers.

“Stop shouting, Karl Oskar! You and your brother can at least talk to each other like decent people!”

Several times Robert had tried to say something but each time he had been interrupted by coughing. At last, in a weak, hoarse voice, he managed, “I always thought the money was good. I remember, though, they call it wildcat money in English; that means free, sound money. And I told you the first evening. .”

“I knew it!” interrupted Karl Oskar. “I knew you knew it all along!”

He turned to Kristina.

“There, you hear? He knew the money was no good! Wildcat money! He did it purposely! He wanted to fool us. .”

But at this moment the little brother did not listen to the big brother’s accusations; he heard another voice that had spoken long ago: Have you heard of wildcats? They’re just as good as other bills, if they’re handled right. The wildcats are as good as gold — up there in Minnesota. .

Could it be that one Swede had cheated another Swede in America. .?

“Calm down now!” Kristina pleaded with Karl Oskar.

“He wants to get rid of his useless money with us!”

“I–I didn’t want to cheat anyone. . please, listen, Karl Oskar. .”

“Shut your damn trap!”

Karl Oskar was rubbing his right fist ever harder against the palm of his left hand; his features had hardened, his eyes had grown so small they looked as if they had receded into his head.

“You’re a hell of a brother! All my life I have to go and feel ashamed of you — my own brother! Ashamed. . ashamed!”

“But listen to me. . I didn’t think. . I didn’t know. .”

“Shut up, I said! If you don’t shut up, you damn liar, I’m going to shut your trap for you!”

It happened in a second. Karl Oskar’s right fist was raised against his brother. He hit him on the mouth.