CHAPTER TEN

The episode with Miranda was quickly forgotten by the two boys. She barely spoke to either of them for weeks afterwards and spent most of her time in the house, only venturing outside to go into the town with her aunt. Billy and Hans wondered whether she would say anything to her uncle and aunt about either of them, but apparently she had kept her mouth shut and only indicated she had had enough of Billy.

It was just over a year later when everything changed once again for both Hans and Billy. They arrived for work one morning as usual and found the farm in uproar, Mrs Hawkins and Miranda being comforted by friends from town, one of whom was the Reverend from the church the Lausenstroms went to.

"What the hell's goin' on?" Billy asked as they hurried into the yard. They were stopped before they reached the house by one of the Hawkins' neighbours.

"There'll be no work today for you two," he said.

"What happened?" asked Hans.

"Your boss got killed last night."

"What?" exclaimed Hans and Billy together.

"Caught a coupla fellas stealin' his cattle," the neighbour told them. "One of 'em shot him."

"Oh, hell," groaned Billy.

"Ya better go home. Someone'll send word. Lillian's kid, ain't ya?"

"Yeah," Billy confirmed.

The neighbour turned away and went to speak to the Reverend. Billy and Hans left the farm and walked back to Billy's house. They heard nothing more from the farm that day and were unsure whether or not to show up for work the next morning. They agreed to meet up outside and call on the Hawkins' neighbour, but Mrs Hawkins was out in the yard and spotted them. She was wearing a black dress and shawl, her face pale and drawn. She walked slowly to the gate to meet them.

"'Mornin', Mrs Hawkins," both said to her.

"'Mornin', boys."

"We're real sorry about Mr Hawkins," Billy went on.

She nodded. "Thank you, Billy. I'm afraid I have some bad news for you. I'm sellin' the farm. I guess I could get a manager, but I don't want the responsibility. I'm gonna take Miranda and move into town. Both of ya can stay on and take care of the animals until then. Hopefully the new owners will still need ya, but I can't promise."

"We understand," Hans said, his heart sinking.

"Ya better get to work," Mrs Hawkins added. "The horses'll be wantin' feedin'."

"Sure, Mrs Hawkins, we'll get right to it." Billy opened the gate and the pair headed for the barn to carry on as normal.

The farm sold fast. As soon as word got around, two potential buyers came looking and each put in an offer. One was higher than the other and Mrs Hawkins accepted it. Within a month of her husband's death, the sale had gone through and she and Miranda moved to town.

Terence Carlisle, the new owner, was a widower with two sons, both of whom intended to help their father run the farm which meant he had no need for two additional workers. However, he was a decent man and advised he would keep one of them on and give the other severance pay. Not knowing the pair, he couldn't pick between them and chatted to first Billy and then Hans. In the end he picked Billy, only because he learned that Billy lived in the poor part of town while Hans' father was rich and he was likely to struggle less without the job.

"Don't matter," Hans said to Billy later. "I'll find somethin' else to do." Mr Carlisle had given him two months' pay and with what he already had saved, he had plenty to keep him going while he looked around.

Hans didn't bother to tell his father what had happened, but simply left home at the same time every morning and went looking for something to occupy him. There were a few jobs going, but they either required a decent education or didn't appeal. Unconcerned, he lived off his severance pay until one Saturday morning he was still lounging at the breakfast table at eight o'clock when his father appeared. He was bored with pretending to go to work and was considering another idea which he knew his father wouldn't approve of.

"Hans, why aren't you at work?" Jorgen asked.

"Don't have a job," Hans replied.

"You've been fired! What have you done?" his father demanded.

"Yeah, you would think that. You expect me to fail at everything," grumbled Hans.

"Usually you do. What happened?"

"Mr Hawkins got killed, didn't ya hear about it?"

"No, I've been busy. When was this?"

"'Bout two months ago," Hans shrugged. "Rustlers shot him."

"Two months ago? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Didn't think it was that important."

"So what have you been doing since?" demanded Jorgen.

"This and that."

"Well, you had better make more of an effort to find alternative occupation. You needn't think I'm going to support you while you laze around like the feckless lout you are!" Jorgen snapped.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Hans said, twitching one eyebrow upwards. He shoved his chair back and got to his feet. "I got things to do."

"Think about smartening yourself up while you're at it," grunted Jorgen. "And get a haircut."

Hans left the room without a reply, glancing at himself in the hallway mirror as he grabbed his coat. He could certainly do with some new clothes, but as for a haircut – not a chance. Hans grinned at his reflection. He had managed to avoid the barber since he had been virtually scalped for his brothers' party four years ago and his hair now brushed his shoulders. It was staying right where it was.

By nine-thirty Hans was sipping coffee at the cafe on the edge of town, chatting to another teenage boy he vaguely remembered from school. Richard was one of the smaller boys from Thomas' gang and at first he had been wary when he saw Hans approaching the table where he was sitting eating a late breakfast.

"Hey. Richard, ain't it?" Hans said.

"Yeah."

Hans grinned. "Ya busy?"

"Nope. Ain't seen you in a while."

"Been workin' since I got expelled," Hans said. "At the Hawkins' farm."

"Didn't he get killed?" asked Richard.

"Yeah. The new fella don't need me. What're you doin'?"

"Nothin'," Richard said. "I worked in the general store for about a year, but I got fired."

"What did ya do?" Hans asked with interest.

"Nicked some cigars."

Hans laughed. "Ya know how to play poker?"

"Sure! Want a game?"

"Yeah, but let's go see if we can find some other fellas to join in; it'll be better with four."

"Alright." Richard crammed the last bite of bacon into his mouth and got up from the table. He and Hans walked back into town and after an hour or so had managed to find two slightly older boys to play poker with. Andrew and James were both from well off families who Jorgen knew. They were a year older than Hans and had been away at college, but had returned for a weekend break. The pair played poker in college and were delighted by the prospect of taking Hans and Richard's money.

The four of them headed for the main park, found a picnic bench under a tree some distance from any other activity and began the game. Richard, having little money to begin with, was soon out of the game, but watched with interest as Hans began to beat Andrew and James hands down, finishing with fifteen dollars in his pocket while the two college boys marched off in a temper.

"That was great!" exclaimed Richard. "Ya know, we oughta see if we can find Thomas, I know he plays. I'd love to see ya beat him, the bastard."

"Thought he was yer friend," Hans frowned.

"Nah. He was a bully in school, still is. Me and Will, the other little kid, just hung around with him so he wouldn't pick on us. We was happy when you gave him a beatin'."

Hans grinned. "Know where we can find him?"

"Yeah, he's got a job, but he finishes early on Saturdays. He'll be goin' to the cafe for his lunch about now."

"Here." Hans pulled some of the money out of his pocket and handed it to Richard.

"Ya can't give me that, you won fair and square," Richard protested.

"It's just four dollars so ya can join in the game. If ya win anythin' give me it back later," Hans said. "Let's go."

Sure enough, Thomas was at the cafe tucking into a plate of meat and potatoes. He was alone and looked up with a scowl when Hans and Richard approached.

"What do you two want?" he grunted.

"Heard ya play poker," Hans said, dropping onto the chair opposite. "Wanna play?"

"Why would I wanna play poker with you?" Thomas sneered, shovelling another forkful of food into his mouth.

"Dunno," Hans shrugged. "Maybe ya wanna get yer own back for me thrashin' ya in front of yer pals."

"That was years ago," Thomas reminded him. "I grew up. Seems like you ain't."

"Fair enough." Hans got up again, unfolded the rolled up bills which he held in one hand and flicked through them. "Gonna go and spend some of this. Ya comin', Richard?"

"Sure."

"Hey, wait a minute!" exclaimed Thomas suddenly. "Where'd ya get all that money?"

"I'm a Lausenstrom, remember?" grinned Hans. "Plenty more where this came from."

"Maybe I got time for a game," said Thomas.

"Alright. Not here, though. In the park," Hans said.

Thomas nodded, finished his meal quickly and walked with them as they headed back to the park and the picnic bench. Hans shuffled and dealt the cards and the game began. Thomas quickly proved that he knew what he was doing and won the first hand, taking all of Richard's money and some from Hans too. He was grinning now, confident he would clean out both boys and finish up a lot richer than he had when he sat down to lunch.

Hans realised he had been too relaxed, assuming Thomas would be as careless as the other two boys he had beaten. During the next hand he studied Thomas more closely, picking up on the little twitch at the corner of his mouth when he was pleased with his cards; the nervous flickering of his eyes when he wasn't. He thought he was being deadpan, but the subtle movements gave him away and Hans took every penny from him.

"Ya cheated!" Thomas exclaimed angrily as he got up from the bench an hour later.

"I didn't, I'm just better than you," Hans said mildly.

Thomas muttered something unintelligible under his breath and stalked off.

"How much ya got?" Richard asked at once, smirking.

"Twenty-five dollars. Time to go and spend some of it."

"What ya gonna buy?"

"Clothes," said Hans.

"Clothes?" Richard looked at him incredulously.

"Yeah, what's wrong with that?"

"Nothin', I guess. I gotta get goin'. Maybe see ya around town some time."

"Sure. See ya." Hans turned away and headed back towards the main part of town. Where should he go to buy clothes? They had some in the general store, but only the basics. His father had always taken him to the tailors for clothing. They always had dozens of suits and coats and pants and shirts in different colours and sizes, or they measured you up and made something special if you didn't like anything they had.

Hans stepped into the store and closed the door after him. The bell rang loudly and one of the two elderly men who ran the establishment came to greet him.

"Good afternoon, young Sir, what can we do for you?"

"I want a whole new outfit," Hans said, hoping he could get that for twenty-five dollars, otherwise he was going to look stupid when it came to pay for it. However, he was in for a nice surprise. The other proprietor walked over to help since there were no other customers in the store and he immediately recognised Hans.

"Young master Lausenstrom, isn't it?" he said with a smile. "We haven't seen your family in here for a while. The last time we fitted your brothers out for college."

"Oh, of course, it's Hans, isn't it?" the other man beamed. "I expect you'll be charging your purchases to your father's account, then?"

Hans grinned. "Yes, Sir." He allowed the two old men to show him most of their stock and decided he would rather buy off the rack than wait to have something made. He left the store just before closing, wearing a new dark suit with a deep red shirt and necktie underneath, new boots and a wide-brimmed black hat. Under his arm he carried a parcel wrapped in brown paper which held three more shirts and a tie to go with each. The two old tailors waved from the door as he strode up the street, then one returned to the store counter to add forty-three dollars to Jorgen Lausenstrom's account.