“Oh no you don’t.” Aven lifted Dotti into the crate filled with sawdust.
The kitten’s tail wriggled again, and there was no doubt of what that meant. Aven had cleaned up two puddles already this morning. Time for a success. When it happened, she clapped and the kitten tumbled head over rump out of the crate.
Aven scooped her up. “See now! I knew you could do it.” She kissed the downy gray head and dangled the slip of yarn, wondering if their game was at an end. Dotti rolled over, swatting at the tattered fibers with all four paws.
Excitement sounded from the kitchen. Voices, one over another. With Fay due to arrive any day, Aven tied the string to the crate and scrambled to her feet. She hurried out and closed the door behind her so Dotti wouldn’t escape just yet. She meant to give the cat free reign of the house but wanted her to be less accident-prone first. That also meant she would need to hurry back to check on her.
Aven made her way downstairs to find Jorgan and Haakon standing on one side of the kitchen table. Opposite them stood Thor. Looking as wind-tousled as a Viking returned from sea, Thor lifted a brace of hares onto the surface and turned one over. Home so soon? As nice a surprise as the day could have brought.
“You’re not gonna eat those, are you?” Haakon said. “We got a whole side of beef in the springhouse.”
Head down, Thor nodded. He signed something to Ida and she fetched a large tin pan. After rolling back the cuffs of his sleeves, Thor unsheathed his hunting knife and set a rabbit in the pan. He started on the first skin with easy strokes. The pelt began to fall away.
“How does he know how to do that so well?” Haakon asked Jorgan.
“ ’Cause Da used to hunt, numskull.”
“I know that, dimwit . . .” Haakon stepped to the other side, still watching. “But it was a long time ago.”
When Thor finished with the first pelt, he removed the innards. He did the same with the second rabbit and, upon finishing, took the meat out to the water pump and rinsed it all. When he returned, Ida asked if she should start a stew.
Thor made his sign for gratitude. He washed his knife, then his hands. Ida set a pot on the stove and slid her cutting board to the table. She placed one of the hares in the center.
“I’m not eating that.” Haakon started for the door.
Thor stopped him with a hand to the chest, motioning Haakon toward the great room. He gestured for Jorgan to go that way as well, even Aven. He signed to Ida, and she promised to be right there.
“ ’Twill make a fine meal, Haakon,” Aven said, walking beside the young man.
Haakon rolled his eyes, trudged around the sofa, and sat in the center. Jorgan kicked Haakon’s boot and Haakon scooted to one side. Jorgan motioned for Aven to sit as Thor shaped more of his words.
When he finished, Jorgan spoke. “Aven, he’s asked I explain for you.”
She crossed her ankles, curious as to what was happening. Thor waited until everyone was settled, then began in Sign. Some of the thoughts he shaped were intricate, sweeping motions. Others were rapid snaps or the pound of a fist to a palm. Jorgan spoke along with him.
“He’s saying he has an idea he wants to run by each of us. It has to do with the cider. I guess it’s been a decision a long time in the making.”
Ida slipped in, drying her hands on a clean cloth. The rocking chair creaked when she sat.
Thor shaped fluid letters with a single hand. The last resembled an L with his pointer finger and thumb both spread open.
“Sorrel,” Jorgan said softly. “It’s got somethin’ to do with them.”
Brows dug low, Thor tapped the side of his head, then closing his thumbs and pointer fingers together, pulled his hands down in front of him. Next he dragged a thumb forward beneath the center of his beard and finished by flicking his closed hands away from his body.
“He’s saying that—” Jorgan fell silent.
Haakon stood suddenly.
“What is it?” Aven asked.
Thor shaped those letters again. S-O-R-R-E-L. He made a face as if he was disgusted.
“He said he doesn’t want to sell to them.” Jorgan watched Thor explain more. “He’s . . . saying . . . that he doesn’t want to sell any of the liquor.” Jorgan blanched.
Haakon cursed. “I knew this was gonna happen.” He stepped around the back of the sofa as if needing the distance between him and the man addressing the room. “You don’t get to make that call.” Haakon jabbed a finger in Thor’s direction. “We break our backs at harvest for that money. I been deliverin’ for years. You don’t get to make that call.”
“And livin’ just fine for that,” Jorgan said. “Calm down.”
“Calm down? Calm down? There’s a gold mine in that shed.” Haakon pointed toward the cidery. “What’s he gonna do? Dump it all in the river? Oh, I got a better idea. Why don’t I just mix up some explosives and we send it sky high? It worked for that chicken coop. Why not do it to all of our savings?” Haakon picked up a book and hurled it across the room. It struck something off a side table, and everything clattered to the ground.
Ida tipped up her chin. “Haakon Norgaard, you pick that up.”
Haakon didn’t budge. “I’m sick of everybody acting like Thor runs the show. Just ’cause he’s cotton to somethin’ don’t make it the right thing.”
Thor held up both palms, then gestured straight at his younger brother.
“Yeah, well, a third of what’s in that shop is mine.” Stomping out, Haakon opened the kitchen door and slammed it behind him.
Jorgan exchanged a glance with Thor. Wind whistled over the roof. Hanging rose vines clattered against the window. Thor stared out the far window. Though he was silent, whatever weighed on his mind and heart was anything but. Aven watched him and, in that moment, knew that if she were there in that shed again, with him beckoning her to come to him, she would go to him in a heartbeat.
Thor looked at her and was just reaching for his notebook when the sound of splintering wood drew Aven’s attention toward the cider barn. Jorgan did the same. Thor followed suit.
Jorgan swiped two fingers in front of his eyes in a sign that made Thor sober even further. Thor headed that way and Aven trailed them out onto the porch. At the cidery, Haakon was prying one of the boards off the door. He threw it aside, dug an iron rod behind the next board, and snapped another free.
Jorgan called for Haakon to stop, but Thor placed a hand on his shoulder. Another squeeze and Thor felt his resolve settle. Holding on to the sensation, he headed to the horse barn. He ducked inside, opened up a lidded box, and rummaged for the largest of the pry bars. The iron rod in hand, he headed back to the cidery.
Thor set the tool between the door and the next board. He pulled the same moment his brother did. The board crashed to the ground. Haakon glanced at him. Wedging the iron rod in again, Thor nodded and waited for Haakon to place his tool. The breeze shook Thor’s shirt, pressing it about his waist. Haakon’s own lined tight to the shape of his shoulders in the pull of the wind. Together, they tugged down. Nails tapped the dirt. They freed the next board and then the next. All the way down until there was a pile of broken wood around them.
Thor knelt and took up a long splinter of wood. Shoving it beneath the door, he searched for the feel of the key. He finally skidded it out into the sunlight. Thor rose and braced a hand to the door. It was time.
Haakon nearly reached for the door latch when he motioned for Thor to take the lead.