Vienna Prelude by Bodie Thoene, Brock Thoene Read Free Book Online Page A

other cows had gone dry the week before, so the Wattenbarger supplies of salable milk and butter were short. Even after the calf had his share, the new cow produced nearly as much milk as the other two milk cows.
    Franz liked her. She had a sweet disposition and probably would happily nurse two more orphan calves. He stroked her soft muzzle and considered purchasing an extra calf or two at the sale in March. “You are a lifesaver, you are. You bring us a few extra shillings for butter, and I’ll bring you more children.” The cow blinked solemnly. “Two, maybe three more to take care of, eh?” he added.
    At the sound of his own words Franz paled and slapped his forehead with his palm. “Dummkopf!” he shouted to himself as he fumbled in the pocket of his coat and took out the crumpled envelope he had received from the priest five days earlier. “The guests! People to care for!” He hurried from the cow barn into his mother’s kitchen.
    Marta stood over a steaming kettle of venison stew. Her hair was tucked beneath a white cap, and her apron bore traces of the day’s chore of bread-making. “Franz?” she asked, startled by his pale appearance as he waved the unopened letter beneath her nose. “What? Franz?”
    “Mama, I’m sorry. I forgot. The priest—”
    She took the letter and tore it open. Gasping, she groped for a chair as she read the words. “Ariving December 8, it says! Franz! That is today !”
    “Mama, I forgot!”
    “You forgot ? I will beat you with a good stout stick!” She jumped up and shook her flour-covered fist beneath his nose.
    “I’m too big to beat! I’m . . . I . . . it was the calf! I just forgot!”
    “You mean you had this since then ? Himmel!” Her face was red, eyes blazing. “You are not too big! Six-foot-three you may be, and as brawny as an ox, but I’ll always be bigger than you! Big enough to beat a boy who needs it!”
    Franz peered down at his little mother. He knew she was serious, so he backed up almost to the counter where loaves of fresh bread were piled high. “ When are they coming today?” he asked, attempting to turn her attention from himself.
    She glanced down at the letter again and gasped louder. “Get the sleigh! Hitch the team! Mein Gott! You . . . you ! Franz, get to the Bahnhof! The mother and her two sons are arriving now !”
    Franz gazed meekly around the kitchen, a disaster of dirty dishes and flour-covered counters. “Maybe we should make them wait, Mama?” he asked timidly.
    Frau Wattenbarger roared loudly, chasing him back out into the stable. With her hands waving in the air and her apron billowing, she shouted, “Just go and get them! At least only the three are coming tonight. Two others coming in a few days! They can take your room.” She raised her nose slightly. “And you will sleep in the barn tonight!”
    ***
     
    Franz could hear the shrill whistle of the train rounding the Kitzbüheler Horn as he urged the little mare into a lope. Mercifully the train was late. The holiday guests would not suspect that they had not even been expected until a mere hour before their arrival.
    It was dark when Franz passed through the village. Lights shone down from frost-covered windows, making yellow pools on the snow. Heavy timbered houses looked as they had for over three hundred years. He drove past the Golden Griffin Hostel and smelled the rich aroma of chops and sauerkraut. His stomach rumbled. Mama had said he would have to give up his portion of the evening meal until after the guests were fed. He wished the train were an hour later so he could gulp down a stein of beer and six or so chops before picking up the arrivals.
    He tied the little Haflinger mare to the hitching post in front of the station just as the train clanked and squealed to a stop. The Kitzbühel stop lasted only long enough for passengers to disembark, and only a handful stepped off the train tonight. His passengers were easy to spot. A tall blond woman of about forty