[Return To Red River 01] - A Dream to Follow

by Lauraine Snelling

  “He loves children, doesn’t he?” Ingeborg watched the activities with a smile.

  “Always has. I know that’s why he couldn’t leave Manda and Deborah in that dugout.” Mary Martha sighed. “If only he would stay here.

  Perhaps someday he’d find another wife, and . . .”

  “Does he talk about Katy?” Thinking back to the deaths of Zeb’s wife Katy and her newborn baby brought the sting of tears to Ingeborg’s eyes. She and Metiz had fought so hard to save them both, but they lost the battle. She sniffed and looked to see the tears trickling down her friend’s cheeks. They took out handkerchiefs at the same time.

  “I miss her every day. And if I do, how much more does Zeb?”

  “I know. Even after all these years, something will trigger my memory, and all the sorrow after Roald died comes crashing back, in spite of the fact that I have a good husband and my life is all I ever dreamed.” Ingeborg dabbed at her eyes again. “But Zeb is all alone.”

  “He needn’t be.” A slight tightening about her mouth showed Mary Martha’s true feelings.

  “He reminds me of a wounded animal going off by itself to lick its wounds.”

  “Sometimes those solitary animals never heal. They die.”

  “Ja, that is true.” Ingeborg shook her head. “But men so often act this way.”

  “I know.” Mary Martha flinched and rubbed the side of her belly. “This baby is a busy one, runnin’ to keep up with the others and not even out of the womb yet.”

  Ingeborg waved when someone called good-bye from over at the long line of wagons. “We’d sure like it if you all would come for dinner.”

  “Let me ask John, but I see no reason why not.” Mary Martha paused, a frown wrinkling her brow. She lowered her voice and moved closer to Ingeborg. “Have you heard anything about Baptiste and . . . and Manda?”

  “I know they are good friends. Have been for years.”

  “Um.” Mary Martha rubbed her belly again. “I reckon I just have me a feelin’.”

  Ingeborg waited, watching the emotions play over her friend’s face like clouds chasing tag around the sun.

  “Mor, can Ellie come home with us for dinner?” Andrew skidded to a stop in front of his mother.

  “If Goodie says it’s okay, she may.”

  “Good. She said the same.” Andrew threw a “mange takk” over his shoulder and ran off to play a game of Run Sheep Run with the other children.

  “Uff da, such energy.” Ingeborg turned to see Mary Martha smiling at her.

  “Do you ever say no or wait to someone coming for a meal?”

  Ingeborg shrugged. “Why would I? We can always stretch what we have a little bit more.” She tipped her head a trifle to the side. “God has been good to us. I am just grateful that we have much to share.”

  “True, and most of us would come just for the cheese if the rest of your larder was bare.” Mary Martha sighed. “Back to the question.”

  “What is it you are afraid of?”

  “I reckon I don’t rightly know. But it seems Manda is more secretive than ever, if that’s possible. Maybe secretive isn’t the right word. She’s always kept her own counsel. She doesn’t ask for anything unless absolutely necessary and always does more than I could ask, as if she were beholden and wanted to work off the debt.”

  “All that responsibility made her old before her time.”

  “I know. She really looks up to you. You think perhaps you could talk with her?”

  “I can try, but . . .”

  “Perhaps after dinner?”

  Ingeborg nodded and answered Haakan’s beckon from the wagon. “I’ll be right there.”

  “We need to go by home first, so it’ll be a little while before we come. I have a chocolate cake baked, and I’ll bring that.” Mary Martha put an arm around young Johnny, who’d returned to his mother as the other children departed. “Come, let’s get in the wagon so we will be ready to leave when your pa is ready.”

  “Pa went back in the church.” Johnny pointed to the open doors.

  Ingeborg and Mary Martha headed toward the two remaining wagons.

  By the time everyone gathered for dinner, the group had swelled to party size, with the women inside putting the meal together and the men setting up the sawhorses to make tables. Thorliff and Baptiste hauled benches out of the granary while Andrew and Astrid drew the other children into a circle around Metiz, who sat cross-legged in the shade of the cottonwood.

  “Tell us about Wolf,” Andrew asked as he took his place beside Ellie. “Do you think he will ever come back?”

  Metiz smiled, showing her few remaining teeth. The wrinkles in her face folded into each other, a map of the years. “Long time since he come back. Brought pups to show us.” She nodded, her eyes gazing into the past.

  “One winter before any of your people came to our valley, I find a young wolf caught in a trap by front paw. He near to death. Men say kill him, but I spring trap and carry him back to tepee where Baptiste live with me . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she nodded. “I clean and bandage foot. Wolf lay by fire. We feed him small bits of dried meat. Give him water to drink. Baptiste think Wolf die, but he live. When time of new grass come, he can walk again, limps . . .” She dipped her shoulder as if she were favoring one foot. “Slow, slow he go. We come back here for hunting and fishing. Wolf come too.”

  “Did he ever bite you?” Ellie asked.

  “No. Wolf know we his friends. He soon hunt again, stay near us but not in tepee. When Bjorklunds come, he see we friends. We all his pack. One winter he chase off other wolves so sheep not die.”

  “When I was little, I got lost in the tall grass, and Wolf found me. He licked my face and stayed with me all night, then in the morning he led me back to my mor.” Andrew shared a smile with Metiz. “I miss him.”

  “One winter he not come back until time of new grass again, and he bring mate and two pups to show us. When they left, I think he not be back. He lead own life.” Metiz stroked the rabbit skin she’d been pulling back and forth over a stick in her lap to soften it. She passed the tanned skin around for the children to feel. “Great Spirit give us all we need to live.”

  “So soft.” Ellie held the fur side up to her cheek. “What will you make with these?”

  “More mittens. Soon have enough for vest. Moccasins for baby feet.”

  “Here come the Solbergs.” Andrew stood. “I need to go take care of their horses.”

  “My vest is too little.” Trygve moved over into Andrew’s spot so he could smile at Metiz.

  “Ah, you want another?” Metiz took his broad hint.

  “Ja. I gave mine to Lydia.”

  “When Metiz makes a vest, it never wears out.” Ellie propped her elbows on her knees since she and all the children sat in the same cross-legged pose as their storyteller. “Tell us about when you were little. Please?”

  Metiz chuckled. “You know stories by heart.”

  “But you tell them better.”

  When Ingeborg rang the bell for dinner, Ellie and Andrew stood beside Metiz in case she needed help getting up. Sometimes she did and sometimes she didn’t. Today she allowed them to help her. After the other children ran to be with their parents, she turned to her young helpers. “You two fine friends. Thank you.” She gazed up at Andrew, who’d passed his mother’s five foot seven inches a month earlier. “You fine man one day. Take good care of land.” She reached for Ellie’s hand and put it into Andrew’s. “And Ellie.”

  “Ja, I will.” He crooked his arm for Metiz to hold on to as they made a slow way over to the tables.

  Ingeborg watched them come, the two children making Metiz look even smaller between them. She’s growing more frail and smaller each year. Lord, help me be ready to let her go when her time comes. She let out a breath in a puff, glancing over to where Joseph was helping Agnes to the table. Metiz and Agnes, her two best friends. And both of them weakening before her very eyes. “Lord God, how can I help them?”


  “What did you say?” Penny stopped beside her.

  “Oh, nothing.” Ingeborg put her thoughts away and motioned to the tables. “Would you please ask Pastor Solberg to say the blessing?”

  “Of course.” Penny patted Ingeborg’s arm as she left. “All will be well.”

  Ja, all will be well. I must remember that. I must remember that God is indeed in control, that He is the Good Shepherd. A soft chuckle came from another part of her mind. And not you, Ingeborg.

  She glanced down the tables to see that Anji stood beside Thorliff, and Manda, arm still wrapped but no longer in a sling or splint, was across the table from Baptiste. Somehow she had to arrange time with Manda, but how? Ingeborg chuckled at herself. Of course, she needed to check on that arm.

  Quiet settled as Pastor Solberg asked everyone to bow their heads. “Most gracious heavenly Father, we thank thee for this family gathered together and that some of us are grafted into this family like we are all grafted into thee. Bless this food prepared with loving hands and, Lord, if it be thy will, please bring rain for our cattle and crops. In the name of Christ Jesus our Lord, amen.” Everyone spoke a heartfelt amen along with him and took their places, laughter rising like steam from a washtub.

  Bowls of mashed potatoes, gravy, and greens, followed by platters of sliced pork, venison, and beef made their way along the diners. Since everyone had brought whatever they’d had baking in the oven for dinner, the tables soon groaned under full plates. Kaaren poured coffee from the gray granite coffeepot, and Ilse carried a jug of milk in one hand and buttermilk in the other. Ingeborg refilled bowls and platters as fast as they emptied, until the pots and pans ended up in a tub of hot soapy water.

  No one left the table hungry, but there weren’t even crumbs left of the cakes and pies.

  Goodie Wold headed up the cleanup crew, since her family had joined the others for dinner as well. She insisted that those with a bun in the oven should put up their feet and Ingeborg and Kaaren should join them. She and the younger ones could wash and dry the dishes.

  On one of her treks to the kitchen, Ingeborg stopped Manda, still favoring her arm. “Manda, how about I check your arm while all this is going on?”

  “All right.” Manda used her shirttail to wipe sweat from her brow. “Sure is hot today.”

  “I know.” Ingeborg pointed to the bedroom. “Let’s go in there.”

  She sat Manda on a stool and took the chair for herself.

  “Mor?” Andrew’s voice made her roll her eyes.

  “Can’t get away anywhere, can we?” She went to the door. “In here. What do you need?”

  “Can we go swimming?”

  “Perhaps later. You just ate.”

  “So we can go in a little while?”

  “You must ask the other folks too. And you must have Thorliff along.”

  “Baptiste said he would like to go. I’ll ask everyone else.”

  “What are the men doing?”

  “Playing horseshoes.”

  She returned to her patient.

  “I would like to go swimming too.” Manda slumped against the back of the chair.

  “Let me see your arm first.”

  “You mean I could go?” Straightening, she held out her arm. “Looks awful dirty, I know, but that sling and the splints”—she shook her head—“just got in the way somethin’ awful.”

  “Have you been training horses anyway?”

  Manda looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “ ’Course. But one handed weren’t too easy.”

  While they talked, Ingeborg cut the knots off and unwound the bandage, resting Manda’s arm between her hip and elbow. “Can you move your fingers without pain?”

  Manda never flinched as she moved her fingers.

  “Did that hurt at all?”

  “Not enough to bother.” The girl started to clench her fist but seemed to think the better of it.

  “I see.” With gentle fingers, Ingeborg probed the area of the break, studying Manda’s eyes for any sign of pain she’d try to hide. “Now clench your fist slowly and stop if it hurts.”

  Manda did as she was told and bounced on the stool when she could close her hand tight. “Look, it don’t hurt.” She rubbed her arm with her other hand. “But my arm shrunk.” Manda held the two arms straight out. The left one was not only white and wrinkled but was indeed smaller than the browned right.

  “That happens when you can’t use it. You will have to rebuild the strength in it, and that takes time.”

  Manda sighed. “Everything takes time.”

  “True. Wrap it up when you’re doing hard work. You could rebreak it so easily. Otherwise use it like always. Just don’t expect it to work as well as the other.”

  Ingeborg wished she could have had different news because the cloud settled back on Manda’s brow. How to get her talking?

  “Have you been having a good visit with Zeb?”

  Manda nodded, keeping her gaze on one thumb rubbing the other.

  “Sure wish he was going to stay around here.” Ingeborg picked up Manda’s now healed arm and began to massage it.

  “He has more horses at his ranch in Montana.”

  “Is he planning to take the heavy stallion back with him?”

  Manda shrugged. Years earlier Zeb had taken the train back to Ohio and brought a Belgian stallion to service all the area’s mares so they would have sturdier horses for the fieldwork.

  Ingeborg waited, hoping Manda would get uncomfortable with the silence and volunteer something. But nothing came forth. “You must want to see his ranch real bad.”

  Manda glanced up, eyes slightly squinted, then down again. “He said he’d bring more horses for training next year.”

  “Thorliff said you are really a good trainer.”

  Manda nodded.

  “Is Baptiste going back with Zeb?”

  Manda shrugged again, letting Ingeborg see only the part in her hair.

  Ingeborg patted her arm. “Does that feel better?”

  “Yes, it’s fine. Thank you.” Manda bolted from the room.

  Mary Martha is right. Something is definitely going on. Ingeborg turned at the sound of stamping feet.

  “It’s not fair.” Astrid and Sophie, arms clamped across their chests and chins jutting a mile, stopped in the doorway.

  “What’s not fair?” Ingeborg asked over her shoulder, putting her supplies away.

  “The boys get to go swimming and we don’t.”

  “Ah.” Ingeborg knew without further questions. She thought a moment, finger to her chin. “I have an idea.”

  “What?”

  “There’s enough ice left in the icehouse—we’ll make ice cream.”

  “And they won’t get any?”

  “We’ll share, but we’ll get first helpings.” As the girls turned, Ingeborg grabbed Astrid’s arm. “Now don’t you go telling, you hear?”

  “We won’t.” But the dancing lights in her daughter’s eyes told Ingeborg differently.

  “As soon as they leave, you fetch the eggs and cream from the springhouse. We’ll get Haakan to bring over a gunnysack of ice.”

  “We can get it.”

  “After the boys go, I’ll go with you.” The thought of the shady coolness of the icehouse was inviting. Why hadn’t she thought of this earlier? If only they had lemons too. Surely there were a few strawberries left.

  Later, as she and the girls crossed the field to the icehouse, she thought again to Manda. Where had she gone?

  Suddenly a scream echoed from the river.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “Help! I’m stuck!”

  Thorliff turned in the direction of the voice. The sun- and shadestreaked river made locating the problem difficult.

  “Help!”

  “It’s Hamre.” Baptiste threw himself back into the water and swam out to the floundering boy.

  “Andrew, go get Far.” Thorliff ran into the sluggish water and dove out as far as he could. God, please don’t let him drown. P
lease let him live. He gagged on a mouthful of water as he stroked with all his strength.

  Hamre struggled in the water, arms flailing. “I’m caught. My foot is caught in something.”

  “Take it easy. I’ll go down and see.” Baptiste jackknifed, driving himself straight down. When he came up, he shook the hair out of his eyes. “I can’t see anything. The water is too muddy.”

  “Hamre, can you swim upstream?” Thorliff treaded water using the breaststroke to stay in one place. While the river appeared to be hardly moving, it kept pulling him downstream and dragging Hamre under.

  Hamre went under again and came up spluttering. “I am trying.”

  Thorliff studied the riverbank. Was there anything there they could use? A willow tree grew near the edge. If they climbed that to bend a branch down, would it reach to Hamre?

  “I’m going down again.” Baptiste dove under the water. When he came up, he gulped air. “Feels like a root or tree branch. If I could stay down longer . . .”

  Thorliff turned toward the shore. “Trygve, get my knife out of my pants.”

  “I have one too,” Trygve responded. Hamre gulped water and choked.

  Thorliff swam back to shore. With the river so low, at least he didn’t have far to swim. He took one knife and thought a moment. Handing it back, he pointed to the clothes on a tree branch. “Get my shirt and your knife.”

  Trygve splashed up the bank and, grabbing the shirt and knife, dragged them back. “Here.”

  Thorliff tied the sleeves in knots and put a knife in each, then buttoning the shirt around his neck, he swam back out to Hamre and Baptiste.

  “I . . . I can’t . . .”

  “Yes, you can. Turn and face upriver.”

  “I can’t. My foot . . .”

  “All right. Baptiste and I will take turns cutting the branch.”

  “Don’t cut my leg.”

  “We won’t.” Thorliff turned back to Baptiste. “How big is the branch or root or whatever it is?”

  “We need a saw.”

  “Can one of us stand on the thing and hold Hamre up?”

  “No. It goes straight down.”