A Heart for Home

by Lauraine Snelling

  “Please, please . . .” Ingeborg stopped and straightened. “Will you please bring her back to go to school again?”

  Emmy translated and watched the man’s face. She shook her head when he asked her a question.

  He stood silently for a long moment and then nodded to Ingeborg.

  Emmy went into the house and returned a few minutes later, clad in her soft leather garments. She threw her arms around Ingeborg, hugged her tight, and without another word followed the man out of the yard.

  “You could stay for supper,” Ingeborg called.

  But they kept walking, neither of them turning to look back.

  Ingeborg collapsed on the steps and let the tears flow. Emmy was gone, but soon she would return. Or did I only imagine Wolf Run’s nod?

  6

  Dear Aaron,

  I know this letter must be a surprise to you, but I need help out here. I am now foreman of a crew building an addition onto an old building, and we are short on men with building experience. There is a hospital going up too, and housing is in short supply. If we can get my house roughed in, we can live there. I am working from dawn to dark, and the progress seems far too slow. You would like this little town. People are friendly and work is plentiful. The farmers around here grow mainly wheat and feed crops for the milk cows for the local cheese house.

  If you can get to a telephone, you can call and leave a message at the Blessing Boardinghouse. They’ll get it to me. Just bring your tools and clothing. And hurry.

  Your brother,

  Joshua

  He reread the letter and added a postscript.

  Greet the others for me. Wish they would come too. J

  He’d drop the letter in the mailbox downstairs on his way to the dining room in the morning. Normally he would be asleep almost before his head hit the pillow, but he couldn’t get Astrid off his mind. There she was, a state away, taking care of the Indians. Always putting her doctoring ahead of everything else, especially him.

  Had he burned his bridges this time? He heaved a sigh and rolled over. The breeze billowed the curtains and smelled like rain. At least his crew now could find plenty of work inside if it were pouring outdoors. He knew the crops needed a good rain, but no hail, please. He knew he needed to be praying for Astrid, but somehow he struggled with that. And when he prayed that all would work out, his prayers seemed to settle on his shoulders rather than wing their way to heaven.

  Joshua flopped over again and locked his hands behind his head. Staring at the ceiling did no good. A puff of breeze brought in a spatter of rain, so he got up to close the window. His mother had trained him well. There was no need to soak the floor. He could hear her voice. “Pay attention to small details, and the big ones will be taken care of too.” A good word for his mother was practical. Strange how it seemed he thought of her more now that she was gone, than when he knew she was in her house taking care of his father. And now his father was gone too, not long after he had seen the rapidly declining man at Christmas. When he went home to ask for forgiveness. So sad.

  Staring out, he could see the raindrops splat against the window and join forces to run down the glass pane. He’d hoped to be joining forces with a certain blond-haired woman who felt like a bit of heaven dancing in his arms. He crossed his arms on the window frame and, resting his chin on them leaned his forehead against the coolness of the window. Lightning jabbed the sky, followed a couple of seconds later by a roll of thunder that kept on rolling, like a belly grumbling when hungry.

  Wind sent the rain waving in sheets, with puddles forming to hold the wet until the earth could suck it up. He opened the window on the east side of the room, since he had a corner room, and inhaled the wondrous fragrance of trees and plants delighting in the cleansing rain. Lightning lit the sky again, showing the trees dancing along the river banks. When he flopped back in bed, he fell asleep instantly, the cooling breeze making him draw up the sheet.

  “Wasn’t that a glorious rain?” Miss Christopherson asked as she poured his first cup of coffee the next morning.

  “That it was. Not sure how long it lasted. Sleeping in that cool breeze felt mighty good.” Joshua smiled up at her. She was always so cheerful. It made eating in the boardinghouse dining room a real pleasure – her attitude and the good food.

  “I know. Blew away the heat for sure. Mrs. Jeffers arrived with her son yesterday. She’s such a nice lady. You want oatmeal with your plate this morning?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “I’ll be right back.” She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “You want fried corn meal, biscuits, or both?”

  “Both.”

  “I thought so.”

  Her smile made him return one. He held his coffee cup in both hands, elbows propped on the table. If Daniel Jeffers was back in town, there would most likely be a meeting this morning. With Hjelmer out of town selling windmills, it would be Thorliff, Daniel Jeffers, and possibly Toby, who was running the hospital job. Joshua wished he had the blueprints with him to refresh his mind on the questions he had. The main one concerned flooding. Since that happened often on the Red River, did they need to build the first floor higher to avoid water damage? Pour more concrete? While flooding had not been a problem that year, a year ago it had.

  He was writing notes to himself when Miss Christopherson set his plate in front of him. Actually it could probably be called a platter, because it was oval shaped and held what looked to be enough for two men – three eggs, two pieces of ham, fried potatoes, fried slices of cornmeal mush, and two biscuits. He wished he’d not asked for the oatmeal when she set the bowl down.

  “Looks mighty good.”

  “Thank you. I’ll tell Mrs. Sam. She said to tell you she’s making dried-apple pie for supper.”

  He smiled up at her. “Hope there will be a piece left for my dinner pail tomorrow.”

  “Never fear.” She turned to answer a question from the men seated at one of the other tables.

  Joshua dug into his meal. This promised to be a busy day, but then, when weren’t they busy? He stopped with a fork halfway to his mouth. He’d forgotten to say grace again. At least he could remember to do that. He’d not read his morning devotions like he had promised Pastor Solberg either. He would have to do so after supper and after he’d finished up at his house. The house he was building for Astrid. Somehow the shine had gone out of working there, and now he just needed to get it finished. If she really had turned him down, he could sell it easily enough. The thought wrinkled his forehead.

  A short time later Joshua walked into the building that housed the Blessing Gazette and noticed Thorliff was already in the small area set apart as an office.

  “How can you be here so early when I heard the presses running last night until the rain drowned them out?”

  “I’ll sleep later. Daniel will be here at eight for a meeting. You’ll need to be here too, but I thought we could get the ball rolling right away. I’m assigning Jonathan Gould to your crew for a week or so. He’s been working on the hospital, as you know, but now he can help you with the forms. I hope to pour the concrete day after tomorrow. The sand and gravel should be on the train today. Good thing we finished that railroad spur when we did.”

  Joshua nodded. He had to admire young Gould. Instead of staying in New York and living a life of ease, he’d chosen to learn farming and now construction too. He’d be accompanying the threshing crew as soon as harvest started in August. The haying was nearly done, but that storm during the night would mean a setback for the hay crop. They’d have to turn it again to dry.

  “Will Lars be bringing the steam engine over today?” Joshua asked. They used the steam engine that ran the threshing machines to mix the concrete.

  “Tomorrow. He’ll stay to run it too. I wish Far would get back,” Thorliff said. “This not having any contact makes me uneasy.”

  Joshua narrowed his eyes. “You think there could be danger with the Indians?”

  “I pray not. But remember Hje
lmer said these weren’t the friendliest Indians he’d ever worked with.”

  Something else for Joshua to worry about. “I’ll go get the men started, so let me know when you want me. I’m wondering if we have enough concrete planned. That rain last night made me think on the spring floods. I’d hate for this machinery to get rusty from a flood.”

  “Good point. We’ve talked about that. Maybe it is time to start thinking about a dike along the river to protect the town.”

  “Right. One more thing to build.” Joshua took out his pocket watch as he walked back to the old granary, as they all still called the building that was now twice as big as it once was. Five to seven. He should have been to this point ten minutes ago. His four regulars, now five including Jonathan, had their tool boxes open and were waiting for him. After the “good mornings,” he partnered Jonathan with the senior Geddick to work on the forms and set one of the Geddick sons at the sawhorses to cut the boards for the forms. The other two men returned to work on the exterior siding of the north wall. He needed twice as many men. As soon as the meeting was over, he would work on the siding too. If they could get the heaviest work done in the next few weeks, having some of the men leave for the harvest crew wouldn’t be quite so bad. Maybe Aaron would be there by then too, or Hjelmer might find some more construction men.

  At the meeting Daniel Jeffers laid out more schematics, this time various views of the machinery to be installed in the plant where his deceased father’s invention would be produced. “In accordance with my father’s dream, I have hired a man away from John Deere, and he will be arriving sometime in September. If the shipments are on time, the first of the drill presses will arrive by the middle of September. Some of the equipment is coming from Germany and some from Pennsylvania.”

  “How about operators? Were you able to locate men for those positions too?”

  “Well, we won’t be operational until later in the fall. The sooner the better if we want farmers buying for spring work. I’m aiming for shipping the first of the seeder additions the middle of January, and we have orders for the new seeders for March. So the answer to your question is no – for now.”

  Joshua and Thorliff exchanged astonished looks. “You really think we can do this by then?”

  “We have to, or someone else will take the market. I plan to start running ads in farming magazines in January and in newspapers by March.”

  “And we haven’t finished the building yet.” Thorliff shook his head. “We have to have more men. That’s all there is to it. I’ll run ads in some papers for skilled labor. We can house the new men in tents for the summer if we have to. Sophie said she will rent rooms at the boardinghouse with four bunks in each, but even so . . .” He scrubbed a hand across his face. “Maybe we need to do like the railroads did and advertise in Europe.”

  “There are plenty of immigrants coming in. We just have to find them. How about running ads in Duluth?”

  “You speak Norwegian, Thorliff. Why don’t you go on over there.”

  Thorliff rolled his eyes.

  Jeffers looked to Joshua, who shook his head. “I only speak English. Sorry, can’t help you there.”

  “I’ll run the ads in the Norwegian and German papers, then. Mr. Geddick can help with the German.”

  When they broke up the meeting, Joshua returned to his crew. “Do you men know of any skilled construction workers? We need more men to work here. Write ’em, call ’em, just get them here.”

  “How many do you need?” Jonathan asked.

  “I imagine twenty or thirty. They need to bring their tools and be ready to work long hours.”

  “I’ll place a telephone call to my father tonight,” Jonathan said. “Surely there are men in New York needing work.” He thought a moment. “Will you pay their fares? Many of the immigrants might not have the money. And do they have to speak English?”

  “I’ll look into that,” Joshua said and then they all got to work.

  After the noon break Joshua put all his men and himself to work on the forms. Quitting time arrived and passed, and they kept sawing and pounding. It was dusk before they pounded the final nail and put their tools away.

  “Thank you,” Joshua called. “We’ll be working the concrete tomorrow. The railcars are parked on the siding, so all the supplies are here.”

  “Are you going to work on your place?” Thorliff asked.

  “Not tonight. Wasn’t planning to.” Joshua stretched his neck from side to side.

  “Did you order your house yet?”

  “Wanted to finish the cellar first.” He bent over and closed the hasp on his toolbox. “Why?”

  “Just thinking maybe we could order several at a time and see if we can get a reduced rate. Jeffers wants one and you do; and we could order a couple of spec houses. The way things are growing here, housing is critical. You’re doing the floor-and-a-half model with the dormers, right?”

  Joshua nodded.

  “I’m thinking if we ordered three or four of the two-bedroom one-story models, they would go up fast.”

  “You could probably rent them right away, if not sell them.”

  “True.” Thorliff paused and then shook his head. “Whoever would have thought we’d have a housing shortage in Blessing? Elizabeth keeps reminding me we need more schoolhouse space too. If some of our new workers are family men, that will really stretch the space. We’ll have to add another classroom, and we’ll need another teacher, who will need a house.”

  Thorliff clapped Joshua on the shoulder. “Thanks for taking over a crew like you have. We appreciate it. See you in the morning. Oh, and let me know what you decide. I’ll probably send the order in a day or two.”

  Joshua looked after him and headed for the boardinghouse. More decisions to make. Sometimes he wished he were back on the traveling crew that dug wells and erected windmills. Less pressure and less people. He had run the first crew with Trygve and Gilbert. Built the wagon too. Life on the road like that had been good. But when Thorliff asked him to leave that and head the construction crew, he’d agreed. The pay was better, but mostly, he’d be near Astrid. Until he blew up at her over the Indian question. But still, his greatest wish was for Astrid to overlook his failings and agree to become his wife. Maybe he should just walk away from all this and go down to South Dakota and talk with her. If he had an address he would write a letter, but as far as he knew, they might be back before a letter could reach them – if he even could find an address. Sometimes the mountain called despair pitched too steeply to continue to climb. Why, oh why, had he allowed his temper to take over?

  7

  ROSEBUD INDIAN RESERVATION

  SOUTH DAKOTA

  Why did two weeks feel like an eternity?

  Astrid gazed around the infirmary, where three children sat listening to Shy Fawn tell a story while Gray Smoke kept changing the wet cloths on the latest measles victim. Along with her measles patients, she had two people with eye problems and one with an ear infection, along with the brave, who was improving, but they still struggled to keep his coughing under control.

  She’d asked her father to build a slanted board so He Who Walks Tall could sit up a bit and breathe more easily. When that helped, he built two more and padded them with hides. An older woman was using one, and the other was shared among several of the others. If only she could hold the adults over a steaming kettle as she did the children. Once they were strong enough to stand, she demonstrated what to do, and they did it.

  Her attention kept returning to He Who Walks Tall, whose pallet was separated from the others. Haakan had taken over caring for him to free up the two women who’d worked so tirelessly. What good nurses they would make for Dr. Red Hawk when he returned. If only she could take them with her to Blessing and give them some real training in medical procedures, like dressing wounds, listening to hearts and lungs, and assisting in surgeries. She also wished she could learn what they knew. If only they had an interpreter. If only she had learned the language from
Metiz. She turned at the hacking cough that had awakened the brave.

  Going out to the kettle simmering on the edge of the fire pit, she dipped out some soup and carried the gourd back to him. “Drink this. It seems to help.”

  He reached for the gourd.

  “I’m grateful you understand me.”

  Dark eyes studied her over the rim of the drinking gourd. Red Hawk all over again. When the man gave an abrupt nod, she smiled and nodded back. “Good. I am hoping you can help me.”

  His eyes changed, as if shutters had slammed down over windows.

  So much for that idea. “Do you know Red Hawk?”

  A nod and more drinking. He cleared his throat and drank again.

  “Are you related to him?”

  Another nod.

  “I wondered, because you so strongly remind me of him.” Please, Lord, let him be willing to help us. “A brother?” She’d have missed the shake of his head had she not been watching him, albeit as unobtrusively as possible. “Cousin?”

  “Yes.”

  Why would hearing just one spoken word feel like she’d received a medal? “Red Hawk will be a good doctor to his people. He is the one who asked us to come. He wrote a letter, saying that measles, the spotted sickness, was killing his people and asked if we could come. So we did.”

  “White man’s disease.”

  “I know. So many have died. I am so sorry.” She took the empty gourd he handed her. “Would you like more?”

  A nod.

  She rose to her feet and returned to the kettle, near where her father was splitting wood. “He can speak English, as I suspected. He is a cousin of Red Hawk.”

  “Good. That should be a help.”

  “It makes me wonder if more of them speak English too but are refusing to do so. And if that’s the case, why?”