Love Inspired Historical November 2017 Box Set

by Karen Kirst

  “Almost.” Kate leaned back so she could take a deep breath. The baby was taking up so much room now, it felt as if she couldn’t get her lungs quite full of air most of the time.

  “And tomorrow Daddy and Grossvater will be back?”

  “Tomorrow or the next day.” Kate looked out the window at the fat, falling flakes. It had been snowing since before sunup, and already several inches blanketed the landscape. Oscar had been gone for six days, delivering the furniture orders he’d completed to Saint Paul.

  And Martin had gone with him, driving another wagon full of several hundred pounds of cheese. Most of her summer’s efforts. With so much inventory still to sell, the men had thought it best for Martin to drive his own wagon, accompanying Oscar all the way to the big city. He’d packed the cheeses in straw and burlap to keep them from freezing or being jostled too much.

  Oscar had refused to allow Kate to help him carry the cheeses up the stairs to load the wagon, so she’d remained in the cellar directing him as to what should go and what wasn’t ready yet.

  “You might as well take everything you can, to make the trip worthwhile. No sense leaving any of it behind,” he’d said.

  His words had pressed deep on her heart. In the end, the cellar had been almost empty.

  She’d stood in the center of all the shelves, close to tears. This would be the last time. Next summer, she would be in Cincinnati and, most likely, Mr. Siddons would own the farm. Would he raze the cheese house the same way he planned to tear down the barn? If she came back in five years, would she even recognize the place they had worked so hard to build?

  She wished she could talk to someone about it, but there wasn’t anyone. Not wanting to burden Inge and Martin with her disquieted thoughts, she had kept them to herself. And Oscar…it felt as if he had taken a step away from the Amakers ever since Victor Amaker’s letter had arrived. He worked hard outside, preparing things for winter. Every day he hauled at least one load of hay from the Amaker barn, stacking it in his barnyard to feed the small herd of Brown Swiss he’d brought over to his farm to make choring easier. Every night, he retreated to his wood shop to work on furniture pieces. And he and Martin had been gone for a week now.

  Kate felt as if she hardly saw him anymore.

  “Are we going to sew, Miss Kate?” Liesl tugged on her sleeve.

  Pulled from her thoughts, Kate smiled at the little girl. Liesl was an excellent tonic against the megrims. “We sure are. Come stand on the table, sweetling. Once I get this hem pinned up and sewn, we’ll be just about done with your new dresses.” The table was strewn with fabric, pins and scissors on one end, and bowls and flour and spoons on the other. Grossmutter was making Zopf, the special bread she loved. It was usually reserved for Sundays, but with Martin expected home soon, she was making it as a treat for him. While she kneaded the dough, she muttered under her breath.

  Kate smiled. Grossmutter always recited Scripture and prayed while she worked bread dough. It was a good time to talk to the Lord, she always said.

  Liesl let Kate remove her shoes and dress and climb up on the table. Arms out, she held still while Kate dropped the new dress over her head and buttoned it up the back. It hung in folds on her little frame. Kate had made this one extra big, allowing room for Liesl to grow into it.

  Not that Kate would be there to see it. The thought made her heart hurt. As much as Oscar had feared that Liesl would grow too attached to the Amakers before they moved out, Kate knew it would hurt her just as much to leave the little girl who had grown so dear.

  Estimating how tall Liesl might be in a year or two wasn’t easy. But Kate would put an extra-deep hem in, so that it could be let out when needed. Maybe Mrs. Tipford or Mrs. Frankel would make the alterations in a couple of years.

  “You look like a little brown robin,” she said. The chocolate-colored wool brought out the deep brown of Liesl’s eyes, and the red trim at the cuffs and collar were bright splashes of color.

  “Daddy says I look like a princess.”

  “That’s true, but you know that it’s what you do that makes you pretty, not your face or your clothes?” Kate spoke around the pins clamped between her teeth.

  “Daddy says that, too.”

  “Your daddy is a smart man.”

  And kind, and gentle, and strong, and steady.

  Kate had been thinking about him way too much, especially the last several days, since he’d left for the Twin Cities.

  Placing the final pin in the hem, Kate walked around the table, checking for evenness. “That should do it. Hold still while I get it off you. I don’t want you to get any pinpricks.” She eased the dress over Liesl’s head, holding the hem wide. “There. I’ll work on that tonight.”

  Liesl sat on the table and scooted to the edge, hopping off in her bare feet and scampering over to get back into her clothes. “Now will you make baby gowns?” She had been an avid observer of Kate’s progress with the flannel.

  “Maybe later. Let’s get the sewing cleaned up and help Grossmutter with the baking, all right?”

  The wind buffeted the house, sending a swirl of snowflakes against the windowpane. But the kitchen was toasty, the house snug.

  When the bread was rising in the warming pan near the oven, Kate drew Liesl to her side at the flour-dusted table. “Would you like to play a little game with me?”

  Liesl’s smile was Kate’s answer. The little girl loved games.

  “Watch.” Kate drew in the flour a capital A with her finger. “This is A. A for apple. Can you make one?”

  Liesl drew a lopsided A.

  “Beautiful. Now try this one.” Kate drew a B. “B makes a ‘buh’ sound. What word starts with a buh sound?”

  “Buh…baby!” Liesl beamed.

  “That’s right. B is for baby.” Kate hugged her. Liesl had stubbornly clung to the notion that she would receive a baby for Christmas, though she didn’t speak of it as often now.

  They continued to make letters in the dusting of flour, wiping it smooth over and over. The kitchen smelled of yeasty bread and the stew simmering on the back of the stove. The wind blew hard, and Grossmutter lit the lamp against the falling darkness.

  Everything was cozy, but Kate found herself uneasy. Rolf, too, seemed unsettled, pacing from room to room, head up, sniffing the air.

  “I’d best bundle up and finish the barn chores before it gets too bad outside.” Kate brushed her hands together to rid them of flour, and stood. Even Johann’s big coat didn’t quite meet over her middle anymore, but she buttoned it as far as she could. The burgundy cloak was too nice to wear for doing barn work. “Chores will take me a while, so don’t worry. And I’ll bring Rolf with me.”

  Grossmutter handed her a pair of mittens from the box by the door. They must be Oscar’s, because they almost fell off Kate’s hands, but they would help keep her warm. “We will have hot stew and bread when you come in, and I will keep water on for tea.”

  The cold sliced through Kate’s coat and made her shiver as she walked down to the barn. Icy hard snowflakes stung her cheeks, and she pulled her scarf higher to cover her nose. The lantern guttered and sputtered. Rolf stayed by her side, head low as they leaned into the north wind. She thought of Martin and Oscar, traveling home in this weather. Surely the storm would delay them. Hopefully, they were somewhere warm and dry, waiting it out.

  Stepping into the barn was like someone slamming a door. Quiet, warmth, the smell of bovines, hay, dust and grain. Kate took a few deep breaths and hung the lantern on a peg high on a post.

  She’d brought the cattle in this morning in anticipation of the storm. Oscar’s little Jersey and all ten of the Brown Swiss. They stood in a row down the byre, tails out, some lying down, all quiet. Only two of the cows were still giving milk, less than a gallon each, so milking wouldn’t take long. The heifer calves shared a pen
down at the far end.

  Kate opened the back door of the barn, and the cattle filed out to the water trough. A thin sheet of ice covered the surface, and she broke it with the hatchet tied there. While the cattle milled outside, drinking their fill, she returned to the barn to clean up and spread fresh straw. She filled the mangers, always easier when the byre was empty.

  When she let the cows back inside, they each went to their place and began tearing at the hay in the racks. She milked quickly and, because they still had plenty of milk in the house, poured the two buckets into the metal trough in the calf pen, saving out a small pan for the barn cats.

  With only the chickens to feed, Kate went into the granary. The coop was attached to the barn, so she didn’t need to go outside. A dozen reddish-brown hens and one cranky rooster clucked and pecked in the straw. She tossed down a couple of ears of dry corn and a turnip for them to squabble over and filled the feed pans with cracked corn. They still had plenty of water.

  One last check that everything was secure for the night, and she was ready to brave the cold again. Rolf met her at the door, but as she latched it behind her, his head came up and he gave a bark, disappearing into the swirl of snowflakes.

  “Rolf, come!” she shouted, but her words were sucked away. The dog had bounded away into the dark and swirling flakes. Kate trudged up the path, careful where she stepped, watchful of not slipping in the snow that was piling up, ankle-deep already. She held the lantern high to light the way, and every few steps, she stopped and called for the dog.

  He barked from somewhere up ahead, and emerged from the darkness, only to turn and run away again. Kate was almost to the front porch, eager to get inside, when she heard a rattling sound. She listened hard, tugging the scarf off her ears.

  It was a wagon, hoofbeats, snow-muffled, but unmistakable. Who would be out on a night like this?

  Whoever it was, they turned into the farm lane. The sounds grew nearer. Kate raised the lantern, and through the blowing snow, she saw the heads and shoulders of a pair of horses. Then their bodies, and finally the wagon they pulled. A figure sat high on the seat, hunched and bundled, snow on his shoulders and hat. Rolf leaped and ran, circling the wagon, barking. The horses paid him no mind, heads lowered into the wind.

  Behind the wagon, another team emerged from the darkness, and Kate’s heart leaped. Schwarz and Grau, Martin’s farm horses.

  The first driver pulled up in front of the house and raised his head.

  Oscar.

  Her heart bumped hard against her ribs. He was home. They were home.

  “What are you doing out here?” He tugged down the muffler over his face and beard. “Get inside before you freeze. We’ll be in soon.” He slapped the lines and headed toward the barn.

  His voice was gently chiding, and she hurried to obey.

  “Liesl, Inge, they’re home.” She burst into the kitchen. “Oscar and Martin. They’re just putting away the horses, and then they’ll be here.” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice, the joy at having the menfolk safely home.

  Inge looked at her with speculation in her eyes, and Kate felt heat rush to her cheeks.

  “I was afraid they might be caught out somewhere in the storm,” she hurried to explain. “I didn’t want Martin’s cough to return, and I was hoping they were somewhere safe. Liesl, why don’t you set the table? I’ll start the fire in the parlor fireplace.”

  Kate took off her coat and gloves and scarf, trying to cover her confusion. It really was only relief that they were safe, wasn’t it? But if that was it, why was her heart thrumming so fast and her skin tingling?

  Liesl happily plunked cutlery onto the table. Inge checked the bread in the oven, and Kate opened the parlor doors wide. She swept the ashes out of the fireplace and laid a new fire, hoping to take the chill out of the room so they could all retire there after supper. She angled Oscar’s chair just right and straightened the afghan covering before she caught herself.

  She really was only glad they were soon to be out of the storm. That’s all there was to it.

  * * *

  Oscar was mighty glad to be out of the storm. His hands hurt, his feet were numb and his lungs felt as if someone had scoured them out with broken glass. The barn was warm and quiet, smelling of grass and grain and cattle.

  In spite of his best efforts, he hadn’t made it home in time to prevent Kate from doing the evening chores. He had hoped to spare her that. It had been one of the worst parts about leaving and taking Martin with him, knowing Kate would have to see to the barn chores all by herself.

  But as he curried the tired horses, he looked around the barn. He couldn’t fault her. She’d done a very good job. Everything was right and tight. By lantern light, he and Martin finished with the horses, and he dumped a generous portion of grain into each feedbox and made sure the water buckets were full. “Have a good rest, boys. You’ve earned it.”

  And so had he and Martin. He followed the older man up to the house, peace settling over him as the light from the windows shone out on the snow even though his muscles ached from the long, tense ride. It had been a quite a spell since he’d felt a peaceful homecoming.

  A gust of warm air hit him as he stepped into the kitchen, and the smell of supper and hot bread wrapped around him. He hadn’t even stomped the snow off his boots before Liesl had launched herself into his arms. He held her away.

  “Whoa there, tornado. Let me get out of my snow duds first or you’ll get chilled.”

  “I missed you, Daddy. I counted every day, see?” She pointed to the wall calendar, red X’s marching like soldiers across the lines. “And we sewed and baked, and I learned some of my letters.”

  This week was the longest he’d been separated from Liesl since she was born, and he’d felt every minute of their time apart, but oddly, he hadn’t worried about her, knowing she’d be well cared for in his absence.

  The minute he was free of his coat, he scooped her up and kissed her cheek. She patted his beard. “Your face is cold!”

  “All of me is cold. You’d think it was January out there instead of November. And after such a mild fall.” He went to the stove and sniffed, Liesl perched on his forearm. “What’s that cooking? Is that possum fritters and bullfrog soup?” He waggled his eyebrows at Liesl.

  She giggled. “No, Daddy. It’s stew. And bread. We made Zoffy bread today.”

  “Zoffy?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Grossmutter says it’s special Sunday bread, but we should have it now because you would be coming home soon. But we thought you wouldn’t come home till tomorrow or the next tomorrow.”

  “We decided we didn’t want to stay away so long. That supper smells good, and I’m so hungry I could eat a whole possum, fur and all.” He smiled at Inge. “Hello, Mrs. Amaker. I’ve been thinking about your cooking the whole week. We sure didn’t have anything as good out on the road.”

  Martin came and put his arm around his wife, bending to whisper something in her ear that put a sparkle in her eyes. She leaned into him for a moment, resting her white head on his shoulder before straightening up and moving toward the stove.

  “Come, sit. We will eat, and you will tell us about your journey.” Inge put a loaf of braided bread on a cutting board on the table. “The Zopf is still very hot, but we will have it now, anyway.”

  Kate stood off to the side, watching. She had a wistful look on her face, and it hit Oscar that he had Liesl, and Martin had Inge to greet, but Kate had no one special coming home to her.

  “Hello, Kate.” He put Liesl into her chair and scooted it in for her. Rolf twined around his legs, snuffling and wiggling. “Everything looks fine down in the barn. I’m sorry you had to do the chores tonight. We were hoping to get back in time, but the storm held us up.” He pushed aside Rolf’s wet nose and pulled out a chair for her.

  She sat,
lowering herself carefully, hand braced against her belly. “Was it a successful trip?”

  Martin dug into his pocket and handed her a slip of paper. “This is another reason we were late. We stopped in town.”

  She took the paper, scanning it quickly, then bit her lip, tears springing into her eyes. “Is this real?”

  He nodded. “We sold all the cheeses, and there was enough to pay the mortgage on the herd with some left over. We can make this year’s payment on the farm mortgage, or we can save it for if we move to Cincinnati.”

  Oscar hated to think of them leaving the area, but he was glad they would have at least a little nest egg when they went.

  “If and when we sell the herd, at least they will be freehold.” Martin sighed. “We could sell most of them and pay the entire mortgage on the farm off, but without the herd, there would be no more cheeses, and no money still to build a house. I have wrestled with the problem every way I can think of, but I cannot see a way we can stay on the farm. Even if the house had not burned down, without Johann it was going to be hard.”

  Oscar and Martin had discussed it at length on the trip. Martin worried about “his girls” as he called them. And Oscar got a glimpse of how much Martin did not want to have to take them to his brother’s place in Cincinnati.

  Kate folded the paper again and slid it across to Martin. “At least the herd isn’t mortgaged any longer. I’m glad of that. It felt wrong the whole time. Mortgaging land is one thing, but this felt like getting a loan on friends.” She turned to Oscar, and the force of the blue in her eyes jabbed him in the chest. “Was your trip successful, as well?”

  “It was. The buyers were pleased with the commissioned pieces, and I sold the two extra bureaus I took along.” And they’d sold well, too. He’d never made so much money on his furniture before.

  “Were you able to complete your shopping?” She inclined her head slightly toward Liesl, who was busy with her supper.

  “I found a few things.” Including a length of pink fabric with blue flowers. He’d ask Kate to sew up a Christmas dress for Liesl to wear to the Star Singing, since she now had her heart set on participating. And he’d found a little something for each of the Amakers.