Lauraine Snelling - [Red River of the North 02]

by A New Day Rising

  “We don’t get much travelers this time of year, what with the mud and rising rivers. Soon though, we’ll have settlers moving west like fleas on a dog.” He came around the counter and walked with Haakan to the door. Now that cash money had changed hands, it seemed to loosen the man’s tongue. “You had a horse, he could swim you across the Little Salt, but without one, you’re facing five miles or more before you can ford it. And then it’d be dangerous. You shoulda come before the ice went out.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Haakan let himself out the door, the bell tinkling again.

  “You’ll find the Lutheran church couple blocks west on the outskirts of town. Can’t miss it, white steeple and all.”

  “Thank you again.” Haakan tipped his hat and followed the boardwalk along the front of the next two buildings before he had to step back in the gumbo. His boots weighted up fast as he could step. Getting to the Bjorklunds looked to be a mite farther than he had thought.

  When no one answered at the church or the small frame house beside it, he decided to keep on going west. There was no sense wasting the remaining hours of daylight. Surely there would be another farm along the way. The snow from the day before had mostly melted, so the road that followed the Little Salt River was clearly visible. Perhaps, he decided, if he stayed on the shoulder where grass from the year before lay brown and could be seen through the remaining snow, he wouldn’t mud up so bad.

  He spent the night in an abandoned sod house that had since been used for storing hay and feed. Wrapped in his quilt on the tarp in front of a fire, his mind traveled both backward and forward. Back to the logging camp and the pleasant times with Mrs. Landsverk, forward to a place he could now begin to envision. Living in a soddy would take some getting used to. Who was this Ingeborg Bjorklund, and would she even want his help, such were the things he’d heard about her?

  Even though he hung his pack from a rafter, a mouse found its way in while he slept and scurried down his arm when he lifted the pack down in the morning. When Haakan checked the contents, he found a corner nibbled away on the packet from the store. Grains of sugar trickled out until he untied the string and rewrapped the package. He smiled, pleased that the creature hadn’t found the coffee beans.

  When he finally came to a place where the Little Salt River broadened out, and the road leading down to it showed there once had been a ford there, Haakan sat down on a tree trunk thrown up by the river and pulled a now dry chunk of bread and the remaining cheese from his pack. He studied both sides of the muddy river as he ate and surveyed the country around him, his thoughts flowing like the river before him. Off in the distance, he could see smoke from a chimney, but he was surprised to find so few homesteads, especially along the riverbanks. If water was such a premium in this area, why weren’t the riverbanks more densely settled? Somehow he’d thought this area to be more populated, since there weren’t Bonanza farms here, or so Ernie had said. Looking back, Haakan figured he’d covered near to ten miles and only seen three or four houses in all that time. Or did the sod homes fit into the prairie so as to disappear? He could tell where the sod had been broken in areas where snow had melted and showed dark soil rather than brown grass.

  While his food disappeared rapidly, his stomach didn’t agree that it should be full. He wrapped his tarp more tightly around the pack, leaned it against the log, and taking his ax he stepped up to one of the willow bushes. With a few quick swings, he cut himself a sturdy pole that stood several feet above his head.

  He squinted up at the sun, rejoicing in the warmth on his face. If he owned a homestead near here, he told himself, he’d be down in the riverbed cutting logs. Those sod houses look mighty sturdy, but I’d rather have a log one any day. He sat back down on the log and removed his boots and socks, tucking them into the pack in the hopes to keep them dry. While he hoisted his pack, he continued to speculate about setting up a mill on the banks of the Red River. Surely there was call for lumber in this area. The Red had enough trees to supply boards for homes of wood, and glass windows could be brought in on the riverboat. Why, even the sod houses could use shakes for their roofs. He could set up splitting shakes.

  Using the pole to prod the river bottom in front of him, he stepped into the icy water. “Uff da!” he gasped as the icy water swirled up to his knees, his hips, and then to his waist. He leaned against the current, testing each footfall to keep his balance. Certain he was going to have to swim for it, he breathed a sigh of relief when the pole showed an upward thrust to the river bottom. Slipping in the mud, he pulled himself up the shallow incline, and once on dry land, he leaned on his pole, his breath heaving in and out of his lungs.

  Standing in the shelter of a tall cottonwood, he stripped down to his bare skin and pulled on the dry clothes he’d stored in his pack. Long johns, shirt, pants, and finally dry socks and shoes. He could hardly force the buttons through the holes or lace his boots, his fingers shook like he had the palsy. Leaping to his feet, he swung his arms, thumping himself on the chest and forcing his legs to move. He considered starting a fire to warm himself, but the thought of lost time made him pick up his pack and command his legs and feet into a trot. Between the sun and action, he knew he’d be warm soon.

  He headed out in a southeast direction, knowing the Red River would keep him from going too far east. If he figured right with what little information he had, he’d hit the river north of the Bjorklund homestead or come right into the homeplace.

  But dark caught him before he reached either the river or the homestead he sought. The wind at his back picked up a knife edge when the sun disappeared under the horizon. With nothing but prairie in sight, he huddled tighter into his wool coat and kept on walking. A dog barking brought him to a stop. Slowly, he turned to locate the direction. When he whistled, the barking turned to a frenzy. He turned due south and whistled every once in a while to keep the animal barking.

  “That’s enough, Shep!” a man’s strong voice commanded. “Whatever’s got you going on like this, anyhow?”

  “Helloo!” Haakan called out and stopped to listen for an answer.

  “Hello, yourself. Keep on coming, you’re getting near.” A lighted lantern pierced the darkness like a beacon at sea. “Welcome, stranger, you nigh unto missed us, didn’t you?”

  Haakan reached out to shake the man’s hand. “If it hadn’t been for your dog barking, I’d have gone right on by.” He glanced down at the dog that stood by his master’s knee, hackles raised and a rumble deep in his throat.

  “Enough, Shep. Ya done good. Come on in. My missus will skin me alive if I keep you standing out here. She’s already got the coffeepot heating.”

  “I hoped maybe I could sleep in your barn—”

  “In the barn! Heaven’s man, you want us both thrown out on our ears?” He turned and headed for the door. “Agnes won’t hear none of that, let me tell you.”

  Haakan followed the man, ducking as he did to enter the sod house.

  “Lookee here, Shep brought us some company, he did.”

  Before he knew what had happened, Haakan had been divested of his pack, coat, and hat and sat in a rocker in front of a cookstove that seemed to half fill the room. A cup of coffee warmed his hands, and a little girl stared at him from behind her bigger sister as if she’d never seen a stranger before. One thing Haakan knew for sure: he was welcome, and these fine people were as Norwegian as they came. He felt like he’d stepped into a small piece of home but for the close dark walls and the overlying smell of earth from the walls and floor. And they still hadn’t even asked his name.

  “Uff da,” The woman murmured, seating herself on one of the benches along the trestle table. “Now what news did you hear in St. Andrew? Has the ice gone out on the river? They started up the ferry yet?” She took a swallow from her cup. “Surely will be a treat to have real coffee again. That’s first on the list soon as the wagon can make it to St. Andrew. Sorry for the substitute. We use roasted wheat when we run out of the real thing.”
<
br />   “Give the poor man a chance to answer,” Joseph said, waving his cup in the air. “How far you come, young man?” He looked to his wife and laughed. “Can’t keep calling him young man, can I? I’m Joseph Baard, and this is Mrs. Baard, Agnes. We come from Ohio to homestead this here valley” He named all the children, who either grinned or hid behind another depending on their age. “And who might you be?”

  “Haakan Howard Bjorklund.”

  “Bjorklund?” Mrs. Baard pushed back so quickly she nearly turned the bench over. “We got neighbors and best friends named Bjorklund. You related?” At Haakan’s nod, she clasped her hands together in her aproned lap. “Thanks be to God! They sure do need some kin to help out.”

  “Roald and Carl were my cousins twice removed.”

  “You heard they died, then?”

  “Ja, that is why I am here.” Haakan described his trip from the north woods of Minnesota in a few short sentences, and then said, “My mor wrote and told me they needed help, and soon as the logging season ended, I started west.”

  “Thank the good Lord.” Her smile lit the room. “Ah, me. Where’s my manners gone? You had any supper?” When he shook his head, she ordered Penny, the older girl, to fetch foodstuffs from the well house while she set a skillet on the stove. Before many minutes passed with the two men visiting, she had a plate of chicken and dumplings in front of him, along with bread and butter and a pitcher of milk.

  “And if’n you go hungry after Agnes is done serving, you got no one but yourself to blame,” Joseph said. Turning to the children who stood staring shyly at Haakan, he ordered in a kind voice, “You young’uns get to bed, now. Mr. Bjorklund will still be here in the morning.”

  The sun had made it halfway to the peak when he left in the morning, much to his host family’s sorrow. Haakan made sure each of the children had a peppermint stick to remember him by. Agnes clutched a small packet of coffee beans to her breast as if he’d given her gold and diamonds.

  “You go on straight east now. Just follow the track. Runs right into Ingeborg’s. Kaaren’s house is a bit to the north. I could give you a ride, you know.”

  “I know. Thank you for everything.” Haakan waved a last time and strode out the track. Two wheel ruts had cut through the prairie grass and down to the dirt. He walked on the ridge in the middle to keep from slipping in the mud.

  The sun warmed his shoulders, trying to make up for the snow and rain. Overhead, a V of ducks beat their way northward, their quacking a wild music on the breeze. Brave shoots of green showed on the places where the snow had melted away. The trees along the banks of the Red River edged the horizon so flat Haakan wasn’t able to tell how far away they really were.

  Never had he seen such flat land. Like a tabletop, it spread far as the eye could see in all directions. To the south a spiral of smoke told of an intrepid homesteader and ahead another. Thanks to the Baards, he now had an idea what life had been like for the two missus Bjorklunds in the last year. Blizzards in the winter, and breaking sod, planting, and harvesting in the summer. How had they endured without bolting back to town?

  As the sod house and barn came into view, only the smoke feathering from the chimney said someone was home. Not far to the north lay the second sod house and barn like Baard had said. A caramel-colored dog with one ear straight up and the other flopped forward charged out from behind the barn and barked three times. He stood with one white front paw raised, his tail fanning the breeze. He barked again, more insistent this time.

  “Paws!” a boy’s voice called. The dog looked over his shoulder and wagged his tail again.

  The boy came round the corner of the sod barn, followed by a woman carrying a small, gowned child with near-white ringlets on her hip. Her hair caught the sun and gleamed like a crown of gold. Tall and straight, she strode toward him, her welcoming smile warm as the spring sun.

  Haakan caught his breath. So this was Ingeborg Bjorklund. Nothing anyone said had prepared him for this vision of a Viking queen.

  Early April

  God dag. Mrs. Bjorklund?”

  “Ja.”

  “I am Haakan Howard Bjorklund, recently of Minnesota.” He set his ax on the toe of his boot and removed his hat. “My mor wrote from Norway and said one of our relatives needed a hand. Since logging was done for the season, I came to see if I could help.”

  “You have the same name as us.” Eight-year-old Thorliff stepped forward and looked up—way up. Tall for his age and already showing signs of future broad shoulders, the boy held his ground. Hair that couldn’t decide between white gold and deep blond, whether to curl or lie straight, fell in one swatch over his right eye in spite of the porkpie hat that should have kept it in place. Pants and shirt showed thin wrists and ankles of winter white.

  “Ja, your father is my cousin twice removed.” Haakan felt as if he looked into a mirror when he saw the boy’s eyes.

  “Was,” Ingeborg said softly.

  “I know.” He looked into her eyes, seeing the sheen of unshed tears. “I’m sorry.”

  Ingeborg nodded. “I have the coffee hot, and dinner is nearly ready. Would you like to join us?” She laid a hand on the head of the boy who stood slightly in front of her, guarding both her and the baby with his wide-legged stance. “This is Thorliff.” With her other arm, she raised the chubby toddler on her hip. “And this is Andrew.”

  Thorliff ducked his head only enough to be polite. While his mother welcomed strangers, he clearly held his regard in reserve.

  The dog walked forward on stiff legs to sniff the pant leg of the intruder. While his tail waved, it was obvious he, like the boy, expected the stranger to prove himself before being accepted.

  Haakan glanced from the woman to the son to the dog and back. Her smile caught him in the chest like an arrow driving home straight and true. “Mange takk.” When he turned slightly to remove his pack, a low rumble came from the throat of the dog, still watching him with careful eyes. Haakan stood straight again and spoke to the boy. “I have something for you in my pack, if you’ll call off your dog.”

  Ingeborg laid a hand on Thorliff’s shoulder. “Tell Paws it is all right. This man is a friend.”

  Thorliff studied the stranger for a long moment before he did as asked. “Paws, good dog. Come here.” The dog looked back at his master, up at the stranger towering above him, and back to Thorliff.

  “He takes good care of his family,” Haakan said, extending his hand, palm down for the dog to sniff his knuckles. “I had a dog like this when I was a boy. He never left my side.”

  Thorliff nodded. “Paws guards the sheep, too.”

  “May I?” Haakan signaled to his pack.

  “Ja, he will not hurt you.” Thorliff slapped his thigh. “Paws, come here.”

  Paws finished sniffing the proffered hand, wagged his tail again, and turned back to the boy, checking over his shoulder to make sure the stranger didn’t overstep his bounds.

  “Good dog.” Thorliff bent enough to ruffle the dog’s ears and received a nose lick in return.

  Haakan slipped his arms from the straps on the pack and reached inside the top flap. He pulled out the remaining peppermint sticks. “I thought a boy might need a treat after such a long winter.” He held out the candy, one for Thorliff and another for Andrew.

  Thorliff tried to act as if he didn’t hold with candy sticks, but the gleam in his eyes gave him away. He took both sticks with a mange takk and handed one up to Andrew. When the baby only waved the red-and-white stick in the air, Thorliff put the end of his in his mouth and sucked on it. “See, Andrew, like this.”

  Andrew studied his brother’s actions. When Thorliff pulled the end of the stick out, held it up, and put it back in his mouth, Andrew licked his candy first. His blue eyes grew round, and a grin split his face. He closed his mouth over the treat, making an O to match his eyes.

  “Good, huh?” Thorliff giggled at the baby’s chortle.

  Both of them held the candy sticks in their mouths, grinning a
round them.

  “It looks to me like you have won their hearts already.” Ingeborg grabbed the baby’s waving hand before the candy could land in her hair. “Mange takk. Not many would think of bringing the children a treat like that.”

  He stared down into gray eyes with a gaze so direct he felt she could see right through him. A straw hat hung on ribbons down her back, leaving the coronet of golden braids as a burnished crown. A few freckles already dotted her nose, mute testimony to her love of the sun, and the strong chin spoke of determination unfettered. When she smiled, her whole face glowed, lighting her eyes and crinkling the edges. He saw no shy miss here, but a woman of strength and courage. And when she smiled, he could do no less in return.

  “Come, we will have dinner soon.” She started toward the house. “I was washing the lamps outside since the sun begged me to.” She pointed at a bench that held a pan of soapy water and several glass lamps.

  Haakan met her grin with one of his own. “Begged you to? I like that. I wouldn’t want to stay inside today either. Do you think spring is really here, or will we get another blanket of snow?”

  “I don’t know. I have learned to just appreciate each day as it comes, and after a long winter like we—I’ve had, I don’t want to waste a moment of the sun’s warmth.”

  She skirted the mud patches, kicking up snow with the toe of her boot as if she could barely keep from dancing. She felt like twirling, like taking Thorliff by the hands and whirling him around, then doing the same with Andrew. To think God had sent them a gift like this visitor on such a splendid day.

  Those eyes he had, eyes she hadn’t seen in such a handsome face since they buried Carl. While Thorliff, too, had the Bjorklund eyes, there was something to be said for such eyes in a tall, broad-shouldered man. She’d heard of measuring a man’s breadth by ax handles, but never had the picture been so real. The ax looked to be a continuation of his arm, the way he handled it. The cleft in his chin made his strong jaw even more manly.