Lauraine Snelling - [Red River of the North 02]

by A New Day Rising

  “Ja, you have earned some time off, and a mess of fish would taste mighty good for supper. Have you kept any worms?” Ingeborg sipped her coffee and watched Hjelmer try to corral his thoughts.

  “No, I’ll get them from the edge of the manure pile.” He grabbed two more cookies from the jar. “Come on, Baptiste, before they change their minds.”

  “Thank you for cleaning the barn,” Lars called after them.

  “You are welcome” floated back on the breeze they left behind.

  Hjelmer sat like he had a steel rod up his back.

  Ingeborg left Hjelmer visiting with Lars and Kaaren, saying she needed to put Andrew down for a nap. When Kaaren nodded toward the bed, Ingeborg shook her head. Kaaren followed her out the door.

  “What is it, Inge? Something is bothering you.”

  “He has a lot of set ideas for so young a man.” Ingeborg cuddled Andrew close and swayed back and forth as he snuggled into her shoulder. She kept her voice low so the men wouldn’t hear her.

  “Sounds like Roald all over again, if you ask me.” Kaaren shaded her eyes with her hand to watch the two boys laughing their way to the river.

  “He doesn’t like Indians.”

  “Why should he not? He’s never met one before.” Kaaren shook her head.

  “Probably heard too many stories.” Andrew snuffled, so Ingeborg swayed some more. “Who does he think he is, anyway?”

  “Probably thinks he came to save the Bjorklund women from the perils of the prairie.” Kaaren took in a deep breath of the pure air. “Since tomorrow is Sunday, why don’t we send the boys over to the Baards and invite them for dinner? They can meet Hjelmer, and he’ll get a better idea of what life is like out here. Lars wants to talk to Joseph about borrowing his nephew to help out until he can get back on his feet.”

  Ingeborg continued to sway so Andrew wouldn’t wake. “Work is what Hjelmer came for, so let him do it. We don’t want our young savior to feel less than wanted.”

  “Inge.” Kaaren cautioned with a smile.

  “I know, I know. I just get tired of these men thinking they know it all and we have heads stuffed with cotton wool.” She shook her head, setting her straw hat to bobbing.

  “You want to work in the fields.”

  “Ja.”

  “I see. And you just happened to mention it at dinner?” Kaaren rolled her lips together to keep from laughing out loud.

  “Ja. Sometimes things just slip out.” Ingeborg laid her cheek against the downy hair of her child. She chuckled along with Kaaren when their gazes met.

  “Oh, Inge, what will we do with you? If working in the field is so important, you bring the boys over, and I will do the cooking again. I know we are getting behind, and Lars feels just terrible about it. He’ll huff about you donning britches again, but a little huffing never hurt anyone.”

  Ingeborg reached out a hand and clasped Kaaren’s. “Mange takk, sister mine. Now you get that young man to tell you all his traveling stories. I have a feeling there is more there than we have any idea. Monday morning I’ll head for the fields, also. Right now I better go set some beans to soaking so we can have baked beans tomorrow. You know Agnes will bring plenty of food, too.”

  “I’ll make my dried plum pie. Joseph would crawl over here on his hands and knees for plum pie.”

  “I’ll go call the boys and have them take the mule over. Looks like we won’t have fish tonight after all.” She thought a moment. “No, I’ll drive the wagon over to Baards and Andrew can sleep on the way”

  “You could leave him here.”

  “Are you sure?”

  The look Kaaren gave her made Ingeborg smile. “Mange takk. Please tell Thorliff where I went when he comes home; although I might be back before he is. Oh, and just in case, I have a ham I’ll put in the oven for supper.”

  “I know, for if the fish aren’t biting.” Kaaren took the sleeping Andrew from his mother and turned back toward the house. “Enjoy your ride.”

  “I promised myself I’d get a saddle for that ridge-backed mule before I rode him again, but quilts will have to do.” She set off across the prairie to her own soddy, whistling beneath her breath. Freedom, she was being allowed a moment, an hour or two of freedom.

  She filled the firebox with wood and turned the damper down so it would burn long and slow, then plopped the ham she had soaking on the counter into the roaster and slipped it into the oven. They only had one more ham in the cellar, and the smoked venison was running low, too. The deer she’d shot hadn’t lasted long. She needed time to hunt again. Now wouldn’t that sizzle Hjelmer’s beard, if he had one?

  Within minutes she had the mule bridled and pulled over to the corral fence, where she stood on the bottom rail to make slinging her britches-covered leg over his back easier. Once aboard, she nudged him into a canter instead of the innards-jolting trot and headed west across the prairie.

  On reaching the newly turned furrows, she pulled up to tell Haakan where she was going and then set off again. The wind caught the brim of her straw hat, and only thanks to the ribbons around her chin did it keep from cartwheeling across the prairie. After a time Jack started to puff, so she drew him down to an easy jog. When a bevy of grouse flew up from a clump of bushes off the track, she berated herself for not bringing the gun. Raising her face to the sun guaranteed a new rash of freckles on her nose, but she didn’t care. The sun and wind kissed her cheeks to cherry red and tugged strands of golden hair from her coronet of braids.

  It seemed only minutes had passed when she waved at Joseph, plowing the eastern half of his section. One of the boys had the other team and was plowing the next furrow slightly behind. The Baards were fortunate. They had two sons and a nephew old enough to help Joseph with the farm work.

  “Land sakes, look who’s here.” Agnes followed the sound of the dog barking and met Ingeborg before she could dismount. “What a wonderful surprise for the day. And how are you, my dear?” She tisked a bit at Ingeborg’s choice of attire, but the grin on her round face and the raised eyebrow meant she was only teasing. Two small children, a boy and a girl, had gone from tumbling and playing at her feet to hiding behind her skirts, staring out at the newcomer with wide eyes. Agnes held the youngest of her brood of five, six-month-old Rebecca, on her solid hip.

  “Good, good.” Ingeborg swung to the ground. “We have company. Roald’s youngest brother, Hjelmer, has arrived, and we thought you might like to come meet him tomorrow. Since it is Sunday, we could all use a break.”

  “Ja, we will do that. My Joseph will say yes for certain when we get an invitation like that. What do you want me to bring?” She took Ingeborg by the arm and drew her into the soddy. “Come, you have time for coffee. Penny, will you cut some of that cake, please?” While she talked she brought the coffeepot closer to the front to heat it. “Did he bring a letter from Norway?”

  “No, come to think of it, he never mentioned a letter. Something happened to delay him somewhere. He should have been here over a month ago by the last letter we received.” Ingeborg undid the ribbons of her hat and laid it on the table. “How’s the baby?”

  “Growing like a weed. How is Lars’ foot?”

  Ingeborg almost told her friend about the bedside experience, but something held her back. “He’s still in a lot of pain but on the mend, finally, thanks to Metiz and the good Lord’s answer to a lot of prayer.”

  By the time they caught up on the news and finished their coffee, Ingeborg sat back with a sigh. “I better be heading back. I have a ham in the oven for supper in case the boys don’t catch any fish. Fresh meat of any kind sounds so good. We had dandelion greens the other day, cooked with bacon.”

  “Land, we ran out of bacon months ago. Feeding this horde is like hosting locusts.” Agnes pushed herself to her feet. “We will see you late in the morning, then. Sure do wish we had that church built and could call a preacher. Ain’t been one through here in months. You think they forgot we exist?”

  The two women walke
d out to where one of the boys had watered Ingeborg’s mule and tossed him a forkful of hay.

  “You surely can be thankful for Metiz and all her medicinals,” Agnes said. “She’s a mighty good friend to have.”

  “Which reminds me, I want to invite her to come tomorrow, too. Maybe if she felt more a member of the community, she would build a better house and stay through the winter, especially if we have a real school here next year. Baptiste needs schooling bad as our own young’uns do.”

  “Prob’ly more. You think she’s taught him his letters and his numbers?”

  Ingeborg shrugged. “Mange takk for the respite. See you in the morning.” She used the corral fence to swing aboard like she had at home. Agnes shook her head.

  “If you wasn’t such a good woman, I’d think you should have been borned a man the way you like to wear men’s britches.”

  “You should try them sometime. Beats skirts any day.” Ingeborg waved and kicked the mule into a lope again, this time with the sun sinking toward the horizon behind her.

  She was careful to change back to a skirt before going to Kaaren’s for supper.

  “That’s all right,” Hjelmer said after supper at Kaaren’s. “I’ll sleep in the barn, same as Haakan. I have my quilt one of the people gave me in New York.” He’d told them the story of his saving the drowning child and the subsequent loss of his belongings. He hadn’t mentioned being forced to flee New York before Swen could kill him.

  “If you are sure, then.” Kaaren paused to give him time to change his mind. “We have the extra bed here.”

  How can I sleep in the same room with you and your new husband? I’d thought to share that bed with you. He kept his face averted in case his thoughts showed through his eyes. The dreams of marrying Kaaren and having his own land immediately were not fading like they should. Would he have to marry Ingeborg? That thought brought him no pleasure at all. He could tell he’d managed to get on the wrong side of her several times already.

  “I’ll work with Haakan first thing in the morning till I get the hang of it, and then I can work your fields.” He nodded to Lars. “You just get better. You don’t want to lose more of that foot.”

  “Him no lose more.” Metiz spoke quietly from her chair by the bed.

  “Ja, well, let’s not take any chances.”

  “You sound just like Roald.” Ingeborg shook her head. “It’s uncanny.”

  “So I’ve been told. Mor says I look enough like him to be his twin.” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Sometimes I have a hard time remembering him. It seems much longer than four years since he left Nordland.” He glanced up to see moisture gathering in Ingeborg’s eyes. “Sorry to bring that up.”

  “No, no, I’ve learned that the more I—we talk about him, the easier it gets.” Ingeborg sat in the rocker with Andrew sound asleep in her lap. Baptiste and Thorliff sat at the table, a book before them, with Thorliff reading softly to his friend. With all of them crowded into the soddy, Hjelmer felt the walls closing in on them.

  “How did you all manage to live in one soddy, especially during the winter?” The question blurted passed his reserve.

  Kaaren smiled and nodded. “It wasn’t easy. What with the babies underfoot and keeping them out of the fireplace.”

  “Roald and Carl spent much of their time out in the barn, working on furniture and farming implements.”

  That’s where I’d be. I’d have that forge fired up and go at it. “I saw the forge. You need new plowshares or some such?”

  “We always need those. I brought back two from St. Andrew, but I’m better with wood than iron.” Haakan rocked his chair back on two legs. “If we can run three teams, that’ll leave two shares free each night to be pounded out again. We always have to sharpen the blade at dinnertime.”

  Metiz removed the poultice she had covering Lars’ foot, and after spreading a paste over the healing tissue, she rebandaged it. “Come, Baptiste, we go now.” She picked up her pouch of medicinals. “You drink tea.”

  Lars nodded. “You made a believer out of me. No matter how terrible your tea tastes, it works. Thank you, Metiz.”

  “Pray too.” Her black eyes twinkled in the lamplight. “Great Spirit hear.”

  “Ja, God is good.” Lars reached out a hand to clasp hers. “You come tomorrow to share a meal with all of us, you hear?”

  Metiz nodded. “We bring more fish.”

  Baptiste looked up from the story. “I set line tonight.”

  Hjelmer watched and listened. Was this what all Indians were like? What about the warriors slaughtering the settlers? More than once he’d heard the phrase, “Only good Indian is a dead Indian.” Were there more around here or only Metiz?

  As the good-nights were said, Haakan took Andrew from Ingeborg. “I’ll carry him.”

  The canopy of stars arched above them, lighted by a sickle moon hanging low in the sky. The wind blew from the west, bringing the rich fragrance of freshly turned soil, overlaid with the spicy aroma of night-blooming flowers. Paws sniffed the ground and followed the trail of some nocturnal animal off into the prairie grass.

  If it hadn’t been for the mosquitoes, Hjelmer would have stopped to admire the heavens. Instead he kept pace with the others, and his thoughts and questions he kept to himself. Things surely were different than he had planned.

  The next day brought further surprises. The morning chores went quickly with the extra pair of hands, so as soon as they finished breakfast, Haakan headed back out to the barn where the sheep remained corralled. “We’re so far behind that the fleece are beginning to lose quality. Maybe we can finish the shearing before the Baards get here, then we’ll be free to start the field on Monday. You know how to sheer sheep?”

  “Ja, we had a flock at home.”

  “Good. Thorliff has been learning, and he’s getting pretty good at it.” He ruffled the boy’s hair, knocking his tweedy hat to the ground.

  Thorliff picked it up and dusted it off before squaring it on his head again. “I can almost keep up to you now.”

  “Should have been done with this a month ago, but the time just got away from us. On a homestead, there are always too many things that need doing now.”

  “They might have frozen in that last snowstorm then.” Thorliff swung open the gate, and the three entered the corral. “You want I should let the sheared ones out to graze?”

  “Sure, Paws can keep them close by.” The two men stood by the gate and snagged each unshorn sheep before it could escape. With the flock divided, Haakan handed Hjelmer a pair of shears. “You take these, I’ll sharpen the others. Thorliff, get me a file, will you.”

  Sweat soon ran in rivers down his back as Hjelmer bent over each bleating sheep, clipping away with the shears, being careful not to nick the squirming animal. The flies would torment any cuts, and besides, a blood-free sheep was just as much a matter of pride as was removing the fleece in one pelt.

  “You want a drink?” Thorliff appeared at his side with a bucket of water and a dipper.

  “Ja, when I finish this one.” Hjelmer clipped the last row and set the sheep free. He tossed the fleece on the pile by the barn wall and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Taking a long drink of water, he wiped his mouth this time and arched his back to get the kinks out. “Mange takk.”

  “You do a good job. Better’n me.” Thorliff helped capture another sheep. With only three remaining in the corral, catching them was getting more difficult.

  “You want to do this one?”

  “Ja, I could.”

  Just then Paws barked and ran down the lane. Thorliff ran over to the fence and clambered up on the rails, leaning out to see what the dog was barking at.

  “The Baards. They’re here.” He leaped down on the outside of the corral and ran after the dog, waving his arm and shouting hello.

  “I think we get to finish this ourselves.” Haakan let his disgruntled sheep go. “He doesn’t get to play much, and with the Baard boys here, there’ll b
e roughhousing a plenty.”

  Hjelmer kept his opinion to himself. The boy could have stayed to help them catch the remaining sheep. His far would never have let his sons run off like that. He looked up to see a quizzical look pass over Haakan’s face. Had his thoughts been that obvious?

  He could hear the high humor of greetings going on over by the soddy, but he and Haakan doggedly kept after the last two sheep in the pen.

  “We’ll help you catch them.” Two boys joined Thorliff on the corral fence and leaped into the pen. The sheep exploded to the other side. Hjelmer felt himself grabbing thin air, and only quick footwork and a hand in the dirt had he kept from falling flat. He’d had one in his grasp. He glared at the three young ones.

  Wiping the sweat from his brow again, he settled his hat and turned back to the fray.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a skirt. He turned to look. A young woman with curls of gold cascading down her back set one neatly shod foot on the bottom rail and leaned slender arms on the top. Her smile surely had captured part of the sun, and the sky leant bits of blue to her eyes.

  He reached for his hat, shifting his weight to the forward foot. The sheep the boys chased darted through the opening. Hjelmer fell flat forward on the packed dirt.

  “Oomph.” His breath left him.

  Serves him right. Haakan had to look away to keep from laughing.

  “Are you all right?” The feminine voice sounded foreign amidst the raucous laughter of the boys.

  Hjelmer spit dirt mixed with dried sheep dung from his mouth and raised to his hands and knees. He spit again and wiped the dirt from his sweaty face. It smeared wherever he touched, creating mud and a doleful expression.

  Haakan could feel the embarrassment radiating from the young man now getting to his feet. “Good day, Penny. How have you been?”

  “Good, Mr. Bjorklund.” She dropped to the ground from her place on the fence and dusted off her hands. “I see you’re nearly finished shearing. You need some help bundling the fleece?”

  Haakan shook his head. “Thanks, though.” Never in both times he’d seen Penny had she been so friendly. It couldn’t have anything to do with the young man retrieving his hat and slapping it against a dirty pant leg, could it? He let Hjelmer finish dusting himself off. “You met the other Mr. Bjorklund, Hjelmer, here yet?” When she shook her head, setting the curls to bouncing, he finished the introduction. “Hjelmer, Miss Penny Baard, meet your new neighbor, and so forth.” He never had paid much attention to the niceties of introducing folks. Howdy seemed good enough for him, but then he was beyond courting age.